Category Archives: FUTURE


Sending a slave to school to be educated, is like trying to teach an orangutan to sing an aria, or a cactus to run the marathon. Male creatures are below zero, empty vessels frozen in ignorance. The love of their life is their own penis, do I need to say more? Besides, there’s always a risk- however small- that one or two of them will develop a primitive brain of some sorts. They would learn to despise their lot in life, leading to revolutionary sentiments, or, God forbid, resistance, uproar and revolt against the superiority of Women. So no, slaves are not meant to think for themselves, they’re meant to work, obey, serve and suffer. If anything, we should drill them even harder to achieve the highest levels of obedience, efficiency and willingness. A slave doesn’t care if the Nile is wet, that the gestation period of an elephant is 22 months or that the average height for a man in the Netherlands is 186 cm (6’1 ft). He doesn’t care. He’s a simpleton, a mop with a dick, a talking scrotum. A primitive, with primitive needs and wants. He wants to chew and gnaw on boots, wants to be slapped around and wants to swallow spit and piss by the gallon. Let’s keep him simple, for everyone’s sake.
August 2167, Brisbane, Australia – Women’s Convention


Can you believe it? Jessy, my youngest, turned eighteen last week. Man, time goes so fast! So I wanted to get her something special to commemorate this milestone. I thought about an Orbit-Around-The-Earth-Experience in a spacecraft or an Around-The-World-In-Eighty-Ways travel voucher. But in the end I settled for something she will enjoy for years to come. If not the rest of her life! You probably guessed it already: I decided to give Her a slave. A friend of mine was willing to sell one of Hers, but you know, there’s always a risk of wear and tear and who knows what bad habits he may have picked up! Second hand is second hand, no matter what. And sure, yes, of course you can teach an old slave new tricks, but it’s such a strain on the whipping arm. The lass is a bit too young for that, I think. So I got one directly from the Breeding Facility. He’s a 25-year old blank slate, you might say, healthy, vaccinated, very active and playful and eager to learn. Jessy has decided to call him James, which has a nice old-fashioned ring to it, I think.
She’s very chuffed with him and immediately started with his training. She might be young, but she’s very strict, very ruthless and extremely demanding.
Like mother, like daughter.
Lady Alice, July 2099


The “Fem Dommes Only” party takes place in June each year. We had no idea what was going on in there, because no men were allowed inside, not even eunuchs. So, was it some sort of danceparty? A kinky party with blindfolded male strippers perhaps? Or just another Totally Tupperware party? We had no clue. A reporter of the New York Days disguised himself as a Woman in order to infiltrate. He’s not been heard of since. So I was absolutely flabbergasted when Milady ordered me to join Her on the opening day! Oh, I was so exited! She had me collared and leashed and dragged me through a crowd of Women. Which was terribly intimidating, because they all glared at me as if they were about to eat me alive.
Then the tumult of a hundred different cries, all shouting at the top of their voices. Rotten tomatoes, get your toma-throws, roared a brunette. Ding, Dong, Fresh Dung, get your bucket full, called another. Spit-on-the-Spot, only tuppence, shouted a blonde Lady. Pee-n-a-Bottle, get your pee-ee-ee, bellowed one. Pick ’em out cheap here! Stinking eggs, shouted a Lady to Her utmost. Milady put me in a pillory and grabbed a microphone. Well Ladies, here he is: the future has arrived. This creature will be on display for the next three days. Let’s show him what a “Fem Dommes Only” party is all about, shall we?”
June 2071 – Party Perils – ISBN 2-67923-118564


You live and work on My land, care for the animals and help maintain the estate. Eighty percent of what you grow and harvest is Mine, the rest is yours. But, in all honesty, everything you own and everything you produce actually belongs to Me. I can take whatever I want. Instead of money, you can earn certain privileges. The privilege to be in the same room with Me, for example. Or the privilege to clean My boots, drive Me to town, be whipped by Me personally … Those things are more valuable than all the money in the world, don’t you think?
You are not allowed to leave the estate without My permission. And even then, you are not allowed to leave for more than eight hours. Sexual relationships with Women, or men for that matter, are strictly forbidden. Should I, in the unlikely event, allow you to marry someone from another estate, then you must pay me a hefty fine. Which is impossible, since you are not allowed to earn any money.
Of course, you can always try to run away. I would strongly advise against it though, since you’re penniless and don’t have any papers that show you’re a free man. Trust Me, people will avoid you like the plague and no one will help you. On the contrary, they will notify Me right away and I will sent the bloodhounds after you. Your are mine, you better get used to the idea.
November 2118, Sarah Clarke – A New Beginning


I visited The Drain today, the shelter for dismissed, unowned and unwanted slaves. It’s a sad place, man, because most of these guys are addicted: to leather, panties, feet, spit, boots, heels, latex, piss, slaps, kicks, rubber; you name it, they crave it. These addictions will only grow stronger and stronger in time, we all know that. They will never go away or get better. Most of the guys down here try to make the best of the situation. Bill for example, part-time carpenter and full-time masochist, has turned to self flagellation; Fred bought a pair of boots and licks them like lollipops; Jordan slaps himself to sleep and ballbusting lover Tom is constantly trying to kick himself in the groin. Others fall back into old habits, like excessive masturbating.
Some save money to move away, but someone like Phil for example is still financially drained by his former Mistress and his salary goes straight into Her account. These men are damaged goods and their future looks rather bleak at the moment. But there’s always hope, as Anthony explained to me: I’m hopeful that a strict Mistress will find me eventually. I’m down on my luck right now, so the dream of servitude is my most precious procession.
T. Rondel – April 2096.


In the year of our Lord two thousand and ninety-nine, dire portents appeared over our land. They consisted of immense whirlwinds and flashes of lightning, and fiery dragons were seen flying in the air. Fear struck in our hearts, and gloom and sadness fell over the land. Now the cloud was very black, and the storm would come upon us very sharp. In the beginning of June a large fleet of Femdommes arrived, speedy vessels to the number of seventy-three. These strong and powerful Women invaded our land like fearful wolves and overran our country in all directions. Terror rode triumphantly on a pale horse through our streets and broke into every house. Many a man was captured and taken away in chains. They drove them out naked and loaded with insults. The rest of the men fled their homes and hid in the forests and mountains for days. Once they were kings, generals and commanders, mighty men who ruled the world. Now the last of the free hid in caves and lived in great fear. They lamented bitterly over the terrible fate that would befall them. For they knew that the days of freedom were numbered and that a life in slavery was about to begin. Male Chronicles – The Beginning Of The End.


Queen Emma was seated on Her throne at Gudinna Palace, which was filled to capacity.
Oh, most powerful Queen of the world, an eunuch proclaimed with a high-pitched voice, most brilliant in wealth and achievement among all Mistresses and Female Leaders of our time, famed and feared for the pains, miseries, sufferings and cruelties You have inflicted on Your male subjects, and the fear which You have instilled into the hearts of the unfaithful and rebellious asshol- excuse me, I mean: unfaithful and rebellious males.
Yes, only the Kingdom to the North had refused to bow to Her. The war between the two lasted until Queen Emma’s complete victory at Tallskog.
The defeated King prostrated himself before Her: I, Colossus III, King of Cocks, Count of Castrates, Lord of Losers, Earl of Everything, Knight of Nothing, surrender Myself to Your command, Your Highness, for I am vanquished and I am, from this day forward, Your humble slave and property. Most willingly and most faithfully, shall I obey Your commands, for Thou are the Owner of my body and my soul and I am the owned.
Everything went silent and you could hear a pin drop. The silence lasted for five never-ending, nerve-wrecking, nail-biting minutes, till the slain King trembled in fear and was ready to shit himself. Then Queen Emma moved Her foot forward and Her new pet kissed Her feet, Her knees and Her hands. Palace Paper, December 2134 AD.


In the reign of Queen Sasha in 2142, the Whipping Act was passed, directing that disrespectful, disobedient, lazy or downright stupid slaves were to be taken to a square, market place or other public place and to be publicly whipped from the middle upwards. Whipped until the body should be bloody. The notorious Judge Victoria II, once said to the Lady Torturer: I charge you to pay particular attention to this piece of shit. Scourge him soundly, scourge him till his blood runs down! A few months ago, at Nottingham, a young slave, aged twenty, was found guilty of lying and was, by order of the Court of Quarter Sessions, tied to the tail of a cart and whipped all the way up from Maid-Marian-Road to High-Heel-Cross. There are 129 whipping-posts in the city of Nottingham alone right now. The male slaves lament their woes, but to no avail. Because men have mistreated Women over the centuries, and what goes around comes around, as the old saying goes. March 2167, Madame Ellen – The Downfall Of Men.


Welcome to the Femdom Hotel, sir. I see you’ve booked the all-inclusive, extra-deluxe, special package! Seven nights, no less! Talking about stupi- oops, sorry about that, slip of the lip, I meant: talking about brave. As you already know, wearing the hotel Chastity Device is compulsory. It’s a nasty device, sir, with vicious spikes in them. So, happy days, right?
Well, I-
Exactly! Your top quality room has no bathroom, no toilet, no flatscreen, no minibar no nothing. Your day starts at 06:00 sharp with some face-slaps, fitness with nipple-torture and a shower of piss. Hard labor and a brutal whipping in the afternoon, followed by a Strap-On Invasion in the evening. One of the Ladies will then smother you to sleep. Any questions so far, sir?
Good, good, excellent. Now, let’s talk about sleeping. You’ll either sleep tightly tied to the rack by your wrists and ankles, in the standing cell or hanging upside down from the staircase. Like a giant bat, one might say. Isn’t that hilarious?
I thin-
Of course you do. Now, you get your passport back after paying a ransom of $750. Before you open your mouth: shut up. It’s a pittance, no need to go on and on about it. So, I wish you a very unpleasant and painful stay, sir, and I hope you will visit our hotel again in the future. NEXT!!


By Mistress & Madams Auctioneers (aka M&M’s): On Monday the 16th April 2096, at 2 o’clock P.M., will be sold at the Femdom Hotel in Chicago, the following described slaves:

Dick, aged 26, cook, carpenter & cleaner, energetic boy with a small penis
Fetch, aged 33, human dog, loves being butt scratched, play fetch and tug-of-war
Jack O’, aged 41, aka Of-All-Trades, quiet, humble and obedient, face-slap lover
Rebel, aged 22 , unguided missile, looking for a strict and firm Mistress
Albert E, aged 37, gardener, rare specimen, shows signs of intelligence, foot fetishist
Julian, aged 59, experienced housemaid (Julia) with a fetish for high heels (for himself)
Jeeves, aged 48, head butler, trustworthy, impeccable manners, weakness for shiny satin
Ed, aged 27, human horse, very easy to ride, suitable for dressage or jumping
Billy, aged 40, (aka Idea-Ikea) human furniture, to be used as footstool, doormat or floor lamp
Mark, aged 51, servant, hardcore masochist, bruised and battered item
Digitalus, aged 30, computer nerd, goofball, drinks spit by the gallon
Will, aged 57, bookkeeper, good subject with a piss fetish, nicknamed Pee Willy

All the above slaves are fully guaranteed against the vices and diseases prescribed by law. All slaves can be seen, slapped, kicked and mildly whipped by applying at the office of the Auctioneers. Purchased items can be castrated on request.


Mister Dick, the receptionist said, going through his file, you’re here to collect your punishment, because … ah, here it is: because you made sarcastic jokes about Women. Is that correct?
Yes, Miss, he said. He tried to sound humble and sincere, but it was hard not to laugh. Because he was sentenced to 8 strokes, how hilarious was that! That was not a punishment, that was just a tickle! Stupid Women!
It’s the 15th today, She said, looking at the CFC (Cruel Femdom Calendar), which means 8 times 15, is 120 strokes.
Wait a minute, wait a minute, he panicked, what do You mean? No, no, that’s not fair! No one said anything about this-times-that!
Oh dear, She giggled. What should we do? Call the police?
They said 8 strokes, he persisted.
Don’t push your luck, Dick!, She snapped, before I double it.
He backed down immediately: I’m sorry, Miss.
Right! Now, let’s see who’s available right now. She ran Her finger through a list of names. Here we go: Lady Beatrice, better known as: The Butcher from Baltimore, is available … and … let Me see … Mistress Slaughter, also know as: The Liquidator from Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, can also see you right now. Ah, and Lady Winny, better known as Winny the Whipper. 
I … I would li-
You go straight down the hall to the second door on your left. They hate funny slaves, by the way. So good luck with that! Men In Peril Magazine – November 2088.


There’s a new Subby-Market in town, so I went there to check it out. The two-storey store looks big and bright and I was impressed how friendly and professional the staff was. We have a large variety of slaves from all around the world, one of the young Ladies said, and there’s always something thrilling in our collection. The ground floor showcases the new products that are up for sale. All slaves are trained, tested, cleaned and certified. They’re on display in large display cases with an electronic information card and a price tag attached to it. Male slaves are ridiculously cheap of course, a luncheon in town costs more. And tastes better. On the 2nd floor (the Lease-A-Sub department) you’ll find the second-hand, often somewhat damaged, lease items. The store is open 24/7, just in case someone needs a late-night slave. Some Ladies are emotionally attached to animals, but absolutely no one has feelings for these lowlife creatures we call men. We made that mistake before, and we’re not doing it again. So a Lady can use Her purchase as a work-slave, a handyman, a doormat, a sex-toy, a whipping boy, human furniture, a servant, a pet, a medical experiment or anything else that comes to Her pretty mind. It’s a lovely store with helpful staff and a huge range of products, so I recommend them highly to everyone. Diary of Mistress Sunflower – March 2079.


All men are locked in chastity and I really do understand the reasons why. But it means, in practise, that owned slaves lead the good life. Because is he’s a good boy and if he’s very lucky, his Mistress will unlock the chastity cage from time to time and let Vesuvius erupt. But unowned slaves always get the short end of the stick, and they have to go to the Milking Farm every three months. It’s compulsory and those who refuse will be arrested, fined and castrated. In that order. Don’t get me wrong: I was all for the the Female Revolution, I even handed out flyers. I was, and still am, a firm believer, but the Milking Farm is a step too far for me.
The machine in the milking parlour can milk up to 250 slaves at the time. The smell of sperm is overwhelming and gets into your nose and clothes. But the Milkmaids also use plates, bowls and Tupperware cups to collect the sperm. Some of us are even taken outside and milked in a bucket. Not once, but twice, sometimes thrice in a row. It’s all so degrading, especially when they want us to mow like cows. The last time I was there I confronted one of the Milkmaids with this. She slapped me in the face and threatened me with the slaughterhouse. I left with the tail between my legs. Yes, these are bleak and unsettling times. Joe Mill – September 2067. 


The cell is 7 feet by 13, with a barred window of thick, muffled glass at one end and a black painted door at the other. The cell is damp, unlit and cold, there’s no ventilation system, no running water and only a bucket to be used as a bathroom. There’s some straw on the floor to sleep on and a thin blanket to keep me warm. Meals are given through a trapdoor, about 8 inches square. Tea and bread in the morning, a watery soup at noun and a couple of pints of stirabout as dinner. Then there are the dreadful punishments and humiliations. They say you get used to anything in life, but I’m not there yet. Because there’s no predicting how often or how intense these beatings will be. Sometimes thrice a day, sometimes not at all, sometimes before and after a meal, sometimes in the dead of night, sometimes mild, sometimes unbearable, sometimes in my cell, sometimes in front of all the other inmates. It’s the insecurity that is so awful and gets to you. The Female Guards mock and humiliate me. They spit in my face, force me to lick their boots and order me to eat of the floor. All because I made a harmless joke about the Female Government. February 2056 – Slave 1422-927, Femdom Gaol. 


He was holding a small box in his palm.
This, Ladies & gentleman, is the VR Femdom Pro M-900, a Femdom Universe, set in an open-world environment. You can visit and explore over three hundred Cities, with Femdom bars, hotels, prisons, factories, dark alleys, markets and so much more. Be careful though: there’s always a risk of getting caught and enslaved for years on end! You can fight the Female Gladiators in Rome, visit the dark Castles of Transylvania, travel through the dangerous woods of Artemis or try to find the legendary Amazon Warriors. It’s more real than reality itself and it will change your life forever.
There was a low murmur in the audience.
Now, do you remember those monstrous Virtual Reality Headsets? Now we have this.
He showed us what looked like regular sunglasses with sides.
Isn’t it amazing? No need to wear a bathtub on your head anymore. But you know, the big question is of course: how real is Virtual Reality? Does it still look pixelated? The answer, Ladies & gentlemen, is standing right in front of you. Because I’m not made of flesh and blood, I’m the Virtual Reality.
He moved to the edge of the stage and we could see right through him! We all rose to our feet and gave him … it … that thing a standing ovation.
September 2048 – Virtual Reality Convention – St. Petersburg.


Let me tell you a few things about the job. FemCom is a company like any other, only very different. We work twelve hours a day, six days a week. No (bank) holidays whatsoever, because spoiling slaves is never a good thing. The employee’s hourly rate of pay is $5, but you can (and will) be fined for almost anything: for working too hard or being lazy, for coming in too early or too late, for asking or not asking. I’ve been working here for ten years, but never received a cent, let alone a dollar. Which makes sense, because you wouldn’t pay a cow to give milk or a chicken to lay an egg, would you?
FemCom is a company, not a submissive playground. Sure, the Strict Department Managers slap you silly or kick you in the groin for being stupid, but the real punishments take place after work (time is money after all). If you fool around and deliberately make mistakes, you’ll lose your job. And make no mistake: once out, always out.
We live in brutally basic barracks. But there’s a sink, a bed (of some sorts) and a toilet, what more can a slave ask for? So, are you still willing to give up your freedom and work for FemCom?


The rite to passage at the age of 18, is a transition from boy to man, from masturbation to chastity, from freedom to slavery. The ritual takes place in the month of September, at midnight, on a full moon. The youngsters are forced to crawl between two rows of Mistresses with long, leather paddles. After crawling the gauntlet they’re tied to the whipping-post. Now the real initiation begins. It starts with a soft leather paddle, followed by a 40-strand rubber flogger and then into the darkness of the night with a 4-lash leather whip, the cat-o’-nine-tails and the feared bullwhip. Some of these lads will not make a sound, others moan, groan and scream. After the whipping the chaps are forced to crawl the gauntlet again. This second run is more intens, brutal and cruel than the first one. Some 50 percent of the boys will be castrated, and the other half will spend their days in chastity. In the last stage of the ritual the newborn slaves are branded with a hot iron. It’s a painful, but necessary procedure. They’re now real slaves and ready for a life in servitude. March 2092 – Rites To Passage, Lady Jane, ISBN 923-4-11-724033-0. 


As the members of the House know, it’s not allowed to debate on other questions than those appearing in the agenda. The probability or improbability of a Femdom Exit, or Fexit, is not in the agen- Order! Ordaaa! is not in the agenda, nore will it be. Mr. Duncan, be quiet! I know you feel strongly about this issue and I respect that. But I’m not having you shouting out. Get a grip on yourself man! We’re not, and I apologise to the Secretary of State for Human Pets & Cattle for my choice of words, we’re not animals. We’re all loyal subjects to Her Majesty and submissive towards all Women. Ordaaa! No, no! Order! Yes, the honourable gentleman from Northumberland is free to argue about this as much as he likes, but not in this House! Order! Ordaaaa! May I remind the honourable gentleman that the reign of Women has only just begun and they are not going to allow you, or anyone else for that matter, to withdrawal in some sort of free state. The idea is too absurd for words. Order! Ordaaaa! It will not happen, sir. Not today, not tomorrow, not at any time. No, no! Order! Mr. Duncan, whether you like it or not, Women are in charge and will be for centuries to come. You sir, are now a slave, get used to it and stop wasting everyone’s time. Ordaaaa! House of Commoners – April 2073.


When I got into the great yard I saw three Female Officer’s and about twenty male prisoners. When the triangle was brought out I began to shake from head to foot. It appeared that several had to be flogged; and to make matters worse, so far as I was concerned, a number had to undergo the punishment before me. When the first was strapped he began to shout and roar, but the lash was nevertheless administered without mercy. One after the other screamed and begged for forgiveness, but to no avail. Their backs presented the appearance of raw meat. My name was called at last, and I in turn begged to be spared, but they laughed in my face. I was strapped and the horrible beating began. The more I cried for mercy, the more severely was the lash felt. The Officer’s gave extra instructions to the flogger: Lower down, more to the right, or: try to hit that same spot again, only harder. At length I was released and marched slowly to my cell. On arriving there I fell down from exhaustion, and was scarcely be able to lie in bed for pain. Anno Domini 2154, Femdom Gaol, Chicago.