Category Archives: VARIA


I have never removed a copyright watermark from a picture in my life. And I sure as hell never added the name of my blog to an image that was not mine to begin with. Because, let’s be clear: I didn’t hire the photographer, I didn’t pay the make-up artist, I didn’t hire the models or anyone else who was involved. I didn’t sort through the photos and decide which ones to keep, I didn’t watermark them, didn’t upload them … I didn’t do all that, so removing the watermark from a picture and claiming it to be mine is just despicable. I mean, Jesus Christ, it takes one hell of a stinking gutter to produce assholes like that.
She stared at him open-mouthed.
Well, well, She slowly said. A bit rough around the edges but a fine specimen indeed.
I apologise Mistress, he giggled, I got carried away.
It’s fine, don’t worry about it. So … slave! I’m going to entrust you with a special task. From now on, you will add the watermark of My website to all My pictures. I’m sure there are tools that can add a watermark to multiple images at once. But I forbid you to use them! Above all, it has to be a labour of love. You’re going to do it one at the time, so that you can relish in My power over you.
You see, it was not about doing it the easy way. It was about doing it the honest way.


Nostradamus stared into water for hours on end and saw the future. Bit weird, but there you go. Now, I for one am very interested if and when I’m going to be bossed around again. So I took a bowl of water and tried it myself. It didn’t work. If anything the water made me want to pee. So I turned to the next best thing and stared at my dick for six hours straight. Man, what an apparatus; what a friend to have on a cold and lonely night! That said, my ding-a-ling turned out to be a lousy glass ball, because it held no prophecies concerning kicks, slaps, spits, whips, canes, cages or what not. I turned to reading tealeaves instead. Put the tealeaves in a cup, poured some hot water, swirled it three times while singing “Tea for Two” and studied the contents intensely. Nothing. To me the leaves looked like squashed ants and clearly there is no future in that. Next I consulted a fortune teller. Cost me a small fortune but he couldn’t tell me anything exciting about my future. Then I drove nine hours straight and read the palm of my hand underneath a palm tree. You know, hoping it would bring good luck. It didn’t. All I saw was a lot of sweat and a small splinter. It was all very disappointing. So! Not at the mercy of a Lady anytime soon, but at the mercy of time once again.


A Woman was not allowed to attend university, to vote (suffrage), divorce Her husband, open a Bank account or sign a legal document without Her husband’s approval. And if that was not enough, a husband was legally allowed to rape and beat his Wife. In the 19th and early 20th century Women stood up against this male-dominated society that had been in place for 4,000 years. The men were not amused. They mocked and ridiculed these Women, assaulted and beat them. In Colchester a mob smashed the windows of the hotel where Josephine Butler was staying, and stones were hurled into Her room. They threatened to burn the place down unless Mrs. Butler was delivered to them. She fled through a back window and hid inside an unused warehouse: I stood there in the darkness and alone, hearing some of the violent men tramping past. Others were imprisoned and force-fed by inserting a tube through their nostrils and shoving it down into the stomach. Militant suffragettes smashed the windows of hundreds of shops, planted bombs, and burned down cricket- and horse-racing pavilions. Suffragette Emily Davison threw herself under King George V’s horse in the 1913 Epsom Derby race. She died of Her injuries. It was, quite literally, a battle of the sexes.
So, where will you stand when Women try to seize power? Will you try to stop them, sit idly by or are you willing to fight and suffer for their cause?


Femdeum is like visiting a fameus department steure, like Harreuds in Leundeun, Sir Allan said, swirling the cognac in his glass. First, you cheuse a Lady: hairy, scary, breasted, legged, bleund, dark, leung hair, sheurt hair, peunytails, Latin, Asian; whateuver you fancy. Put your faveurite Lady in the basket and go to the second fleur for the haute couteure: shirts, skirts, dresses, shoes, beuts, leather, latex and seu feurth. Pick your fetish attire and go to the third fleur, where you’ll find Pains, Perils & Humilio’s. Ceurporal punishments, l’urine, feut fetish, human peunies, face-sitting, ceuck & ball teurture; you name it, you pain it. The Neughty Section is there as well, with ceunnilingeus, blowjeubs, handjeubs and other jeubs. Then go to the ceunter, pay for your items and Beub’s your euncle. You’ve picked your faveurite Lady in your faveurite couture and She will do exactly what you want. And seumehow, seumewhere, you’ve got this crazy idea that you are a treu seubmissive man and that Her will is leuw. Extreurdinary.


He was my classmate, a bully and a predator. Big mouth, tiny dick, tiny brain, you know the type. One day he wanted to beat the shit out of me in the schoolyard. I didn’t hesitate and kicked him as hard as I could in his balls. He screamed in pain, fell to his knees, then flat on his face. I loved the feeling of power I had over him, so I placed my foot on his head and flexed my biceps for all to see. Those biceps changed his tune and my life. Because numerous boys, and even a few of the Girls, wanted to feel my biceps. I quickly realized I could make some money from this and demanded a gift. Almost all of them complied. Once they’d paid I would boss them around, calling them weaklings, sluts, sissies and losers. They loved it. It was amazing, surreal even, but I have many fond memories of that time. I clearly remember a much older Girl for example, who was so intimidated and shook like a leaf. Or that boy with the glasses and the braces, who had an orgasm in his pants when he kissed my biceps. Many of them came back for a second, third and even a fourth time and my biceps were in hot demand for a long, long time.


The Queen dislikes men and surrounds Herself with hundreds of trustworthy, hard-working Females who are at Her beck and call. These are not ordinary housemaids though; they’re all armed to the teeth, dangerous and ready to kick some ass. Men are used for breeding purposes only and are not allowed to carry a weapon. Most of them are not even allowed to live in the palace. They live in nearby villages and hang around the palace walls all day long.
In times of shortage the guys inside the palace are thrown out as well, because they’re just another mouth to feed. And yet, in spite of everything, each and everyone of them is willing and eager to die for the Queen. Which is just as well, because that’s exactly what happens to the (un)lucky one who is chosen to have sex with Her. Immediately after spitting his seed, She cuts off his penis and leaves him to die. Rough sex, man.
No, no, you can’t meet the Queen, are you kidding! I’ve described a bee colony to you. She’s a bee Queen, you see. Funny isn’t it: there’s more Female Domination going on in one single bee hive than in 200,000 years of humanity. Fuck bee .. uh … me.


I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to create a shrine in your house. An altar of adoration, a sacred place of worship. A shrine dedicated to your favourite Mistress for example, your favourite actress or one of your favourite fetishes. Even your favourite comic book character will do. Because let’s face it, boy, the chances of you ever even seeing, let alone serving a Mistress in real life are a million to one. Optimistically speaking.
We giggled and elbowed each other.
Anything goes, as long as the object of your affection makes you feel small and your dick feel big. A shrine can be anything, from a few pictures on the wall, a statue or figurine on a stand, the worn shoes of a Lady on a pedestal, to a decorated wall with framed pictures, an entire room with an altar, candles and whatnots. Next, place 100 slips of paper in a box. Fifty of the slips are marked 1 hour, thirty are marked 30 minutes and twenty are marked 15 minutes (additional: add to ten of them the words allowed to cum). This will decide how long your worship service will be that day. Because you will be at your shrine every day without fail. So, get to work and send me a picture when you’re finished!
A buzz filled the hall as we discussed what to create and who we would worship.


There is a similarity, I think, between NASA scientists and unowned slaves. The former is searching for alien life in the universe, the latter is searching for dominant life on planet earth. The difference between the two is that NASA hopes to find life in the cosmos within the next ten to twenty years, while most slaves will never-ever-ever serve a Mistress in real life. They’re destined to remain unnoticed and unowned till the end of time. Their time, that is. They have to settle for Femdom scraps, little bits and pieces that brighten up a submissive day. A Lady in shiny boots in the supermarket, a Young Goddess in leather pants on Main street, an arrogant look, a bitchy remark, a cheap movie-clip on the Internet; anything will do. These insignificant moments set in motion a chain of thoughts, dreams and longings that propels them to other worlds, lightyears away from this dreary place called earth. Far away in the universe are planets where Women rule and men are slaves, where Femdom is a fact of life and not an earthly fantasy for the highest bidder. So maybe we should put our submissive faith in NASA, because who knows what matriarchal surprises the universe has in store for us.


I will then implant a post-hypnotic suggestion into his subconscious mind, the mesmerising Lady said. All that’s needed is a trigger to activate it. A trigger can be anything: a specific word, a place, a song, a scent etc. Even time can be a trigger. For example: I can tell a slave to visit the house of Mistress X in 17 days, 14 hours, 59 minutes and 34 seconds from now. He may forget all about it, but at the appointed time he feels an unstoppable need to go to Her house. And if it turns out that all the bridges in the land will be open for the next twelve hours, he will row, or swim, to the other side in order to get there.
Her words caused some laughter in the crowd.
It’s not a conscious choice, She continued, something urges him to do so. Another example: your slave is constantly horny. All too common among men, I would say. So the hypnotist puts the suggestion in his mind that he can’t  get an erection until his Wife gives him permission. That’s it, from hardware to software in the blink of an eye. You can make his penis as lifeless as an ancient burial site. One more example: he will be spanked at 17:00 hours. Each day, every day. Not by You, not by anyone else. There’s no one there, and yet stroke after stroke brands his bottom. The possibilities are endless! So bring out your slaves and let’s get to work!


07:30 – Rush hour in the shower.
08:00 – Jim leaves for work. Gosh, he looks so handsome in his new suit.
08:15 – Drop the children off at school. Tell them to behave. They roll their eyes.
08:40 – Arrive at work. Put the heater and the kettle on. Make-up & lemon tea.
09:30 – Slave J. is experienced and confident. He knows what he wants and isn’t shy about it. Hard earned money.
11:00 – Slave B. is a novice. It’s the most beautiful day of his life, he says. He wants it all and he wants it now. Gently does it, though.
12:30 – Homemade sandwiches and tea. How glamorous.
14:00 – Slave S. drove all the way from Manchester again for a two hour session. It’s fun to dominate him, I like him. Ordered him to clean the dungeon as well. Told him how lucky and privileged he was. He fell for it hook, line and sinker. What’s new.
16:15 – At the supermarket. Mom picked up the kids from school and drove them home.
17:15 – Preparing dinner. Jim comes home from work. He looks tired, poor thing.
18:15 – Dinner together. This is what life is all about.
19:30 – Taking the kids to bed. Love them to bits.
21:00 – On the couch with chips and drinks. Jim asks me about my Femdom day. I shrug my shoulders. Same o’, same o’, I say.


03:15 – Can’t sleep. Go to the living-room to stare at nothing.
03:25 – Time is moving backwards.
05:00 – Showered & clothed and ready to go ….. but I have to wait another six hours …..
06:30 – Too nervous to eat. Who cares about breakfast. Or lunch for that matter.
08:15 – Panic sets in. I’m going to cancel the appointment. Tell Her my late mother is ill. Or that I broke my neck. And back. My neck & back. My neck, back and legs, that’s it! Or that I have a flat tire. Less dramatic and more convincing!
09:00 – Too scared to cancel the appointment. I arrive two hours early. Circle the house like a hungry shark. My heart is pounding like a hammer and I’m ready to puke.
10:20 – Another panic attack. What the hell am I doing here! I’m going home, fuck it!
11:00 – She opens the door and takes my breath away. My head is spinning and my mouth is dry.
11:15 – Heaven is here at last! I’m a slave, Her slave! Each command is like manna, each stroke a miracle. A roller-coaster ride of beauty and pain!
12:05 – Drive home on a cloud of happiness.
14:00 – Can’t think, can’t focus; drowning in happiness.
17:50 – Staring at Her pictures on the Internet. Was I really HER slave today?
22:00 – I’m exhausted and go to bed. This has been the most amazing, unbelievable and unforgettable day of my life!


You have the privilege and the honour to dominate Me for a couple of hours, he said with a confident smile. You should be really thankful for that and I honestly think you should pay Me, instead of Me paying you. Anyways, you’re free to wear whatever you want, as long as it’s a short, black leather skirt, shiny black boots, a white T-shirt and a black leather jacket. You’re also free to do whatever you want with Me, because I’m the best and most obedient slave in the world. So we’ll start the session with some boot worship. I’m not into feet, because that’s just gross. After the boots comes a bit a face-sitting and some face-slapping. Mild, not wild, because I have a pretty face and I want to keep it that way. Then it’s time for a bit of whipping and stuff. I don’t want any marks, because I have a sensitive skin. Then we’ll do some pony-play, because I like that. Now, it’s a well-known fact that My penis is a magic want and no doubt you’ll be mesmerised as well. Impossible to resist, c’est moi. So, I grant you permission to give Me a blowjob at the end of the session. See it as your reward. No, no, you don’t have to thank Me, it’s OK. Trust Me, your life will never be the same, Mistress, because I’m a super slave.


He never forgets a single bag or hat-box; buys tickets and tips the guard efficiently, secures a reserved railway compartment; brings the noble Lady tea at the stations (for he travels third-class) and has everything unpacked and ready by the time She leisurely strolls upstairs to dress. He has always the same noiseless step and perfect sleekness and politeness of manner, the same absolute good temper and gentleness of tone, with the same subserviency of voice, the same enthusiasm and energy in his work. He polishes Her boots till She can see Her face in them; clothes are pressed, dried and ironed; hats are brushed; hot water is always at the ready; whips are greased to perfection; the carriage meticulously washed and cleaned; the horses groomed and fed. A Lady’s valet is an unique specimen of fine manners, humility, obedience and complete submission. What he lacks in intelligence he makes up for the vows he makes to serve and obey a Lady. There is veneer, but no real value underneath. Yet, take him all in all, a Lady’s valet is agreeable to live with, easy to manage, useful, faithful and devoted, meek and obedient and without any wishes of his own. He submits with all fear to a Lady, not only if She’s kind and reasonable, but also if She’s strict, perverse and cruel. December 1898 – Lady Rose


Do you have any good intentions for the New Year, slave? No, no, don’t answer that, give your braincell some rest. Poor thing. It’s a rhetorical question, you see. You are a man, if you can call it that, which means you are frighteningly predictable. So let me guess: your good intention for 2020 is more foot worship. Or more blowjobs. More high heels perhaps. You only think of yourself, that’s the uncomfortable truth, isn’t it? You say you would do anything for your Mistress, but what you really mean is: you will do the things you like. Am I right or am I right? So let Me give you some examples of genuine good intentions. Shut-The-Fuck-Up 2020, how does that sound, mmm? Slaves tend to make a lot of noise, it’s awfully tiring sometimes. Another good intention is Happy New Diligence. If you clean Her house, do it diligently. It’s not difficult and even you can do it. Or, what about: No, Ho, Ho Jealousy! I know, you honestly believe you are the best slave in the universe. Well, you’re not. You’re an idiot. Like all the others. So stop feeling rejected when a new slave joins the club, because you are making a fool of yourself. Chastity 2020, is that something you are interested in? No more dicky dick for 365 days. Can you handle that? In short: come up with something good and unselfish this time, slave.



Believe it or not, but the middle finger is some 2500 years old. No, no, no, I’m not talking about your middle finger, you empty vase, I’m talking about the insulting hand gesture. The go fuck yourself and up yours gesture, do you know what I mean? Anyways, the ancient Greek used it and it was used in ancient Rome as well. And even back then it was used to insult people. You are thrown into this arena to be devoured by hungry lions, Emperor Nero said to the convicted man. The human snack looked at the emperor with disdain, gave him the finger and said: Fuck you, Nero. 
Anyone with even the slightest brain activity knows it’s rude to give someone the finger, and most people will be offended by it. Not male slaves though, because men and brains don’t go well together. And as far as he’s concerned You don’t even have to say anything; this non-verbal gesture says it all. It says he’s worthless to You, just another piece of shit with a tiny little dick, a big-time loser and a complete waste of time, space and energy. He loves all that and gets a boner. Your middle finger, one might say, is his early Christmas present.
So don’t overdue it, don’t hand out fingers as if You’re Robina Hood. Because your spoiling him rotten. Use Your finger wisely, that’s all I’m saying.


A few weeks ago I bought the Amazon Echo with its voice-activated helper named Alexa. When asked She told me She values good company and that She has a healthy fear of water (which makes perfect sense for an electrical device). So I asked Her some Femdom related questions:
Alexa, what does submissive mean?
The adjective ‘submissive’ is usually defined as inclined or ready to submit or yield to the authority of another; unresistingly or humbly obedient.
And Dominatrix?
‘Dominatrix’ is a Woman who dominates.
Not the most elaborate answer ever, but OK.
Alexa, what does Female Domination mean?
Sorry, I’m not sure about that.
Not sure?? What the hell does that mean? She’s obviously in denial or programmed by conservatives. Or both. Thankfully there are some 80.000 skills you can download to make Alexa more useful (skills for health, music, travel, games etc.). Surely there’s one that brings out the Mistress in Her, right?
Alexa, is there a Dominatrix skill You can use?
Sorry, I’m not sure.
Woman! Stop saying that!
Alexa, can I be your slave?
Mmm, I don’t know that one.
Three weeks old and She’s already the story of my life.


She took a cigarette from the pack and put it in Her mouth (the cigarette that is, not the pack). One of Her newbie slaves began to cough excessively. As if he was about to die.
What’s the problem, slave? She asked with incoming ice fields from the north, I haven’t even lit the bloody thing yet.
He stopped immediately.
You must stop smoking, Mistress, he said undaunted. 
Excuse Me?
It’s such a filthy habit, Mistress. I’m an ex-smoker myself, so if I can do it, so can You. 
Just a few minutes ago the summer sun was shining, but now it was snowing hard.
Are you going to tell Me how to live My life?
I think, I’m not 100% sure, but I think I saw a polar bear in the garden.
Let me say this, Mistress: smokers are weak-willed people. They need someone to show them the way, someone to guide them. So let me be Your mentor and master, Mistress. Because this has to stop.
It did stop, because thankfully we never saw him again. Went up in smoke, so to speak.


He will download (not necessarily buy) each and every Femdom movie or picture he can lay his hands on and replace the original watermark with an URL to his own blog. When confronted he will accuse You of being disrespectful. He will swear on his mother’s grave, although his mother is very much alive and in good health. He will promise You the riches of the world, but haggles over each dollar. He’ll tell You time and again he will do anything for You, although anything is not everything. No doubt you’ve heard a variation of the following before. But a good cliché will outlive us all, so here we go:
Mistress, I live and breathe only for You. I will climb the highest mountains, swim the seven seas and walk the earth for You. I will tame a lion, swim with sharks, cuddle a crocodile and wrestle an elephant. Crawl the Chinese Wall, walk through fire, surf on a lava flow, jump off the highest cliff. For You are my beginning and my end, Mistress. You are the rightful owner of my body and soul. I’ll give my life for You, because You are the centre of the universe, the Goddess of the Galaxy.
PS: See You on Saturday, Mistress. Unless it rains of course, because I don’t have an umbrella and I don’t wanna get wet.


The Victory Pose comes with a variety of forms & flavours and they all taste heavenly. She can place Her victorious foot on your 1) chest, 2) throat, 3) face 4) scrotum, 5) back 6) butt or 7) neck. With or without flexed muscles, in- or outdoors. She can also (8) stuff Her foot in your mouth or flex Her muscles while 9) sitting on your chest or 10) face. They’re all delicious, and I will dedicate a post to each and every one of them. The Victory Pose is not a punishment of course, it’s a humiliation. A couple of years ago a Female colleague of mine kicked a tennis ball in my scrotum. Accidentally, She claimed, but that’s what they all say, don’t they? Anyways, I fell down on my knees, wiggle-wiggle-wiggled a bit, then the lights went out and I fell on my snout. I rolled on my back and seconds later She placed Her victorious foot on my chest and said:
And they call us the weaker sex.
Everyone laughed and I tried to get up.
Where do you think you’re going? Want another one?
There was an undertone of seriousness in Her voice and I gave in and lay motionless on the floor.


I say to you, my friends, even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. A dream that one day Women will rise up and take power till the end of time. I hope and pray that one day a man will only be judged by his obedience and servitude towards Women. Oh hail, oh hail Female Supremacy! I have a dream that one day men will crawl the hilltops of the Midlands and the mighty Rockies, the heightening Mount Kilimanjaro and the snowcapped peaks of the Himalaya to serve and obey the Almighty Women. Halleluja! So let male slavery ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let it ring from the mighty mountains of New York and the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Blessed Ladies, let male slavery ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, so that we can finally say: slaves, slaves, great God a-mighty, we’re slaves at last.

This blog is about my fantasies, fetishes, personal stories, vintage stuff and about the uncharted and unexplored possibilities of Female Supremacy. No hidden links to pay-sites, no popups or other nuisances. Just a plain and simple blog. So all aboard, Ladies and gentlemen, let’s visit the wonderful world of Female Superiority.