Tag Archives: Female Authority

TO PUT IT BLUNTLY

People are very, Very, VEry, VERy, VERY sensitive nowadays and even submissive creatures demand to be treated with respect. Now, I never had a high opinion of men in the first place, but this is a new and unprecedented level of stupidity. A demanding slave is an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms. You’re either demanding or a slave, but you can’t be both. If you think I’m being rude or disrespectful, then I suggest you take a long hard look in the mirror, because you are not a slave. Not even the beginning of a slave. To Me, a slave is like toilet paper – useful at certain times of the day, but ‘respect’ is not the word that comes to mind while wiping My bottom.
And please, for the love of God, don’t tell Me you’re one of those tiresome creatures who demands to be heard! If so, may I suggest you join a choir? Go into politics? Train a parrot? Find a job as a railway station announcer? ‘Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please, the train from God-knows-where is now arriving at platform nummer two’. 
Let’s be honest, in the grand scheme of things you’re an insect, a broom with testicles, a fart gone wrong, an empty vase, an afterthought, one of evolution most dreadful mistakes. Why the hell would I want to listen to your boring stories? Call a sex chat line. Or go and see a therapist, while you’re at it. But whatever you do, leave Me out of it. I’m a Mistress for God’s sake, not an extension of the Wailing Wall. So no, I don’t have to convince you that I’m a real Mistress; you have to convince Me that you’re a real slave.
Lady Blunt

BACK IN THE DAY

I never knew when, or even if, there would be a next time. Sometimes She wanted to see me daily, sometimes a couple of times a month and sometimes not at all for long periods of time. The dreadful uncertainty was a wicked touch and a torment in itself. She was an old-school disciplinarian and a passionate believer in Female Superiority. Her word was law and Her authority was beyond all doubt. She was twelve years older than me, and, needless to say, at least twelve-hundred times wiser. She was a beautiful, elegant and sophisticated Lady who never raised voice. Because, She explained: ‘if you can’t control yourself, then how can you possibly control a slave.’ She also never asked whether or not I enjoyed the harsh training sessions. She once said: ‘Don’t ask how the session was for you; ask how it was for Me.’ What made it so special and memorable was the ease and casualness of it all: She led, I followed; She punished, I suffered; She ruled, I obeyed. God, life can be so simple sometimes. I served and suffered for Her for many years and yet I could hardly sleep the night before a meeting (aka beating). I also often stammered and blushed, because I felt so small and insignificant in Her presence. I couldn’t know it back then, but She belonged to the fast dying breed of genuine lifestyle Mistresses and I will always be grateful that I had the privilege of knowing Her.
slave james