Tag Archives: Female Power

GIRL POWER


One day Eve came up to me and challenged me to a fight. She was the first, and as it turned out, the only Girl to ever do so. I was a bit lost for words at first, but then it dawned on me. I was the strongest boy in the class and She was a judoka (and a fine one from what I heard), so somehow it made sense. I accepted the challenge and we went to the nearby park, with several classmates following close behind. The first to win five games would be champion. I wasn’t worried or anxious, but I took the fight seriously. This was about prestige and I was not planning on handing out any gifts. And yet She took me by surprise in the first two rounds. Within minutes I was 2-0 down (a vicious arm-bar and a brutal rear choke). I won the third by twisting Her arm behind Her back. Yes! I was back in business! In the fourth She threw me to the ground, wrapped Her arm around my neck and pinned me down. It felt like I was stuck in concrete and was forced to tap out. I was 3-1 down and my classmates cheered and clapped. The bastards. Next I managed to throw Her to the ground and land on top of Her. This was going to be easy! But then She wrapped Her legs around my torso and clasped Her ankles together. Like getting strangled by a two-legged python. I tried to fight myself out of Her grip, but She was too strong. I was forced to tap out and everyone was cheering Her. She smiled triumphantly. In the sixth I landed on my back and She pinned me down- and decided the match- in a classic schoolgirl-pin. She beat me 5-1 and in front of my classmates. Ouch! I was no longer the strongest kid in the class, nor would I ever be again.

FEMME FATALE

Sasha started working for us on a Monday morning and Her desk was opposite mine. She was beautiful in a mysterious way and there was definitely something dangerous lurking behind Her smile. Then we shook hands and I literally fell in love with Her in a matter of seconds. It felt like being pushed off a cliff, it really did. I think She knew, there and then, what a weakling I was and how easy it would be to make me dance to Her tune. She didn’t hesitate and within hours She had me on a short leash. She knew exactly what to say to push my buttons and it was impossible to refuse Her anything. If I tried She would pout and make me feel guilty. I worked late to finish Her work, lied for Her, bought Her clothes and paid Her rent. I even fumbled with Her assessments so She would get a raise.
Sometimes She humiliated me, be it in a playful way, in front of our colleagues. Asking me if I would do anything for Her. Telling them I was such an obedient boy.
She quit Her job within a year. I felt gutted, but luckily it didn’t mean the end of our friendship. At least that’s what I thought. But on Her last day of work She looked at me with cold eyes and said: Before you ask, I’m not interested in keeping in touch with you. You are boring. 
All this happened many years ago, but I still remember the smell of Her perfume, still hear the echoes of Her voice. In case you’re wondering if you ever met a Femme Fatale; trust me, you would know. Because you’ll never forget.

EDUCATING SLAVES

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

FEMDOM TWIST

You get hard at the sight of My boots, My shoes, My feet, My legs, My ponytail, My dress, My jacket, My skirt, My blouse, My nails … I mean, come on, man, what’s wrong with you! Mistress Summer shook Her head in disbelief. You’re not a man, you’re an idiot, a freak, a complete and utter failure. You don’t need a Mistress, you need a therapist and a straightjacket! God, you probably use the empty space between your ears to store boxes and stuff, don’t you? Hush!! I’ll tell you when it’s time to say something stupid. And look at that thing between your legs, that’s just disgusting. And it’s not exactly mount Vesuvius either, is it? It’s a pimple, at best. You have to use tweezers to jerk off. And a search party when you need to pee. Jesus, you suck as a human, suck as a man and suck as a slave. That’s you in a nutshell, isn’t it? You’re just an inferior creature; a waste of time and a waste of space.
The door opened and a second Mistress entered the room. The Ladies talked a bit, then the newcomer pointed at the slave: Who do we have here?
That’s My husband, Mistress Summer said with a sweet smile, I love him to bits.