Tag Archives: Femdom Beating

ON THE BEAT

Screaming, constable? What do you mean by that?
Well … like: “AHHH-H-H-H”, he said, with a nervous tremor in his voice. He found it hard to breathe and impossible to think clearly because he had never seen such a beautiful Lady before in his life. Her eyes were intense and powerful, Her skin flawless and Her smile irresistible. Her leather dress accentuated Her dazzling figure and there was an undeniable, and quite appealing, air of authority and confidence about Her.
A tormented cry of pain echoed through the building.
Sweet Jesus Christ! What was that! He shouted and his eyes almost popped out of his head.
Calm now, She soothed, that was not a cry of pain, it was a cry of pleasure. Come, follow Me.
She took him by the hand like a child and lead him into a room filled with cages, chains, whips and strange looking furniture. There was a naked fellow in there, covered in marks and strapped to some sort of bench.
Hello Inspector Barnaby, he said, smiling from ear to ear, this is awesome man!
The Lady squeezed his hand: See? What did I tell you. Are you ready to give it a try, constable?
Try??? No, no, not in a millio-
Oh, but you are! I can see it in your eyes. I will be here with you, every single step of the way. I would be very, very disappointed if you said no. Are you going to do that, constable? Are you really going to disappoint Me??
No … Ma’am, of … of course not, he whispered meekly.
That’s the spirit! Now, let’s get to the bottom, your bottom, of those screams, shall we?

PUNCHING BAG

She cranked the winch until I stood on tiptoe with arms raised over my head. I was as vulnerable as a house of cards during an earthquake. God, She looked so spectacular in Her satin boxing shorts! What a Lady! I admit I was a bit nervous, because I had never been punched before. But come on, how painful could it be, right? Going to the denti-
Suddenly, She hit me in the stomach. The blow wasn’t that hard, but harder than I had imagined. She grinned and hit me in my left side. Harder this time and I groaned.
Then She opened the floodgates and a thunderstorm of punches, knees, kicks and elbows rained down on me. Punches to my belly and arms; knees to the side of my body; kicks to my chest & legs and elbows to my ribs. And then, without warning, She slapped my cock straight down between my legs. And when my pride-and-joy returned from the dark side of the moon, She slapped him again. And again. And yet again. As if She was hitting the speed bag! I screamed and swung helplessly back and forth like a monstrous pendulum. Tick-Dick-Tick-Dick-Tick-Dick.
I know, I know, She said with an almost apologetic tone, I’m just an amateur. My sister, however, is trained in Kickboxing. She’s due to arrive and is dying to have a go at you. Isn’t tha- Ah, the doorbell! That will be Her. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.
Her laughter echoed through the hallway.

THE CARPET BEATER

She wanted Her husband (aka Her slave) to turn the dilapidated barn into a luxurious guest house. To be honest, it would have been easier to turn a shopping cart into a Rolls Royce, but, as always, he had no saying in this. She was in charge and had him by the balls. Figuratively and, quite often, literally. So he did what he’d always done: he obeyed and worked his ass off. The barn was smelly, dirty, dusty and filled with spider webs and by the end of each day he’d gathered more dust than a broom in its heyday. But She, always the practical one, had just the solution for that: an old fashioned carpet beater! Handwoven and made from strong rattan reed. Yes, it’s scary sometimes with the things these Women come up with. Anyways, at the end of a hard days work, She would beat the crap out of him with that thing. Not because She wanted to punish him, but because She wanted to dust him thoroughly, meticulously, exhaustively, rigorously, methodically, painstakingly. After that She would hose him down in the backyard with the garden hose. Because he was not going to contaminate the shower with all sorts of creepy bacteria. No, sir! Not on Her watch!
Man, isn’t She one in a million?

REHABILITATION CENTER

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.