Tag Archives: Femdom Fantasy

A PERFECT POTION

Once upon a time a prince went into the dark and haunted woods of Paroldo. After three hours he reached the cabin of the Witch.
I’m looking for a potion that turns a Woman into a lifestyle Dominant, he shyly whispered.
Interesting, the Witch hissed, a challenge!
She paced up and down, mumbling to Herself. The prince held his breath and tongue.
Two tablespoons of bear-snot, some dragon blood, cinnamon of course, 20 grams of cow’s bladder, one … no, let’s make that two hands of rat’s ass, one rabbit ear, a handful of nettles, a pinch of salt, some vinegar and … a cucumber perhaps? … yes, why not, we only live once …
She threw everything in the cauldron that was bubbling and smoking over the fire.
THEN! She shrieked, cackling with laughter, a special touch: My saliva.
She gargled and spat into the cauldron, grabbed a ladle and stirred it.
Clockwise and anticlockwise, She mumbled, that’s the trick.
It boiled and steamed for almost an hour. Then She took the red hot cauldron off the fire with Her bare hands and placed it on the ground.
Will it actually work, She whispered, or ….
She took the ladle and drank the boiling liquid like ice-tea. Nothing happened.
More nettles perhaps, She pondered, or is it the dragon blood …
I can come back some other time if you wan-
Know thou place, toad to be! She thundered. Don’t make Me whip you unconscious and crush you underneath My boots! 
The prince rubbed his hands together and smiled: Can I have five bottles of that potion, please?

SHIRLEY HOLMES

I met Shirley Holmes (Sherlock’s younger sister) in the spring of 1891 at the Eccentric Club in Soho, London. She had long dark hair, a gorgeous face and an amazing smile. I bowed and kissed Her hand while Her blue green eyes took a walk all over me.
That you are gullible, ignorant and not particular intelligent is of course obvious, She said.
I beg your par-
She slapped me twice. Not hard, but twice.
Do NOT interrupt Me! She paused a moment. Now then. You were born in a shed with two cows, one of which was lame …  you broke your arm when you were five years old … mother a seamstress, father an accountant. You like kippers, not sprats. Beans, not carrots. Sherry, not port.
I stood there with my mouth open wide, because She was bang-bang-bang-bang on.
How on eart-
She punched me hard on the mouth. My head was spining, my teeth falling. But before I could say anything She grabbed my hand, turned it over and stared at the palm.
Ah! The calloused hand shows signs of lifelong manual labor. Masturbation, I presume. You are the possessor of a fine dick, which I should describe roughly as being larger than a matchstick and smaller than a flagpole.
How dare Y-
She kicked me in the shins and I howled.
Take him to My dungeon in Baker Street, She said to a big man standing in the corner. There’s something fishy about him. Mackerel perhaps. Cod maybe.
I was never to be heard from again.

DREAMLAND

I always think of happy things before I go to sleep. And to me, happiness means being bossed around, simple as that. And yes, I admit, I fantasize about celebrities as well. Can’t remember a time that I didn’t, to be honest. So close your eyes and let me show you around in dreamland.
There, on your left, is Emma Watson’s house. She’s all smiles and laughter, as long as you do exactly as She says. Don’t hesitate, don’t frown and for God’s sake, don’t argue, for She will raise Her wand at you. And trust me, being turned into a frog really sucks.
Over there, in the distance, is Gal Gadot’s Grotto. Last week She decided to teach me a lesson. I asked Her why, because I hadn’t done anything. Exactly, She said, and scissored me with Her beautiful legs until I passed out (aka fell asleep).
Over there? That’s Kristen Stewart’s land. She can break even the toughest of the toughest with Her killer smile, no kidding. Enter At Your Own Risk, the sign near the entrance says. ‘Nuff said.
And there … look at my finger … there … that’s Kate Beckinsale’s underworld. This Lady really sinks Her teeth into you and I’ve lost many a pint of blood over there. But then again, I’d give my life for Her, so who cares about a bit (aka bite) of blood. Buffy (the Vampire Slayer) used to live here as well, but She and Kate were constantly at each other’s throats. The whole neighborhood went down the drain. So Buffy moved to the other side of the valley. I often go there and tell Her I’m a vampire. Famous last words (aka: from apatite to epitaph).
There’s much more that I want to show you, man. So meet me again tonight in my imaginary world and wait for me at the junction, alright?