Tag Archives: Femdom Lifestyle

FINDING MY FEET

I was shocked when he told me about his submissive feelings. I thought I knew him through and through and then, in the blink of an eye, my whole life was in turmoil. I felt betrayed, does that make sense? But after many talks (and a lot of wine) I agreed to play the role of Mistress on five consecutive Saturdays. The first three were a complete disaster, because I honestly didn’t know what to say, let alone what to do. And his whole demeanour changed, I hated that! He was no longer the man I fell in love with, but someone I’d never seen before! We had agreed not to talk about it during the week: no suggestions, no requests, no advice. Thank God for that, because I was well aware I sucked at this.
And then the anger came. All this nonsense about obedience and doing everything for me! Yeah sure! So on the fourth Saturday I ordered him to clean the bathroom. Once finished, I inspected the work and told him I was not satisfied. I ordered him to do it again. To my astonishment he did; the walls, floor, tiles and shower, as if nothing had happened. So I inspected his work again and sneered: “Do you call this cleaning? Do it again and do it properly this time.” And so he did, without a word of complaint. Christ, he even thanked me for it! And then, surely but slowly, it dawned on me: I didn’t need to worry about his suggestions, his ideas and whether or not he liked it. Who the hell was he in the scheme of things? That’s how it all started.
Mistress Selene

THE DECISION IS MINE

Silence! When I speak, you listen. I thought I whipped you often and brutal enough to know that by now. So, let Me get this straight: I gave you an evening off to have a drink in The Three Barrels and you ended up in bed with the bartender’s daughter. One orgasm lead to another and now you want My permission to get married and move to another manor. I must say, slave, I’m shocked. Not only by your lack of loyalty, but also by the swiftness of it all. So no, I’m not jumping with joy, to put it mildly. I haven’t even met the girl yet! She is dominant, I presume? NO?? Aha, I think I know what’s going on here! You want to be in charge again! That’s it, isn’t it? Leading the way with your dick in hand. You cheeky little bastard.
But, you know, I’m a reasonable and understanding Mistress, the marks on your back are living proof of that. So yes, I give you permission to marry this woman. But I won’t give you permission to move to another manor. She will live here with you on My land. She may be your wife, young man, but She will be My slave and My property. That’s My decision and that’s final!

FEMDOM SLAVERY

According to many, the relationship between Mistress and slave is based on sexual attraction. She’s in charge, but She also listens to his needs (a daily blowjob for example) and respects his limits. So, at the end of the day, when all is mildly whipped and lovingly slapped, he is the puppet-master and She’s the puppet. Call me a primitive, but I believe in the simple and accurate definition of the word slave: someone who is the property of another person and is forced to work and obey. Come on, She doesn’t need our permission to punish us! And She sure as hell doesn’t need to take our limits into consideration. She can use and abuse us to Her heart’s content. Take our money, and our nuts while She’s at it, put our dick in the nick for months on end, sell us to the highest bidder or donate us to a vivisectionist. And what are we going to do about all this? File a complaint? For what? For being a slave? We chose the path of submission ourselves, no one forced us. So embrace it, regardless of how painful, humiliating, confusing it can be. Regardless of how much we dislike certain things. If you want to be a slave, then act like one. No limits, no restrictions, no rights, no way out. Anything less has nothing to do with slavery.

ASIAN MISTRESS

She looks so petite, so vulnerable and so innocent, doesn’t She? A beautiful, but fragile Pearl of the Orient. But make no mistake, this Lady can make the heaviest sumo wrestler cry for his mama. Without breaking a sweat. She’s that strict, that brutal and that merciless. She’s not interested in your silly fantasies, boy, She interested in power, real power. She’s hungry for it and will not stop at anything to get it. She wants it all and no doubt you’re going to give it to Her. Beware tough: once She has Her claws in you, there will be no turning back. You can beg as much as you want, but She’ll never let you go, never. You see, you once had a past, but She owns your future. And your money, your car, your home and all your dirty little secrets. You will be Her property and She will tell you what to wear, when to work, when to rise and when to sleep, when to eat, when to speak, when to cum and when to breathe. Hell, She will even tell you when to piss and when to shit. She will punish, humiliate and torture you whenever it pleases Her and you will learn to obey Her blindly.
So, who’s looking fragile and vulnerable now, eh?

SLAVE CONTRACT

I came this close (look at my fingers) to signing a slave contract. The contract was there, the day was set, the witnesses ready … and then, just forty minutes before the ceremony, the Mistress changed Her mind. I was devastated, like being fucked up the ass by two-thousand short-temperted, all-horny, ready-to-rrrrumble Vikings, but I showed no outward signs of emotion. Because it’s not done, better said: fucking rude, to question a decision of a Lady. So I didn’t ask and She never explained.
Now, a slave contract has no legal binding whatsoever, of course. It’s as worthless as you and me. Because slavery is illegal, even if both parties desire it. Take it to court and you will probably be fined for waisting their time.
Still, I would have given my left toe and my right testicle for a contract like that. Because those meaningless signatures still mean something, you know. Because no self-resprecting slave should, could or would ever walk away from the promises and duties he signed up for in a slave contract. In that respect a slave contract is far more binding than the law wants us to believe.

THE SHED BEHIND THE HOUSE

Turns out I’m a lesbian after all, so My Girlfriend Angela will be moving in soon. Now, I’m sorry to say this, Harold, but we don’t want a penis in the house. So, if you want to live with us and be our servant, then your dick has to come off. Or, if you’re really really attached to that awful thing, then you have to leave. Move out with- or stay without, that’s it really. Now Harold, you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, we both know that. Apart from that, you’re a slave, not a decision maker. So I gave it some thought and I’ve decided for you: you have to go!
That said: you’re My husband and I’m not going to make you homeless. Because I hate cruelty towards animals, you know that. Besides, we need your salary and who else is going to clean the house, cook dinner and do the shopping, right? So, I will give you some money to turn the shed behind the house into a tiny house. Your house. Nothing fancy: basic, brutal and Spartan will be your building blocks. And leave some space for the bikes, will you Harold?
Now, don’t look so miserable. You’re My slave and I can do with you as I please. I decide, you abide. Enough talk for now! Time for you to make a list and visit the hardware shop. Chop-chop!