Tag Archives: Femdom Mistress

A DOG NAMED YOU

He opened his birthday present and immediately teared up when he saw the dog collar.
Am I getting a dog? Ohhhh, I have been dreaming of that since I was a wee boy. Is it a terrier? A spaniel perhaps? A poodle? A bulldog? Please tell me, darling, please! Does it have a name yet?? Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, what’s in a name, right? Ohhhh, I’m so exited, I can’t stop talking. You should have gagged me first, haha. You claw like a grumpy lioness, rule like a strict Governess … but underneath that facade of Female greatness and power, You’re such a sweet Woman. Bless You, darling, for making me so happy. Please, don’t hold me in suspension any longer! Where is it, where is the dog!
She looked at him as if he were a fossil of prehistoric times.
It’s in the room ….
IN THE ROOM!!!!!! he screamed.
He jumped off the couch like a flea with an itch. He kneeled down and looked under the couch, looked behind the big flower pots, under the cushions, behind the curtains, in the drawers.
Come here, you empty bag, She said. Give Me the collar and kneel down in front of Me.
Oh my God, he whispered in panic, You’re not sitting on the poor thing, are You, darling?
She ignored him and put the collar on his neck and attached a leash to the collar.
There you go! That’s My doggy. Say: WOOF.
The truth sank in with all its might. Unbelief en disappointment dripped from his face. Woof, he said, without a trace of enthusiasm.
Do that again and I have you neutered at the vets, She sneered.
WOOF, WOOF, he barked, jumping up and down and wagging his dick.
That’s better, She smiled. Now, it’s your birthday, soooooo …. how about some dog food!

MOVING ON

I was going to move thousands of miles away from where I lived, so My personal slave became redundant. He had served Me for over ten years, so what to do with such a loyal individual? In My opinion we have a certain responsibility towards these creatures and we should not walk away from that. It’s part of being Divine, I guess. So yes, I wanted to do the right thing for him. However, the next Slave Auction would not take place for at least six months and I honestly couldn’t wait that long. Donating him to a vivisectionist was of course an option, but I immediately dismissed that thought, because I hate cruelty to animals. That sounds strange perhaps, because I nailed his scrotum to the floorboards the other day. But that was not cruelty, that was fun. Well, for Me it was anyway. So I contacted Monique’s Slave Boutique (for all Your Dominant needs and pleasures) and asked if She was interested in a secondhand slave, but She was already full to capacity. And then I got a call from an acquaintance of mine who was interested and asked me if She could borrow him for a couple of days. You know, take him for a test ride, that sort of thing. Five days later we signed the transfer deed. A good deed, indeed!
No, I did not talk with him about it! What on earth has he got to do with anything? He’s a 24/7 slave, for God’s sake! And I’m a lifestyle Mistress, not the chairwoman of a debate club. Furthermore, he is a man, so the empty box between his ears is not exactly a powerhouse, if you know what I mean. Besides, the only power in My house is Female Power.
Lady Laura

THE NOTE

The bell rang and the hallways filled with chatter and laughter. I grabbed my jacket off the hook and took a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket. There was a piece of paper stuck to the box that read: I want to be Your slave.
WTF!! Was this a prank or something?? I looked around and over my shoulder, in the hope that the perpetrator was watching. Why on earth would anyone want to be my slave? What did it even mean?? But there was no name on it, so I decided to ignore it. Which was easier said than done, because the more I tried not to think about it, the more I did. Did Michael write it? Bobby perhaps? Or was it William the creep?”
I went home with an headache and blamed, needless to say, my parents for that. I went to bed early and forced myself to think of something else. I had just closed my eyes to go to sleep when a thought hit me like a bolt of lightning: Did one of the girls write it perhaps?? Stephany? Or Claire? Or was it Ingrid, who could not stop staring at me?
I pounded my fists on the bed in frustration. I hated this! If they had something to say to me, then why not just say it! Whoever wrote this note, needed a severe spanking. And I was more than be happy to administer it! Far away, in a remote corner of my soul, a seed called FemDom opened up and began to grow.
Mistress Charlotte

A VALUABLE LESSON

When I was in my mid-teens we welcomed two new teachers to our school. The geography teacher was a very sweet guy. But he was young, inexperienced and had no idea how to keep order. Which lead to chaos and mayhem in the classroom. After two months or so he tried to tighten up on discipline, but that ship had sailed already. He didn’t stand a chance and after three months he threw the towel and left for good.
The new history teacher, however, turned out to be a tyrant. He scolded us over the silliest things and we were not allowed to talk or move without his permission. Man, we were all so scared of him. He loosened the reins a bit after a couple of months and he turned out to be a relaxed and funny guy. If history taught Me anything, it’s that My history teacher was right: it’s much easier to relax after a strict start then to tighten up after being over indulgent. This same general rule applies for training your husband, a newbie slave or anyone else with a dick. Be strict, demanding, impatient, unforgiving and hard to impress in the beginning stages. Show him who’s boss on a grand scale and inspire so much fear that he’s ready to shit himself. Don’t hold back; knock yourself out. Or him. After merciless comes mercy, not the other way around. Remember that.
Lady Vortex de Esméralda

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?