Tag Archives: Femdom Party

HIP-HIP HOORAY

Her wardrobe was bigger than Long Island and She had more BDSM equipment than a Fetish store. So he wanted to give Her something different for Her birthday. He asked Her sister for advice and She suggested …….. a bullwhip. Blimey!
So he bought Her a 10ft long, dark-red/black handcrafted bullwhip. It was a beauty and the birthday Mistress was very pleased with it.  
End of story? Not so much, because an hour or so later She grabbed him by the ear, dragged him into Her dungeon and strapped him to the St. Andrews-cross.
Let’s try this new baby, She said with a devilish grin.
The first lash cracked his back. The pain was intense and worse than he remembered. He tried to brace himself for the next one, but the whip bit him even harder. The speed intensified, as did the pain. She was thrilled, because She loved to hear Her victims suffer. She ordered him to sing Her a birthday song, while She tried to whip him in half.
Happy birthday to You, happy birthday to You, he sang.
Louder! The whip cracked.
Happy birthday, dear Mistress, happy birthday to You-oe-oe-oe!
His back was raw and sore for days. You see? He should have brought Her a box of chocolates.

BIG MAC

It was a small party, with only five Mistresses and five slaves invited. One by one we went up the stairs (a stairway to Heaven, so to speak), kneeled down in front of the Ladies and introduced ourselves. Nerve-racking, to say the least. The last to come up was Mac (aka Big Mac), a corpulent, florid man from Great Yarmouth. He had years of experience under his belt and he had even served as a 24/7 lifestyle slave.
I’m sure you did all kinds of things for your Mistress and fulfilled many tasks, one of the Ladies said. Can you name something you’re particularly proud of?
Big Mac looked bewildered, like a rabbit in the headlights. His mouth moved, but there was no sound. I always get very nervous in situations like this, so I began to sweat all over.
Come on, slave, the Lady said encouragingly, just name one thing you’re proud of.
The words came from deep inside him: ……my…..dick?
Silence fell like a ton of bricks. And then a nervous giggle escaped me; it flew from my lips like a tweeting bird. All eyes turned to me and my giggle died a sudden death. If looks could kill, I would be living in an urn right now. They said nothing, but boy, I dearly paid for it later that evening. So whatever happens, do not, I repeat do NOT giggle.