Tag Archives: Femdom Punishment

DEAD MAN’S CREEK

You don’t remember us bringing you to this cabin last night? I’m not really surprised, you had way too much to drink. Four bottles too much, to be precise. No, I don’t have the keys to the handcuffs, I’m sorry. Alice has them. She will be here in an hour or so. I know, I know, you think She’s a stupid cunt, you said so many times. She was furious when I told Her you said that. I shouldn’t have, I realize that, but one thing led to another, you know how it goes. Anyway, She wants to have a word with you. And “having a word” equals torture, of course. Excuse me? Why? Well, because She’s an amateur Dominatri- Sorry? You didn’t know? Seriously? Oh boy, well, you’re in for a painful surprise then. Rumor has it She’s quite a talent. Yes, whips, canes, clamps; enough equipment to shit yourself like an elephant with diarrhea. Trust me, you will hate Her even more after today. Don’t worry, you will survive … Wait! I take that back. I’m not sure you’re going to survive. Ha-ha, I’m just teasing you, man! On the other hand … we’re just twenty meters away from Dead Man’s Creek … I do hope that’s not a bad omen.

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.

SPANKY SPANKY

Picture the scene: you’re facedown on the bed, with your bottom way up in the air. Man, there’s enough meat on your ass to start a bloody restaurant, isn’t there? Anyways, let’s not get into that. Your Mistress walks into the room and sits down on your back, facing your mighty ass. The full weight of Her beauty is pressing down on you, and that’s an incredible sexy feeling. She has brought some goodies: a paddle, a brush, a belt, a frying pan and two strong hands. She starts with Her hands, followed by the pan, the brush, the paddle and the unforgiving belt. The pain isn’t too bad at first, but gets worse quickly. You fear the belt, and for good reason, because it can literally bring you to tears. You’re begging Her to stop, but your plea falls on deaf ears, because She doesn’t do half measures. A true spanking starts when you really want it to end, She says, and desperate times call for desperate measures. You have no clue what She means by that, you only know that your ass is in desperate pain. And so the punishment is, as always, extremely long, hard and merciless. Then, after God knows how long, She looks down on your blistered and raw skin and decides to call it 1) a day, 2) a triumph and 3) a thing of beauty.
Get up, She snaps, you can’t lay in bed all day, now can you? You lazy pig!

CORNER TIME

My friendship with Monique goes back a long time and She knew everything about my submissive feelings. It wasn’t Her thing, but She was always very supportive and attentive. Bless Her! One day I told Her about a Female colleague of mine and I said something horrible. It wasn’t naughty or cheeky, it was downright rude and hurtful.
And you call yourself a slave, Monique said.
I admit I was a bit taken back by Her words. I sat there looking stupid for a while, but then I realised She was right.
I apologise, I don’t know what got in to me.
You can be such a jerk sometimes, do you know that? Submissive, pfff. Whenever it suits you, I would say.  It pisses me off. So, go and stand in the corner over there where I can observe you.
I wasn’t sure if She was pulling my leg, but I did what I was told.
Nose against the wall, hands on your head. I don’t want to hear your voice and I don’t want to hear you breathe. 
Her voice was right behind me and I shivered uncontrollably. I stood there for hours and my arms started to ache pretty badly. It was late in the evening when She told to go home.
We will not speak about this again, She said. I’m not your Mistress, nor do I want to be. But from now on you will speak with respect about Women. 
You see? There’s so much more to Dominance & submission than slaps, whips and canes.

WE WANT MORE

My hands were chained above my head, with my toes barely touching the ground. This was only my third week in slavery and I was still as green as grass. I didn’t even know the difference between a paddle and poodle, for God’s sake.
Anyways, my nipples were clamped and weighted and my balls were tied tightly. Both Mistresses yanked the chain on the nipple clamps from time to time and kicked, squeezed and kneed my poor balls. And to make matters worse: they whipped me endlessly & mercilessly with a vicious cat-‘o-nine-tails and an unforgiving bullwhip. I suffered beyond belief, I really did. I tried to endure the pain as long as possible, but everyone has a breaking point. Mine came with the high-C of misery.
What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?
The blonde Mistress sounded not amused. I may have been a rookie, but I instinctively knew I was on thin ice now. I could hear it cracking and shifting beneath my feet.
Yes, Mistress, I do, I do.
So?
Thank You Mistress, thank You for the punishment.
Do you want more?
(Nooooooooo! Stop! Enough = enough!! Read my lips: no, No, NO!!!)
Yes Mistres, please, I squeaked.
They laughed.
Good boy, big liar, the dark-haired Mistress said.
Always be ready for more, even if you can’t take no more, that’s my painful advice.

DANCE OF THE CANE

It was a beautiful Monday morning with not a cloud in the sky, not a worry in the world. She asked me if I knew the meaning of the word ‘bastinado’. I didn’t want to look stupid (which wasn’t easy), so I frowned and tapped my lips. I told Her I thought it was some sort of dance, like the tango or the merengue. Let’s dance the bastinado, cha-cha-cha. Made perfect sense to me, to be honest. But I was wrong. Bastinado means caning the soles of someone’s bare feet. And you’re definitely not in the mood for dancing after that! I know all about it, because She decided to put it into practice right away and caned my feet as if She was beating the big drum. Not because I misbehaved or deserved a punishment or anything like that. She simply:

needs no reasons,
‘cos there are not reasons,
what reasons does She need,
oh, oh, oh, tell me why,
I don’t like Mondays

She just wanted me to suffer. And suffer I did! The pain was absolutely excruciating. The cane made a high whistling sound and each stroke landed with the accuracy of a Swiss watch. I howled, mewed, bellowed, barked and squeaked in pain and begged for mercy. She put me through hell and back and I will respect and fear the bloody bastinado as long as I live.

THE FLOGGING

When I got into the great yard I saw three Female Officer’s and about twenty male prisoners. When the triangle was brought out I began to shake from head to foot. It appeared that several had to be flogged; and to make matters worse, so far as I was concerned, a number had to undergo the punishment before me. When the first was strapped he began to shout and roar, but the lash was nevertheless administered without mercy. One after the other screamed and begged for forgiveness, but to no avail. Their backs presented the appearance of raw meat. My name was called at last, and I in turn begged to be spared, but they laughed in my face. I was strapped and the horrible beating began. The more I cried for mercy, the more severely was the lash felt. The Officer’s gave extra instructions to the flogger: Lower down, more to the right, or: try to hit that same spot again, only harder. At length I was released and marched slowly to my cell. On arriving there I fell down from exhaustion, and was scarcely be able to lie in bed for pain. Anno Domini 2154, Femdom Gaol, Chicago.

BASHING & THRASHING

All that bashing & thrashing, wipping & caning; is that really necessary? And the short answer to that is: yes. Because boys will be boys, men will be men and all that kinda stuff. You see, men are like water: they follow the path of least resistance. In other words: even the most dedicated slave has a tendency to laziness and cuts corners whenever possible. So bashing his brains in every once in a while is a wakeup call and an act of kindness. And you know what they say about a punishment: it’s not a real punishment until you’re crying real tears. Still, it’s necessary, because you have to know (and feel) what will happen to you if you cross the line or don’t follow Her orders. Being Her sub is all about obedience, respect and fear, my friend. Fear for Her wrath is motivator, a inspiration, a medicine for laziness and a cure for sloppiness.