Tag Archives: Femdom Story

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?

HÄNSEL & GRETEL

This cottage, Hänsel said, is made of chocolate and biscuits.
He broke off a bit of the roof and took an enormous bite. A horrifying cracking sound followed.
Well, that’s one way of losing your baby teeth, Gretel said.
The cottage door opened and a Witch came out. Man, She was a knockout! Hänsel’s dick rose to the occasion and was ready to launch itself in orbit around the moon.
We’re a bit lost, he quikly said, spitting molars in the process.
The Witch licked Her lips like a predator looking at her prey.
Come in, She said, with a serpentine smile, all will be hell …. oops, I am so sorry, I mean: well. All will be well, that’s the spirit! 
Hänsel took Gretel by the hand and they went in. There was a large cage in the room.
Yikes, what a scary cage, Gretel shivered, I bet no one dares to go in there. 
Hänsel laughed, pushed Her aside and stepped into the cage. Its door fell shut behind him.
What did I tell you, Gretel grinned, easy does it.
The Witch chuckled and gave Gretel 20 silver coins.
Just out curiosity, what are you going to do with him? Gretel asked.
Sell him, I think, the Witch answered, or eat him. Don’t know yet.
Hänsel fell down on his knees.
No, no, no!!!! Gretel, I beg You, please don’t do this. Help me!
She looked at the coins in Her hand and opened the cottage door.
Na, sorry, bro.

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.

LITTLE RED RIDING BOOTS

Once upon a time a Girl called Little Red Riding Boots was on Her way to see Her grandmother. And, as always, She met Mr. Wolf along the way.
Good-day, Riding Boots, said he. Whither away so early?
To granny, if you must know, sighed She.
He stared at Her boots and shook his head disapprovingly: These are not riding boots, Little Red!
One word for you, Wolf, She growled: fuck off.
He said something very, very naughty and disappeared into the trees. One hour later She arrived at the cottage. Her grandmother looked very strange.
Oh, grandmother, said She, what hairy arms you have!
It’s true, child, I look like woolly mammoth nowadays. Better call me Hairy Granny from now on.
But, grandmother, what big eyes you have!
Yes, I’ve been sniffing some coke, and I’m tripping all over the place.
Grandmother, what an enormous dick you have.”
All the better to fu-
Little Red Riding Boots grabbed the slithering dick with Her left- and a large butcher’s knife from Her basket with Her right hand. She pushed the knife underneath his scrotum.
Hello, Wolfie! She grinned. Look in My basket.
He obeyed and screamed in horror.
Jesus! Are these … testicles?
Very good! Ain’t they cute? They belong, or should I say belonged, to My other victims.
Wait a minute, wait a minute, said he, with renewed confidence, I know this tale and this is not how the story goes.
True, said She, but this is how your story ends.

TWISTED OLIVER

Life in the workhouse was hard. Up at six, work till dark, allowing half an hour for breakfast, thirty minutes for luncheon and two quarters of an hour for dinner; in bed by eight in summer and seven in winter. Food was very basic: bread & butter for breakfast and lunch, potatoes and some veggies for dinner. Oliver didn’t know all this when he entered the workhouse. He was new and stupid; a recipe for disaster. So one day, after two potatoes and a spoonful of cabbage, he rose from the table and went to Mistress Cook.
Please Mistress, he whispered, I want some more.
Mistress Cook gazed in stupefied astonishment on Oliver.
What! She said at length, in a faint voice.
Please Mistress, replied the numb-nut, I want some more.
She hit him hard with the ladle on the forehead and the sound of emptiness resonated through the hall. Mistress Cook rushed into Staff Only room in great excitement.
Oliver has asked for more!
Horror was depicted on every face.
For more! Madame Blutwurst screamed with a pale face. He might have shown some appreciation, after all we’ve done for him!
Let’s hang him, Mistress Noose suggested, let’s hang him here and now.
An animated discussion followed and in the end they decided to donate him to a galley ship. So remember lads: be happy with what you’ve got and never, never ever, ask for more.
April 2113 – Young Slave Boys: ISBN 978-122430-422-6

KNOCK, KNOCK, WHO’S THERE?

The doorbell rang. Which was annoying, because he was just about to watch a porn movie. He opened the door and immediately five Women swarmed in. One of them grabbed him by the throat and pressed a piece of cloth on his nose and mouth. ‘Chloroform,’ he thought, then everything went black. He woke up naked, cuffed and gagged, with five Women standing over him and looking down on him with superiority. He tried to scream for help, but the gag prevented that. Then his ordeal began. He was whipped, slapped, kicked and spat on. His balls got shocked and his ass got fucked. Mercilessly. In the end he lay helpless on the floor, as they pissed all over him. Then a sixth Lady entered the room.
Sir? Is this house number 44?
He looked up in pee and nodded.
Oops, She giggled, wrong number, Girls. We need to go to number 44-1.
They all looked down on him with new eyes. One of them bent down to him.
We will not charge you anything, OK? But the next time we will not be so lenient! Do I make myself clear?
He nodded fiercely.
Later that evening, after cleaning up and scrubbing the floor, he sat down on the couch. His ass was still on fire, but what puzzled him the most was the huge erection in his pants. He couldn’t wait for the doorbell to ring again, to be honest.

HIS WORD IS …

He will download (not necessarily buy) each and every Femdom movie or picture he can lay his hands on and replace the original watermark with an URL to his own blog. When confronted he will accuse You of being disrespectful. He will swear on his mother’s grave, although his mother is very much alive and in good health. He will promise You the riches of the world, but haggles over each dollar. He’ll tell You time and again he will do anything for You, although anything is not everything. No doubt you’ve heard a variation of the following before. But a good cliché will outlive us all, so here we go:
Mistress, I live and breathe only for You. I will climb the highest mountains, swim the seven seas and walk the earth for You. I will tame a lion, swim with sharks, cuddle a crocodile and wrestle an elephant. Crawl the Chinese Wall, walk through fire, surf on a lava flow, jump off the highest cliff. For You are my beginning and my end, Mistress. You are the rightful owner of my body and soul. I’ll give my life for You, because You are the centre of the universe, the Goddess of the Galaxy.
PS: See You on Saturday, Mistress. Unless it rains of course, because I don’t have an umbrella and I don’t wanna get wet.