Tag Archives: Vintage Femdom

C’EST LA VIE

‘My parents found me a boarding house in Rue Saint-Honoré. Madame Fouet, the landlady, lived on the ground floor. She was a strict Lady and there were many rules to follow. In for the night by nine, no female visitors allowed (no hanky-panky, She said), a neat and tidy room at all times and no music. She convinced my parents that it was in my best interest that She should be in charge of my monthly allowance. So She had me by the balls, because what are we without money? She ruled with a iron fist and I became Her slave, there’s no other word for it. Oh, She was a merciless disciplinarian, She really was. A Woman dominating a man, that was unheard of in the fifties. Even my friends refused to believe it. So I couldn’t tell my parents about it, even if I wanted to. I was Her property for five years. I graduated in ’59 and my dad wanted me to join the family business. So I said goodbye to Madame Fouet en returned home. I missed Her with every inch of my being and I was completely lost without Her. My life would never be the same and I have always been searching for someone that powerful and dominant.’
The nurse shook her head and said: You have such a vivid imagination, Mr. BrownNow, enough of this nonsense, let me take you to the Bingo game for a bit of real fun!
They would not listen, they’re not listening still
Perhaps they never will

BIRCHING

Foreigners in the past were amazed by the English addiction to flagellation. Mrs. Colet ran a famous whipping establishment (established about 1766) in Convent Garden for example and Mrs. Berkely (died in 1836) had one in Charlotte Street. The latter even designed the Berkley Horse (in 1828), an apparatus to flog gentlemen upon. [.] Her instruments of torture were more numerous than those of any other Governess. Her supply of birch was extensive, and kept in water, so that it was always green and pliant: she had shafts with a dozen whip thongs on each of them; a dozen different sizes of cat-o’-nine-tails, some with needle points worked into them; various kinds of thin bending canes; leather straps like coach traces; battledoors, made of thick sole-leather, with inch nails run through to docket, and currycomb tough hides rendered callous by many years flagellation. Holly brushes, furze brushes; a prickly evergreen, called butcher’s bush; and during the summer, a glass and China vases, filled with a constant supply of green nettles, with which she often restored the dead to life. Thus, at her shop, whoever went with plenty of money, could be birched, whipped, fustigated, scourged, needle-pricked, half-hung, holly-brushed, furze-brushed, butcher-brushed, stinging-nettled, curry-combed, phlebotomized, and tortured.

VINTAGE FEMDOM

Some will say that stains, scratches & a wagonload of dust on old photos is part of the vintage charm. But I don’t have a dust fetish, to be honest, so I like to clean them up a little bit. I’m not a fan of filters or anything; it’s all done by hand and one particle at the time. Without overdoing it and without ruining the overall feel of the photo.
These vintage photos are so beautiful, because there’s an innocence about them that I just love. Female Domination was so much simpler and straightforward back then. The Internet changed all that and it even changed you and me. Not just a little bit, but beyond recognition, I’m afraid. Anyway, these pictures were taken in the seventies and eighties, when the Ladies were in the prime of their beauty. A split second of divinity, so many years ago. Most of them are old and grey by now. Weird idea, isn’t it? So gather ye rosebuds while ye may.