She walks in, drenched in a perfume called Fatale, from finest leather to high heels. The elegant curves of Her body hold a promise of dazzling beauty. A promise She’s not about to keep though; She’s not giving anything away. You’re not Her lover, probably not even Her friend, merely a pet. It doesn’t matter – not to you – you live and breathe for one more dinner, one more walk, one more smile. She wants you to surrender everything to Her, because that’s the least you can do. Besides, She doesn’t believe in limits; power simply has none, She says. You’re trapped in Her labyrint of beauty and there’s no way out. Nor do you ever want to, for that matter. Everything changes as soon as the constant flow of expensive presents and financial gifts dries up, because She wants only the best for Herself. It’s a Saturday evening, as the last slithers of sunlight fade into black. There’s nothing left to give, you say. Her sweetest smile is almost compassionate. Oh yes, She says, pointing Her gun at you, there’s one last thing to give. And as the bullet comes screaming down the barrel, you know it’s always meant to be this way.
Fucking it up right from the start is ever so easy. But despite what others want us to believe, you don’t get a second chance to make a first impression. Sure; if Mistresses are waiting in line to get their hands on you, then you have the luxury of learning from your mistakes. Most of us however aren’t that lucky. So contacting a Lady without really knowing anything about respect or D/s etiquettes is really a recipe for disaster. Because ignorance is neither a virtue nor an excuse. FemDomme Society acknowledges that and offers several classes for subs, slaves and sissies. It’s an online thing and it’s all about self-study, so there’s still enough room to make a mess of it. So I for one would applaud the idea of a real Femdom School. Classes, homework, exams and certificates; the real deal. So that we’re ready when the day comes!
The founding fathers of the Other World Kingdom were indeed men, not Women. They came up with rules, regulations, laws and courts, a hierarchy for both Mistresses and slaves and annual parties to celebrate the superiority of Women. To them Female Supremacy was more than every Mistress for Herself in a private SM-room. And unlike so many contemporary Femdom websites, the OWK was not a porn-site. Bless them! Was it perfect? Of course not, it takes the ingenuity of Women to reach perfection. Truths, half-truths and fantasy intertwined within the OWK. The area itself was very real for example, but it was completely abandoned most of the time; the Ladies were real, but for some of them being a Madame was merely a way to make a living.
It’s easy to come up with several reasons why Mistresses won’t unite, why global rules can’t work, why a centralised slave registration system isn’t doable and why Female Supremacy can only exist on an one-to-one basis. The founding fathers of the OWK had the guts to challenge all that. They tried to show us that we haven’t even scratched the surface of Female Supremacy yet and that its full and rich potential is waiting to be unlocked. I for one give them credit for trying. At least they did that.
Being a diehard fetishist means that man-made objects (boots for example) or body-parts (feet, legs etc) have certain powers over you. The stronger the fetish, the more vulnerable you are. Telling a Lady about these desires is like putting your dick in a meat grinder and inviting Her to grind away. Because She can now play you like a cheap banjo. Tease you to dizziness and beyond, make you blush like a schoolboy or give you a short-breathed stammer that’ll last for hours. It’s utterly amazing to see how powerful some fetishes can be and how easy it is to make a man hopelessly addicted to them. It doesn’t take much to fall into a bottomless abyss of slavery, that’s for sure. It’s just a matter of pushing the right buttons.
There’s a big difference between disciplinary and recreational punishments (aka erotic punishments). A disciplinary punishment follows after neglecting your tasks or crossing the lines of respect for example. Hearing your Mistress say She’s disappointed in you hurts more than a thrashing, believe me. Disciplinary punishments are perhaps unavoidable from time to time, but you should stay away from them as long as possible; they’re not pleasant and certainly not arousing. Recreational punishments however are both lovely and important. As actor George Clooney once said in an interview: When you do a TV-series over a long period of time, you tend to get lazy. Slaves aren’t any different. We’re trying to do our utmost, we really do, but we’re also masters in finding the path of least resistance. We don’t do it on purpose, it’s just one of our many, many, many, many flaws. So recreational punishments are important to keep us on our toes. Let there be no mistake: a recreational punishment can also be bloody painful, but at least it’s agony with a smile. Happy suffering!
As a kid, I had two hobbies: playing football and bashing the brains in of other boys. Girls did no such things. They just stood there like Madame Tussauds’ figures, talking with each other. Long before Femdom came Boredom, no question about it. Teasing these Girls was also a favourite pastime of mine. Karin in particular, because She was stunningly beautiful with Her long, blonde hair, blue eyes and gorgeous legs. Being chased by Karin was like having a galloping orgasm. Let alone being captured and beaten by Her! She didn’t fight though, She just grabbed my hair and plucked me like a chicken. There was really no need to go to a barber in those days. Or She twisted my fingers so badly that I ended up with a rheumatic hand for the rest of the day. She was ruthless and had no sympathy whatsoever for my agony. Man, I loved it! Loved to suffer for Her, loved being at Her mercy and having to beg for forgiveness. So here’s to Karin, scrambled fingers and early baldness.
It’s not sure if Nostradamus used any methods for entering a trance state. Some say he attempted water gazing. That’s a weird hobby when you think about it and he must have been bored out of knickers to try something like that. Still, I drew some inspiration from it, so I’ve been staring at my dick for hours on end. It was quite miraculous really, because I saw glimpses of the Femdom Future. I saw a Slap & Breakfast for example, and a FemdoMotel. I even entered the luxurious Perils Palace Hotel, which had bed-of-nails, bondage beds and vacuum beds. It also had a Ballbusting Ballroom, a Facesitting Floor, a Humiliation Hall, a CBT Corridor, a Punishment Penthouse and even an Enema Elevator. Barred windows everywhere and the roomservice was…..well, rather harsh, I would say. Not to mention the wakeup call.
You’re free to dismiss these dick-visions as fantasies. But let’s not forget that 100 years ago the idea of gender equality was also considered to be a fantasy. And the very thought of putting a man on the moon and a bunch of landrovers on planet Mars was sciencefiction. Things change, and what’s unimaginable today, may well be the reality of tomorrow.
I’m a simple man (which is a pleonasm in itself) and I love the simple things in my submissive life. Whips and ropes are great, but the point-blank perils are equally beautiful: face-slapping, hair-pulling, kneeing etc. You don’t have to buy them, wear them or take them with you; they’re always there and free of charge. It hardly takes any effort and it’s over and done with in a split second. Although the running time on the receiving end is somewhat different of course.
I was at a party once and one of the Ladies thought it was a jolly good idea to do a Bell Ringing Competition. She wasn’t revering to the doorbell though, but to the carillon between our legs. Points could be earned by taking a man down in one fell swoop. There were twelve scrotums in the room that night and round midnight we were all ready to join the National Hunchback Society. There’s more to kneeing than meets the eye, my balls will vouch for that. Because it isn’t about speed or the power of the incoming knee; it’s about hitting the right spot. A fine one makes your legs feel like jelly; you’re trying to be the last man standing, only to find out you’re the first man landing. As we can see in the gallery, even Jennifer Aniston doesn’t shy away from it. And if Hollywood is ready to knee, then it must be the most normal thing in the world.
The frankfurter between our legs should be behind lock and key, that’s my firm believe. Then it’s up to a Lady to decide how often Tiny Tim is allowed to breathe and leak. Putting a chastity device on for the very first time is like struggling with an alligator. And it doesn’t get any better once the thing is in place. As if an elephant steps on your dick and refuses to move, something like that. Sitting down or turning in bed requires a lot of thought and a quick jump on your bike is a mistake you’ll never, ever make again. I speak from experience, thank you very much. It’s a misconception by the way, to think that you can’t get a boner once your dick is in the nick. You can, but I wouldn’t exactly call it your finest hour. Clothes are a point of interest as well. Forget tight fitting jeans, because you look like an idiot. As if you’re going about with a cabbage in your pants. A Scottish kilt is probably the best option, but then again…
A chastity device is much more than a cock lockdown, because it cages our thoughts, behaviour and bravery as well. Laziness, sloppiness and disobedience can all lead to yet another week behind bars, which makes this device such an excellent training tool. Online chastity is also possible, and a site like Chastity Keyholder Finder has its charme.