Hundreds upon hundreds came here searching for pain and guidance. Novices and die-hards, masochists and fetishists, the brave and the scared. All coming and going on a submissive tide. She was well-respected and Her dungeon became the temple of Female Domination. She was on top of the world and on top of men. Tom, Dick and Harry and a few others were here to stay. They were buoys of hope in an ocean of empty promises. She loved to dominate them, loved the complete power She had over them. She had to retire in the end, because raising Her children became Her priority in life. Slowly but surely Her admirers faded away in time. Rescued by other Mistresses perhaps. Worshipped by many, remembered by few, that’s probably the truth of it. Once She was an Empress and a Goddess, now She’s just an old Lady down the road.
You’ve been working hard and your behaviour has been…well, flawless really. No need for punishments and such. But there’s always a reason, dear boy, even if there is none.
‘You look kinda bored, slave,’ Mistress says.
‘No Mistress, of course not,’ you say with a reassuring smile.
‘I beg your pardon? Are you telling Me I’m imagining things? That I’m wrong?’
‘No, no, Mistress, I didn’t mea-‘
‘I was either right or I was wrong, slave. Which one is it.’
‘I…mmmm…..You were right, M.Mistress, as always.’
‘So you’re bored and you’ve been lying about it, is that it?’
‘N.n…no…I mean… yes Mistr-‘
‘Enlighten Me , slave, why did you lie to Me?’
(All hands on deck!)
I..I…did it t.to please You, Mistress.’
(For God’s sake man! THINK!)
‘Excuse Me? You’re lying to please Me?’
I sat outside the airport for several hours, waiting for the Mistress to pick me up. Just before noun a text message came in, telling me to take a cab to the park nearby Her house and wait for Her there. I’d been there before so I went straight to the small building on the edge of the park to seek shelter from the rain. It didn’t take long for the cold to set in, so I started walking up and down the park instead, in a useless attempt to stay warm. It was 02:30 by now, I was soaking wet, hungry and cold, and yet I was in the very best of moods. Because a slave has to be patient, patient and even more patient. Patience is essential to be able to enjoy your life in servitude to its fullest. Only Mistress decides when it’s time to work, to suffer, to come and to go. Just as She decides when it’s time to wait. On that particular day the Mistress arrived in beams of sunlight at half past five in the afternoon. It was all worth waiting for.
Sometimes a face-slap is just a did-you-hear-what-I-just-said kinda slap. A wake-up slap, so to speak. A face-slapping punishment however is something entirely different. That leaves your head spinning like a freaked out merry-go-round. Coming in with the left hand, but slapping the numbnut with the right (or the other way around) is also pretty awesome. Because we’re cheeky little bastards and tend to move our head with the incoming slap. Blindfolding the rascal is of course another option to stop this go-with-the-blow kinda behaviour. The loveliest face-slapping punishment however is the one shown at the top of this post: pinning down the victim and slapping him silly. So let’s clap hands for face-slapping! Encore!
Men are either into breasts or bums, they say. Which makes me one of nature’s misprints, I guess, because I’m into legs. I was already a leg-fetishist long before I knew how to spell it. Legs rob me of my senses and give me a never-ending boner. Even my socks are wet at the end of the day. But there’s something mysterious about legs as well. There are numerous leg-fetish sites on the Net, which should suggest that this lovely fetish is widely accepted. But I’ve met quite a few Ladies with legs all the way up their armpits, but none of them seemed to understand what the leggy fuzz was all about. So it’s all fine and dandy to be a boot-, shoe-, panty-, ass-, foot- or what-not slave, but leg-slaves don’t even exist! How weird is that.
All that whipping, slapping and torturing is rather labour intensive, isn’t it? I mean, inflicting pain on a masochist takes forever! And at the end of the day he feels refreshed and She’s exhausted! That’s not right, right? The simple solution to this injustice is the electric cock device. It’s one of the best inventions ever, I would say. Because all it takes is one finger to make him suffer beyond imagination. It’s like getting hit in the scrotum with a demolition ball. Only worse. Shockingly simple! One of the sites that really understands the awesome power of this fascinating device is Men Are Slaves. And as you can see on the pics, both Ladies and slaves love it, hehehe.
One morning a Mistress came out of the bedroom wearing a T-shirt with a teddybear printed on it and a text saying: I ♥️ Cuddling. It made me laugh. Which was a little too early in the day for this Mistress (it was 11.30 am, but nevertheless). Turned out this bloody bear was blessed with a couple of razor-sharp claws. So it does not matter if a Lady is dressed in a T-shirt, a jute bag or rags; She’s always a Mistress. Clothes are merely attachments. Which doesn’t mean we can’t get attached to them though. I love anything shiny for example. I can look at shiny clothes for hours on end and in perfect happiness. So not surprisingly I’m a real sucker for satin as well. It makes a Lady look so elegant, so refined and so, so beautiful.
Name a yellow fruit, the quizmaster says. The candidate answers without thinking: orange. Something like that happened to me a couple of years ago. Do you know one of My nicknames, Mistress Yvette asked with a smile. I had no idea and that should have been the end of it. But to my horror a different answer tumbled over my lips: Mistress Yvette, The Best A Man Can Get? She raised an eyebrow and shook Her head in disbelief. She pointed at the strap-on and the frightening dildo and said fiercely: I’m also known as The Ass Blaster, Lady Anal Channel and even Pneumatic Sally, although I must admit I have no fucking clue where that came from. There’s no smoke without a fire they say, so when I got home that night my ass looked like a sinkhole. You could easily keep your wallet in there. Or a pair of socks. It was crazy.
Accompanying a Mistress on a shopping spree is absolutely lovely. Once I entered a small shop with a Mistress. It was extremely crowded in there and the Mistress told me to wait at the entrance of the shop. I stood there for ten minutes or so, then She came marching through the crowd, grabbed me by the ear and dragged me to the counter. She then pulled the wallet from my pocket and paid for the goods. The Ladies behind the counter all looked kinda bewildered and I’m sure they had something to talk about during their coffee-brake. Going with a Lady to a Fetish Shop is the ultimate reward though. A shop like that is a Wankers Walhalla, it really is. You don’t want to embarrass your Mistress of course, so you’re trying to look, cool, calm and collected. While at the same time the stains in your trousers are getting bigger and bigger. So cute!
For centuries it was believed that good old Herodotus was just tickling our balls when he wrote about the Amazon Warriors. That has changed since the early 1990’s, when the first graves of warrior Women were discovered in the Ural Steppes near the Black Sea. Exactly where the ancient Greeks said they would be. Some of these tall Female skeletons were bowlegged (from constant horse-riding), had worn finger bones (from bow pulling) and were buried with arrows and daggers alongside them. Some even showed signs of battle wounds. However, some of these grave mounds contained male skeletons as well. Herodotus wrote that the Amazons were frequently hunting on horseback with their husbands. Which could suggest that these Women didn’t live apart from men. Nor is there any evidence to suggest that they lived in a matriarchal society. But that’s what we know today, it doesn’t say anything about tomorrow’s discoveries.
My brain is pretty twisted, I can tell you that much. Take licking boots, swallowing spit, drowning in pee or walking the park on a leash for example. It’s all said to be so humiliating and all, but my tiny little brain fails to see it that way. A forced orgasm on the other hand, should be a pleasant and most welcome surprise. It’s not. Well, not in my dairy book that is. Because that’s what milking is all about: reducing a slave to a dairy cow. I’ve always tried to hold on to my precious sperm for as long as possible, but my crazy dick was no match (no match at all) for a Lady who knew Her business. Being too weak to stop the damn thing from leaking all over the place makes it all so utterly humiliating. And at the same time it makes the Lady look so extremely powerful.
People had warned me that Her mood could change as quickly as the weather. It didn’t scare me off though, if anything it made me curious. Besides; people like to exaggerate all the time. But I was wrong and they were right. Of course. Because I’ve seen it dozens and dozens of times; the dark and swirling clouds in Her eyes, the thunder and lighting that was about to be unleashed. By that time it was already way too late to grab an umbrella or hide in a stormshelter. And so the canes, whips and paddles rained down on me again. These showers lasted five minutes or so, then She would giggle and make fun of my battered ass. Knowing first hand what would happen to me if I didn’t do as I was told, taught me to obey blindly and to do my utmost in each and every task. And so it’s true: through suffering we reach perfection.
She wants you to go twice a year, because She cares for your health, She says. Which is rather odd, because She’s bashing your brains in on a daily basis and almost skins you alive with Her bullwhip. That however, stimulates the blood circulation, She says. She’s funny, what can I say. Going to the Clinic isn’t though. Them bloody nurses will turn you inside out and your dick, balls and nipples are in constant danger. They’ll also be drilling down your anus with terrifying interments. It’s an ass for goodness sake, not a copper mine! Screaming for mercy doesn’t help; it delights them. Yeah, a nurse uniform humbles & crumbles and it makes you feel like a duck in a medical shooting gallery. The last time you left the Clinic with bowed legs and a fucked up scrotum. That’s not healthy, is it? If anything, it’s a one way ticket to Lourdes.
As far as one knows it’s the first Femdom Restaurant in the world. So I went there last Friday and I say; what an extraordinary place. I was welcomed by a lovely Lady whom I thought would get my coat. How wrong one can be! She kneed me awfully hard, grabbed me by the ear and dragged me to a table. Goodness gracious! Then a marvellous looking Lady asked me if I wanted a drink. I ordered some wine, but She gave me a glass of water instead. She slapped me tremendously hard and said: We’ll charge you for the wine, but you’ll drink water. I say, what a lovely Lady! As a starter I had Soup A La Sock, which tasted absolutely ghastly. One’s taste buds were down and out for at least an hour. As a main course I had the Spanking Spinach With Garlic And Oil. Good Lord, how painful that was! Don’t know anything about the dish itself, I’m afraid; the Lady ate it. It’s a jolly good restaurant and the service is horrendously splendid. One leaves with an empty stomach, but it makes one hungry for more. I say!