My parents used to drag me along on visits to family members. I had to sit there like a corpse for several hours and listen to their stories of pains and illnesses. One of my younger aunts was the only one who allowed me to roam the house and garden. It was really adventurous, because She had a big house with an attic, a huge cellar and lots of rooms. I knew I wasn’t allowed to open any closets and drawers, but curiosity got the best of me and I opened them all. One day I found Her soft, leather gloves. I thought they were gorgeous and touching them gave me goosebumps. It was love at first sight, one might say. A couple of months later I watched Her put them on and it literally took my breath away. It made Her look so elegant, but it gave Her a certain authority as well. From that moment on I flew like the wind for Her and I was thrilled to bits if She asked me to do some errands or little jobs for Her. I was way too young to understand it all, but the desire to obey was already there. It fitted me like a glove.
There’s an area in the Red-Light-District called Strapon Upon Avon, aka Pegging Lane. There are several brothels down there where male slaves are kept as prostitutes. Mistress can send you there for being lazy, stubborn or simply for being plain stupid. Terrible business really, to be humiliated like that. Each slave is strapped to a table with his ass wide open. The Lady customers have hundreds of dildo’s to choose from; from pickle size to battering ram. Unfortunately that’s not the end of the derriere misery, because male customers are also welcome, equipped with their own permanent strap-on. For just $10 they’re free to use you for one hell of a ride. Ten fucking dollars for a fine ass, that’s like getting screwed with your pants on, I would say. The brothels are near the harbour and things can get rough once the sailors come flooding in. High tide up the ass, as they say. Yes, the area gives a whole new meaning to the word asshole.
Sounds stupid I guess, but I shrink to the size of a mouse whenever I see a fetish nun’s outfit. Sadly enough I’ve never met one in real life, which is an unforgivable sin in itself, I would say. Thank God my dirty mind is a joy forever, so there She is: a beautiful nun in a long, shiny habit. She has ordered me to come to Her Chapel of Pain for confession twice a month. She’s so sereen and understanding and Her soft voice encourages me to confess to everything. And I do! After confession comes pain, because only through suffering comes absolution, She says. Sister Mercy punishes without, and the pain is almost unbearable. But my screams and cries are a song of Solomon to Her and my tears are merely living proof of a sinful life. I’m down on my knees in front of Her, sobbing, shivering and covered with marks. She orders me to kiss the hand that punished me and I worship it like a holy relic. She’s a divine Angel, She really is. Ah, if only….
Let’s talk about his pride and joy, his trusted friend on a cold and lonely night. Yes, his cock & balls, what else. We all know how much he treasures his citadel of happiness, but we also know it’s his Achilles Heel, his chink in the armour, his weak spot. Corporal Punishments and such are lovely, but it’s all so labour intensive. Targeting his twig an berries is so much easier and the effects are truly amazing. There are so many goodies in the CBT toolbox to choose from, but if you’re looking for maximum impact, then humblers and ball crushers will do the trick. Squashing his family jewels in such a device is already agonising, let alone if you start squeezing, paddling or scratching his swollen manhood. You can take him to a whole new level of submission and obedience with this, isn’t absolutely wonderful. So humble and squash his sperm factory; it’ll drive him nuts.
My first ever cleaning job for a Mistress was cleaning a bathroom at the OWK. I was nearly finished when She came in, smoking a cigarette and leaving an ash trail on the clean floor. Wicked! She then studied the toiletbowl in minute detail. Not a word was spoken and the silence nearly freaked me out. Then Her voice lashed out at me: come here, slave. Her finger pointed at something on the bowl: what’s this? It took me nearly a minute (which didn’t go well at all) to find the mini micro speck. Blimey! Her boots went and came back with a cane. She ordered me to stuff my head inside the bowl as far as humanly possible. She took me up to fifty strokes and I had to count them out loud. Which was pretty cool, because I heard my voice resonate inside the bowl. Hence Superbowl. She then ordered me to clean the entire bathroom again! I scrubbed and cleaned as if my ass depended on it and I was really nervous when I told Her I was finished. She got up from Her chair and said: Good. Now let’s have some lunch. She didn’t even look at the bathroom, haha. Brilliant!
I’ve been a dedicated follower of Kick Ass Kandy right from the start. The creators really love with their doing and you can almost feel the energy, the fun and the pleasure of that in each shoot. They rehears each scene in detail, which means the Girls don’t have to look at someone behind the camera for guidance all the time. What a relief! Way too many Femdom sites don’t care if their leading Lady looks like a blundering amateur, but thank God Kick Ass Kandy does care. They honour their Ladies and they want them to star and look perfect. The site is all about beating the crap out of guys, which in itself is a soaking wet dream come true. It’s all staged of course, plain fun, with the appropriate kick and punch sounds. Their Ass Kickers are incredibly sexy and skilled, and Girls like Ella Maria Palfrey (Hi-Kix) and Sasha Jackson (AJ) really take your breath away. And your teeth, if you mess with them.
Whenever I see an Asian Lady the what if question pops up in my head. What if this Lady turns out to be one of these cruel and merciless Mistresses? She may look fragile, petit, innocent and harmless, but especially Asian looks can be deceiving. What if She’s one of these martial arts Girls? I’m a streetlamp compared to them, but some of these Ladies are so skilled; they could overpower me at will. What if She lures me into Her unescapable maze of beauty and wants me to surrender heart and soul to Her? Forget the question mark, because you can’t resist the irresistible. And yes indeed; what if She looks at me and wonders if I’m a slave? What if….what if…. that question spreads through my body like a submissive virus and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. All Asian Ladies are Magical Mystery Mistresses, that’s the long and the short of it.
My work-coach at the unemployment centre was Miss Summer. Ridiculous name if you ask me, because She was as cold as ice. She told me She had a job for me and handed me a piece of paper. I freaked when I saw the job-title. Come on, that was not a real job, was it? It was ridiculous! But Miss Summer told me I had no choice, it was either this or the gutter. Well, I didn’t see much difference between the gutter and the job She had in mind for me, but I gave in. So the next morning I went to this villa where Madame Marlboro and Princess Pall Mall ordered me to open my mouth. They both took a long, close look, as if they were hoping to find a hidden treasure in there. I’m not impressed, Madame Marlboro said, but it’ll have to do for now. They brought me to a table with a hole in the middle and ordered me to put my head in there. And there I was: a human ashtray. Eighteen hours a day, seven days a week eating buts & ashes. Well, you have to swallow it, as they say. At least the Ladies are smoking hot, that’s something I guess.
I’ve named my balls Ted & Fred and my dick Wilco. Aka Ted, Fred & Wilco. I’m not the only one though. I met a guy once who named his penis Moby Dick. Which was a huge exaggeration, I would say; Little Mermaid would have been more appropriate. Which brings us to the million dollar question: does size really matter? Dear boy, of course it matters! Do you honestly think you can charme a Lady with a matchstick? I know, most Women are polite enough to say that Tiny Tim is a jolly good fellow. But trust me: it’s a little lie for a little weenie. It works the other way around as well: if you’ve got a torpedo hanging between your legs and a Lady humiliates you for having a little dick, then that’s a big lie for a big penis. Now, small penis humiliation is quite popular on the Internet and these guys are in demand. So it’s fair to say that you can make a big impression with a small penis nowadays.
I mean look at Her. Young, petit…and yet She puts all these guys to sleep. Big, small, long, tall: She takes them all. Well, I’m not buying it, that’s for sure. I mean, I may be a moron, but I’m not an idiot. It’s probably a new episode of Just For Laughs and soon we’ll all look like gullible idiots on national television. Damned silly if you ask me. There’s only one way to deal with this kinda nonsense and that’s to call Her bluff. And there I am, in front of all these people, sitting on a chair with the Girl right behind me. She’s quite an actress, I give Her that. Surely She knows the game is up, and yet She puts Her arm around my throat as if I’m a trusted accomplice. She wants to die with Her boots on, I guess, although She’s wearing sneakers. And then – all of sudden – the choke is on. Her grip is immensely powerful and I’m desperately struggling for oxygen. Her grip tightens and my head is about to explode. I..I..can’t..brea..the..I..ca..n’t…zzzzzz
As said before, Female Domination is more than whips, canes or playing pool with your nuts. I love the little, almost insignificant things as well. Take the victory pose for example. It’s such a simple, but at the same time such a powerful statement. And so humiliating for the victim! One foot is enough to keep him pinned to the ground. One foot that tells the whole story of Female Power and male weakness. True, the victory pose is closely related to mixed fighting and such, but that doesn’t mean Mistresses can’t use it as well. Take picture number nine for example. That’s not just a snapshot, that’s a piece of art! The slave is battered, bruised and broken and the victory pose of that Mistress is so powerful. One foot, that’s all it takes, just one foot.
Sadly enough there are far, Far, FAr, FAR more slaves than Mistresses. The thought itself is enough to put your dick in a meat-grinder or retire to a monastery, isn’t it. So we should be very thankful for the fact that lots of Ladies specialise in farming. Slave-farming that is. In that respect we’re all scary-hairy-dairy cows, I would say. I find it awe-inspiring to watch one Mistress with multiple slaves, it’s just thrilling. I was at a Fetish Party a few years ago where I saw one Mistress with nine slaves. She paraded through the rooms, with Her slaves crawling behind Her in a little herd. Hence slave-farming, you see? To me the boner of all boners is a Femdom Celebration with hundreds upon hundreds of slaves. Then the Ladies arrive and one of them clicks Her fingers. That’s enough to mow them all down to their knees. Fabulous!
Ten years ago the city changed it’s name from Paynville to Femdomville. From that moment on Women were in charge and men were slaves. I immediately set up a resistance group called Fuck Femdom and we did everything we could to put an end to this madness. Six months later the Female Cops arrested me and brought me to The Hole, the most notorious prison in the land. I was brutally interrogated, but I played the part of the innocent victim quite brilliantly. Worth a fucking Oscar I would say. Disaster struck on the second day, when Lady Lisa took over the interrogation. To my horror and shame my dick rose to occasion, like an exclamation mark of male weakness. I held out another day, because I wanted everyone to know that only She could brake me. God, how I suffered! But how I loved to suffer for Her as well. At the end of the third day I couldn’t take it any longer and told Her everything. It was a verbal orgasm, really. I am a believer now, a converted man. Women are superior and that’s a fact.