Fanny Murray (1729-1778) was allegedly the most beautiful and undoubtedly the most famous courtesan of Her generation. Novels were dedicated to Her, songs and poems paid tribute to Her beauty, ships were named after Her, as were racehorses and even gin cocktails. The men in those days certainly knew how to put a Lady on a pedestal! Now, we pride ourselves today for cleaning the soles of a Lady’s shoes with our tongue. We honestly think that’s the superlative of submissiveness and a true token of devotion. Well, many of Fanny’s followers would disagree with that. Not only did they use Her shoes as champagne glasses, according to a famous anecdote a couple of Her most devoted worshippers ate Her shoes in 1747. Sliced and fried in butter, “to testify their affection for the Lady.” Compared to that we’re all oafs, wouldn’t you say? So, one worn shoe please, sprinkled with parsley and vinegar on the side. Yummy!
“SLAVE!” Seriously, She could castrate a man with that voice. He ran down the stairs as fast as he could. “Yes sugar,” he said flowery. “Don’t sugar Me, Harrold! Did you take the garbage out?” Now, that was a bit unfair, wasn’t it? She’d ordered him to clean the bathroom first and he wasn’t even finished yet! But She didn’t want to hear about it. She took him to the corner of the street and told him to lay down on top of the garbage bags that were already there. She tied his hands behind his back, his feet and then his ankles to his wrists. A bundle of joy, so to speak. “Night, night, tied, tight” She said and left. The stench was disgusting and the flies were all over him. Dreadful business. A few hours later and elderly Lady walked by. She said She felt sorry for him, but that didn’t stop Her dog from taking a piss at him. His Wife untied him at sunrise, took him to the garden and hosed him down with cold water. God, it couldn’t get worse than this, could it? “I told you yesterday to clean the bathroom,” She said, “why isn’t it finished yet?”
Sardax is without doubt the most established of all contemporary FemDom artists. His work is instantly recognisable and can be seen all over the world. He says: “I am different from a fetish artist. I prefer to be known as a FemDom artist.” And Femdom it is! Forced orgasms, panty sniffing, worshipping, punishments, degradations, forced feminization; it’s all there. In colour or b&w, in a recognisable world or a futeristic setting. Sardax lives in London and if you ever want to honour your Mistress with the ultimate gift, then commission a portrait. So visit his lovely website or blog to see more. Don’t forget to take a look at his brilliantly illustrated Venus in Furs book!
He had a wonderful night with his foreign colleagues and some of them joined him in his hotel room later on, where they drank a lot of water. Or was it Vodka? Anyway, they drank it like water. He was now sitting behind the little desk, trying to survive the unbearable daylight. There was a knock on the door and the maid entered. “What a terrible mess,” She snapped. He almost laughed, but his headache told him not to. He got up from his chair and was just about to say something uplifting, when She slapped him brutally hard in his face. His knees buckled and his head almost exploded. “What the f-” She second slap was even harder and he staggered through the room. “You’ve got one hour to clean it up,” She hissed. She kicked him in the groin and down he went. He lay sobbing on the floor as She grabbed his hear and pulled his head back violently. “I don’t need whips, canes or ropes to make you obey, you little piece of shit. I tear you apart with my bare hands.” Maid in Heaven, you see.
According to some authors Female Domination is a loving relationship between a submissive man and a dominant Wife. To others it’s not necessarily a loving relationship, nor is it – they say – restricted to the ancient old concept of an one-on-one partnership. A third group disagrees altogether and claims that Female Domination is a male fantasy to which Women are happy to oblige – for a certain price. Discipline & Punishment are equally confusing: some say these are essential building blocks of Female Domination, others dismiss it as pure nonsense. I could write a similar paragraph on Supremacy, Superiority, Authority and Matriarchy. So we think we speak the same language, but we don’t. Does it matter, you say? Yes, I honestly think it does. If we truly believe that Women should be in charge and if we seriously want to discuss the future of Female Domination (whatever it means), then at least let us get the vocabulary right. We should be on the same page by now, but we’re not even in the same book yet.
Some fetishes are really odd, aren’t they? I hate rain for example. And yet, I have a huge fetish for shiny raincoats. Whenever I see one the dam between my legs brakes open and you can literally surf on the waves, it’s ridiculous. And my dirty mind spins out of control as well: it’s a cold and miserable day and it has been raining since daybreak. I’m butt naked and walking through thick layers of mud. My hands are tied and Mistress Mackintosh (aka M&M) drags me deeper and deeper into the forest. I’ve just met Her, know nothing about Her. Don’t know Her definition of fun, let alone Her definition of misery. It makes it all very unpredictable. There’s no living soul around for miles, God knows what She will do to me. And yet, one look at Her sexy, shiny raincoat and I’m the happiest soaking wet slave in the world. So please, please, please: let it rain!
Kidnap stories have fascinated me since I was a teenager, because it brings together everything I love about Femdom. So I was thrilled to find the website of Mistress Kidnap (aka Mistress Jadee). But I was in for a monumental surprise. I started reading the stories on Her website and hang on Her every word. There was a constant feeling of recognition, because somehow She’d managed to give a voice to the dreams in my head. She didn’t just fuel my imagination, She set it ablaze! It sounds a bit corny perhaps, but I’ve been using Her website ever since to clench my submissive thirst and recharge my creative batteries. So if you’re searching for the ultimate kidnap experience, then this is the Mistress for you. She has snatched Her victims from airports, train stations, hotels, restaurants and any other place you can imagine. And if you’re not ready yet for the outside world, then not to worry; She provides indoor scenarios as well. Mistress Kidnap is located in Manchester (UK) but has also travelled to Spain, France, Greece, Holland, Dubai and Hong Kong to seek out Her victims. Heaven must be missing an Angel, no doubt about it.
“Men are like Neanderthals, you know, there isn’t much of a brain between them and they’re obnoxiously primitive in everything they do. By the time they come here, they’re full of shit. It’s My duty to remove the layers of ignorance, stupidity and stubbornness. It’s like peeling an onion, really. The only difference is that they do all the crying. Some Ladies prefer the lenient approach, but I’m not one of them. Spare the rod and spoil the child, as they saying goes. Men are competitive by nature and they will challenge you. Unconsciously perhaps, but deep down they want to know if you got what it takes. You’ll have to deal with that straight away, that’s my firm believe. Some even try to fight back, that’s so cute! And pathetic. To remove that last thick, stubborn layer of male pride, that’s my favourite moment. So bring me a man and I’ll give you a slave.”
Serving a Mistress can be a real butt & balls challenge. It takes time, and pain, to become the slave She wants you to be, there’s no way around that. But serving one is nothing compared to facing two or more Mistresses at the same time. Because a group is often far more powerful, violent and ruthless than an individual. Depending on the group of course; there’s little to fear from the local Gospel Choir for example. I’ve had the questionable pleasure of being in the company of several Mistresses on many different occasions. And I can assure you it’s both fascinating and scary to see how they feed from each others energy. The timid become wicked, the wicked become cruel and the cruel become sadistic. Before you know it you’re trapped inside a twister of Female brutality and you’re bouncing through the room like a fucked up ball in a pinball machine. Quite lovely, I would say.
I really needed a haircut, because I looked like a woolly mammoth. Now, I’d heard about a new shop in town, called Barbaric. A rather ominous name for a barber, I thought, but I was willing to give it a try. There were two lovely Ladies waiting for me, dressed in short leather skirts. They brought me to a barber chair unlike any I’d seen before, because it had straps attached to the arms and legs. But I didn’t want to look like a nitwit (which was a monumental challenge), so I sat down with the air of a man of the world. They strapped my wrists and ankles to the chair and then one of the Ladies grabbed my hair with a vengeance. I screamed, because Her fingers were grinding their way through my skull, in an attempt to take everything out by the roots. Then the second Lady tucked in as well and they plucked me like a chicken. The bill was hefty, so I left without any hair or money. Thank God they threw in some Hairpulling Shampoo for free.
Once upon a time a man flew from Seattle to Prague, where he rented a car and drove into the countryside. It took him an hour and a half to reach his destiny: the OWK. He parked the car outside its white walls and stared at the wooden entrance gate. Inside, and no more than twenty meters away from him as the crow flies, a Madame was waiting to train him for the next five days. He sat behind the wheel for half an hour, drove back to Prague and returned to America that same evening. True story! We can sense his relief as he’s trying to convince himself he’s done the right thing. That he’s not ready yet. And it’s easy to imagine what it’s like in Seattle, as the days go by and the first signs of doubt creep in. It’s not a question of if, but merely a questions of when he’s going to visit the OWK site again. Sooner or later he will and we can feel his agony as he realises he came this close to his dreams. And if we listen carefully, we can hear his voice reaching out to us: “My God, what have I done!“
Let’s face it: we’re just a bunch a horny lemmings, eagerly ready to throw ourselves of the cliffs into the Femdom trap. That’s the reason why I love mixed wrestling so much, because it’s the closest we can get to forced submission. And who better to force us than the gorgeous Lia Labowe. She’s such a skilful, strong and ruthless fighter and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t stand a chance against Her. I’m not saying that because I admire Her, but I honestly think it’s true. Still, I would ask Her to do Her worst, although I think you don’t have to ask for that; it comes with the package. As one of Her male opponents once wrote: “I had lost all strength in my arms from fighting back against her considerable strength, I was forced to lie back and take it as she planted her backside on my face. I’m sure it looked to all the world like I wasn’t trying at all.” What a Lady!