There’s so much more to jodhpurs than meets the pants. Because it’s not just about the jodhpurs, it’s the combination with riding boots and these gorgeous shirts and blouses (carry me away, folks!) that makes it so spectacular. Beautiful and elegant, that’s the right phrase. And I’m a real sucker for elegant. But there’s something ominous and powerful about elegant Ladies as well. Just take a look at the lovely pictures in the gallery below: you don’t want to mess with these Ladies, that’s for sure! And let’s not forget: jodhpurs hold the promise of (human) horse riding as well. The thought of being trained into a whinny stallion by such a Lady is already enough to order a bail of hay, I would say. Some links: Femme Fatale Films, The Equestrian Lady, The English Mansion, Riding Cult, Latin Beauties in High Heels, Femdomfoto and Human Ponies.
Getting smashed in the balls by Maria Sharapova, well, that’s certainly on my all-time favourite list after watching this short clip. Hearing Her speak English is already soooo sexy, let alone if She would demolish my balls in the process. It inspired me to fantasise about the Fembledon Championships. Driving these poor (or lucky) men nuts by ramming tennis balls in their scrotum, how cool would that be! A sort of long-distance ballbusting, also known as tennisball-busting. Service, backhand, forehand and of course our ultimate favourite: the smash. But there’s more to Fembledon than testicle terror. There are all kinds of stands where you can get food & drinks and there are several excellent workshops: Squeezing & Squashing or Domestic Femdom for Beginners for example. And there’s music as well. Smashing Pumpkins, who else.
I lived with Selma for almost three years and She could be demanding, shrewd and seductive at times. She knew my weak spots and She targeted them mercilessly whenever She wanted something. Bossy, that’s the word I was looking for. I didn’t realise it at the time, but She was in fact a natural born dominant. Her need to control was very real, I didn’t have to ask for it and I certainly didn’t have to pay for it; it came with the package. She never punished me or anything, though. She knew nothing about my submissive feelings and there were no BDSM toys in the house. She didn’t need all that, I guess, She knew way too well She could make me do anything by pushing the right buttons. There was more realism to Her authority than to all the stuff you see on Femdom websites. And yet I left Her in the hope of finding a real Mistress…. So the question is: how important are punishments and humiliations to us. Is being Bossy enough or not near enough?
Tom and I were walking down the street when we bumped into a dark-haired Girl. We were fourteen years old or so and She was a few years younger. “Look who we’ve got here,” She said. “Wanna fight, Tom? Come on, sissy, let’s fight.” It stopped Tom in his tracks and he looked mighty scared all of a sudden. I grinned, because I had no idea what was going on here. Her fury came without warning and She charged at me like a bull. She literally ran me over and I went down with a high-pitched scream. She grabbed my hair with Her left hand, rammed Her knee on my throat and punched me repeatedly in the stomach with Her right fist. Her eyes lashed out at Tom. “Sit down!” He fell down on his ass, like an uppercut boxer. I tried to fight my way out, but She almost choked me with Her knee. She pulled me up by my hair and grabbed Tom’s scalp in the process. And there we were: two brave young lads, helpless and on our knees. Unforgettable!
Being a 24/7 slave means Mistress is in charge of your beauty sleep as well. I’ve spend many a night on cold and unforgiving floors. Sleeping rough, so to speak. But you get used to it somehow, and otherwise you get so fucking tired after a while, you could sleep on a bed of nails. Sleeping with your hands cuffed behind your back is worse, to my opinion. Scratching your nose (or your balls for that matter) is out of the question for example. But then, against all odds, you drift off to sleep and within minutes you’re snoring like a sawmill gone crazy. Not good, not good at all! Mistress will get out of bed, pick up an antique chamber pot along the way and smash the damned thing on your skull. Rude awakening, one might say. And let there be no mistake, the next morning you have to be fresh as daisies again. A new, backbreaking day awaits you.
She walked into his shop, and his life, on a Friday morning. She was elegantly dressed in the finest leather and his heartbeat went straight above the city’s average. She chose a pair of gorgeous (and expensive) knee-boots and tried them on.
“Excellent choice, Madame, if I may say so.”
“You may. Now, come here and kneel down for Me.”
His voice sounded mighty frail: “I b.beg your pardon, Madame?”
Her eyes lashed out at him: “Do as you’re told. I want to know how it looks on these boots.”
“Yes Madame,” he squeaked and kneeled.
“Excellent! Very powerful. Now, I’m too kind, I know, so I’ll give you permission to buy these boots for Me. So now’s the time to thank Me.”
He bowed and murmured: “Thank You so much Madame, it’s an honour, thank You.”
“Very good. The shop is closed on Mondays?”
“It is, Madame.”
“It’s not. The shop will be open only for Me. Do I make Myself perfectly clear?”
His life would never be the same.
One of my favourite fantasies is the slave hunt. The men will try to outrun their destiny and the Ladies will hunt them down and bring them back to slavery. It takes a few essential ingredients to pull off a successful hunt though. Firstly you need enough space to move about. A back garden hunt is not a hunt, but a weeping willow run. You also need a few slaves who are eager to outsmart the Ladies. Because most of these guys will walk into the lion’s den voluntarily. No doubt with a big smile and a big dick. That’s not a hunt, that’s men having it their way. And thirdly: it has to be realistic. The men are on the run, so don’t expect them to surrender just because a Lady approaches. If he’s that kinda coward, he wouldn’t have done a runner in the first place. Force him to surrender, tie the bastard and drag him down the fields to the cage where he belongs, that’s the spirt. I guess that’s why a fine Femdom Hunt is so extremely rare.
Oh, the wonderful, horrible, lovely, agonising, breathtaking, dreadful, beautiful and intensely cruel things these Women do to us! Take our scrotum for instance, our citadel of joy, our slum of dirty talk, our horny nerve centre. Once upon a time a Mistress wrapped a rope round my family jewel box and attached a bucket to the rope. She poured some water in the bucket, which was already rather unpleasant for my boys. But it got worse, because after ten stretching minutes She added more water to the bucket. And more. Man, my balls almost touched my knees! But I praised myself lucky that She didn’t attach weights to my balls this time. The weights in itself are already horrifying, but She loved to kick them about. Ouch!!! They say the feeling of Ball Stretching Weights is totally indescribable. Well, no one’s going to argue with that, that’s for sure.
Yes, yes, whipping, caning, slapping or kicking can be pretty gruesome at times. But they’re not, what I would call, life threatening situations or anything like that. That changes once Mistress starts bagging the bastard. Because you see: people love oxygen and it’s fair to say they’re addicted to it. So depriving a slave from the love of his life is a hazardous business. It’s worse than pain, because all of a sudden it’s a struggle for survival. Your miserable faith is now in Her hands and it’s op to Her to decide whether or not you’ll live to breathe another day. It’s the ultimate form of power, wouldn’t you say. So think about that this week, when you’re putting your groceries in a plastic bag at the supermarket. That everyday and harmless looking bag can be a lethal weapon in the hands of your Mistress. Leaves you breathless, doesn’t it.
Is She a real Goddess? Of course not, you silly boy, do you honestly think She descended from Heaven? Plunged into mother earth like a comet? Of course not, She’s a human being, like you and me. Her friends and family are probably completely unaware of the fact that She whips & canes for a living. They all think She’s a dog trainer, which – when you think about it – is not that far from the truth. She’s only human and so She has Her worries, Her doubts and Her sad moments, like any of us. And every now and then She’s not in the mood to boss you around. Days when She wants you to be a friend more than a slave. But all this doesn’t mean we shouldn’t treat and worship Her like a Goddess, does it? To us She truly is divine and we should always devote ourselves to Her will. Each and every minute of the day and with every breath we take.
Quite unusual really, but Mistress used him as the pendulum of an enormous clock. He was suspended by his feet and several pulleys, levers and chains made his strapped body move from left to right. She had trained him to say ‘tic’ and ‘tac’ with each movement. “That’s his punishment for being late all the time,” She said. As you can see: being a slave is far from easy. Unless you have a pendulum fetish of course. Hanging upside down makes you feel completely helpless and vulnerable. You’re now a piece of meat in a Femdom slaughterhouse, one might say. You can’t move away from the whip, so each stroke counts. And your poor groin and ass are now fully exposed as well, which opens a whole world of opportunities. And misery. But the good news is: you can’t make any embarrassing mistakes or fuck it up otherwise. All you have to do is hang in there.