There was a button on Her website saying: don’t click here. I didn’t, but it became Pandora’s Button, so I returned to that page over and over again. It was a trap and I fell for it, because in the end I clicked the damned thing. A message popped up saying She demanded an apology. I wrote one immediately and thought that would be the end of it. Two hours later an email came in, saying She didn’t accept my apology and that She wanted to meet me face to face. I had to obey, because this was a real mail and a direct order. Three days later I kneeled down in front of Her. Not only was Mistress Valkyrie stunningly beautiful, She was also charming and elegant. She had a lovely sense of humor and was genuinely interested in the man behind the slave. And She certainly knew how to inflict pain on Her victims. Man, She was ruthless! She retired many years ago, but I’m still grateful to this day. Because if it hadn’t been for that button, I would probably still be a novice today.
My lower back was killing me and I couldn’t walk upright anymore. The guy at the hotel gave me the address of Lady Thai, a masseuse with healing powers. When I hunched into Her office She said: “Ah, it hurts back?” Three minutes later I was naked to the underwear and cuffed to a Andreas cross. Weird! But I was in so much pain, I was willing to try anything. She started whipping me, slowly at first but then faster and more vicious. I screamed my lungs out. She smiled the sweetest smile and said: “You like?” I told Her I didn’t, so She switched to one of the longest whips ever. That wasn’t what I meant, but She ducked away behind the language barrier and skinned me alive with that thing. “Now you cool, ok?” She threw three buckets of ice-cold water over me. And then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, She grabbed me by the balls and squeezed them into oranje juice. So when in pain, go to Thailand; these gorgeous Ladies will teach you a thing or two about suffering.
“This little cottage,” Hansel said triumphantly, “is made of chocolate and biscuits. You can eat it!” He bit down on the wall and a horrifying cracking sound filled the air. “Well, that’s one way of losing your milk teeth,” Gretel said. The cottage door opened and a Witch came out. Man, She was a knockout and Hansel’s cock swell up like a balloon. “We’re lost,” Hansel said, spitting molars in the process, “can you please help us?” The Witch invited them in and gave them pancakes with sugar, apples, and nuts. There was a large cage in the room and Gretel shivered: “I bet no one dares to enter that cage.” Hansel laughed and stepped into the cage. The door fell shut. “What did I tell you,” Gretel said, “easy does it.” The Witch chuckled and gave Gretel 20 silver coins. “What are you going to do with him,” Gretel asked. The Witch replied: “Train him, castrate him and sell him.” Tears ran down Hansel’s cheeks as he fell down on his knees. “Gretel please, I beg You.” Gretel looked at the coins and opened the cottage door: “See ya, bro.”
A slave is someone “who is legally owned by another person.” Scheiße, that means we’re not slaves after all. Servants at best, but certainly not slaves. Because what breaks the chains and sets us free, is the fact that keeping slaves is illegal. So there’s no such thing as legally owned by another person. We’re volunteers and we’re free to walk out whenever we want. We have the law on our side and surely there should be a law against that. We really should change it into something like this:
I once bought a large cardboard box with photo-albums and family documents at an auction. Thumbing through other people’s lives is a bit like trespassing, but I love history on grassroots level. And so birthdays, weddings, holidays and ageing people passed me by. Once they were full of life, now they were just nameless memories in a cardboard box. Then I opened album number six, called Rose. Who turned out to be an stunningly beautiful Mistress in Her time. I became intrigued and it took me months to find out a bit more about Her. According to a newspaper clipping, people came from far and near to visit Her dungeon. She was, the article said, a popular lifestyle Mistress who never gave up the belief that Women were born to rule over men. I wished I had known Her, even if just for a while, because She must have been an amazing person. So here’s to Lady Rose, who lived in the past, but believed in the future.
They took me to the valley, where the river meanders and snakes. Because, they said, I was going to be baptised. The Femdom way. I asked for a snorkel, but one of the Ladies grabbed me by the throat and I gargled instead. We stepped into the cold water and they grabbed my arms and with hands on top of my head, pushed me under water. They held me there till dusk (it seemed) and I finally emerged like the Loch Ness monster itself, gasping for air and crying out in a panic of fear. Up and down it went, with ridiculously short ‘ups’ and frighteningly long ‘downs.’ In the end I was nothing more than a breathing corps, no kidding. But then, after swallowing a pool or two, they had enough and I washed ashore like a piece of human wreckage. I was still struggling to get my breath and I asked if I could have some water. “He’s such a great sport,” they said. And dragged me back to the river.
“We all have our dirty little secrets, but most people don’t shout it from the rooftops. Submissive men are a different breed, these remarkable creatures will tell you their most inner dreams, fetishes and desires. At great length and in minute detail. They don’t say it in so many words, but they’re silently begging you to take advantage of that. So each piece of information is like a key on the piano of Dominance. Press that key and he will crumble and fall into obedience. However, playing his favourite tunes all day long is never a good idea. And it’s certainly not My definition of Female Supremacy. Economise, that’s My motto. Hope is such a powerful weapon and he will cling onto that like a drowning man onto a life belt. Even some casual act or comment on his favourite fetish fills his tank with blind obedience. Learning to play the piano, that’s all it takes.”
She didn’t want to know what I looked like, and yet we were about to meet on a blind date. “Don’t worry,” She said, “I can spot a submissive man a mile away.” So I went to this trendy bar and waited. Unlike so many other Women, She didn’t invade the place. On the contrary: She seeped in like a sinister fog. She spotted me immediately, elbowed Her way towards me, grabbed my shirt and dragged me outside and into the alley across the street. They came from nowhere and were everywhere: eight, nine, ten Women. I looked over my shoulders to see if there was any light in the tunnel, but there were at least five of them behind me as well. They all started kicking, kneeing, slapping and punching me at the same time and I disappeared into a whirlpool of violence and was sucked down by the quick currents of Female power. They kicked me repeatedly in the nuts and punched me in the guts, till I begged them to stop. They did, but they took my pants and left me there in my underwear. Damned kinky!
Elvira was a collegae of mine and She was blessed with a strong personality. She could be extremely stubborn, demanding and even ruthless at times. One day a male colleague played a prank on Her. She grabbed his hair, brutally yanked back his head and forced him to apologise. He whimpered and tears of pain glinted in his eyes. Her sister Sylvia came to work with us as well, but She was very shy and you hardly even noticed Her. Which is a dreadful thing to say, but true nonetheless. They both left the company a couple of years later, but I stayed in touch with Elvira. One day I decided to humor Her with my submissive tale. She said: “It’s not My cup of tea. If anything, I want a man to be strong and macho.” Damn, I certainly didn’t see that one coming! She smirked and said: “You should have gone for Sylvia. She met a submissive guy and She’s now his Mistress. Very strict and all.” True story. Still waters run deep, they say. And they’re right.
Male slaves on Femdom sites are a necessary evil. They hardly say anything and when they do open their mouths you wished they didn’t. A male slave doesn’t have to look handsome (the fatter the better one might say), his purpose in life is to be pathetic. He’s an extra in the greater scheme of things and a brainless object at best. That’s why men in bondage sites (except Men In Bondage) are far and few between. Sure, bondage is embedded in almost all Femdom sites, but it’s not a specific niche. The Lezdom world on the other hand is littered with ropes, cuffs and tapes. It’s a Garden of Eden for bondage lovers. It makes sense, doesn’t it. A Woman in bondage looks beautiful, a man in bondage looks like a rolled roast. So I’m very grateful that bondage in the Lezdom community is so popular. Time for a sex change, I guess 😋
According to the Elise Sutton “it is almost always the man who will introduce the Female Domination lifestyle to the Woman.” So, why travel to the far corners of the earth or secretly masturbate behind Her back, when your Mistress to be is already there? I know, the thought of raising the subject provokes anxiety and fear, doesn’t it? Don’t overdo it, that’s the key to unlock the door to Supremacy. Avoid the risk of burying Her in an avalanche of graphic details, longings and desires. Don’t tell Her She can nail your scrotum to the table or chase you around the house with a bullwhip all day long. That’s way too much, way too soon. And don’t smother all hope by showing Her your favourite websites. Believe me, there’s a time for everything and this is not the right time. Plant a seed and if it’s meant to grow it will. Be patient and give it time to ripen. She will get back to it when She’s ready. A light and casual talk about your submissive fantasies might well be enough to bring Her dormant dominant nature to the surface.