A Vampire party in Hoia Baciu Forest, the most haunted forest in the world, how cool is that! There’s a magnificent underground palace over there, with long corridors and candlelit rooms. It was an exclusive party, with 50 neatly dressed guys and 12 beautiful Ladies, armed with impressive fangs. We had a lovely time and we all counted down to midnight. Then, exactly on the stroke of midnight, the Ladies attacked the guy standing next to them. Bodies twisted and jolted and there was blood everywhere. The special effects were awesome, how on earth did they do that! It was a performance worthy of an Oscar. But then I heard terrifying screams of pain and everyone fled the room. Then it dawned on me. These Women were not going for the Oscar, they were going for the kill! I ran into the adjoining room, but one of the Women appeared out of nowhere and threw me on the floor. She landed on top of me and held me down with Her body. “Please, make me Your slave forever,” I begged, “I’m willing to die for You.” She made a hissing sound and showed me Her terrifying fangs: “How can a Girl say no to that.”
“Femdeum is like visiting a department steure,” Sir Allan said, swirling the cognac in his glass. “First, you cheuse a Lady: hairy, scary, breasted, legged, Latin, Asian; whatever you fancy. Put your faveurite Lady in the basket and go to the second fleur for the haute couture: shirts, skirts, dresses, shoes, beuts. Pick your fetish attire and go to the third fleur, where you’ll find Pains, Perils and Humilio’s. Ceurporal punishments, face-sitting, trampling, ceuck and ball teurture; you name it, you pain it. The Naughty Section is there as well, with cunelingus, blowjeubs, handjeubs and all kinds of other jeubs. Then go to the counter, pay for your items and Beub’s your uncle. You’ve picked your faveurite Lady in your faveurite couture and She will do exactly what you want. And seumehow, seumewhere, you got this crazy idea that She’s in charge. Extreurdinary.”
Laura lived in San Francisco and came over to write a piece on the Gay Pride. I won’t bore you with all the details, but Ellen, a lesbian friend of mine, introduced me to Her and asked me if Laura could stay at my place for a couple of days. That was no problem whatsoever, because Laura was a lovely person. We talked for hours, as if we’d known each other for years. One morning we had a funny argument about something and I teased Her a bit. She grabbed – and almost dislocated – my fingers and I screamed down on my knees. She pushed me backwards and I ended up on my belly. She grabbed my arms, forced them on my back and planted Her knees on my wrists. The pain was excruciating! I wanted to tap out, but I had no arms left to tap with. “Now we’ll wait for Ellen,” She said. I wailed: “But that will take hours!” She grinned: “I know.” I couldn’t move a finger and I begged Her to let me go. To no avail. Man, I love San Francisco.
There were seven Rembrandt’s with tits waiting for me at the atelier. They told me to take off my clothes and then they tied my hands behind my back. That was a bit awkward and I looked at Eve, but She gave me the oopsy-daisy-forgot-to-mention kinda look. Once my hands were tied, things went downhill rapidly. They clamped my nipples and gagged me. My ankles went in a spreader and my testicles in a humbler. Picasso’s Fiasco, so to speak. I stood there for hours and was not allowed to move an inch. “Move one more time and I will cut off your ear,” one of the Van Gogh’s said. They painted as if Sotheby’s was waiting for them. They took a lot of pictures as well. “You will model for us for as long as we want, or you will go viral on the Internet,” they said. I wasn’t in the best position to argue, so I kept my gag shut. I’m not an idiot, you know. “You’re such an idiot,” Eve said and took another picture.
I pestered and provoked the Girls, hoping they would beat the crap out of me. I must have been a real jerk, but I couldn’t control my submissive longings. Karin would always rise to the occasion. She would grab my fingers and reduce them to carrots or pluck me like a chicken. One day She twisted my fingers and forced me all the way down to the ground. She put Her foot on my head and pushed down with force. “You better not move,” She threatened. The other Girls joined the fun and were now standing in a circle around me. One foot was enough to immobilise me, and all the strength drained from my body. In the following weeks something extraordinary happened, because Karin became some sort of heroine. Not just for the boys, but for the Girls as well. The Girls flocked around Her on the playground and they would do anything to be Her friend. That’s why I love the Victory Pose so much, because it brings back such good memories.
The place was packed to the rafters and the atmosphere was intens. It was a boneyard really, because we all walked about with an enormous boner in our trousers. We screamed and cheered like schoolgirls when Brutallica finally entered the stage. Man, they looked so hot in their leather outfits and boots. The first song was Anus Volcanos, followed by awesome hits like: Whipped Scream, Rubberella and Groin Down The River. We jumped up and down like frogs on a hot plate, it was magnificent. Halfway the concert four lucky bastards were pulled out of the audience to join Brutallica on stage. The Girls didn’t beat around the bush and immediately started beating the crap out of them. Stretchers came and went and one of the knuckleheads was hoisted into the air by his ankles. He hung upside down like a hunting trophy. The band played on: Fresh Meat, Bullwhip Blues and Foot In Snout. After three encores they positioned themselves right in front of the crowd and started pissing all over them. I managed to touch one of their boots and I haven’t washed my hand ever since.
Why I took the job? Three reasons: I was broke, homeless and hungry. And then She came along, with Her soft voice and deep blue eyes. She was so understanding, so patient. She offered me this job and told me She would take care of me. And I? I fell for it hook, line and sinker. The first months were a nightmare, a hellish nightmare of pain and suffering. Because She believes in strict discipline and She can make me beg and cry for mercy. She’s the Countess of countless punishments and She expects to be obeyed at all times. Serving Her is a fulltime job and She doesn’t do weekends or holidays. But you know what? There’s an incredible beauty in this brutality, a beauty I’ve never experienced before. It took me a long time to see it, but now that I do I can’t live without it. I am perhaps a victim of Her beauty, a prisoner of pain, but She gives meaning to my life. This is what I was born to do.
You don’t have to search or fight for power; it’s there already, at Your fingertips. In order to embrace it, You have to understand where these men came from. Some have travelled a thousand miles to find a Lady, others have spent a fortune on the Internet. They’ve been waiting for and dreaming of Female Domination for decades. They’re not just hungry, they’re starving. And don’t forget, there are far, Far, FAr, FAR more slaves than Mistresses. Ten thousand submissive soldiers and one Female General to lead them. Submissive men know that better than anyone, and that’s what makes them so eager and compliant. This is their one – and probably only – shot at Femdom and they’re dying to submit to Your will. Power is not about whips & paddles and it’s not about pain & suffering. It’s about understanding the sacrifices they have made to get where they are today. Because what makes these men obey to anything, is the fear of becoming unowned and unwanted again.
“You made a mistake.” Madame M. said. Mr. White turned red. He was in his fifties and lived with Figaro, his Balinese cat. He liked to read (Mr. White, not the cat) and play the tuba. He was a decent man and a fine accountant doing the books for a number of local businesses. Madame M. was one of his loyal customers. He nodded and whispered: “I can’t believe it myself Madame, this is my first mistake in sixteen yea-” She raised a finger: “I don’t do mistakes, Mr. White.” He bowed his head in shame: “You’re right, of course you a-” There was the finger again: “Mistakes will be punished. Mr. White. Drop your pants and lean against the wall.” He got up from his chair, white as his surname: “Madame, that’s enough, I-” Her voice slapped his face: “NOW!” Women scared him, they were unpredictable and intimidating. He dropped his pants and coward against the wall. Madame M. rolled up Her sleeves and picked up a cane from behind Her desk. “Make no mistake Mr. White, this is going to hurt.”
In the year of our Lord one thousand and twenty-four, a large fleet of Femdommes arrived, speedy vessels to the number of seventy-three. These strong and powerful Women invaded our land like stinging hornets and many a man was captured and taken away in chains. Fear struck in the hearts of the population, and gloom and sadness fell over the land. Female Legions landed on our shores later that year. Like savage wolves, they overran our country in all directions, forcing the men to flee their homes and villages to seek shelter in the mountains. Once they were kings, emperors and commanders, mighty men who ruled the world. Now the last of the free hid in caves and lived in great fear. A darkness fell upon the land and the men lamented bitterly over the terrible fate that would befall them. Their days of freedom were numbered, their life in slavery about to begin.