She looked at me with a mix of pity, scepticism and horror: “Are you actually willing to pay for this?? What are you: a newly discovered disease or something?” Now, that wasn’t a nice thing to say, was it? But I was quick to reply: “If so, I’m not contagious.” She giggled and shrugged Her shoulders: “Alright nutcase, show Me the money.” I did and – as promised – kneeled down in front of Her. She wore an ultra mini miniskirt and Her gorgeous legs were just inches away. It was all a bit awkward and uncomfortable, I admit that. “Tell Me a bit more about this Leg-Fetish thing,” She asked. Bless Her! Because that really broke the ice and I answered the question in great detail. After my hymn She looked at the money and frowned. “If it means that much to you, then this is just a tip, isn’t it?” Blimey, She was a quick learner! She made me empty my wallet in the hope (not the certainty) of getting permission to worship Her legs. Hence the saying: show me a leg and I’ll show You the money.
I’m very fond of my fetishes, but sowing & crowing fetishes is not without a certain risk. Years ago my favourite artist and his band came to Europe and I decided to see their concert at the Stade de France, Paris. So I bought a ticket, flew to Paris and got myself a hotel. I went to the Stadium early, because I had field tickets and I wanted to find myself a nice spot. There were some 75.000 people that night and just minutes before the concert two Girls pushed their way through the crowd and stopped right in front of me. One of them was wearing a shiny, black jacket. I couldn’t keep my eyes of it and I prayed She would put Her arm around my throat and choke me to death. Absurd of course, because it’s quite unusual for people to do that at concerts. Or anywhere else for that matter. The concert? No idea, I have no recollection of any concert whatsoever. I was spellbound. So a fetish can literally make and break your day at the same time.
Whatever Mistress orders you to do: don’t sigh, don’t roll your eyes, don’t hesitate, don’t make any weird sounds and above all: never ever question Her orders. Unless you want to stare at your testicles in a glass of water on the bedside table. Seriously: never question Her orders, because it implies that you know better. And that’s without doubt the most stupid mistake a slave can make. So if She orders you to worship Her socks, then dig in and go for it. It’s not a punishment, or a humiliation for that matter, it’s a privilege. She is divine and it doesn’t matter which liquids or smells She throws at you: embrace them as a gift from Heaven. She’s wearing these socks, they’re tightly wrapped around Her gorgeous feet, don’t ever forget that. It only works with Her socks though. I strongly discourage you to practise with your own socks. Did it was once and nearly had to puke. She’s a Goddess and you’re a skunk, it’s as simple as that.
Mistress likes Her walks and last summer She took me on a never-ending marathon through the highlands. It was bloody hot and I honestly thought I would melt along the way. After hours and hours She finally decided to sit down for a while. She drank Her water by the gallon, but She didn’t even allow me to have a sip. She saw my agony and said: “Poor slave, you look thirsty. Come here, indulge yourself.” She didn’t gave me the water bottle though, She showed me Her armpit. I didn’t hesitate and went for it like a dehydrated St. Bernard. Her hot burning sweat tasted salty, but at the same time it was enormously refreshing. I took a long drink and emerged from Her armpit as new. She’s born near Lourdes, what can I say.
“I could be the bartender, Milady,” I suggested. She smirked and said: “You’re a bit to clumsy for that, wouldn’t you say, slave? On the other hand…” And there I was, on the floor, cocooned in ropes, with a funnel in my mouth. Milady had made it very clear that under no circumstances I was allowed to drop the funnel or spill a drop. There were 20 Ladies that night and they all needed a pee from time to time. Some of them came back to flush the funnel over and over again, like high-heeled waterfalls. My jaws began to ace after a while, but I hang in there with the skin of my teeth. All these Golden Delicious Showers, it was a soaking wet humiliation made in heaven. There was only one downside as far as I was concerned: they kept taking a piss at me for hours on end and finally my bladder was about to burst. I needed a pee.
No, Perfect Villainess is not just another Smoking Fetish site, it’s much more than that. It’s about Femme Fatales, guns, shiny gloves and dazzling outfits as well. There’s even a touch of Femdom in it, because these Ladies are lethal to the bone. When I was asked to review the site, I promised myself to do a professional job. For once. So I logged in and picked one of Miss Irina’s galleries. Watching Her, pointing a gun at me or blowing smoke in my face was like walking into a knock-out before the bell rang for the first round. My professionalism disappeared without a trace and I never saw it again. I WOW-ed from one gallery to another, like an addict with a limp. Elegant Ladies like Irina, Alice, Eva or Sophie or Letizia (to name a few), will literally take your breath away. Or blow your head off, depending which gallery you’re in. Perfect Villainess opened its doors in January 2015 and has over 22.000 smoking hot pictures (1066×1600 pixels) online right now. More beauty is added once a week. You can either download the pictures separately or go for the zip file. The site is easy to navigate and you can use the tags to find your Fetishes. Easy does it. So visit Perfect Villainess to see more.
Mr. Nitty was a grumpy old greengrocer. He loathed his customers, especially the womenfolk. Tit terror, he used to call it. One day he was about to close his shop, when seven Women stormed in. They all wore face-masks, like 18th century robbers. They jelled and screamed and ordered him to kneel down. The sound of their voices was deafening and their face masks scared the bejesus out of him. One of them grabbed an onion and stuffed it in his mouth. “There are a lot of complaints about you, Mister Nitty-Witty, and that has to stop. This is just a warning, next time we’ll shove a cucumber up your ass.” His eyes nearly popped out of his head. God, not my cucumbers, he thought, they are of excellent quality! They slapped him several times and one of them kicked him in the groin. But he got the message alright and he became a very humble and polite man. And so you see; there’s a servant in all of us, all it takes is a bit of encouragement.
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!
Kissing Her feet is such a powerful symbol of submission, isn’t it. And you don’t have to be a Mistress, slave or even a foot fetishist to enjoy it. I know, because I’d been friends with Monique for many years. Still, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I told Her about my submission feelings. Much to my surprise She was genuinely interested, so one day I told Her about the power of da feet. And it was She who suggested that I should kiss Her feet whenever I came or left. It was a bit weird at first, because She wasn’t a Domme or anything. But it was over and done with in seconds and then everything went back to normal again. She never teased me with it, never became bossy. And yet it changed everything, because that simple gesture made me so aware of who I really was and what being submissive meant to me. Amazing really, that something so insignificant can have such an impact. God knows, it may well be the perfect remedy to save a marriage or a broken down relationship 🙂
Sniffing Her shoes is supposed to humiliate us, but I think it’s a massive reward. And a simple sniff is not enough, as far as I’m concerned. That’s like taking the tiniest of sips of the best wine in the world. No, no, no: I want to dive in and inhale the scent of Female Superiority. Take a look at the first picture for example: Her shoe, glued to his face with rope. Now, that’s more like it! I could sit like that for hours on end, treasuring each and every breath. Hence: breathtaking. That Female perfume; so thrilling, so divine, so irresistible. And so addictive! No one understands that better than a Mistress; She knows we’re willing to do anything for one more sniff. In that respect we’re all junks, craving and crawling in complete submission.
I don’t know Her name, but She works at the supermarket near my home. She’s tall and always wears a ponytail (so sexy) and jeans. Now, I’ve seen quite a few jeans in my life, thank you very much, but She’s the Queen of Jeans, no question about it. One look is enough to make my teeth rattle like castanets. What a glorious day it would if She would sit down on my face in Her tight jeans! Smothering me into oblivion and beyond. Have you ever had a bad time in Levi’s, She would ask while rubbing Her jeanny ass in my face. And I would say something like: Mffffo Mmifffmfeff . Yeah, sweet dreams are made of jeans. A site that specialises in 501’s is Jeanssitting of course, a must see for everyone who’s into brutal jeans.
Your poor empty head is right underneath the toilet seat, waiting for a Lady to piss all over you. A human toilet bowl, how cool is that! Well, good news: there’s a new pee on the block called Piss Domination. The site opened its doors a few months ago and it’s already a must see for pee lovers. Some of their Ladies will use you as an ashtray while they’re at it, others spit on you and they’ll all humiliate you to the core before peeing you to pieces. Miss Tangent for example will boil your nuts first with Her dominant voice before extinguishing the fire with Her priceless pee. Incredibly sexy! And if you really want to see something exclusive, then watch their movie called Veruca James’ Covered Present. Man, that’s not peeing, that’s a flood! The slave probably drowned while shooting that clip. The navigation panel at Piss Domination is very simple and movies can be downloaded in SD, HD, Full HD (1920×1080). The site is mobile and tablet compatible. Pictures can be downloaded separately or as Zip files. Easy does it. The site is updated weekly and there are some fifty soaking wet movies online right now. So get your goggles and take a pee….uh…peek.
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.
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….
I caught him red handed. He was down on his knees, licking one of my shiny panties. My husband! My over-confindent, he-man of a husband. I was furious. Not because he turned out to be a panty lover, but because he hadn’t told me about it. What the hell is going in here, I snapped. It literally knocked the air out of him. His eyes nearly popped out of his head and he looked absolutely terrified. I grabbed his hair, yanked his head back and slapped him. Pain flashed through his eyes. But he didn’t struggle, didn’t even protest, and I could clearly see the enormous swelling in his trousers. He looked so helpless, so weak. Much to my own surprise I loved seeing him like that. So I took a few panties and ordered him to follow me on hands and knees. He obeyed! He crawled behind me like a puppy into the living room, where I told him to strip and put on a panty instead. Again, he did exactly as he was told. I could see his trembling hands, his hard cock, the complete submission in his eyes. He dropped down on his knees in front of me. I stuffed a panty in his mouth and pulled another one over his head. He looked so ridiculous, but his eyes worshipped me like they’d never done before. Can a simple panty change your life? You bet your ass it can!
Men are either into breasts or bums, they say. Which makes me one of nature’s misprints, I guess, because I’m into legs. I was already a leg-fetishist long before I knew how to spell it. Legs rob me of my senses and give me a never-ending boner. Even my socks are wet at the end of the day. But there’s something mysterious about legs as well. There are numerous leg-fetish sites on the Net, which should suggest that this lovely fetish is widely accepted. But I’ve met quite a few Ladies with legs all the way up their armpits, but none of them seemed to understand what the leggy fuzz was all about. So it’s all fine and dandy to be a boot-, shoe-, panty-, ass-, foot- or what-not slave, but leg-slaves don’t even exist! How weird is that.
One morning a Mistress came out of the bedroom wearing a T-shirt with a teddybear printed on it and a text saying: I ♥️ Cuddling. It made me laugh. Which was a little too early in the day for this Mistress (it was 11.30 am, but nevertheless). Turned out this bloody bear was blessed with a couple of razor-sharp claws. So it does not matter if a Lady is dressed in a T-shirt, a jute bag or rags; She’s always a Mistress. Clothes are merely attachments. Which doesn’t mean we can’t get attached to them though. I love anything shiny for example. I can look at shiny clothes for hours on end and in perfect happiness. So not surprisingly I’m a real sucker for satin as well. It makes a Lady look so elegant, so refined and so, so beautiful.
She wants you to go twice a year, because She cares for your health, She says. Which is rather odd, because She’s bashing your brains in on a daily basis and almost skins you alive with Her bullwhip. That however, stimulates the blood circulation, She says. She’s funny, what can I say. Going to the Clinic isn’t though. Them bloody nurses will turn you inside out and your dick, balls and nipples are in constant danger. They’ll also be drilling down your anus with terrifying interments. It’s an ass for goodness sake, not a copper mine! Screaming for mercy doesn’t help; it delights them. Yeah, a nurse uniform humbles & crumbles and it makes you feel like a duck in a medical shooting gallery. The last time you left the Clinic with bowed legs and a fucked up scrotum. That’s not healthy, is it? If anything, it’s a one way ticket to Lourdes.
The far end of the long chain is attached to a massive ring in the wall, the other end to your stainless steel collar. Which is a bit confusing, really. Because when Lady B. invited you to join the party, you jumped up and down of happiness like a flea with an itch. You honestly thought you were somebody, didn’t you. Wrong! The only reason why you’re here is because Mistress needed a boot cleaner. And voila, that’s you. A chained brush. Not somebody, just something. Still, is there anything more beautiful in this world than licking the boots of a Mistress? Going over them with your tongue, submitting your soul to them. Feeling them, smelling them; it’s heaven on heels. Buying a pair of boots yourself and slobbering all over them isn’t quite the same, is it. They need to be occupied, otherwise they’re just boots. So treasure each and every second of the party, dear boy, because this a booty dream come true.
Being a diehard fetishist means that man-made objects (boots for example) or body-parts (feet, legs etc) have certain powers over you. The stronger the fetish, the more vulnerable you are. Telling a Lady about these desires is like putting your dick in a meat grinder and inviting Her to grind away. Because She can now play you like a cheap banjo. Tease you to dizziness and beyond, make you blush like a schoolboy or give you a short-breathed stammer that’ll last for hours. It’s utterly amazing to see how powerful some fetishes can be and how easy it is to make a man hopelessly addicted to them. It doesn’t take much to fall into a bottomless abyss of slavery, that’s for sure. It’s just a matter of pushing the right buttons.