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:
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.
The sub in me is submerged. Fully submerged when I’m in the company of family & friends and at periscope depth for the rest of the day. Always on the lookout for traces of Femdom, that’s the meagre existence of an unowned slave. I have to keep my submissive personality on a short leash, because the outside world is still not ready for him. It’s sad but true: being a 24/7 slave doesn’t mean you’re actually free to be one. The daily grind won’t allow it and going to work wearing a slave collar is still a bad, bad idea. Instead we have to make do and mend with a few submissive hours a day. If we’re lucky. My outdoor personality went to school, goes to work and meets his friends. He’s a nice chap and he has grown on me over the years. But I do hope I’m allowed to say goodbye to him one day and emerge as a lifetime slave.
“Raising a family became more important than raising My voice, that’s the long and short of it. And everyone told Me it’s a Lady’s prerogative to dismiss a slave upon retirement. So telling the world that we’re natural born dominants, but when push comes to shove it’s all a male fantasy? Come on, Female Supremacy should not be that shallow, we can do better than that. If men really mean that little to us, then why own them in the first place. Call Me over-responsible if you like, but I did it My way. I put a lot of time and effort in organising a slave-auction; wrote a profile of each slave and contacted potential new Owners. The auction itself was inspiring and innovative. All slaves were sold (they had to pay the auction price, needless to say) and so their life in servitude continued. And the slaves? Well, it was hard for them, no question about it, but a good slave will always obey. Besides, the prospect of becoming free and unowned again petrified them to the core. So no, male slavery should not end because we had a change of heart. We have a choice and it’s up to us to do the right thing.”
“Women are beyond mysterious, you know. Fascinating creatures, no doubt about it, but downright confusing. They’ve been mistreated by men for centuries, bullied around, treated like dirt. And now we come along: 24/7 slaves, willing to obey, willing to work our asses off, willing to surrender heart and soul to them. One should think they would honour and praise us. But no sir! They’ll punish and humiliate us over nothing. We’re collectors items and yet they treat us like garbage. I think it’s time for a strike. That’ll teach them a lesson.” The bathroom door opened and he shrivelled down to his knees. “Don’t tell Me you were talking to the mirror again” his Wife said. “No Goddess,” he squeaked, ” I w.was singing.” She looked down on him and shook Her head. “You’re such a terrible liar. But not to worry, the truth will come out, one way or the other. Follow Me, we’ll deal with this straight away. Strike when the iron is hot, as My mother used to say.”