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.
Megandom.com is an archive site now and will not be updated anymore 🙁
My personal trainer (aka Wild Bull) showed me the difference between the uppercut and the lower end, between knocked out and knocked up. I worked on my technique, ran like a rabbit and went on a diet. So I was ready to crumble that day. My opponent was a good looking Lady called Demolitia. Silly name, I thought. When the bell rang for the 1st round I came at Her like a madman. She was quicker than a slimly eel in a bucket of snot, so I knocked out some air without ever hitting Her. Her first punch felt like being run over by a freight train. A long one. She could’ve finished the match there and then, but She didn’t. She wanted me to suffer. So I had several close encounters with the canvas, but Her punches were hard enough to knock me down, not out. She took me up to three hammering and humiliating rounds, then She got tired of me. She landed a devastating uppercut on my chin and it was all starry, starry night after that. She put Her foot on my head in a victory pose and the crowd went crazy. What a knock-out!
As said before, Female Domination is more than whips, canes or playing pool with your nuts. I love the little, almost insignificant things as well. Take the victory pose for example. It’s such a simple, but at the same time such a powerful statement. And so humiliating for the victim! One foot is enough to keep him pinned to the ground. One foot that tells the whole story of Female Power and male weakness. True, the victory pose is closely related to mixed fighting and such, but that doesn’t mean Mistresses can’t use it as well. Take picture number nine for example. That’s not just a snapshot, that’s a piece of art! The slave is battered, bruised and broken and the victory pose of that Mistress is so powerful. One foot, that’s all it takes, just one foot.
Having a leg-fetish from here to Tokyo and back, means I love head-scissors as well. It’s amazing to see how powerful legs can be, even untrained legs. There’s an unwritten law that says there’s no way out once a Lady locks Her ankles together. The trap snaps shut and She can pretty much keep you there for as long She wants. It’s like being hugged by a Anaconda they say, and even a professional escape artist can’t get out. I always believed it was a myth of some sorts until I ended up in a leggy lockdown myself one day. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get out. It was overwhelming, embarrassing, humiliating and extremely exiting at the same time. My poor empty head looked like a jawbreaker, turning from orange to red to purple. So here’s to Scissor-Foxes, Scissor-Vixens, Dunefeet and all the other sites that celebrate the beauty of the head-scissors.
It’s quite a sobering day, when you realise that your Girlfriend is physically stronger than you. It happened to me a long time ago, in a time when my submissive feelings were still a big secret. I was living with Selma at the time, who was half-Asian, slim and much smaller than me. She didn’t shy away from a playful fight though. I absolutely loved it and I didn’t put much up a fight at first. It took quite some time and a long series of humiliating losses to realise that it didn’t make any difference whether or not I gave it my very best. She was too quick, too ferocious and always extremely ruthless. Although I had been dreaming and fantasising about this for ages, deep down I was still convinced that it would take a tough, well-trained Lady to pull it off. Call it the last remainders of male arrogance and male ignorance, if you like. Selma came and went without knowing anything about my submissive feelings, but She opened my eyes and made me see the truth about the weaker sex. Bless Her!