It sounds almost idyllic, doesn’t it. Like a lovely Asian Garden where people meditate in peace. Yeah well, screw all that: the lotus lock is in fact an extremely painful hold. True story: it was summer and my former Girlfriend and I were sunbathing in the park. I can’t remember what I said, but it must have been something cheeky, because seconds later She was sitting on my back, holding me in a lotus lock. I didn’t ask for mercy, I screamed on top of my lungs. I’m sure everyone within a 25 mile radius heard me. Because I was genuinely scared She would dislocate my arms without realising it. Thankfully She loosened Her grip a bit and laughed: “Quite comfortable, isn’t it?” HELL NO!! “Yes, yes,” I whimpered. She kept me in this agonising position for half an hour, forcing me to beg, graze like a cow and She even “persuaded” me to sing a song. Which turned out to be far more effective than any rain dance, by the way. How She loved to be in pole position! God knows why I didn’t ask Her to marry me there and then.
Let’s face it: we’re just a bunch a horny lemmings, eagerly ready to throw ourselves of the cliffs into the Femdom trap. That’s the reason why I love mixed wrestling so much, because it’s the closest we can get to forced submission. And who better to force us than the gorgeous Lia Labowe. She’s such a skilful, strong and ruthless fighter and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t stand a chance against Her. I’m not saying that because I admire Her, but I honestly think it’s true. Still, I would ask Her to do Her worst, although I think you don’t have to ask for that; it comes with the package. As one of Her male opponents once wrote: “I had lost all strength in my arms from fighting back against her considerable strength, I was forced to lie back and take it as she planted her backside on my face. I’m sure it looked to all the world like I wasn’t trying at all.” What a Lady!
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I mean look at Her. Young, petit…and yet She puts all these guys to sleep. Big, small, long, tall: She takes them all. Well, I’m not buying it, that’s for sure. I mean, I may be a moron, but I’m not an idiot. It’s probably a new episode of Just For Laughs and soon we’ll all look like gullible idiots on national television. Damned silly if you ask me. There’s only one way to deal with this kinda nonsense and that’s to call Her bluff. And there I am, in front of all these people, sitting on a chair with the Girl right behind me. She’s quite an actress, I give Her that. Surely She knows the game is up, and yet She puts Her arm around my throat as if I’m a trusted accomplice. She wants to die with Her boots on, I guess, although She’s wearing sneakers. And then – all of sudden – the choke is on. Her grip is immensely powerful and I’m desperately struggling for oxygen. Her grip tightens and my head is about to explode. I..I..can’t..brea..the..I..ca..n’t…zzzzzz
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.
The Lady behind the bar served me my drink and gave me a card. Welcome to The Arm Bar it said. Underneath were some extraordinary puzzling things, like: Single Arm Bar, Single Double Arm Bar and Duo Double Arm Bar. All with the numbers 15-30-45-60 printed behind them. I had no idea what it all meant, but I didn’t want to look like an idiot, so I went for the Duo Double 60. Whatever that might be. A cocktail perhaps? I had to go upstairs, where two lovely Ladies told me to lay down and relax. A massage! Why didn’t I think of that before! Sixteen seconds later my arms were tightly locked in an armbar (aha!). The pain was excruciating, it really was. I screamed like a pig with an ulcer, but they kept me barred in agony for an hour. When I went home that night I looked like Frankenstein, unable to raise my arms and mumbling gibberish. Awesome!
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!