Stories and pictures themed around female domination and male subjugation and servitude. Unsuitable for children, for alpha males, for hard-core practitioners with an interest in the politics of bdsm and the mechanics of complicated rope work. Of interest to perverts like me, basically.
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| Scamper scamper… wag wag wag. |
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| She’s not, like, a pervert or anything. |
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| Mistress’s boyfriend actually, so a bit of both you might say. |
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| Personally, I just feel more comfortable wearing stereotypically female clothing, because when I try to sneak any male clothing on I invariably get found out and beaten. |
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| One fewer thing to worry about, then. |
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| Perhaps she’ll bring you a treat. |
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| Where there’s a will – and strong pelvic muscles, restraints and plenty of lube – there’s a way. |
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| Some valuable soft skills there, to complement the hard skill set many of the senior staff already have. |
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| If men’s libbers feel oppressed, they’ve got no one to blame but themselves. |
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| Raoul has a gay friend! Sign of the times. Maybe he’s moving on from those ridiculous old-fashioned attitudes. |
In a cold prison cell, an OWK slave shivered on the floor.
One Sunday morning, the Ladies arrived slap! – out of his cell he went to be dressed as a very lazy caterpillar.
They started to give him orders.
On Monday, they made him crawl the length the corridor from one end of the Queen’s Castle to the other ten times, kicking him to help him along. But he was still lazy.
On Tuesday they beat him to make him wriggle to the top of the hill twenty times. But he was still lazy.
On Wednesday, they made him flop his way around the mud on the edge of the pond thirty times, pushing his head down into the mud beneath their boots each time he came past. But he was still lazy.
On Thursday, they held a contest in which he had to compete against other human caterpillars in races, boot-licking contests, testicle-tug-of-wars and ‘most pitiful begging’ competitions. The losers each got forty strokes of the cane. The winner also got forty strokes of the cane. But he was still lazy.
On Friday, they suspended him from a tree, with weights clipped to his nipples and genitals and swung him around and around with punches and kicks, until he had come up with fifty amusingly shameful names for a human caterpillar. But he was still lazy.
On Saturday, they just lost it. They strung him up by his ankles, whipped away what was left of his caterpillar costume with a cat o’nine tales then each took a bullwhip and went for him, flogging methodically up and down his body while he screamed for mercy, then they used a cattle prod on his genitals, kicked him in the face, pushed pins through his foreskin and scrotum, then dragged him back to his cell, pissed on him and left him there, weeping and moaning in pain. That evening, he regretted coming to OWK more than he had ever regretted anything in his life.
On Sunday, he lay alone, cold and hungry in his cell.
Now he remembered he wasn’t a human caterpillar but a successful businessman called Christoph. Outside, he had money, houses and cars – he dressed in fine clothes, not rags and tatters; he ate at Michelin-starred restaurants, rather than gulping slops off a concrete floor and no one hit him, put clamps on his flesh or trod on his face. He resolved to tell these crazy Czech Ladies he had had enough and he would rather cancel the second week of his ‘punishment stay’. They could keep the fucking money – he wanted out.
So later that day, when they came to open his cell, he looked up, smiled confidently, started to speak and…
They hit him in the face, shoved a ball-gag into his gaping mouth, pulled a leash tight around his bollocks and dragged him off to the Courtyard, to carry bricks from one side to the other in the rain.
He was a stupid, useless male object.
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| I thought we should finish with a happy picture: well done Madame Christine! |
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| I just have resting silly grumpy-face. When I don’t have resting screamy pleading-face, anyway. |
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| It’s supposed to be quite effective in preventing premature baldness… or was that ‘laziness’? All good, either way – just ask Helen. |
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| Of course, she might do that even if he doesn’t make her. |
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| And don’t forget to wag that cute little rubber dildo-tail. |
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| I remember my first, fumbling attempts at sexual intercourse! Embarrassingly bad, like most men I suppose. I can laugh about it now, along with the guests whenever my SO tells the story, but at the time it was quite humiliating, especially with all those other guys there. I suppose a second time needn’t be quite such a… a shall we say ‘cringe-inducing failure’ but as my SO likes to say, ‘why risk it?’ |
I thought we’d got it sorted. (NB: link is not femdom-related, unless you have the same sorts of fantasies about Louise Wener as I do).
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| Ah, those far off heterosexual days. |
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| The game of ‘fetch’ is actually harder than it looks. |
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| Once she’d explained her idea, they agreed that it was safe. Not consensual – obviously – and quite possibly not sane, but safe enough, probably, so they just decided to go for it. |
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| He’s lucky. My SO usually decides I’m too busy to take even 15 seconds out of my busy schedule and of course I have to agree with her about that. |
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| I think she’s right: she probably should have used a different bat. But those big heavy ones have their uses, too. |
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| She finds she meets interesting people when she walks you in the park. And tedious but enslaveable ones too. |
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| She’s a very spiritual person, as you can tell. |
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| I don’t know what the bad things were in my brain that the doctor removed but there must have been a lot of them, because it’s very empty now. Thank goodness I have a loving wife to remember things for me. |
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| The taste of ‘shut the fuck up’ will always be associated for me with the sharp, painful feeling of ‘because I say so’. |
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| Or he won’t. Whatever. |
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| Not a problem: premium cat food doesn’t actually taste as nice as the adverts imply. In fact, in tests I understand eight out of ten slaves said they preferred to go hungry than be forced to eat it… but why should anyone care about that? |
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| Which is odd, because women are supposed to be good at empathy. |
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| Having said which, these two – while not exactly exhibiting empathy I’ll admit – are certainly very concerned to ensure fair treatment of all of the prisoners. Which is nice. |
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| She does use him for sex, but only in a facilitative capacity. |
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| And I’m very persuadable. I’ll even pay for it. |
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| You could try hopping from one foot to another. It does no good, but it’s traditional somehow. |
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| And then they could sit on them sitting on the cones. |
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| If all else fails, ‘being male’ would do. |
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| I was once told by a sex worker that 45 seconds with me was worth as much to her as an hour or longer with a “normal client”. I thought that was such a nice thing to say that I got distracted and nearly missed my deadline. |
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| Let’s hope someone brought the lube! |
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| Actually that’s not true – she takes the keenest interest in making your knees hurt and derives great pleasure from it. |
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| I’m actually really good at fetching sticks. On dates, I usually try to work the conversation around, so I can casually mention it. |
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| I tried ‘coming out’ by telling some female co-workers about my true sexual nature and I have to say I didn’t get anything like this understanding reaction. Actually, the entire experience was utterly humiliating and very painful. So that was nice. |
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| It’s odd – when the lady who’s now my SO and I first got together, she always (well… both times, anyway) complained that I came too soon. Nowadays, apparently I take too long and she never has time, even though I’m pretty sure I’m quicker than ever. Women, eh? |
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| “throne”? |
