When sorry is the easiest word to say

Femdom wives know best
She can be quite merciful, actually.  Just never when you really need her to be.

Trimmed to perfection
That’s a bit unfair.  I mean, it’s already quite a dainty one to begin with, isn’t it?  Not many excess ‘unsightly inches’ down there, even now.

Geek domme
And then tomorrow you can move on to Riemann manifolds, because it’s Saturday.

Chaste boyfriend
True friendship.  That’s got to be more important than some shallow, meaningless relationship based on nothing but sex, right?  

Love among the tears
Yes.

Just business

“Actually, I was amazed no one had thought of it before”, Janet commented languidly, gazing at the reporter eagerly taking notes in front of her.  “I mean, lots of people know about submissive men.  It’s a well-known image in popular culture – you know, the MP who goes off to Miss Whiplash for a hard session after a hard session in the House, and that sort of thing.”
The reporter nodded as she took these words down, and Janet noticed how prettily her golden curls danced across her shoulders.
“Well yes, I suppose so” she replied, a little hesitantly. “Only… for most men it’s just a game, isn’t it?  I mean, I’ve been reading about safewords and things like that.”
“You’ve obviously done your research well” said Janet, with a broad smile, and was delighted when the pretty young thing looked up to meet her eyes and smiled shyly.
“But it’s just a matter of numbers and time.  Maybe one in ten of the adult male population is submissive.  Well, if about one in ten of those is prepared to make a lifestyle commitment, that’s still a few hundred thousand.  And it’s better than that because you can work on the others – get them used to longer and longer periods of voluntary submission, until they make the lifestyle commitment.”
“Lifestyle commitment…” the reporter said, slowly.  “Yes, I read about that.  It’s basically slavery, is that right?”
“We prefer to avoid that word” Janet said, a little sharply.  “Because we find it tends to reduce our supply of inputs, and that’s important for us.  But the concept is essentially the same.  They sign away their rights to freedom and to property – in fact, they become property.  The property of SubService plc.
“But I can see how you’d get away with it for a short while, when it’s all really new and small-scale” the reporter said, doubtfully.  “But when you got really successful, so many people were talking about you.  New…errr…recruits must have known what they were getting themselves into.”
“It did become a little more difficult.” Janet admitted.  “But that’s why the trappers are so important.”
“Trappers, yes…” the reporter mused, her lips gently closing around the top of her pen.
“Entrapment operatives” Janet snapped, wondering whether she was going to be able to make it to the end of this interview without throwing herself at this dim little blonde, stripping all her clothes off and fucking her right here.  She’d make a fine trapper herself, she thought grimly.
“The trappers lead the men on, starting things off as a normal kinky relationship, then taking it further and further until…”
“Lifestyle commitment?” the reporter suggested.
Janet nodded.  “Not to SubSupply, of course, that would be too obvious.  They make a lifestyle commitment to their ‘girlfriend’ and then the trapper sells them to us immediately.“
“That must come as a bit of a shock” the reporter gasped, her eyes wide.  “Don’t they protest?”
 “Most of them do, I think” Janet replied, a little vaguely.  “Not usually for very long, though.”
“No, I suppose not” the reporter breathed, almost to herself, and seemed to consider this for a while.
Definitely a trapper, Janet thought, wondering whether a few practical demonstrations of how the organisation dealt with male protests might put her in a…receptive mood.
“So…err…what was the first product? “ the reporter asked, pulling herself back to the job.  “Domestic service?”
“Oh no!” Janet laughed.  “That was exactly what we were trying to get away from.  Hairy blokes dressed up as little French maids, prancing round with dusters?  That’s not something women will pay for.  Quite the opposite, actually.”
“But you do sell domestic servants.  It’s in your brochure”, the reporter said, with a defiant little toss of her curls.
Janet stared.  Was that a pout on her face?  Was this little minx angling for a spanking?  She’d get a shock if she was.
“Yes” she said calmly.  “But that was later.  After we’d established the brand.  When our customers could have confidence they’d get a boy doing industrial quantities of laundry in 14-hour shifts if need be, not some fat pervert drooling as he washes a pair of panties by hand.  Male fantasies are just completely useless for any real purpose.  They all want to lick shoes, for example!  Show any woman who really wants to sit there for hours while some idiot slobbers spittle all over her new Jimmy Choos!  Of course, we gave it a go, to see if there was any long term benefit.  We tried having some shoes cleaned solely by being licked for a few months.  Ruined the leather, and frankly there was a slightly rancid smell.  You know – like morning breath?  No – male ideas of service are great for entrapment, but once they’ve signed the lifestyle commitment, it’s reality time.”
 The reporter nodded and sat up a little.  Janet tried hard not to think of her behind a school desk, her pleated skirt tucked neatly beneath her.  She failed hopelessly.
“So your first product was…?”
“Oh, we tried a few things” Janet replied, moodily.  “All sorts of manual labour really.  Sent a few boys out as rickshaw drivers on days when the traffic in London was heavy.  Nothing really seemed to take off.”
She brightened, as a memory returned to her.  “There was one steady earner, though: Punch Partners”
“Punch partners?” the reporter asked in confusion.   “I’ve never heard of them.”
“Oh, well we don’t do it so much now” Janet replied.  “We’re too well known, so it wouldn’t work.  But the idea was to hire one of our boys and beat him up.”
“Sounds like fun” the reporter declared.
“Well, I suppose it was, for some clients.” Janet agreed. “But mostly, the point was to show off.  Get into a fight with someone quite big at a bar, and leave them sprawled on the floor with a bleeding nose – that kind of thing.  You paid extra for broken bones – it would have been quite lucrative to have let someone give a boy a real going over.  But hardly anyone ever really wanted to do that.  Maybe the girls that did trapped their own…”
All was quiet in the room for a moment as the ladies thought about this.
 “Anyway, the really big break was cosmetics.” Janet said, decisively.
The reported nodded. “The Nature’s Way range.”
“That’s right” Janet laughed.  “I can still remember when the idea hit me.  I was at a dinner party, and this woman to my right started talking about how they’d been trying to move all of their cosmetics into the ‘cruelty free’ range, not tested on animals.  She was quite passionate about it.  But she did also mention that products not tested on animals could command up to a 25% premium, and what a shame it was that product safety standards still required some animal testing, so they couldn’t just declare their whole range 100% cruelty-free.  That’s when the idea hit me.  I called her managing director the next day, and we did a deal within a week.”
The reporter nodded.  “Did you have any trouble getting permits and things?”
Janet grimaced.  “Well, this was early days for SubService.  The concept of using lifestyle-committed males – “ she noticed the reporter’s luscious lips quietly mouthing the word ‘slaves’ but decided to ignore it – “ hadn’t really taken off at that point, so we were breaking new ground in human rights law, employment law and so on.  We had about six months of legal battles before we could really begin operations.”
“That must have been expensive” the reporter commented.
“Well, not really, actually.” Janet replied, thoughtfully.  “You see, it turned out that a disproportionate number of our lifestyle commitments were from boys who had formerly been barristers, city lawyers, that kind of thing.  So most of the labour was free.  It was the first real demonstration of the competitive advantages our approach can bring.  And with teams of high-powered lawyers working night and day, we not only won all of our cases but we did so in record time.”
“I heard a rumour that the judge…” the reporter began hesitantly…
“Utter nonsense” snapped Janet.  “The fact that the judge made a lifestyle commitment just three weeks after the trial had nothing to do with it.  I understand the trapper concerned has stated clearly that she didn’t even know he was a judge.  And he himself didn’t know she was one of our trappers, and he has subsequently signed an oath to that effect.”
She stared hard at the reporter, waiting for her to question whether the sworn word of an item of property of her company could really be relied upon.  But the reporter simply nodded dutifully.
“OK.  So then you did the testing for Nature’s Way?  The first all cruelty-free cosmetics range ever.”
“That right” Janet continued, with some relief.  “Of course, we didn’t use the words ‘cruelty free’, because of the trades descriptions act.  Even with all those lawyers we couldn’t have got away with that one.”
She paused and gazed at the young blonde in front of her, silently daring her to mention improper influencing of judges again.  If she did, it would surely be time for the paddle across that pert little bottom.
But the reporter was too wise – or, Janet reflected, probably too dim – to make the connection, and the moment passed.
“Nature’s Way was quite a success when it launched” she reminisced.  “It came out with all sorts of pictures of happy rabbits and rain forests across it – you know the sort of thing.”
She reached down and pulled out a plastic bottle from a drawer and handed it across to the reporter, who stared at it curiously.
“So, this is what they looked like at first?  It’s really different, isn’t it?”
“It is” Janet agreed.  “You see, we just hadn’t realised yet what we’d stumbled upon.  Oh we were doing fine, selling these pretty bottles with gambolling animals “ –her eyes narrowed as she saw the reporter look puzzled over the word ‘gambolling’ and made a mental note to check the copy later to ensure no casinos or lottery tickets came into the text at that point – “sales were growing nicely, people seemed to be happy to spend a couple of pounds extra to keep the bunnies free….but then we tried some marketing experiments, and we just couldn’t believe what the focus groups were telling us.”
She reached down again and passed another bottle over.  The reporter turned it over reflectively in her hand. “Tested vigorously on adult male humans” it announced clinically at the top.  Below it were two pictures, one of a fit-looking young man wearing a suit, smiling confidently at the camera, the second a close-up of the head of the same man, his head held rigid in a metal frame, his eyelids fastened open, two testing bottles above him, each dripping a different liquid into his two exposed eyes.  He appeared to be screaming lustily.
“I remember this.” The reporter exclaimed happily.  “It’s one of the first shampoo brands I ever bought for myself, when I was a teenager.”
Janet smiled happily.  “You and millions of others.  We’d been trying to conceal the cruelty of the testing process, but actually that turned into our major selling point.  The products with that packaging just flew off the shelves – even though it’s the same stuff inside.  It was a sensation – the newspapers even managed to trace the name of the tester we’d featured, from before he made his commitment to us.  Some bloke called Frank – so we started calling that the ‘oh, look what’s happened to Frank’ range, in our marketing studies.  A classic.  That ‘before and after’ look is still our most reliable product design.  We just keep coming back to it.”
“You’ve done some lovely products since, though” the reporter gushed happily.  Clearly, she was on firmer ground talking about cosmetics than about the legal system.  “Agony and Ecstasy – that’s my favourite.  I just love the TV ads with the tester who nearly manages to get free!  It’s so funny when he swings upside down, but he’s still attached to the testing machine, so the boiling liquid goes all over his – “ and she broke off in giggles.
Janet smiled indulgently.  “I’m glad you like it” she said.  “But it’s our girls in marketing who deserve all the credit.”
“Well, and your top scientists who design all these clever testing procedures” the reporter added, eagerly.
“Yes…that’s right” Janet said a little distantly, wondering how so many people could really believe that the same product could continue to need testing after so many years and millions – no, billions! – of sales worldwide.  The real ‘testing facility’, which had only ever been a couple of rooms, had long ago been closed down, while the magnificent glass testing complex which dominated the outskirts of Guildford contained some sophisticated and complex procedures, to be sure, but mainly for show and to ensure that customers like this one could think happily of the agonies men had gone through on their behalf, every time they washed their hair.
“I just don’t know what the world did before proper human testing.” the reporter continued, a little indignantly.  “I mean – what about all of those tests using nitric acid as an active ingredient?  Those went on for years, didn’t they?  When I saw those ads showing the effects, I just stopped buying anything but Nature’s Way.  It’s the only one guaranteed to contain no concentrated acid, after all!  Well – without testing on poor little bunnies”, and she looked a little upset.
“So it is” Janet agreed, without much enthusiasm.  “Anyway, that’s the cosmetics story.  We changed all our marketing concepts at the same time, actually.
We’d been planning to launch the domestic service range under the slogan ‘Loves the jobs you hate’.  But of course when we finally rolled it out, we went with ‘Hates the jobs you hate, but is forced to do them anyway.’  It was a great success too.”
“Have there been any failures?” the reporter asked, innocently.
[To be continued.  Probably.]

Fiction: Misappliance of science part 2 (of 2!)

The story so far: a group of schoolgirls are on a guided tour of  FEMDOM (Faculty of Experimental Methodologies for Disciplining and Oppressing Males).  We’ve seen new developments in the design of whips, in storage of the male slave…we’ve even had a little lecture on evolution.  It’s an educational trip, so – Mary – what have we learnt so far? Hmmm?

OK, well according to Mary it’s all been, like, reeeely boring sciency stuff but she thought the new whips were lush.  So there you go.  Sigh.  On with the tour: 

Manimals®
And in fact…let’s just see if Dr Collins is in her lab… Ah, Dr Collins?  Would you mind at all if we…?  Thank you so much, only we were just talking about males adapting naturally to a lifestyle on all fours, and I thought I might show the girls some of your marvelous work in this area.  You see, girls?  Evolution is a very slow process – even with vigorous culling of males every generation to weed out the ones we particularly don’t like, it could take thousands of years to breed back to their proper four-legged form.  So with modern scientific methods, Dr Collins and her team are helping the process along a little.  Isn’t that right Dr Collins?
They started with some simple adaptations: pads on knees, slightly longer arms, and fingers growing together to form a fleshy pad.  But now they’ve really branched out and are experimenting with all sorts of shapes.  Now where is…ah – this is my favourite.  Here – take hold of the whip and give his buttocks a little flick.  Isn’t that clip-clopping sound as he runs around just delightful?  And unlike real horses, they still have feeling in the tips of their hooves, so shoeing them is an absolute scream!





Quiet, non-polluting and cheap to run.  What is not to like?



Ah – I can see you’re wondering what this stubby thing down here is.  This is a product that is actually going on sale quite soon, isn’t that right Dr Collins?  It’s a very simple idea.  I am sure we have all been frustrated when slaves mess up position 6.  Vigorous whipping will usually sort the problem out, but it happens mainly because males are just a bit badly designed to be tables.  Most males’ arms are that much longer than their upper legs, so when they get into position they slope, until taught otherwise.  This one needs no teaching: look you could lay a spirit level on that back and it wouldn’t be tipped at all.  And the elimination of knee and ankle joints makes it less likely to buckle.  Of course, the downside is that it can’t do any of the other positions – or move – so it can’t really be used as much other than a table.  But it would make a fine addition to any living room, I think you’ll agree.
On we go.
i-Poke®
Gather round now girls, while my assistant here whips this male up onto a platform.  Now, can you all see its penis?  Look closely.  Yes, it is there.  Can anyone…yes, that’s right.  This male was born with a penis just three millimeters in length!  Now that’s quite fun in itself, but it’s not the clever bit.  Here, while my assistant secures him tightly to the frame, can one of you take this spiked metal thing from me and – that’s right, you’ve got the idea – just give him a little prod right where that tiny thing is.  Ooops, try again – it is a little hard to hit it at first, as it’s so very small, but – Ah – there!  You got it.  Now, did you all see what happened?  She didn’t spike him hard did she – just a little poke?  But what a lovely scream!  And look at that face, hear that gasping.  It’s as if he’s just had a half-hour whipping, isn’t it?
The trick is in the way the little penis develops.  It’s just a few millimeters long, but it has just as many pain receptors as a normal one.  So, inside that tiny little fold of flesh, there are over a million pain receptors, all funneling into a giant bundle of nerves leading straight up into his brain.  So that when I – excuse me, if I can just…poke it – well, if you can hear me over the shrieking, I think you can see the point!  And you can flick it, and squeeze it and of course You can slap it and you can zap it and everything else You might like – and everything is magnified several thousand-fold.
Complicated sciencey stuff.  You have to study hard to be able to hit the male in exactly the right way.

They need careful bringing up, because of course if you just start inflicting this much pain on a male straight away, he’s liable to die of shock and that’s no good.  But they’ve been gradually increasing the treatment ever since early adolescence on this one, and as you can see, I can just tweak and flick and jab and jab and jab all I like and…well, he’s passed out now.  But he’s still alive, so that’s all right – no harm done.

Great fun as a novelty item, and who knows- one day maybe all males will be like that.  On we go.  Goodness, wasn’t that noisy?




The Dreadmill®
Ah, the psychological section.  We can whip their bodies to a perfection of agony…but to really get under their skins we need to mess with their minds.  Yes, I do know you can flay the skin off, thank you Nancy.  I was speaking metaphorically.  Now I’ve lost my train of thought.  Where – ah yes.  Come this way.
Now – who knows what a phobia is?  That’s right.  It’s very odd, but even in today’s world, in which males have much to be frightened of, the irrational fear from a phobia can be stronger than the entirely sensible fear of an Owner’s displeasure.  The male mind is a strange, and rather broken, little thing.  Come over here and sit on these wooden boxes – I have a story to tell you.  Is everyone sitting down?  I know, it’s a little uncomfortable, we really ought to see about getting some cushions put in this room.  But we’re OK for now, aren’t we?
Well, about fifteen years ago, FEMDOM scientists found that phobias can be induced.  They took some of the work that had been done back in the bad old days when males were running free, and turned it around.  Hypnotherapy and aversion therapy had developed some techniques for allowing people to control their phobias.  With some adaptation, the same techniques could be turned round and phobias could be heightened.  Do you see?  So a male with a mild irrational fear of something could have it ramped up to the point where he becomes a gibbering wreck of fear.  Isn’t that lovely?
Who knows what the word ‘claustrophobia’ means?  That’s right.  Now I want you each to have a very close look at the wooden box you’re sitting on.  You see the air holes?  Bend down and have a listen.  If you can’t hear anything at first, try whispering “Would you like me to let you out”.  Hmmm?  Everyone hear something?  That’s right – whimpering, and frantic whispered begging.  You are each sitting on a highly claustrophic male, a fully-grown adult, all packed up into a ball and squeezed into a little box.  They are in a constant cold sweat of terror – it’s remarkable, unlike repeated exposure through aversion therapy, they don’t seem to adapt to the constant confinement at all.  They’re as terrified now as the day they first saw the open boxes waiting to receive them.  We had some struggles with them then, I can tell you!
The odd thing is that we can only induce ‘traditional’ phobias.  In a separate facility on the ninth floor, there are some males who are terrified of heights, for example.  And just over there, in that glass box – well it’s hard to see inside, but you can hear the screaming and those of you who aren’t the least bit arachnophobic might want to try to peer through the cobwebs.  Rather you than me, I must say – they give me the creeps.  We can induce any existing phobia.  But we can’t just make boys phobic about anything we like.  Not yet, anyway – but that’s what we’re working on now. 
Wouldn’t that be wonderful?  Imagine having a male with a crushing phobia about some ordinary household item – your keys, perhaps, or a spoon, and you could just produce it from your pocket whenever you wanted.  Or a phobia about a word – say ‘bananas!’ and they collapse in terror.  Such fun.  But what we’re really working on is trying to induce a phobia to a specific person.  Wouldn’t that be something?  Imagine owning a male whose greatest fear, above everything in the world, is…you.
We’ll get there eventually.  Isn’t scientific progress wonderful?
There’s so much more in our psychology section too.  I’d love to show you the male maids who’ve been induced with obsessive compulsive disorder so they just have to keep on cleaning!  But we must press on – it’s time to see how FEMDOM is doing good deeds all around the world.  Follow me – but don’t forget to say goodbye to your boxed males first, to make sure they know you’re leaving.  They’re terrified of being abandoned!



Did you know that the Faculty gets through over ten miles of duct tape each year?  Amazing but true.  Useful stuff, duct tape.

Powerstump 4000®
Gather round me, please girls.  Now of course, these days we all need to be concerned about the environment.  Millennia of male rule have resulted in severe damage to this planet of ours.  Things are better than they were, but we shouldn’t just concentrate on retribution for the male race.  Their collective punishment for the destruction is important, and it’s something we can all help with.  It will take centuries at least until they have suffered enough for what was done, so every little helps.  But environmentalism is about more than whipping boys with organically farmed birch twigs: it’s about repairing the damage they’ve done, and safeguarding the future as well.
I expect you’re too young, but I can just remember how bad things had become before the revolution brought sense back to the relationship between the sexes.  Most goods used to go by lorry – imagine!  What’s that?  No, Dorothy, the lorries had internal combustion engines using diesel.  Filthy stuff.  Well, you see those were more primitive times: they didn’t have slave-power in those days.  I know, it’s hard to imagine.  You still see a few lorries actually, although now of course they have modern propulsion units, sometimes all chained together in teams of up to thirty.  But the reopening of the canals was the biggest step forward.  It’s so lovely to watch a full barge moving serenely through the English countryside, with no foul fumes or spluttering motor: just the sound of the water slapping against the side, the flick and crack of the whips, and the gasps of the slaves on the tow-path.
And the clean energy revolution continues!  Slaves are the ultimate renewable power source: break one, it can be broken up and returned to the soil, to grow crops to feed more slaves.  Modern researchers are finding that slave power plants can be used in all sorts of activities where previously they were thought too cumbersome to operate.  This, for example, is our latest miniaturized power plant – just three feet high.  By removing the legs at just the right point, we achieve just the right balance of weight and motive power.  Cut too low down and the slave is just too big to fit into the engine.  Too high up and his little stumps don’t move fast enough to turn the driveshaft.  But if you chop them off in just the right place, you have a compact power unit that you can pack up and use anywhere.
You might yawn, Eliza, but I can tell you – this little device saves lives.  Emergency relief organizations are queuing up to buy them to deploy in disaster areas, or aid agencies to install them in the Third World.  Sometimes, we at FEMDOM like to know that our products are serving a humanitarian purpose.  Every time I see a discarded pair of legs cut to just the right point, I know that someone somewhere has a chance of a better life.  It’s inspiring.
Leadboys®
Then there’s heavy metal pollution to think about too.  No, I’m not talking about those disgraceful bands that play such awful loud music and dismember males live on stage.  No – in the soil and in the plants, there are heavy metal residues from the primitive use of industrial machinery.  Left untended, they can become concentrated further up the food chain as plants draw up their nutrients, eventually harming birds and animals.  We breed slaves with a particular affinity for various metal compounds.  When they eat the soil – like this, you can see here some contaminated soil being forced into this one’s throat (for some reason we can’t overcome the gagging reflex and anyway it’s amusing to watch) – the heavy metal compounds are extracted, and collect in their own bodies, where they can’t damage anyone.  Well, no one who matters.  Eventually they cause the collapse of one more other major organs, we dispose of the dead or dying slave in a furnace, and the resulting contaminated ash is encased in glass and permanently removed from the environment.
Farewell
And so we have reached the end of this little tour.  Thank you – thank you very much.  I enjoyed it too.  I hope you found it fun – but I hope you learned some things too.  Here at FEMDOM, we’re trying to create the future: to make the world a better place, ever more fun and more comfortable for women all over the world, and ever more painful and unpleasant for males.
But really, it’s you that are the future and we never forget that.   The sweet, sadistic young girl looking wide-eyed at some of our toys here today might become the brilliant scientist who invents new ways of inflicting agony for the benefit of all womankind.  There are things we can do to males today that would have been inconceivable just ten years ago.  I’m confident that boys born today can look forward to a future more hellish than any of us can now imagine.  And it’ll be your generation who creates that future.
FEMDOM – We have seen the future.  And it hurts.
That concludes the tour.  If you have a male with you that you would like personalized as a memento of your visit, just bring it to the apparatus over there where the irons are already hot.  Or you could buy one of our customized males, to take home with you.  The gift shop is to your right.  Feel free to try out any of the products, but remember our strict rule: you break him, you buy him.
I hope to see you all again very soon.

Fiction: Misappliance of science – Part 1

Good morning girls! Welcome to the Faculty of Experimental Methodologies for Disciplining and Oppressing Males (FEMDOM). My name is Ms Lisa, and I’ll be accompanying you on your tour today. I’m sure we’ll see many things of interest, and there might even be a few laughs on the way. But do remember at all times that this is a working research facility, carrying out important work in the field of male subjugation. Please try to stay on the path at all times. In some areas of the facility, hard hats and protective coats will be issued to all female visitors and you are strongly advised to wear them.

FEMDOM was founded* just after the Male Citizenship and Private Property Act** came into effect, to conduct fundamental R&D in the exciting new field of female domination. At that time, you know, there weren’t even any university courses in it! So the founders were true pioneers, and a lot of what we now know about hurting males was discovered right here, in those early years. We really like to think that a lot of the things we take for granted today that make boys’ lives miserable wouldn’t be around if it wasn’t for the work done here.

It is important that young girls understand that science can be fun as well as being serious.  That’s why the Instuitute has a hands on area where visitors can experiment for themselves, in a safe and fun environment.

It’s a self-funding facility. None of your mothers’ taxes are used to pay for this research. At the start, we got our income mainly from breeding and selling slaves. With today’s glut in the slave market, we wouldn’t make much that way, but now we have products out there for which there’s a real consumer demand – and we’re patenting more all the time. I expect all your slaves have real-time tracking implants? The basic technology was developed here. And if you’ve ever rubbed Stingercreme® into a boy’s eyes – ah I see some nods there – well, then you’ve used one of our products.

WhipSMart®

This way – the tour begins. Now, as teenage girls I expect you all have the very latest fashion in whips. Oh, don’t try to tell me about it, I know nothing about fashion. A whip is a whip as far as I’m concerned. But I suppose you wouldn’t dream of being seen out without one of those blue transparent plastic ones that…what’s that? Well, yes I suppose I am ‘so last year’. What is ‘in’ then? Good lord, really? Well, all right. You might all be in the height of fashion with your cute little diamante Dior whips …but I’ll bet you have never seen a whip like – this.

No, it’s not much to look at, but would someone like to give it a go? Here you are – there are some males just along there for testing purposes. Try to find a reasonably unwhipped bit of flesh and give it a good crack. There. What do you think of that? Feel free to have a go, all of you, with your cute fashion-whips, I can tell you, you won’t match that welt in a hurry. See? No, Susan, it’s not a particularly sensitive slave – look, you struck him in almost exactly the same place with your own whip, and the mark is puny by comparison.
Now, you can see that there’s nothing very  –

 – if you can all just stop whipping the boys for a moment? Please? Just for a? –

– there really will be plenty of opportunities for –  Thank You.

Now, there’s nothing very different about this whip to look at, in fact next to yours it looks downright dowdy. But if you looked at it under a microscope, you’d see a little saw-tooth pattern all over it. Here – draw your finger over the surface – gently, we don’t want anyone to get hurt! Feels a little like pins and needles, doesn’t it? Well when it’s wielded firmly, those microscopic teeth grab and cut and pull at the male’s flesh, down to a millimetre below the surface and it’s as if every single pain receptor is being individually whipped to perfection.



Protective gloves must be worn when working with the WhipSmart® material, as the slightest touch can sting the skin to create a burning sensation lasting for days.


We call it WhipSMart®. This whip will revolutionise industrial production. We ran some experiments in one of the textile factories around here. Do you know, they managed to get their slaves working 25% harder, while having to deal out only half the number of strokes as before? We tried it in an engineering firm too. They’d been using a blowtorch when they really needed to get their workers to go all-out, and of course eventually that damaged the slaves. Not to mention the fire hazard it caused. After our demonstration, the slaves were begging for the blowtorch to come back!

It will go on sale shortly. I carry one already. Who knows – maybe for the first time in my life, I’ll be ahead of the fashion!

The KeepHim Safe®

Now, over this way we are developing something very interesting. Long-term secure slave storage. Just pop a slave in here and he’ll keep for years without any supervision. If he – what’s that? Well, I know most people don’t want to store slaves. I agree, especially now they’re ten-a-penny. We didn’t always live in such a throw-away culture, though. You wouldn’t understand because you’re too young. But some older ladies, maybe those that married before the revolution, when men were still considered people – some of them are quite attached to their former husbands.

Well, you might all look shocked but you know just 30 years ago that wasn’t so surprising. Doesn’t anyone have a father that your mother keeps around, for sentimental reasons? No? Or maybe a grandfather? Yes – that’s more like it.

Well, like your grandmothers, my mother still keeps my father around: in the attic in an old cage she had him build up there. She’s seventy-three and of course she has younger slaves for looking after the house, and for playing with (oh yes, even old ladies like to get the whip out from time to time!). She doesn’t need him, and sometimes I’ve tried to persuade her to just get rid of the smelly old thing. But she’s attached to him, says it would be like throwing her wedding photographs out. It’s a nuisance making sure he’s fed and watered all the time, and once she nearly lost him by accident when she went on holiday and forgot to make arrangements. So – this is the answer. The KeepHim Safe®.

As you can see, it’s a bit like a sleeping bag, but made of sturdy thick rubber. It’s padded inside and waterproof. I wonder – Ms Chalmers – could you just help me demonstrate on a boy? Yes – that one will be fine. Now, as you can see, girls, Miss Chalmers is attaching the pipes at the bottom first. Those take away the excrement, and that tube fits tightly over his penis for the wee, and also prevents any other little accidents. Then his legs and arms are wrapped up in this soft bubblewrap…then this tube goes into his mouth.

That’s right, Alice, it does go a long way in. It runs right down into his stomach, so the food and water goes straight in, ensuring nothing drips out of his mouth. So then the mouth can be sealed securely around it…so. Breathing tubes in the nose – that’s always a fiddly bit but it’s quite important to get it right. Then pull the bubblewrap round here, so it’s just bulging out a little, then zip it all shut and pop this padlock on…

…like so, and there’s no danger of him moving a muscle. This backpack thing is the little box of tricks where all the pipes go – switch on here, and he’s all set.

Well, obviously there’s not much to see after that.  Ever.

Now this is interesting because er… oh I’m so sorry.  This is just a couple of staff relaxing in the lounge.  No science going on here just at the moment.  Let’s move on.

It’s very economical. We can run food and water on one, two or three cycle mode. That’s because slaves are very wasteful – their waste products still contain useful nutrients. We can set it automatically to cycle the waste through a second, or even a third time before it delivers fresh food. There are no set times for feeding or evacuation, by the way – it’s more like a constant oozing. Round and round.  Round and round…

On some models, there is an electric shock setting, which can deliver shocks to various body parts at a random intervals, on an average frequency set by the user. You can also programme it to deliver the majority of shocks overnight, on the Economy 7 tariff. So it’s not too extravagant, and it does give you peace of mind to stop you worrying that the boy might be happy. But this is the basic model – just keeps the boy warm, fed and alive. And in one place, obviously. We’re hoping these might find a use as emergency slave supplies storage, for example sitting ready to ship to disaster areas when there’s an urgent need for a lot of manual labour. But we’re still exploring all the possibilities really.

What’s that? Well this model was only completed last year, so of course it’s not been tested beyond twelve months. But we’re confident it could run without a hitch for ten years if need be. We have earlier models that have been loaded for just over five years, and we have about a 70% survival rate there – which is pretty good for a prototype, we feel. We’ve just put an eighteen year-old into one of these new models, and we’ve stored it away to bring out at FEMDOM’s 100th birthday party in 72 years time. Hoping to bring out a ninety year-old slave! Yes – I know it’s a horrible thought. But we’ll dispose of him quite quickly, it’ll really just be a PR device to show off the model’s capability.

Boring? Yes, I suppose it will be. But when you think of the things that might otherwise be happening to him on the outside, he’s rather lucky really.

An example of the high technology precision instruments available in the facility.

Come along, there’s much more to see. Let’s visit the biology section, as I think you’ll find that very educational. Oh – don’t look like that. I promise you, this is nothing like a school biology lesson. Follow me, and don’t touch anything.

A lecture on genetics and evolution

Now, inside us, what makes us what we are, are things called genes. It’s because of my genes that I have blue eyes and –

 – Can you pay attention please? ‘Rachel’ is it? Well, it is because of your genes that you have your beautiful amber eyes, Rachel, so do try to keep them open!

Genes determine a lot of things: what you like to eat, who you choose as your girlfriend, even little things like whether you prefer Brie or Cheddar cheese, or you like your males screaming or gagged when you punish them. All living things have genes. We have a set of genes that makes us differ from each other a bit, but also makes us people; unlike chimps, lizards, males or daffodils.

Yes, that’s right. Males are genetically quite distinct from us. Research into the ‘Y’ chromosome – which males have and we do not – has identified genes for clumsiness, for stupidity, for arrogance and for laziness.

But nature is a wonderful creator of balance. Our own double-X chromosomes dispose us towards command, control and also give us a healthy streak of cruelty. For millennia, females’ sadistic nature was ignorantly repressed. Women who punished men were regarded as unusual, sick even. But now we understand that a desire to inflict pain on males is natural: an innocent desire just like an appetite for delicious food, an appreciation of beauty or the love of another woman.

Using evolutionary principles of the survival of the fittest, institute scientists have for some time now been trying to evolve men who can breathe underwater – so far, it has to be admitted, without success.

We females and males are yin and yang, the hammer and the anvil, the hawk and the mouse, the hot iron and the flesh. We need to punish them to be fully human, and they need punishment to be useful and fulfilled.

Male inferiority is simply a scientific fact. For example, consider the male genitalia. Yes, I know it’s disgusting. But really, just think how wonderfully well-designed they are for their purpose. The testicles hang neatly outside the body, affording easy access for dominant females. Yet, they are more sensitive than any other part of the male body, and as you no doubt all know, even a relatively gentle tap with any instrument can result in a gratifyingly agonized response. Human male testicles are considerably larger than those of the other great apes, so there’s plenty to work with.

Now, creationists make a lot of this: they say that male testicles being so perfectly suited to our desire to hurt them shows the Goddess’s hand as a supernatural creator. But most scientists just see it as another beautiful proof of evolution. Current scientific thinking is that as humans developed a two-legged posture, the use of knees on male testicles became particularly easy and males with more sensitive and exposed testicles would have an evolutionary advantage, being more willing to submit themselves to wiser female direction. So, those with more sensitive testicles thrived under female control, while those with less sensitive ones did their own thing – and probably got run over by mammoths, or fell off cliffs and suchlike. So – the latest scientific thinking is that the testicles evolved as they are, essentially to be punished.

Indeed, some biologists believe that humans’ upright posture itself actually evolved to allow easier punitive access to the testicles, as well as positioning the buttocks perfectly for the use of correctional tools. And also, you might like to know, some believe that our opposable thumb and tool-using capabilities evolved primarily in order to wield instruments of correction on male buttocks. Imagine yourselves back in Africa a million years ago, on the very day when some brilliant apelike human gazed down at a stick on the ground and conceived of using it for whipping the buttocks of some uncooperative male. The dawn of womankind! But I digress.

Are we still evolving? No, almost certainly not. Evolution works through natural selection, and in today’s comfortable world, with so many machines, modern medicines and slaves, the pressures that drive natural section are absent. People will remain much as they are – which is pretty perfect anyway. But males are probably still evolving. Of course, not much happened until the female-led revolution restored the natural order of things 30 years ago. But now, with the widespread use of remote electric shock devices, the two-legged posture is no longer needed to allow testicular access, and of course most owners prefer their slaves to spend a lot of time on all fours…so males are almost certainly reverting to quadrupedal status.

What can she mean?  Find out next time, for this story is…

TO BE CONTINUED! 
Under pressure from animal rights groups, the facility has been seeking to develop human male (humale) alternatives to domesticated animals.  Success has been mixed.  The humale version of the pig has already been replacing animals in farms across the country.  The development of horses is proceeding well, although there is still some way to go.  But researchers have to report that there has been almost no progress at all in replacing the cow with a humale alternative at this stage.  The volume of milk produced is very low and the taste simply awful.

*Under its original name, the British Institute of Technology for Caring and Healing – a name chosen supposedly to hide its true purposes, without much success.

**Historical note.  A landmark piece of legislation, in the post-revolutionary era, the Male Citizenship and Private Property Act, as its title implies, removed citizenship from men and redefined them as private property.

Sweetly mean

Captions of female domination, which need no introduction except that I’ve been told that without text, search engines won’t know that, so I’m writing an introduction. Search engines can’t recognise images.  Their loss.

Careful with that whip darling

Doesn’t she look graceful?  Doesn’t he look…what’s the opposite of graceful?  Some people think the sexes should be treated equally.  Isn’t that absurd?


Femdom caption with wife gently breaking the news that she is a lesbian
…and Jenny likes men even less, in case you were wondering.


femdom caption spanking men is good for them
Or you can go private, and get the cane instead.





femdom caption with nipple clamps too my godness
Again, surely an image to give pause to those who still believe in the equality of the sexes.





femdom caption owk on a quiet day
But of course he doesn’t know it’s a public holiday.  In fact, he has no idea whether it is night or day.
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