Friday, April 28, 2017

Power play

Ah... the abusive dommie-psycho-mommie scene.  Part of every domme's standard repertoire.  And all you need to get started are some wire coathangers.

The previous guy found the smell a bit pungent too.  In fact, he said it made him vomit, it was so bad. But I'm sure he was exaggerating.

Everyone knows women all love sitting around having their boots cleaned and then smeared with semen.  It's amazing dommes get away with charging their clients so much to let them do it, really.

Hee hee.  I've actually let it drain to 90% but I'm going to tell her it's fully charged, because 90% is still a green light!  Pretty sneaky, huh? That's at least 25 minutes less screaming in agony.  Guess I'll show her!

It won't matter to anyone who matters, anyway.

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Turnng points again and again

... so much turning it's making me dizzy. Turning points... I usually explain the concept around now... can't be bothered this time and I think most of you know what you like anyway.  Click on 'turning points' in the wordcloud if you like.  Job done.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

2020 vision

A few of you seemed rather to like the captioned pictures of attractive TV journalists talking about female supremacist politics a few weeks back.  So, ever eager to please I've done a few more.  But I'm not going to post them yet, you'll just have to wait.  Just think of its as tease and denial, OK? You enjoy that, I expect. Pervert.

However, I thought perhaps while we're waiting for that we could hear a few words from The Lady Herself.  So here, without further blather, is an excerpt from a speech that the FemSuprem candidate will be making during the 2020 US presidential campaign.

Why should men who aren’t submissive support female supremacy?   

OK, let me tell you a little story.  A true story. Around about 1905, this French passenger ship got wrecked on a remote Pacific island. There were 32 women and 20 men who survived, so they set up a camp and waited for rescue.  But this island was way off the usual routes so no help came.

And they got a little society going, organised on traditional male grounds, obviously. This was 1905. Women didn’t even have the vote!  So the guys just decided guys should be in charge.  They probably didn't even think about it.  But stuff went wrong. The men started fighting over power, and one was killed and seven others ran off.  Then two of the men who were left fought over a woman and the winner raped her.  So far, so normal for thousands of years of history, right? 

But the women rose up and they threw the men out.  And they built a big fence of stakes and they got on with doing what women do: growing food, looking after one another, making their lives better. You know?  And the men did what men do: they fought, they destroyed stuff and eventually they were scavenging around half-naked for raw berries and nuts and worms out there in the forest.

So, every so often, a man would come to the gate of the women’s village and beg to be allowed back in.  And the first few times the women just said no.  But then they held a council and they discussed it – as women, do, respectfully of one another’s opinions, while the men were settling their differences on the rest of the island with clubs – and they agreed to let the men back in on one condition.

Here’s the condition: any man who came back in, could do so only as a slave.

Yeah: a slave.  And I guess you all think that’s terrible and a horrible thing to happen.  Slavery’s not a nice word and I suppose it’s not a very nice thing when you’re a slave either.  But it was better than grubbing up roots and berries and being constantly afraid of being beaten up or raped by the other men, you see.  So, over time, one by one, all the men came back into the village. As slaves. 

And they lived and they got enough to eat – and, yeah, they weren’t free any more. So they didn’t have the freedom to rape people because they couldn’t control their sexuality or dig up the crops before they were ripe because they couldn’t control their gluttony – or the freedom to fight each other for power.  And maybe they had to take a whipping occasionally, when they deserved it and I guess that can’t have been fun. But it was better than starving.  It worked, see?

But… that’s not the end of the story. All good things have to come to an end and after about 15 years, finally a ship visited the island.  And things could have been fine, but the captain of the ship saw a guy tied to the whipping post and decided it was too weird for him and he took everyone off at gunpoint. And after that, we don’t really know what happened to the castaways.  I’d like to think some of them carried on in female-led households back in France.  Because women were a lot freer after the first world war, see, so maybe that could have been possible. But it’s hard to stand against the culture.

But here’s the thing. 20 men landed on that island. Two were killed by other men early on, and one died of natural causes about 1915.  The other 17 came home. What do you think would have happened to them if they hadn’t been shipwrecked?  They’d have joined the army, of course, like all French men in 1914.  And if they were lucky they’d have spent four years in the trenches, wading through mud constantly, permanently infested with lice and always terrified of a shell or a sniper taking off the top of their head, or ripping out half their guts in a split second.  They’d have been compelled by other men to stand up above the trench and run towards the enemy’s lines, scrabbling over barbed wire as machine guns cut through their bodies and those of their comrades.  If they were unlucky they’d have been gassed, shot, bombed, shelled and bayonetted while trying to do the same thing back, killing men on the orders of other men.  And if they somehow survived the enemy but refused to try to kill him, they’d have been shot.  By men on their own side.

And my question to you is this: were the guys on the island worse off?  They wore collars and chains and they didn’t get to decide much for themselves, it’s true. They got an occasional beating when they deserved it, and I’ve heard from time to time some of the women got a bit frisky too and liked to humiliate them a bit.  But if it’s that or the trenches of World War I – which would you choose?

I sometimes wonder whether those men were honest with themselves after they came home.  Whether when anyone ever asked them what they did in the Great War, how they survived, they’d say ‘Oh – I was enslaved in a matriarchal society.  I had a pretty sore bottom from time to time, but we didn’t have any wars.” Because that would have been the truth. But I expect they didn’t.  Back then, most men would have thought of subordination to women as the worst thing in the world.  They’d just had four years of unimaginable horror in the trenches but somehow going over a woman’s knee was an intolerable thought.  Go figure.

And that’s my story.  And that’s why I say to men: look at the world you have.  This is your world: the world you men made.  You’ve had thousands of years in charge and… well, look at it.  You want to make it better?  You’ve tried political campaigns to put different men in charge and you’ve tried revolutions to put a whole bunch of different men in charge and you’ve had wars – boy, have you had wars! - to see if killing people might help and hey: nothing works!  You’re still scrabbling around for nuts and berries, fighting each other, living like animals.   

Well, I’m offering you the same deal as those women on the island did. We’ll open the gate, if that’s the choice you decide to make.

What have you got to lose? Your freedom? Give me a break.  Your freedom is the problem.  And if you’re honest with yourselves, you’ll admit that. And you’ll support us in this election.  And if we win, you don’t have to worry about what happens next, because we’ll be in charge. Do you have to be submissive to want that? Or do you just have to be intelligent enough to recognise that you need to give yourself a break and put someone else in charge?

I’m Anne Hathaway.  I’m a female supremacist and I want your vote on November 3rd.  

Friday, April 21, 2017

How do I love thee, let me count the strokes and thank you for each one

I wonder if it would be OK to ask for a drink of something to help wash it down.

Position 53... 53... erm, like Position 14 but arms crossed, right?

Still, I have to say I got my money's worth for the session.

She's too soft-hearted.  Fortunately, Mr Travis isn't.

I think he's not a morning person.  Nor's she, truth be told, but there's so much to do and only so many hours in the day.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Cause you're my lady, I'm your fool

... so beat me up before you go go

I occasionally have difficulty getting through passport control, admittedly.  But I always have a permit to travel signed by a responsible female, so it's OK.
 The lovely Goddess Lexi on the right there.  And... another lovely goddess on the left  I'm sure one of you will tell me who that is, won't you?

She's so professional, it hurts. It hurts a lot.

Because reasons?  No? OK - I'll get back to work.

And this goddess is Mistress Arella.  I knew that without even looking at the label, there.  Czech, you know. I wonder if it's something in that country's history.... invaded by Germans, Russians... and I've heard the frost is cru-el.

She must have another cummyshoe for goodness sake.  They sell them in pairs.  Why does it always have to be this one?

I personally think that a boy can do almost any job a woman can do. Just not as well and only under strict female supervision.

Monday, April 17, 2017

A song for Paltego

Paltego's great 'Femdom Resource' blog has reached 2000 posts.  Actually, it has reached 2002 but it has really taken against me or my browser and it's not letting me post comments or at least not comments with links in them.

So let me use this blog, which fortunately does still let me post, to wish Paltego a very happy two-thousandth, on behalf of all of us!  Let's celebrate with Mistress Chrissie.

Two thousand more, please.

Thank you Paltego.  You are the centre of the femdom internet.  Without you, we'd fall apart.