Slave Husband 3 – Femdom Supremacy

We have a guest at home at present, one of Goddesses girl friends came for lunch. I served them both through lunch, have made them a couple of cups of tea, and done all the washing up while they sat and chatted in the kitchen, observing me. Goddess has summoned me once or twice to do this or that for Her, and I have responded promptly and with humility. While I am happy that I have acted with humility, I am not convinced I have “communicated the Femdom Supremacy relationship” as stipulated in my perfection rules. How on earth wood I clearly communicate this without looking like a total plonker?

Hopefully Goddess has been satisfied with my humility and service. If not, She is obviously free to punish me for it, in which case I would have to roll the dice twice. Assuming an average of five on each roll (because the fucking dice appears to be loaded!) that would be 56 strokes including discipline strokes. I have never had so many! I would die!

One thing is for sure. If Goddess does decide that I have not communicated the Femdom Supremacy relationship clearly, then in future I will really go to town on doing so – though just how, I still do not know!

Originally posted 2011-07-12 20:00:29.

Shoe Worship

Cressada Laverge lowered her lids and gloated over the ease with which she was subjugating Malcolm to her complete domination and imposing her firm will upon his rambling family estate, and the two teenaged nephews he supported. She had long yearned to punish them all, and her friend, Mrs Truella Murdstone would be a wonderful ally in her plans. Cressada’s fully rounded hips and magnificent bosom writhed in anticipation, surging from within at the thought of Malcolm’s place in her schemes. Little did that love-dazed man realise what was to come
[Little indeed, one might say! The new bridegroom finds he has to wear a dog collar and is then set to work scouring the hotel bathroom while his wife and Mistress goes out on a shopping trip. He then discovers a whip is his bride's suitcase, and this is soon put to work when she returns. Malcolm is ordered to clean her shoes]

Emotion squirmed within Malcolm’s loins, half love and half grinding fear, as he saw Sada’s strong, tapering gem-laden fingers grasping the handle of the whip. She fondled the lash, dangling the flexible tip before his panic-widened eyes, and pulling the whole supple length of it through caressing, dagger-nailed fingers, while Malcolm, breathing hard from he feared to know what feelings inside himself, at her feet, his spotless handkerchief ready in his hands.

“Put that damned rag away.” Cressada struck the arm of the chair with the doubled whip. “When you wipe your Mistress’s shoes you will do it reverently, with your tongue!” Malcolm looked up, gulping with awe at the derisive smile and her threatening flourish of the whip as he hesitated. Sada’s eyes narrowed. “So…my pet is not full of the proper respect and reverence – yet!”

“Yes, Sada,” he stammered, throwing himself belly-prone before the glittering black-shod feet. Street dirt clouded the brilliance of the patent leather at the heel tips and just above the soles. He began removing the dirt, his tongue polishing the leather and gathering the debris which he swallowed. In his haze of adoration and awe he knew that this was the only true way to keep his wonderful Mistress’s shoes clean. With whimsical amusement in her eyes, Cressada toyed with the whip, watching his willing debasement. The pungent taste of patent leather filled Malcolm’s mouth, flavoured by the admixture of dust and offal from the street. His lips laved the pointed contours of the gleaming shoes and felt the dainty garlands of pearls at the slipper throats and sucked the terrible thin spikes of the nearing six inch heels.

Originally posted 2011-07-15 11:14:00.

Husband’s Servitude

Nevertheless, Malcolm is fascinated by ‘this new, entrancing for of servitude’ and, even though he does ‘feel leather’ because one of the lacings is fractionally loose, he is subserviently uncomplaining. Various other forms of humiliation follow. He is leashed like a dog, forced to kneel behind his Mistress, bootlicking as he goes and, ‘when not in use’ as Cressada puts it, he is locked into a windowless cubicle closet. In due time, the nephews and the niece, Margery, as well as Mrs Truella Murdstone arrive. Under the threat of losing their inheritance, the nephews knuckle under to the discipline of the Manor, though with considerable reluctance and, at first, resistance – for they do not have the same masochistic traits as their Uncle Malcolm. The niece, Margery, changes her allegiance, and is soon trained into becoming as much a martinet as the other women. The nephews are thrashed into obedience and abject servitude, and become as submissive as Malcolm. The extent of this is emphasized in a final chapter (though it is indicated that there will be a continuation in a further book.

A chapter in the series: Female Supremacist Marriage.

Originally posted 2007-07-20 07:23:54.

A Male Slave’s Food Bowl

First he takes his ‘lunch’ on all fours, eating from a dogbowl ‘canned dog food watered down to mush.’ After this unpleasant repast he dresses his Mistress in one of her usual bizarre costumes.

I’ll wear my blonde mink stole, Husband,” said Sada, “furs are most appropriate on a punishing woman.” She selected a longish, sinuous rawhide, and gave it a gunshot snap. Malcolm swathed her wide, alabaster shoulders in the opulent furs. “Down, pup…” Sada jerked his leash. “To heel. You are for punishment for overt delinquence…and an improvement of your appreciation of the spick and span.”

A vignette from Female Supremacist Marriage.

Originally posted 2013-05-18 15:25:13.

Husband’s Agreement

“Husband,” her liquid, throaty voice commanded, “Read this to me again.” She leaned over and her electric, full-bosomed assertive beauty dazzled his adoring senses as he read his own hand-written words:

“I, Malcolm Masoque-Laverge (once Malcolm Masoque) this day unconditionally and devotedly yield myself to the complete authority of Madame Cressada Laverge, my wife and absolute Mistress. I vow that: I am to accept her decisions in all matters as final. I am to comply with her every wish, to obey her every command and to always be faithful in heart and deferential in manner to my beloved Mistress. I am to submit my body, mind and soul to her strictest discipline, and expect severe punishment for the slightest disregard of her authority. Said punishment will be administered to me in whatever form my Mistress feels best befits her mood and the occasion.

(Signed) Malcolm Masoque-Laverge

His voice weakened towards the end, and he was conscious of the arch-browed, haughty face over him, her finely carved aristocratic nostrils flaring delicately as a superior smile and sneer touched her moist red lips. Having deferred to this superbly regal Venus from the first, he had written the submission contract in a love-mist of enthralled enchantment, thinking it meant no more than continued courtesy on his part.

“Well read, husband,” the sensuous lips murmured. “Memorize it word for word, so that you can recite it whenever I wish.”

“Yes, Sada, I will,” he answered humbly, not needing the sharp pinch on his ear, or the sparkling, tingling sting on his cheek from the slap of her palm to prove her power over him. He watched her move sinuously to the couch, especially attracted to her glittery black six-inch stiletto heels, and then resumed unpacking as her icy stare met his abject eyes.

Originally posted 2011-07-15 05:13:59.

Hungry in the Corner (The Conclusion)

“Here first,” Margery ordered.

Then Cressada bellowed, “You get to THIS one first, confound you!”

Malcolm poised ready to plunge the brush (and his face) into the bucket, looked up, bedeviled and bewildered, at the hectoring females. Suds spewed from the brush with the frantic switching of his head from side to side. Then the rawhide began cracking again… and he scrabbled, yammering against the brush handle to remedy his errors. When his oppressivenesses again took their ease he was weak and a-jitter. But under the compulsion of his beloved’s gaze he scrubbed till his mouth was raw, his jaw ached, the sun was setting and the terrace was washed down to her Ladyship’s satisfaction.

Later, en boudoir, Malcolm lay at her feet exhausted, his backside raw, swollen and throbbing remorselessly. Moans bubbled from his tortured lips as he mouthed her terrific boots. “Don’t carry on like that, my pet,” purred Sada casually amused, “I’m hardly through punishing you. Tell me, do you like these pretty bootsies?” His reply was a distracted gargle against a shining marlin-spike heel. “You’ll be oh so familiar with them before I’m done with you.” She rose. “Now, back into your corner until I’m ready for you again. You’ll go hungry this time, sweet… that will do its little bit to teach you to respect my little whims.”

It is at this point that The Whiphand ends, but further installments are promised. Installments that will surely be as ornately written as they are illustrated. All of it is, of course, the purest way-out fantasy, utterly impossible. Yet, nevertheless, quite satisfyingly enjoyable to those with masochistic leanings. Also enjoyable, one might add, to those with leanings of the opposite kind for it is simple for such people, be they male or female, to transfer themselves in their imagination, into the position of Cressada the all-powerful, all-dominating Mistress who has a half-willing, half-unwilling victim constantly crawling and groveling at her feet, for ever at her beck and call, one whom she can humiliate and degrade to the limit, one whom she can thrash and flog to her heart’s content.

A vignette from Female Supremacist Marriage.

Originally posted 2013-07-24 23:32:11.

Husband is Household Servant

There…” The cowhide curled, cracking across his buttocks. “Douse that brush proper and get scrubbing.” Malcolm splashed it – and his face – into the strong, hot suds and lowered his head to the ground. The dirt on the long untended flagstones turned to mud under his nose as he scrubbed with lunging shoulders, biting the brush handle which made a lip-stretching bit in his mouth. Sada kept the thong end of her lash draped over his back, and, from time to time, laid it with a stinging crack across his upended rump. “You’ll scrub harder, you lout!” she bawled in her most intimidating growl. “Lets see you put some back and jawbone grease into that.” Malcolm, eyes streaming from the harsh suds and the brush wobbling in his teeth, felt her bootfoot on his neck jammed the brush on the flagging and the handle, chokingly, up into his mouth. The tiny, sharp-edged steel heeltip dug into his flesh and he shuddered as it pricked through his skin. Sada exerted rhythmic pressure with her long gorgeous leg, thrusting his head down and forward, giving helpful, albeit punitive, momentum to his scrubbing.

Cressada slid her bootfoot off Malcolm’s back when young Margery came sauntering on to the terrace. “Lawdy me!” caroled Malcolm’s pretty niece. “You’re surely making this clean-up day around the old homestead, Aunt. I’ve just come from the stable – your Governess has dear Langdon there now, and hard at it on all fours. Seeing him sweat – after that caning job you did on him this morning – was so delicious I could scarcely tear myself away. Y’know,” she chortled, “I had to resist an urge to get astride the big goof…so’s see what kind of horse he’d make me.”

Originally posted 2007-07-30 03:27:47.

Marriages Based on Female Superiority

Matriarchal Marriage & Male Immaturity

Charlotte wrote:

I have believed in matriarchy and female superiority since I was too young to know these words. I now for many years have been the head of a female led family; my wonderful, fully domesticated and devoutly submitted husband, our two daughters and our son. I was a single child and brought up by a single mother so I did not at home experience any of the in many ways undesirable male behavior. My husband was raised by a single mother but he had three sisters so he grew up fully adjusted to female norms and values and also with a good sense of male inferiority. You can imagine that he was easily trained and is happy and content with me in control.

Naturally there are aspects of a marriage and of adult life that should never take place in front of children but I have never tried to hide from our children what my values and convictions are. From they were small they have heard me telling their father what to do, reminding him sternly, reprimanding him. They also at times when it just came natural saw me slapping him in the face or on his clothed bottom. They heard and saw this because that is how we live and it would be wrong to play act in front of the children and then have our real life behind closed doors when the kids were in bed. They always knew that I made most decisions, that I had the final say in all matters and that their father in most matters had no say at all. As they grew up I spoke with them about gender roles, matriarchy, male immaturity, female superiority and all these things in a way they at their age at the time could comprehend. They never saw or hear about their father wearing chastity device and they never saw or were informed of him being caned or strapped but they knew when he was grounded and when he was sent to bed early as punishment.

Our daughters are now 10 and 15 years old and our son is 14. They are all happy and good children, doing well in school and helpful and polite at home. To them there is nothing strange or mysterious in me being in charge and their father having to do as I say, it is for them the most natural thing in the world and they seem all three to have fully grasped and embraced the matriarch values and outlook on life. The girls are eager to discuss female supremacy with me and they try to view everything they come across in school and the news and other places from a matriarchal viewpoint. From our discussions but also from many of the essays the girls have written at school I can see that the matriarchal viewpoint is always important to them and they use every opportunity to point out how wrong things always go in a society led by men and the primitive and childish masculine values.

Our son seems to fully understand and accept that he as a boy must have stricter and more restricting rules than his sisters. At the age of 14 he now naturally want to be a man but it is a well-behaved and obedient man like his father. Actually I think my son is scare by the thought of not having the care and protection that is provided in a female dominated and led community.

Now the oldest girl and the boy are teens it will not worry me if they one day should hear the sounds of the strap or cane and their father’s bawling from the bedroom; surely they will understand that if I punish him that way it is because he deserves it.

She and other dominant woman wrote many things in the ongoing comments to Train Male Children to Be Submissive