Losing my job devastated me. All my life I’d learned that the man must support his family. Any man who can’t be the breadwinner is not a man; he’s a loser – beneath contempt. Being a stock broker only made this worse. I was used to pushing around lots of money, of being in total control over people’s lives. Now I’d lost control of my own. I could push anyone around: a multi-national company, a millionaire client, my wife. For weeks, I woke up every morning wishing I could just crawl into a hole and die. I really hated myself. Even though my wife Angelica tried to help, she only made my feelings worse. Every time I saw Angelica, I saw my failure reflected in her soft eyes. I wanted to run, to scream. . . to cry. I hadn’t cried since I was a damn kid! Angelica tried to help, but her efforts only made things worse. The first week she left me to my shame. The second week she tried to cheer me up, but she just couldn’t understand what I was going through. She’d say: “That’s ok honey, I’ll earn enough for both of us.” “Just relax dear, I’ll support us.” and so on. She just couldn’t understand that I wasn’t worried about money, I had plenty of money in the bank. I needed my job to prove that I was the man. Her words cut into me like a rusty dagger. For weeks she fired off these encouragements at me in rapid succession. The humiliation stung so much that my self-respect began to die. I became quiet and passive. All my sulking and passivity slowly led me to a state where I began to do what Angelica said without question. I no longer believed I had the right to speak my mind or to demand anything of my own. This was a total turn around from the way our marriage had been. In the past I was clearly in charge. This felt like Angelica’d made me submissive to her. Imagine that, I felt powerless against my little wife. (Actually, at 5′ 5″ she’s not much smaller than my 5′ 6 & 1/2″. I guess being physically small made my need to dominate others even stronger.) I felt neutered. The third week, her comments seemed even more emasculating. “Don’t worry honey, I’ll take care of you.” “Don’t worry yourself about providing for us, I’ll take care of that.” “I’ve got things under control darling.” And at times, whenever I stalled in some task she’d given me, she would offer to help in the most humiliating manner: “do you need me to help you with that honey?” “If you need my help with that, just say so darling.” I once decked my boss for trying to condescend to me in this way. But I couldn’t strike Angelica. My inability to stop her only emphasized my powerlessness. Angelica’s comments always sent a warm, soft feeling of helplessness down my spine. I could feel myself physically weaken as she spoke. The more she spoke, the less my will to resist. At first, her words made me angry and I wanted to lash out. It took everything I had not to tell her to stuff it. I struggled to convince myself that I needed to just accept what she said without fighting back or getting angry. I worked hard to train myself to remain passive. As time passed though, I became accustomed to her words. Gradually I stopped resisting. I still felt the sting of humiliation, but it no longer angered me. In the fifth or sixth week, Angelica’s tone changed again. I guess she’d had enough of my moping. One day after getting home from work, while still in her smart suit and low heeled shoes, Angelica started on me. “Listen Pete, I think it’s time you stopped moping around the house. You may not be able to find a job outside the house, but that doesn’t mean you can’t work. There are lots of things that need to be done around here and I don’t have the time to do them, with my job and all.” I looked at Angelica. I knew she was right, but I didn’t like her tone. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t just ask me, why did she need to remind me of her job and my uselessness? “What did you have in mind dear?” I asked in the soft tone I’d adopted lately. “I prepared a list. These are your new duties.” “My duties?” I felt my face contort in shock. Who was she to tell me my “duties”? “Be quiet!” I was stunned. For the first time in my life, Angelica had just given me an order. In the past I would have told her where she could cram it, but surprisingly I couldn’t now. I don’t know exactly why, but being passive for so many weeks had sapped my will to stand up for myself. I stood there in stunned silence as she continued. “I’m not going to put up with this anymore. You can’t find a damn job so you’re as good as useless.” That stung. I felt my spine tingle and what little resolve I’d found break. “You’re going to start helping out around the house. I earn the money, I’m the breadwinner. You aren’t. That means I call the tune and you dance.” I could feel a horrified, confused look creep across my face. Angelica watched my face as she reached down and removed her shoes, one at a time. “Face it Prissy, as long as I’m the ‘man’ of the house, you’re going to be the woman.” “What . . .” “Shut up, don’t ever interrupt me again. Now take this list and start working. I expect you to complete the items on this list everyday. Do you understand me!” Angelica handed me her shoes. They were still damp and warm. “You can begin by polishing these. Then get the rest from the bedroom and polish those too. Then start with the rest of the list.” Angelica turned her back to me and headed for the bedroom. I scanned the list, it was long. “But dear, how will I find time to interview if I have to spend all my time dusting, cooking, and shopping?” “That’s your problem. Besides, you haven’t gotten one interview since you lost your job. Now get to work and don’t say another word to me. You’ve made me angry.” Angelica closed the bedroom door behind her.
A regular regimen of hairbrush spankings is a reliable way that old fashioned dominant wives use to keep submissive males obedient and properly subservient.
By Deborah Jennings
After parking up her four by four amongst numerous other vehicles Dominatrix Anne led her leashed sissy slave across an isolated and remote farm yard. At the doorway of a newly refurbished barn annex a doorman in a leather trench coat ticked Dominatrix Anne’s name off a guest list, pushed the annex doors buzzer and dominatrix and sissy entered into its diffused lighting. Music played in the back ground with a heavy beat, a rhythmic hypnotic beat.
Bondage furniture was everywhere inside, gyno tables, strapped chairs, St Andrews Cross, hung suspension harnesses, cages, all kinds of bondage equipment, everything catered for nothing amiss.
Numerous dominatrix’s all unmasked sat or stood around chatting to their like, most with a sissy slave on a lead that was either standing or kneeling to attentive attention and all clothed in forms of sissy dress.
Dominatrix Anne was greeted and beckoned by a dominatrix sat on a high stool and was using as a foot stool her chastity wearing sissy slave.
“Dominatrix Anne, I’m so glad we could meet, is it what you expected ?”
Asked the Amazonian Dominatrix Susan dressed in a blood red skin tight latex cat suit.
“I must say,….I’m very impressed,…. wow how brilliant this all is, and so many people, so many dominatrix’s and with all these enslaved sissy slaves.”
“Wait until it all gets going, then your see these sissy sluts being put through and learning their servile places”.
Dominatrix Anne looked around her and saw the numerous torture implements on display and took in the sissy slaves again whom soon would become the appliances victim’s, then turning back she asked.
“Pardon me for mentioning this but your face seems familiar somehow ?”
” Well you may of seen my photo in the press, I’m a leading south west business entrepreneur, that believes women should have more of a say in well almost everything really. Woman filling the positions of importance, be it in politics, business, media, medicine, education, etc, etc, in all the professional avenues really.”
“And what about the males in those positions at the moment and the males here.”
“What do you think, look…, what do you want, and what would you like to do. Because if it’s a yearning for a totally female led supremacy your in the right place, and I think that from our online chats, that I’m right… aren’t I? And the fact that you have a sissy male slave is further proof isn’t it” here she glanced knowingly at the sissy slave the black latex cat suited Dominatrix Anne had on her lead “proof of what you believe, so join us become a member of our party, it’s still secretive at the moment for specific reasons, but soon and with all our plans in place we’ll be the leading governing party. Then in doing so a female supremacy will then rule over the inferior male sex.”
The night wore on and Dominatrix Anne got to know and see the power these dominatrix’s wielded. Almost every sissy there was in a way, or in some capacity the head of or in charge of a governing party of the south west. It was like a who’s who of enslaved sissy male slaves.
At ten o’clock though the chatting and talking amongst the dominatrix’s ceased, the music became louder and the use of the bondage apparatus started. Both gyno tables were put to instant use, the first sissy’s strapped in had their chastity devices removed and their penises inserted into transparent vacuum milking tubes. The pumping of which was merciless, brutal and unforgiving from the start and spunk soon, vacuum sucked spunk, shot out in jets. This drained spunk essence was then siphoned off into a translucent calibrated collection jar. Another pair of sissy males replaced the spent wanked out ones, then others, then another pair, then another, the calibrated jar filling with creamy extracted hot, musky, white spunk. Dominatrix Anne had a broad satisfied grin on her face, then she in turn eagerly strapped in her gagged, stocking wearing and stiletto heeled, chastity wearing sissy, she removed his chastity device and inserted his penis into the vacuum tube, a gathering group of curious dominatrix’s stood about looking on, interested in seeing the amount of spunk that could be extracted from the new strapped down sissy.
With the brutality of the suction vacuum pump, the sissy’s enlarged penis instantly bucked and jerked, then almost instantly his spunk jetted out, then more and more, the assembled dominatrix looking on smiled. Then they looked at the Dominatrix Anne, usually slaves were released after satisfying their dominatrix to this extent, but not this sissy. Dominatrix Anne wound up the vacuum pump to maximum. The gathered dominatrix’s looked on, many with looks of anxious, but wanton cruel satisfaction written across their faces.
The sissy before them now yielded the last dregs of his spunk, he had been completely emptied, drained of his essence. Dominatrix’s stared at this new Dominatrix Anne, who had just shown such cruelty and just loved what they had seen and loved what she had so cruelly done.
Dominatrix Anne was then helped after asking in securing the spent sissy in a suspension harness and was again aided in spreading his stocking glad legs as wide as possible.
After Dominatrix Susan and Dominatrix Anne had got together and spoken with regards to what now should be done to the sissy slave a decision was decided upon.
“Dominatrix gathered her tonight, I am pleased to say that we have a new member of The Female Supremacists Party. Dominatrix Anne our new member here” indicating Anne” is I hope a incentive to you all, we must now take the next step, all males will and must submit to us completely, our time has come, we will own their cock’s, they will be our property and we will enslave them, are you with us?”
A resounding shout of “yes” went out then the slung up sissy was set upon.
A disconnected suction tube was inserted deep into the anus of the suspended sissy and the flow from the spunk jar reversed so instead of sucking it now pumped.
Strapped out in the suspension harness and unable to bodily move the sissy slave could only shake his head from side to side to show any sign of his resistance. Then a surge of spunk jetted through the clear tubing stopping just short though from being injected into the sissy slaves anus. The gathered dominatrix’s looked on and smiled at Dominatrix Anne, she in turn looked around at them so binding and enforcing the mutual unity between them and her. She now undertook the next act that was going to befall the suspended sissy.
And this she now proceeded to do, she switched the reversed lever to maximum, the spunk from the calibrated jar was sucked up and passed through the tubing at such a pace that within seconds the jar was emptied. The complete contents had been fired into the sissy slaves anus, one immense gushing jet filling the slaves violated anus, full of spunk. As the slave squeezed and clenched his shaven anal ring spunk began to seep out, then more as he clenched again, eventually the excess spunk dribbled continuously.
Beneath him though an ordered procession of sissy slaves their mouths open knelt one after the other and swallowed down the dribbling droplets of essence of spunk.
“This is what males everywhere will be forced to do, as they are humbled by us, when they are governed by us, owned by us, by us the Female Supremacist Party” voiced Dominatrix Susan.
More droplets of spunk dribbled out of the conquered sissy slaves spunk filled virgin males anus.