Dominant Female

Dirk tested his bonds quietly. He lay on the stone table, strapped tightly at the knees and elbows. He was naked and a bit bruised from fighting the guards who had captured him and bound him down. Perhaps there was no hope anymore, but he refused to give up. Somewhere there were rebels against Queen Anoxia's rule. While he lived he could hope for aid, and if he fell the fight would be taken up by others. He thought ruefully of comrades who had fallen along the way. Dirk was the last of the Four Guardians. The other three lay dead, and their Trusts had been taken. Dirk had been the last hope, and he had been defeated at the last and his talisman taken too. Robbed of his powers and strength by the loss of his star gem, Dirk was at the end of his story. He wondered why he still lived, then looked around at the dark stone walls and remembered the silent men who had brought him here. (more...)

As I gently placed the last of the clean, bone-white dinner plates into its place in the cluttered cabinet to the right of the sink I glanced at the kitchen clock. 5:30 pm; Mistress would be home in less than an hour. Ignoring the itch beneath my garter belt, I bent over and closed the dishwasher door. Despite a week of practice I still felt unsteady on my four inch heels and grasped the edge of the counter for support. Straightening up, I surveyed the now spotless kitchen as I smoothed down my short black skirt. Mistress, I hoped, would be pleased. Everything was now done. I smiled to myself, then walked across the now spotless kitchen floor and the freshly vacuumed dining room carpet to the dark wood, glass topped table. With a triumphant flourish, I used a red magic marker to cross through the last of the fifteen instructions she'd written out for me this morning on a sheet of blue note paper. (more...)

Maryanne Whitaker strode confidently into the main office. She looked around at the staff assembled there and smiled inwardly. She could sense that they all feared her, and with good reason. She was the boss... She had started this company over eight years ago and had built it into a multi-million dollar import/export business. She had hired every person in the room, paid them very well, and didn't have the slightest hesitation to fire any one of them, and she made sure they knew it. Her presence alone was enough to inspire awe and fear. She stood 5'9" tall, but with her heels on she was just over 6 feet. She was 45 years old and dressed in slacks, blouse, and a double-breasted jacket. In addition she wore a scarf around her neck, expensive jewelry on her fingers and a diamond brooch on her lapel. Her hair was black and pulled into a small bun at the back of her head... (more...)

My wife suggested I use the name "domestic". I have shared with her my strong desire to be owned by her in any way she wishes. When I first started to tell her about my needs she obliged me as a kind of favor. But as time passed she became aware how useful my needs might be to her and became more enthusiastic about obliging them. She has suggested that I write about some of our times together. The following is not literally true however most of the material is taken from real incidents. At least once a month my wife tells me not to make any plans for the weekend. This is to let me know that she has plans for me. For instance last weekend I came home to find her dressed in manner guaranteed to get me motivated. She wore her highest shiny black leather heels over black fishnet pantyhose. Her body was encased in a cinched corset over which she wore a cute little mini skirt. Her breasts were bare. She was loosely holding a riding crop I had bought her for these weekends. I couldn't help but blush from excitement, as she smiled and whispered to me "Get prepared!". Getting prepared is a ritual in which I bind myself while she watches and instructs. I am always required to bind my genitals and this weekend was no different. First I strip naked and with a fairly thin nylon rope I tightly circle my waist; then run the line between my legs from front to back and on each side of my genitals. Starting at the base of my now throbbing member I tightly wind the rope around my shaft from the root to the tip. My wife insists on neatness. (more...)

I was working as a night counselor in a alternative housing program when I met her. She was innocent and streetwise all at the same time. She was beautiful and powerfully built with breasts that would make any woman envy and any man yearn to caress. Her waist was small enough to encircle with my hands and a rear that was round, firm, muscular and...well, perfect to say it simply. She kept herself impeccably clean and always smelled like the sensuous woman she was. Amy was a woman who exuded sexuality. She could turn on the charm and make you think that she was the only woman on Earth. She had the face of an angel and the mind of a devil. She could reel a man in and make him do anything she desired. This is how I came to fall under her spell. (more...)

One morning Dave awoke to the sound or raindrops on the roof of the attic dormitory where Miss Sadie's slaves slept, chained to their bunks with cock cages locked in place so they couldn't masturbate. Wondering if Mistress would make them pull the heavy plow in the muddy field, he heard the PA system click on and a harsh voice announced ,"Drop your cocks and grab your socks. Rainy day routine, Butt-out pants required." As soon as the speaker clicked off, the door opened and Miss Whip, dressed in a black PVC cat suit and thigh high black leather boots, switched on the lights with the handle of her flogger while Miss Lash went down the center isle and unlocked the chains that held their wrists and ankles. Once freed of their chattels, she unlocked each slaves cock cage, gave his prick a swat with her cock whip "to wake them up" she said and sent them out the door where Miss Whip lashed their butts with her flogger. (more...)

Just then Mistress De Sade rode up on her high horse, pulled him to a halt and slapped her long black riding whip against her thigh high black leather boots. "What's going on here" she demanded?" Why aren't they pulling the plow?" "We stopped to give them a drink of water" responded Miss Whip meekly. "Well, I didn't give any orders for that "asserted Miss De Sade. "See that they sweat it out or I'll have you trussed up and whipped." "Yes, Mistress De Sade" mumbled Miss Whip and Miss Lash as they cracked their bull whips across the naked slaves backs with a vengeance and turned the plow around for the next furrow. (more...)