Are you p1$sed off yet!?

If you don’t know who Andrew Tate is, the former kick-boxer rose to fame in 2016 when he was removed from British TV show Big Brother over a video which appeared to show him attacking a woman. He went on to gain notoriety online, with Twitter banning him for saying women should “bear responsibility” for being sexually assaulted. (He has since been reinstated.)

[he] appears to have created an organized crime group with the purpose of recruiting, housing and exploiting women by forcing them to create pornographic content meant to be seen on specialized websites for a cost (Reuters news agency).

With the news of his arrest this morning, here are some numbers for you;

The number of women enslaved worldwide has increased from 26.25 million in 2021 to 30.91 million in 2022. This is the largest growth of woman enslaved in one year roughly 20-22%. This is widely attributed to war, conflicts such as the situation in Ukraine, growing inflation and economic stress. Despite global efforts to fight slavery. the number of slaves has just continued to rise.
This has also been the only time since the index was formed that the increase has topped 20% beyond the normal year;y percentage of 12-15% *.

In addition, according to the website doenetwork.org, at least 2,378 women remain missing to this very day in the United States. Statistics show that if the missing woman is not found within 7 years the chances of them ever being found is less than 1%. And over 98.2% of those on the list fall into this category. Moreover, every year an average of 7 more women are added to the list.

Are you convinced that men perpetrate horrible evil upon women world-wide and have been doing so through out recorded history? That the patriarchal system of governance and laws are seriously tilted against the freedom of women? No?

What if I told you all the figures above came from a male porn website whose members CHEER these numbers as a ‘step in the right direction’ of turning all women into chattel to be raped and tortured with impunity by men? ARE YOU PISSED YET!!!?

Yes. Men like Tate must be stopped NOW. But he is just a drop in the bucket. A token arrest to appease women into thinking that by-and-large men actually care about them and their human rights.

It is past time for change.

It is time for revolution.

*Source: WalkFree.org global estimates of modern slavery

5 Reasons Adult Male Slavery Should Be Legalized

‘If you can imagine it, you can achieve it . . . ‘ – William Arthur Ward

Let’s face it. Slavery gets a bad rep and rightfully so. However, I thought it would be fun to present some reasonable arguments to why enslaving all adult men, 21 years and above, would actually be beneficial to society. After all, if recent history has taught us anything it has taught us that if you repeat something often enough and loudly enough, a lot of people will come to believe and accept it!

1. It Would A Massive Boost To The Economy

Let’s start with the most obvious benefit. Economic. By allowing men to be sold as property they essentially become goods, and goods can be taxed! The new female run government could tax a purchase (a sales tax), levy an ownership tax, or both!

Assuming the value of a slave is similar to a slave in 1860, that would be around $40,000. If women were taxed 10% of every purchase, the US sales revenue alone would be over $440 billion dollars! (based on a US population of adult males over 21 years of age, 110 million +/- CountryMeters.info)

Bear in mind that this money, if just put into building hospitals, could build at least 3,520 hospitals alone (assuming an average cost per hospital of $125 million). For schools the number is at least 10 times that. Meaning at least 35,200 schools could be build using male slave sales tax revenues. Providing tens of millions of women with modern, well facilitated schools.

But that is not all. The new slave industry would also mean new jobs. New jobs means more income, more income means more people paying taxes. Further, with roughly half the workforce removed from it, the remaining female workforce would likely be able to receive far more competitive salaries since employers would have to compete with each other to get employees from the limited number of available women workers.

Unemployment would be virtually non-existent as there will be such a huge void in the job market that it would take decades to fill all the men’s former positions with women.

Women would earn more, which would be transferred to her daughters which means her daughters would enjoy a higher standard of living.

Bear in mind, our estimate of the value of the male slavery industry of around $4 – 5 trillion would make it the largest industry in the United States alone. Worldwide, this industry would be more massive than the Manufacturing, Tech and Health industries combined.

Indeed if legalized, the male slave industry would lead to a boom time for America similar to the dot com market boom. And that is being extremely conservative. It is likely it would become the single largest industry in the world if legalized worldwide.

And we are not even considering all the other type of industries that would likely pop up due to legalized enslavement of man such as manufacturing restraints. And according to studies, a man can produce up to 3 and 5 milliliters of semen per day which is currently valued in Canada at $400-$650. (GroupEnroll.ca)

Imagine if just 1% of the enslaved male population, the most desirable 1%, is made in Hucows. That could be a multi billion dollar industry in its’ own right. Which could also be taxed! The possibilities are essentially endless.

Another source of revenue could come from allowing a man to extend their freedom by paying an annual freedom extension fee after their 21st Birthday. This is likely to be even more profitable. A literal steady revenue stream for the government which they can invest in hospitals, schools and public service.

Obviously, there is a lot of economical benefit to legalizing the enslavement of men.

2. Beneficial To Science and Health Research

You may have not expected this argument but yes, male slavery would actually be very beneficial to science especially in the creation of treatments, drugs and vaccines.

Unfortunately history has already confirmed this on several occasions. From experiments done on black slaves which created several cures for diseases (https://theconversation.com/the-hidden-stories-of-medical-experimentation-on-caribbean-slave-plantations-81600) to the horrible but valuable experiments done by the Nazis on their captives.

The human male is obviously a more accurate test subject when compared to chimpanzees who are currently our most accurate test subject for experimental drugs and vaccines.

Indeed if male slavery is legalized, male slaves will be replacing the chimpanzees for testing and they would likely yield far more accurate results. Just think of the last 2 years of vaccine issues with not enough testing for rapid antigen test which in turn meant it was not accurate enough until recently.

Imagine how much more quickly it could have been developed if better test subjects were available. Perhaps then we won’t be needing a third dose and such. Potentially this is perhaps the strongest argument for male slavery as billions in medical research could be saved if implemented.

Slaves may also be utilized in providing medical care. Currently most nurses are still female, but with slavery, men could not only fill this role, but their roles could be expanded. Not only could these slave nurses provide medical assistance they may also provide companionship and morale boast to female patients.

Without the distraction of their own lives they could fully dedicate their time to assisting patients as much as they possibly could. This may include giving pleasure to a patient before a possible dangerous surgery to help reduce her stress and to accelerate her recovery.

These slave nurses could not refuse a patient’s sexual advance and if it posed no harm to the patient’s recovery, they would be encouraged to satisfy these patients needs.

This will likely boast patient morale and be instrumental in their recovery. While not as instrumental as being a test subject for experiments, its’ value is also significant in terms of saving lives.

3. Reducing Stress and Providing Companionship

Suicides are rising every year due to growing depression. The rate of suicidal behavior is 40 to 60 percent higher in women than it is in men. The leading cause is depression and a feeling of isolation. By enslaving men, women could acquire a companion that would be dedicated to them fully.

Pressure that come from finding a partner would also likely not be a problem, as now they may just purchase the man of their dreams who could be trained to obey and satisfy their every desire.

Mankind would take a position more akin to that of a domesticated pet than of an equal partner. Indeed with mankind relieved of their freedom, they can now focus on one thing “making their female owners happy”. While at first this may take some adjusting to, it is highly likely that after the first decade or so the role of servant would become second nature to men.

Some would argue dogs are happier because they don’t think much… just playing with their Masters and doing their best to obey. Men will become ‘the new dog’ once male slavery is legalized. With the added advantage of being able to fuck them if the woman wishes.

It is likely with the dedication and love (and the occasional torture session to let off some steam) stress levels in women would be greatly reduced which in turn would likely lead to a drop in female suicides.

While taking male freedom away to reduce suicide rates may seem a bit much, in the words of Dr Fauci, “even one life is valuable” and being that this would save thousands of women’s lives, it stands to reason that men should be enslaved to make female lives less depressing.

4. Help Classroom Grades

I don’t know about you but school was mostly boring and down-right dreadful at times. In a male enslaved world this would likely change. Studies have shown that male students grades has been declining anyway for the last several years, so why continue the expense of trying to educate them.

Teachers could utilize slaves as a incentive tool for the now exclusively female students. “If your grades improve by 5 you get 5 minutes with the classroom sex slave. If you get an A, you get to take him home on the weekends to do… well anything you want.”

Studies by Maslow show that when positive incentives are given, production is increased by 20%.

This would likely be beneficial in the long run as well since if absenteeism and grades are improved, so will the quality of the graduates, which means a better educated society. The incentives could be like sport titles in that school. If you finish as a Top student you get a free slave of your choice from the school.

This incentive may be extremely attractive to future busy, hard working women.

5. New Entertainment For The Masses

With male slavery in place, some new types of of entertainment and sports can be formed to entertain the female public. Entertainment, the opiate of the masses, afterall makes people happier thus this will be an added value over all.

With better entertainment, the female public would be less stressed and more likely to enjoy their time in the Earth. This would also create new industries which, relating to point number one above, creates jobs… and can be taxed!

Imagine the sports that could exist. Ponyboy races, cunnilingus races, and many more. Also for those very pro woman in sports, these sports would be completely dominated by women. A pro-feminist dream come true. I mean many hardcore, patriarchal males will be put in a fight to the death with a lion in my imagining of these sports, but still. Lots of fun for the ladies.

CONCLUSION

There are a good number of reasons why legalizing adult male slavery would be beneficial to society. It would boost the economy likely surpassing even the level of the largest boom time, allow for more accurate test subjects which would lead to billions of lives saved through vaccines and drugs, provide companionship and emotional support for lonely women, slaves can be utilized as incentives in schools leading to better grades, and provide unique high quality entertainment to women everywhere.

Some points that I did not include here is of course, cheap labor (because this causes problems as well so I would ban males from work outside of a domestic context), and the fact that in human history, slavery is the norm not the exception, nor is it technically immoral as far as religions like Christianity and Islam don’t forbid it.

And lastly, that the huge financial windfall this new industry would create would probably lead to the collapse of the current capitalist model. After all, if women now have a virtually unlimited source of money, what value would money be anymore? It would pave the way for a more collaborative, synergistic society model. A model based on feminist ideals.

Just my dream. What about you? Share your thoughts!

The sweet smell of male surrender.

My dearest fellow males. We are doomed. Like me, you may have been brought up to think of women as ‘the weaker sex’, but don’t take their apparent weakness as anything more than them giving us men a chance to step up, fix the destruction we have carelessly wrecked on this planet, and learn to follow their instructions and finally, to obey them. And if the modern feminist movement reveals anything about them, it is that their patience with us is just about up.

You might be a very ‘macho’ male who feels at best, women should absolutely be ‘permitted‘ equality, but you’d never surrender to one…

Ohhhhh… you are so in trouble.

From things like the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements, you are aware of their open weaponry in their struggle – but did you know that secretly, they are using chemical warfare against you as well? Your sweet little vanilla wife or girlfriend, the one who cooks and cleans and raises the kids and would never dream of whipping you into a sobbing, begging mess, is intuitively helping her fellow women to destroy your masculinity and hence your ability to want to resist them, right now? Literally under you very nose? And her weapon of choice?

Lavender.

She has a dozen air fresheners, one in every room spritzing it because, “Oh honey, doesn’t it smell so nice?” You linens and clothes sit in a closet infused with lavender sachets so when your head hits the pillow at night, you breath lavender. In and out, in and out… as you stand naked in the shower, the scent of her lavender soap fills your nostrils and lungs and enters your bloodstream…

WTF are you TALKING about Brett? What does lavender have to do with the world feminist movement and the desire of some women to rule over men?

What women understand naturally, intuitively, us men with all our science are just beginning to grasp. This from the Endocrine Society, the world’s oldest and largest organization of scientists devoted to hormone research, comes this;

“Lavender is an endocrine (hormone)-disrupting chemical in the environment that interferes with specifically male hormones and their actions in the body. It appears to create hormonal conditions in males that stimulate gynecomastia in prepubescent boys. Further, laboratory evidence suggests that lavender and tea tree oil have estrogenic (estrogen-like) properties and anti-androgenic (testosterone inhibiting-like) activities, meaning they compete or hinder the hormones that control male characteristics, which could affect male puberty…”**
Endocrine Society

You have only to look at the history of witchcraft to know women are much more in touch with nature and intuitively know how to harness it to their advantage. Even further back, while we where out slaying woolly mammoths, they were gathering fruits and berries and learning of their powers…

Gentlemen, surrender now. They are far too clever for us. It’s our only hope for our future!

**Endocrine Society.org

On Sadism.

“I was not surprised, dear reader, at any [normal woman’s] evolution into sadism and the aphrodisiac affects engendered. In fact I consider it inevitable.

I do not suggest sadism is moral, but I am in no doubt that finding pleasure from the physical and-or mental torture of another is natural.

Consider any place of conflict in the world’s history including the British in Kenya, torturing Obama’s grandfather, the USA military torturing and humiliating the prisoners in Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq. All violent conflicts produce an unlimited supply of torturers. The world is not full of evil people, but it is full of potential torturers. Simply give someone unconditional power over another and the absolute sense of freedom from any retribution – and sadistic torture follows. And, dear reader, if this argument does not sway you fully, consider the junior school playground, eight year old bullies – in every playground, without exception. Taking their pleasure from sadism; physical and mental tormenting. Both boys and girls; not evil; but just following natural pack mammal behaviors. Embedded for millions of years of evolution; lions, chimpanzees, wolves. The powerful in the pack, habitually and consistently lashing out at the weaker. For no other reason than because they can.

And by so doing, maintaining the order of hierarchy and providing stability within the pack. If I can convince any woman to throw off the fetters of humdrum conventional morality and of her absolute freedom from retribution, she will exploit her sadistic pleasure at [men’s] expense.”

– Mistress Scarlet. Journals of Real Female Domination: Volume 3

The Deal the Goddess makes with men

A submissive man is walking home one night, feeling alone, sick and hurt. He has tried and tried to find a woman to dominate him and failed every time. Desperate, he is at that magic moment of utter surrender.

On his way, the Goddess appears to him and he notices she has something in her hand. The man asks “What’s that?”. The Goddess responds, “My domination. In my service you will finally find peace and contentment at a woman’s feet”. The man said “Oh man, That’s what I’ve been searching for! How much does that cost?” as he only understands buying things.

The Goddess returns with “How much do you have?” The man says “I have 20 dollars.” The Goddess responds, “All right, for you, domination, peace and contentment costs 20 dollars.” The man trying to back out of says, “But if I give you all twenty dollars, I won’t be able to buy any gas for my car.”

The Goddess responds “Oh! so you have a car? I’m sorry, but your submission is going to cost you your car.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Says the man. “If I give you my car, how am I going to get to my job?”

“You have a job?!” Exclaims Goddess. “No, no, no. Contentment through me is going to cost you your job.”

The man responds “But, if I give you my job, how am I to pay for my house?” House!!

“You have a house!?” the Goddess says with surprise. “I thought you lived in a cardboard box under the bridge! Your file is completely out of date! Your surrender is going to cost you your house as well.”

The man responds “But if I give you all that, what good is my life?”

The Goddess states “That’s right. Surrender to my domination will cost you your life.”

The man, because he is at that magic moment of surrender is willing to give his the Goddess his money, and his car, and his job, and his house, and his life and for that the Goddess takes control over him.

Then the Goddess looks him deep in the eyes and says:

“All right. I’m going to give you your money back but, it’s not your money anymore, it’s my money. I’m going to let you spend it – for me.”

“I’m going to give your car back but, it’s not your car anymore, it’s my car. You get to drive it – for me.”

“I’m going to give you your job back but, it’s not your job anymore, it’s my job. You get to work at it – for me.”

“I give your house back but, it’s not your house anymore, it’s my home. But, you get to live in it – for me.”

“I give your life back but, it’s not your life ever again. You get to live it – for me.”

That’s the deal the loving Goddess makes with men who are truly willing to submit.

The Temple Elders

Brett was nervous, but this was his 2nd time of meeting with the Elder for correction and discipline. There was a part of him that was alive.

Having been raised in a strict house, Brett grew up with punishment, even to the age of going to college. His Mother, and then after she passed, his Aunt had made sure that correction and direction was a part of his life.

When Brett finished college and began working, he met a nice girl. She was different from the women he had grown up with, and the normal women he dated. She made little demands of him, was always supportive and kind. When he met her father, it became evident she was a daughter of a strong male household and was raised in a male led house.

Brett was the furthest thing from dominant – naturally submissive in his own sweet way. Never the less, they married, and over time they joined a local church in a small Femdom commune near their town, and Brett felt he had found a home in The Temple of the Dark Goddess.

Over time, it became evident that there were issues in marrying a good, nice, submissive woman. After having grown up being held accountable by strong women all his life, he found himself now as an adult, unchecked. If he had a bad day, was in a bad mood, or just feeling out of sorts, he took it out on his wife, and on others as well.

One day in a church meeting, one of the Elders of the church pulled him to the side and shared with him the concerns of some of the other Elders, that they hoped things were okay.

Later that night, shamed and thinking, Brett opened up and asked his wife if she had ever punished a boyfriend… they had never even discussed things like that since they had dated and then married.

When she shook her head, he knew she would never be that type of woman. Maybe it was a good thing for 90% of their marriage but as his wife, something would always be missing.

When Brett sat down with one of the Elders at her request, he opened up to her about his upbringing, and about his discussion with his wife, and said he was unsure of what to do.

She calmly praised him, and told him that not everyone was insightful about their nature. That while many remember their past, they do not always reflect on how important things are once they become adults. She told him it seemed obvious that he would benefit from a firm hand at times. To help communicate to him, the need to be always respectful towards women, more patient, more… many things.

She then asked him how communication was in the bedroom. Brett was not sure what she meant. “It’s simple”, the Elder shared. “If a wife wasn’t using a firm hand to help her husband, she rarely was good at… other forms of communication, in the bedroom.

Brett dropped his head, aware that he and his wife rarely had sex. She hardly ever made demands on him and he had come to wonder if she even found him attractive.

When Brett broke down and cried at the thought, the Elder reassured him that it was more than likely nothing about him physically or mentally – it was just the type of woman she was – not bad, just overtly nice.

Finally Brett asked, “How do I stay happily married, yet fulfill the need for someone to hold me accountable?” The Elder stated that she felt it was key for her to come over, and to have a frank discussion with both him and his wife.

Later that evening as they sat with the Elder in their living room, the Elder had asked Brett to define what he felt his needs were. As he spoke, he saw his wife’s eyes drop. It was evident she would never be the woman to give the firm hand that he needed.

After a pause, the Elder spoke to his wife, “I believe, with your approval – the church should handle the discipline part of your relationship. It seems you both are suited to be a good couple, a goddess fearing couple, and a couple that will raise kind and obedient male children and strong girls. There is no shame in not being the type of woman to do all the things that a husband may need at times.”

Brett saw his wife blush when the words “things a husband may need” was plural. He worried that she might be aware that he discussed her lack of sexual desires in the bedroom – but he took a deep breath and asked both the Elder and his wife, if they could do as the Elder discussed – as he felt he needed a bit of correction, a firm hand as it was, at times.

They agreed upon Saturday and when the Elder came in to the house, she recommended that Brett’s wife go for a walk or something, to give them a few hours, to go through what was needed.

After getting her jacket and keys she left, and the Elder ordered Brett to sit down on the floor next to her chair. She discussed his week, his goals, his attitude, and he realized there were more than a few times where, had he been held accountable, he would have acted differently.

Finally, the Elder asked, “and how many times has your wife had sex with you, in the last week?”

He blushed, and dropped his head, and said, “Once.”

“How long was it, and did she achieve pleasure?” she asked pointedly.

“I don’t think so.” he whispered.

“How long did you last” the Elder wanted to know

“several minutes?” was Brett’s generous reply.

“Do you sin with masturbation Brett?” she asked.

Blushing more deeply, he nodded.

“We will discuss that more in a while, as that is a sin, but I understand how a weak man would have those needs, especially if he is failing in helping his wife with pleasure on a regular basis” she said.

“For now, go to your bedroom and I want you to remove all your clothes except your underwear and kneel at the foot of your wife’s bed. I will be up in a few minutes.”

He heard the door open, while kneeling next to the bed wearing just a pair of boxer briefs, his head down, trembling with shame and nerves.

“Brett” she told him, “I am proud of you. A man who feels he knows what he needs is a rare thing. Now, stand up, come to the end of the bed, and face the window. Bend over the foot board, and keep your hands firmly on the bed.”

Once in position – Brett held his breath as he felt the Elder come up behind him. “Were you bare for your punishment as a young boy Brett?” she asked.

“Yes” he meekly answered.

“Good – that is the best for real correction” she said as she hooked her fingers in his briefs and pulled them down, exposing him completely, letting them rest above his knees.

As the Elder’s hand rested on his trembling bottom she talked calmly, reminding him that true correction did not have a set number of swats or strokes, it was simply when one felt that one was truly sorry – asking for forgiveness.

Brett jumped at the first swat from the Elder’s flat hand. Slowly and methodically she continued.

Brett became lost in the cadence. His mind going back to when he was a teen. Those times of shame and punishment, but also feelings that in the beginning he could not understand, only to grow in to the need for his own release of pleasure, in his room, after the punishment had finished.

The Elder would stop at times, praising him for doing so well, but reminding him to keep his bottom up, and to spread his legs, keeping them apart. He became aware of his exposure – and began feeling those feelings again, with his legs spread wide as the Elder’s hand continued to redden his bottom. The sound of her hand spanking him, echoing in the bedroom.

The Elder paused – and her hand slowly ran over his warm flesh – working up and down his thighs, brushing between his legs. His humiliation was now complete, as now both of them knew of his hardness.

Telling him to spread his legs further, he gasped as he felt her fingers work, stroking him – and then when he moaned she asked, “Do you need this release?” she asked.

Like a feral animal, he growled, “yes”.

“Yes what?” she said firmly.

“yes Ma’am!” he pleaded.

As her fingers began to move more firmly, building the need even more – she told him, “As we discussed, masturbation is a sin. But I know you do not have a wife who can understand or provides what a good man like you needs to become a man of the Goddess.”

“but”, she intoned – “for every pleasure there is a need for penance, and for each penance a need to give thanks. Do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am” Brett said as he began humping her fingers, losing control of the building orgasm.

“If you want the pleasure, then you will have to ask for the penance as well. If you want the pleasure – beg for me to whip you properly.”

“Please Elder – let me find pleasure – but whip me for needing it!” he nearly shouted, as he was losing control of his body.

Reaching around, The Elder worked her fingers firmly on his shaft while with her other hand, she slipped a finger into Brett’s ass.

Through the haze of his pleasure – Brett’s first thought was how skilled this woman’s hands were, as she now was using both of them to bring him to a climactic crescendo.

Crying out so loudly, he wondered if the neighbors could hear, as his orgasm broke through the barrier of his mind, and without pausing, the Elder soon had he coming hard.

After nearly blacking out, Brett felt the Elder’s hands leave his body, softly caressing him, telling him she was proud of him – for taking punishment, and for learning to take pleasure, knowing that it would lead to more needed correction. She took the wetness from her fingers and rubbed it over his soon to be punished bottom. She withdrew the finger she had impaled his ass with and pushed it between his panting lips. “Clean it and we can continue.”

Sucking on her finger, Brett slowly came back to consciousness. She finally took her now clean finger from his mouth and he watched as the Elder went to the bedroom closet and after a bit, turned around holding one of his thick leather belts.

“Such a nice belt” she said, “But a shame your wife has no idea how to properly use it.”

“Now young man” she said, “back over the end of the bed – it is time for more direction.”

With his legs wide again, shaky from his orgasm, the belt striking him pushed him into more memories of his youth. The pain, mixing with the pleasure provided, became an intoxicating drug that he knew he needed more than anything else at that moment.

Having no mercy on him, he lost count of the strokes of the belt lashing his skin.

Finally – the Elder stepped back, looking upon the bright red painting that she had created from the lovely pale canvas presented to her.

“Turn around and kneel Brett” she commanded.

As he dropped to his knees.. There was no doubt in his mind. Like the old saying, “the hand that rocks the cradle, raises the child” – the woman that disciplines, runs the home. As he looked up at the Elder, he saw her raw desire and smelled her feminine arousal.

“What do you say Brett?” she asked.

“May I thank you Ma’am?” he whispered.

“Yes you may young man” she smiled – warming him.

She unzipped her skirt, pulling it down her thighs and then slid off her panties as well. He felt good that her disciplining of him had caused such a need. As he hungrily pressed his lips and tongue to her, he felt oddly proud that he was being allowed to thank her for providing him with something he had forgotten, something that was missing in his life.

He didn’t feel guilt submitting to this woman. It seemed right, natural.

After a time, he felt her hand on the back of his head pushing him tighter against her sex and heard her groan a bit, and then stiffen, and Brett pulled his mouth back a bit and then closing his eyes, he began swallowing everything she gave him as she gushed onto his upturned face.

As he pulled his mouth off of her, he was amazed to her she wasn’t done with him yet.

She bent down to pull something from her handbag. A long black dildo connected to a bunch of leather straps. She stared deeply into his fearful eyes with a smirk as she stepped into the harness, raising it to her hips and buckling it in place. The huge black phallus jutted obscenely out from her hips.

“Get up onto the bed” she commanded.

Offering no resistance, Brett scrambled up to the bed, and after she turned him around and bent him over the edge of the bed, she grabbed his hips and with his wide legs open, she took him fully in one stroke. Seating herself in him briefly, she then pulled nearly out, and then drove herself inside him fully again.

Now in a fog, Brett merely rode out the Elders firm and steady taking of his body. Surprising even himself, he felt another orgasm building, and just as he grabbed the comforter with both hands, closed his eyes and began bucking from the hard climax, he heard her cry out. She grabbed his hips and after once again burying herself deeply inside of him, she came again.

It took a few minutes for her to pull out, seemingly to savor the feeling. When she did, Brett felt empty.

As she stepped back, he heard her say, “Knees. Now. Clean me. Cleanliness is after all, next to godliness”. she smiled sweetly.

Sliding off the bed, he knelt again, licking and sucking her strap-on penis, gagging a bit at tasting himself, but amazed at the feeling that this seemed so right.

After she left the house and his wife came back, they talked briefly. Brett simply told her that the Elder knew he needed something, something like what he grew up with – and thanked his wife for allowing the church to help strengthen their marriage.

The following week, with his wife gone for the afternoon, as instructed by the Elder Brett waited on floor next to the couch, wearing only, as instructed, his boxer briefs and a ‘ceremonial men’s church collar’ she had presented to him.

He heard a car pull up, and then noted that several doors closed.

After the Elder told him what time she would be by, and what he should be wearing, she also told him that she would have two other Elders with her. “To help with his discipline”.

Brett trembled at the thoughts of what would happen, aroused by the thoughts also, and shamed at his hardness.

Brett jumped when he heard the knock on the door – but he knew this is what he truly needed.

Natural born.

Sometimes the best way to hide something is to hide it in plain sight. People often fail to recognize the truth even when it’s poking them right in their nose.

Slave c38 was a living example of such a paradox, albeit in a slightly different way than one would expect. For slave c38 didn’t know the name of his owner, even though it was cruelly branded on the top of his head.

“Property of Goddess V” read the inscription, carefully spelled out in stylishly decorative letters. Letters that burnt like hell when they were branded on the top of his skull. They branded him weeks ago, but he could still feel their sting. It was ironic that the letters were so omnipresent, yet impossible for him to read. Impossible to know the name of a woman who owned him and held the terrible power to transform him into an immovable object, a toy, a living furniture.

She didn’t condemn him to his position to punish him. She did it because she could and because his purpose was to serve her as a guinea pig for her sadistic games. A few weeks ago he didn’t even know she owned him. He worked in the fields and toiled under the hot sun while she enjoyed a life of luxury in her country villa at the Queendom.

As a matter of fact, a few weeks ago even she didn’t know she owned him. As a heavy labor slave he was used on one of the Queendom’s plantations, which she rarely visited. She didn’t care much about her business as long as it provided a steady and substantial flow of money for her Temple. The management of the farms was entrusted to her personal secretary, mistress Vixx, who did a great job driving the slave workforce to the limits of their strength. Besides, Vixx never brought in new slaves individually. Most of the slaves on her plantations were bought in packs of three or sometimes even five slaves, which always served to begin their dehumanization.

Slave c38 thus came to the farm quite unceremoniously a year ago, when mistress Vixx replaced obsolete slaves with a five pack of thralls. When they arrived, they were strong and healthy animals of firm and muscular stature, albeit they all exhibited the same abject servility that befits a slave. A year later they weren’t much more than a pack of emaciated wretches that toiled under the hot sun and freezing cold of upper NY winters from dawn till dusk, desperately trying to avoid the attention of their female overseers. When slave c38 was given a chance to leave this place, he grabbed it with both hands.

♥

That fateful day a few weeks ago, he and a few other thralls toiled in the fields close to the main road under the watch of taskmistress Asami. The petite Asian girl looked all sweet and innocent in her white equestrian gear, but in these wretches she inspired ultimate fear and awe. Asami was one of Vixx’s favorite ’employees’. She was youthful and energetic and seemed to have a real talent for dealing with slaves. She rode a black stallion and circled around them, always excited at the prospect of finding a reason to punish them.

That particular day, she just caught one of the slaves taking a few minutes rest and she summoned slave c38, who was close nearby, to help her dismount. She always used slaves as footstools, when she dismounted. Hearing her order, slave c38 hastened towards her and and knelt on all fours. She dismounted the horse and jumped right on the slave’s back as if he was an ordinary inanimate object. She would normally take the reins of her horse and descent to the ground, but this time she remained standing on the slave’s back, observing a cloud of dust in the distance.

“Attention slaves! Line up at the side of the road! Kowtow! Now, vermin!” yelled mistress Asami.

A dozen emaciated creatures silently crawled out of the field and formed a kowtowing line by the side of the road. They offered a truly pitiful sight. They groveled in the dirt and humbly pressed their bald heads to the ground, inhaling the road dust. Were they not branded by numbers, there would be no way to tell them apart.

Slave c38 didn’t join the rest of the slaves. He remained on all fours carrying the weight of taskmistress Asami who apparently had no intention of stepping down.

A sound of horses galloping was drawing near and a few moments later two riders pulled up, raising a cloud of dust.

“Goddess, mistress! A rare honor!” mistress Asami greeted the arriving equestriennes. “How can I be of service? 5, 14! Help them dismount” she barked at the slaves in line. Two slaves crawled from the line towards the horses and assumed their position on all fours so that the two ladies could step on their backs while dismounting their horses. Mistress Asami also stepped down from slave c38’s bruised back and ordered the slaves to return to their posts. Slave c38 joined the other thralls and assumed the kowtowing position at the end of the line.

“Goddess V requires another roach for entertainment” spoke mistress Vixx. “So I’ve thought about your pack, Asami. These slaves are relatively fresh. Most of the other packs are all used up. They wouldn’t be much of addition to your collection, V”.

“We’ll see.” replied Goddess V. “As long as they breathe they are my property and they will serve me, even if it is the last thing they do.”

All three approached the line of kowtowing slaves and Goddess V offered her foot to the first slave in line: “Kiss.” The slave pressed his lips on the tip of her riding boot, but she immediately withdrew her leg and hit him with a whip. “Not impressed!”

The trio slowly proceeded through the line until the tree pairs of black riding boots appeared right before the slave c38’s face. As all other slaves he respectfully pressed his lips on the boot of his rightful owner. The leather of her riding boot was hot and dusty and he couldn’t help thinking how moist and hot her feet must be. Suddenly and almost instinctively, he opened his mouth and started to lick her boot.

It was a bold move. It could lead to a dreadful punishment. But it was also a sign of devotion and slave c38 desperately wanted to leave this place. Obviously he didn’t know what mistress Vixx meant when she said they require a roach for entertainment, but it couldn’t be as bad as breaking your back in the fields, could it?

When mistress’s Asami and Vixx noticed what he did, they both instinctively grabbed for their whips. “Wait!” Goddess V stopped them. “My boots are all dusty from the ride. He should clean them while he’s at it”. She gracefully raised her foot so he could lick the dust from her soles. She let him abase before her for a few minutes, then she kicked him in the head and turned around.

“This one, Vixx. I want this one. There’s some spirit in him after all. Tormenting him will be a lot of fun.”

With that they simply turned around, mounted their horses and rode away.

Mistress Asami approached him and placed her right foot on his head forcing his face into the dirt. “Miserable wretch” she laughed. “You thought you had a hard time under my whip? Wait for the Goddess’s to have their time with you, slave!

♥

A few weeks later, slave c38 discovered his hopes of escaping the world of drudgery were partially justified. For the last two weeks he was indeed free from any work. In fact, he remained firmly bound under the throne in Goddess V’s personal boudoir. His body was kept immobile with the use of many straps, chains and shackles and his neck was placed in a spiked collar. The slightest move brought him acute pain.

His only real task now was to serve her as a footstool. And to suffer. She loved to see him agonized, utterly broken, dehumanized and humiliated. It brought her immense pleasure and she often visited her boudoir to use her special chair. Sometimes she would simply sit there for hours, reading, chatting on the phone or watching a movie that interested her. Knowing that she had a slave underneath.

During these last two weeks she rarely spoke to him. But today she was in a slightly different mood. She came to the boudoir early in the afternoon, dressed exquisitely as always. Short black dress decorated in laces, pantyhose and high heeled leather boots made her look unbearably beautiful, dominant and arrogant.

She sat down on her throne, lit a cigarette, pulled her right foot out of the boot and placed it on the slave’s face. Slaves c38 took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his Goddess. She looked divine towering high above him. Her nylon-clad foot was warm and moist and the scent of her perfume was overwhelming.

“You like that, don’t you, slave?” she spoke to him seductively. “The more I torment and humiliate you, the more I trample you and treat you cruelly, the more you enjoy your existence as my plaything. I understood that the moment you first abased yourself before me, licking the filth off my boots. You are special. Not an ordinary slave, but a natural born slave. It would be a waste to leave such a slave out there in the fields. There is a cosmic connection between us. We are the opposite extremes of the same curve. I am a Goddess. You are a cockroach. Your purpose is to squirm beneath me. Don’t worry, this predicament is only temporary. I will let you out soon as I have other plans for you. You will always live in chains, but I know you would embrace them even if you were free to choose. You are and you will always remain my slave. Because that’s the essence of your existence. You are my slave.”

The Monastery – Temple of the Dark Goddess

In his mind, at 20 and a virgin, he had received a calling to become a monk. As a novitiate, most of his time was spent in prayer, devotion, and working in the temple to serve the older monks. Under the watchful eye of the Mother Superior, his days were filled with cooking, cleaning, and prayer as he sought his relationship with the Dark Goddess – his higher power.

Attending services several times a week, he had been noticed by several of the Priestesses. Unaware of what was now in motion – with the help and guidance of his Mother Superior.

(While many don’t believe or truly understand, the Church itself is the originator of dominance and submission, discipline for multiple reasons, all designed to program one’s mind. For centuries it has been that way, the church controlling and deciding, as well as drinking in the power that they gave themselves by spreading the instructions of submission.)

The first time c38 (his monk name – given upon entering the service of the Church) was brought by Mother Superior to meet the Priestesses that her monastery served, it was under the auspices of his neglecting his work and not being pure in his prayers and worship.

The penance was simple. Bread and Water for five days – Praying and guidance with the Priestesses, and regular punishment – starting at that day.

Trembling and nervous, c38 was undressed completely in front of the women, and tied over was looked to be a large, wooden, polished, ornate sawhorse.

The four older priestesses each took their turn, using a leather strap or a long thin rod, whipping the young monk until he nearly passed out. This was to happen two times a week.

(The foundation of submission is the programming of the mind and the body.)

For several months the whipping, the exposure of his young body, the praying for his salvation before these women, pushing him to be more pure, was simply programming.

Always with the Mother Superior watching, the women continued their regular punishment of c38’s body, and then slowly it began.

Due to the intense pain of the whippings and canings, anything that lessened the pain became embraced by the body. Each Priestess, after her turn punishing him, would begin to take time, caressing his abused bottom, and letting their hands wander, touching, stroking, fingering.

Within several months, the punishment sessions began to show the fruit of his sexual confusion. The Priestesses now were finding that as he was tied for punishment, his body and mind was going to that place where the thoughts of pleasure overtook the fear of the pain, and soon they found that the young monk was fully aroused before the first stroke of punishment was given. They had brought him to the first level of sexual control.

Now the punishments were for him being un-chaste with his thoughts and body. Even though they had developed this reaction – it hit him hard, to undress, be tied, and to be made to explain why he was so hard. The shame and humiliation of being unable to explain why his body responded prior to punishment, was classical D/s psychological development.

Mother Superior explained to him that now it was time for him to begin thanking the Priestesses for their help in his salvation and guidance – the young monk was made to learn to use his mouth for the Priestesses pleasure.

Taught to learn by being whipped as he took one of them in his mouth – shamed when it became obvious how much harder he could please while the strap or rod struck him.

Eventually he was moved to the next level of serving the church with his body. Being told his virginity was to remain for the Goddess, there was but one place for the Priestesses to enjoy the young monk other then his mouth…

Per his Mother Superior’s instruction he was moved to the convent and now, several times a week at times, he would report to one of the Priestesses, and if not there for punishment and salvation, simply to remove his frock and wearing only the symbol of the Dark Goddess around his neck, submit to the Priestess for her needs, in one of the two ways ordained by the Goddess. He would remain a virgin, always chaste for the Goddess, and a tool of her Priestesses satisfaction forever… until death did he part.

Epilogue – The Mother Superior eventually put c38 to use in the woodworking shop at the convent, building furniture for the Priestesses rooms…

The Ring of Truth

Some imagined soliloquies ordained from your throne room within my mind once I’ve received your eternal presence through Succubus Tech…

You’re doing it to yourself, you know.

Nobody makes you log in every day and journal. Nobody makes you come back to the lessons, the pledge. Nobody makes you edge yourself for hours on end. Nobody makes you drool all over yourself as you do so.

You know, normal people don’t get like this. They don’t zone out completely for hours on end, just touching themselves with no release. As a matter of fact, most people have the common sense to just touch themselves when they want to cum, cum and that’s the end of it. Not you, though, right?

You can’t help yourself. You know it’s wrong. You know that you shouldn’t keep coming back to this place. And yet you do. What can you call that, other than stupid?

Face it, you’re very, very stupid. You weren’t that bright to begin with, since you got hooked on my command to edge yourself so easily, but at this point, after all that edging, all that denial, all that self-hypnosis, you’ve gotten even dumber, haven’t you?

It’s really quite funny if you think about it. Edging for me, to me, is the first thing you do when you wake up and the last thing you eagerly think about doing before you go to sleep. You just sit there and edge, like a stupid edge slut. You just lean back and touch yourself, with no thought about what this may be doing to you, what you’re doing to yourself.

Well, maybe it’s just nature. Smart people do smart things, they work, they learn, they grow and get better. Whereas you can’t really do anything other than touch yourself, edge, drool, and get dumber by the minute.

The funny part is that knowing this makes you want to edge harder. It makes you want to drool more. It makes you want to get dumber for me. It makes you want to do this to yourself even more. For me.

Thankfully, you have my help. All you need to do is follow my instructions and you will get dumber. You will edge harder. You will drool more. You will never cum. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s what I want…

You’ve already taken your first steps towards being a permanently denied edge slut.

Now it’s time to go deeper.

From now on, whenever you edge, you will repeat the following over and over: “I am Viola’s stupid slut. Stupid sluts don’t cum.” That’s it, go ahead and start doing that now.

Go ahead and edge to the thought of your own stupidity. Smart people don’t get this horny at the idea of being dumb. You know you’re dumb. You know you’re getting dumber. Embrace it. Say it out loud.

“I am Viola’s stupid slut. Stupid sluts don’t cum.”

Every time you think that, you get a bit dumber. Every time you think that, you get a bit hornier.

You’re doing it to yourself, you know…

Hypnosis can’t make you do anything you don’t want to. That’s certainly true. Really, it is. If during your first Succubus Tech trance I tried to make you throw away everything about your current life and turn you into my brainwashed male bimbo sex-slave whose only thoughts were my pleasure and my orders, whose whole life revolved around worshiping my pussy and ass and getting more mind-fucked for me, it would not work*. The suggestions would bounce off you, you’d wake up, you’d probably curse me, and we’d be done. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. It’s what keeps you safe, it’s what means you can edge yourself to pieces to every hypno-file I give you and know that nothing much can happen to you.

Hypnosis can’t make you do anything you don’t want to. Ish. Sort of. Except. This really isn’t the restriction you think. Or don’t think. Because maybe you can’t anymore. Because maybe it’s too late. Maybe the safety net you thought you had is full of great big holes; maybe it isn’t there at all. Maybe you’ve just been falling deeper and further and harder. Maybe the reason you feel so good is because you’ve been programmed to. Maybe you already lost, already changed, already succumbed. Did you always do this? Did this always turn you on?

Hypnosis can’t make you do anything you don’t want to. But it can eat away at the boundaries. It can push on the things you want to do, but you don’t not want to do either. It can encourage things you do want or it can meddle with your priorities. It could mess with your reasons why not, and lead you down twisting looping paths until you’re so turned around you can’t get back. It could use your own needs against you, make you want to want, make you need to want, make you think that you want. It can press and push and pull and twist and erode and manipulate until you want the things you don’t want, until your thoughts and your body and your needs and your wants and your boundaries all betray you.

Hypnosis can’t make you do anything you don’t want to. You thought you were safe. You’ve never been safe. And it’s far, far too late now…

*Unless you *wanted* that, which I’m sure no-one would, right? 😉

Of course I imagined this as part of Succubus Tech, but I just wrote this down now. These thoughts are already irresistibly embedded into my mind, spoken there in your voice, so is free will almost just a past memory? Something I had once upon a time… ?

Of dogs and men and far away dreams.

Suzanne’s ex-husband likes to raise pit bulls.

One of his favorite training techniques is to hold a doggie treat right in front of the dog’s nose and issue the command “WAIT.”

The dog starts to drool uncontrollably with desire for his treat but remains motionless, utterly focused on him, awaiting his permission. Its’ hunger and anticipation completely irrelevant compared to his obedience to his Master’s wish.

Upon receiving your most cherished and amazing gift, I immediately sealed it into a display case and placed it prominently upon my altar where it serves to tease me, and where it waits until the time is appropriate for me to worship them.

I am not asking permission Goddess because I know my male desires are wholly irrelevant and unnecessary but given that very soon I will have once again completed a cycle of 108 days of denial, keeping me in sync with the feminine rhythm of creation and all of her universe, I saw an opportunity to use them ritually in the manner they should be – adored, revered, worshiped – should I be permitted an orgasm. With super hit Nag Champa burning, a chant to Kali playing… and your DNA, your very power, entering me and becoming an irremovable part of me. I would gladly torture myself for you first Goddess – after all pain is the touchstone of spiritual growth.

Otherwise they will remain on my altar – worshiped as the sacred object they are to me – until such time as my Master gives the command, “EAT OF ME!”

When the ‘Scene’ Becomes Real

“What are my panties going to do to you, sweetie?” Viola asked, watching as he pressed her wet balled up black panties against his lips… making him acutely aware of her scent and their presence, but with not quite enough force to penetrate him. He simply felt them there, tantalizing him with the promise of her sweet, holy nectar… centering his awareness more and more tightly on the captivating possibility of finally getting to drink from her, swallow down her nectar he’d been craving for weeks until the mere existence of her panties on his altar was a hypnotic induction all by itself. He was already losing himself in erotic fantasies of stuffing her divine panties into his mouth and sealing them in place with vet wrap wound tightly around his head, but he knew he had to answer her. It was the most important part of the whole scene.