In Memoriam ~ Remembering Fetish Friends

Friends from the scene gone but not forgotten. 🖤

XXX
Beloved ~ Special  ~ Beautiful ~ Creative ~ Talented
Disruptors ~ Revolutionaries ~ Unique Souls
Not Forgotten

Tribute to Miss Kitty by Sardax  Here

Beautiful You Tube clip from Alexandra Mayers sharing her thoughts about the tragic passing of model and adult entertainer January Seraph. Including readings of January’s highly intelligent, articulate thoughts and insights. Here

A Tribute to China Hamilton, Here
And a TEM Tribute: China Hamilton ~ Lust For Life

In Memory of Velda Lauder. Here  &  Here

Remembering Mistress Veronica Here  & Kaisu Paakola Here

Remembering Mistress Dometria Here

Beloved slave of Mistress Vixen, Martyn G  Here

Rod, my super slave, built my first cock milking machine. It featured a lot on TEM, this was years before you could buy them commercially. It was from a machine he had built to test fighter jets tyre pressure (or something along those lines). He showed me a photo and explained he received a Design Council Award for it, from the then Prime Minister Tony Blair, quipping,
And he didn’t even know it could suck cock!”
He always had a wicked sense of humour.

John Cox, a dear friend and kinkster who loved a bit of spanking every-which-way. He was a well-know jazz musician and drummer ‘Fat John’. His spanking antics were not a secret and were mentioned in George Melly’s autobiography. He hit the headlines as a cause célèbre’ when he married a Domina in his ’70s who was 40 years his junior. A special soul, with a quirky sense of humour, he insisted that Madonna’s Hanky Panky was played as the coffin was committed at his funeral.

Robin Adams, a beautiful, kind man who opened Club Whiplash in 1993, a big brick in the building blocks that subsequently built the UK fetish scene. Going on to win the court case that in part allowed fetish clubs to operate in the UK. One of the Kings of the Scene.
Tuppy Owens,  See here

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In Blood Red ~ Pt3 Fairytales

In Blood Red
The artist Ariel B turns her photographs into individual artworks: gothic fairy tales, dances macabre, distant memories, otherness, otherworldliness, times gone by, death and decay are all preoccupations. Currently she has started on a new project producing portraits of prodoms and dominant women, she says dommes are the perfect subjects – creative, unique and exceptional individuals who deserve to be documented and memorialized through art. This series of images is loosely based around sexual deviance, repressed female violence and the divine sacred feminine. Part 3 has an emphasis on Stories, Myths & Fairytales. See Part 1 here  &  See Part 2 here.

Fairytales

Queen of Hearts featuring Lady Nina Birch. “Off with their heads!” is the alternate title for this image as it has such a sinister connotation for my femdom leaning version of Caroll’s infamous queen 😉 Plus other details, she has an Ace of Spades teardrop which when combined with a ‘Q’ is a symbol for cuckolding (Queen of Spades). There is a partially painted rose, in Alice In Wonderland having accidentally planted a white rose-bush the spade cards are so fearful of the queen’s wrath they are painting the roses red; this is such a potent reminder of the insanity and tyranny of total power – as dommes we have a responsibility to those in our charge. I also designed the back of the playing cards with Lady Nina’s initials and crossed birches.

Tortured Artist featuring Mistress T as Pierrot, the sad clown behind the smile, representing the duality of being a sex worker in recognising the performance we play renders us two-dimensional and masks our real lives and tribulations.

Not a Fairy Tale – La Belle et la Bête featuring Mistress Evilyne. I wanted to address the pervading notions that seeped into me growing up watching Disney films – that a princess (woman) needs to find a prince (man) to be happy or to swoop in and save her. Men are strong, heroic and rich there to save the day; women are domestic and nurturing valued for their looks and must wear pretty dresses to be special. Both men and women are constrained by these outdated stereotypes. As women we are intelligent, capable, beautiful in and out, complex beings who don’t need a man to save us or complete us. You can be self-sufficient, single and have a great time! The darker reality is that some men are beasts who intimidate, control and hold women back; who sexually assault and make aggressive, unwarranted advances to women. My Beauty, who does resemble Mistress Evilyne, has come up against a beast. There’s also a reference to Cinderella, a single glass slipper in the picture inferring she has lost the other earlier somewhere; because if we found a woman’s single shoe we’d be concerned. There’s also a little joke on the bin – reminding us it’s a man’s world.

Nemesis featuring Mistress Lola Ruin, the Goddess of Divine Retribution bringing the downfall, destruction & ruin to men for their crimes. The background is supposed to be reminiscent of an hourglass reminding us that there is no escape from her, time is running out.

Elle (Elle Driver from Kill Bill) featuring Mistress Nikki Whiplash. As a cruel and skilled assassin she makes the perfect femdom ‘fantasy’ Executrix.

Spinning in his Grin featuring Miss Marilyn as the Devil. Horns or the horned beast have always been a symbol of unfettered sexuality.

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The Encounter: Femdom Fiction

The Encounter

For the third time he strolled along the same stretch of gravel path through the park, trying to appear calm on the outside whilst his mind raced wildly and his respiration was shallow and extremely rapid. The cause of his excitement sat casually on the bench 100 metres ahead, legs crossed, relaxed reading a magazine.

“You’re going to have to make your mind up soon” he said to himself. It was like jumping out the door of the plane on your first parachute jump; he wanted to do it, he knew he should do it but could he bring himself to actually do it? As he approached the bench his eyes were riveted on the black 5″ stiletto heels which were silhouetted against the pale pink colour of the gravel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away – they were just so sexy. If he had managed to divert his gaze upwards from the spike heeled boots he would have noticed that their owner and wearer was also extraordinarily attractive. Her long blonde hair was in beautiful condition and hung down close to her waist. She wore a knee-length black leather hobble skirt and a tight-fitting white silk blouse which caressed her small but shapely breasts.

Unusually, for it wasn’t that cool a day, she was also wearing a tight-fitting pair of black kidskin gloves which contrasted markedly with her white top, the sleeves of which were buttoned down to the wrists. “OK, this time there’s no walking past” he whispered under his breath. Then, after 20 or 25 more strides, he sat down at the other end of the bench. He lifted his briefcase onto his knees and started to rummage through it as though looking for something, although in reality it was only a delaying tactic. As he closed the briefcase he could feel his hands trembling lightly; he half turned and spoke to The Vision sat next to him.

“Look, I’ve never done this before” he said, more confidently than he expected, “but I think you’re absolutely gorgeous!”
She half lowered her magazine and turned towards him, fixing his gaze confidently with her bewitching green eyes.
“Done what before?” she questioned.
“Er… approached a strange woman” he stuttered.
“Are you calling me strange?” she teased.
“No, no of course not” he managed to blurt out, feeling an embarrassed warmth in his cheeks. Why was it going so horribly wrong he thought, gazing self-consciously at his shoes.
“You’re right by the way – I am gorgeous” she rejoined, with a twinkling smile which just about melted him.
“I know this is a bit forward but … would you like to go for a drink?” he asked hopefully. The Vision glanced deliberately at her watch, put her magazine down in her lap and stretched her arms skywards in a confident, luxuriant gesture.
“Why not?” she replied after what seemed an eternity and his heart raced again.
” I know a good bar that’s quite close ” she said, as she packed her magazine in her bag and strolled casually down the hill, her heels clacking noisily on the path. The sound was like music to him as he hurried along in her wake.

She looked him up and down as he stood at the bar waiting to be served – bum’s not bad but a bit skinny for my taste. Never mind, he’ll do. She crossed her legs so the pointed toe of her boot hung close to the other chair. As he sat down and started to chat in a hurried, nervous voice she let the toe very, very gently caress his shin. The entrapment had begun!
Lucy, for that was The Vision’s name, drank quickly so that he was obliged to do the same.
“Nothing like some alcohol to lower the inhibitions and raise the libido.” she thought.

Next time he went to the bar she casually undid one more button on the front of her blouse and as he talked she leaned forward eagerly, giving him the merest glimpse of the top of her breasts. As the evening wore on he could feel his passion steadily growing. She was just so perfect – luxuriant ash blonde hair, beautiful challenging eyes, an exquisite body, great conversationalist and the icing on the cake, those boots! He had always had a love for high spike heels for as long as he could remember and especially spike heeled boots. There was just something about them that shouted SEX to him and he invariably got very turned on just at the sight of them. However, before this evening he had never had the nerve to approach a lady wearing such footwear completely out of the blue.

Now here he was sat in a bar with this stunning lady who was gently rubbing his calf under the table with the same sharp, 5″ heel that he had spotted from a long way away, some three hours earlier.
“This place is a little smoky for me – would you like to call a taxi and we can go to my flat?” she asked casually. “Yes, sure” he replied, as casually as he could, while his brain screamed,
“Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening!”
As he went outside to hail a cab she leaned back in her chair, smiled and licked her lips. A very pleasant tingling was running through her groin as she made her plans. In the cab she made sure the fly was well and truly trapped in her web! His particular interest in her boots was blatantly obviously so, bringing her face to within inches of his, she softly breathed,
“As you evidently like my boots so much I want you to caress my calves through the soft leather while I kiss you”.
He inhaled, ready to refute her allegation, but quashed the thought almost as soon as it was formed. As his eager hands did as they were bidden she put her full, soft lips tantalisingly close to his and gently ran the tip of her tongue round the outside of his lips, whilst simultaneously gripping his upper arms with surprisingly strong fingers. Her thumbs dug painfully into his biceps as she controlled the movement of his upper body. He responded by kissing her back passionately as the intoxicating scent of her perfume enveloped him. He wanted her so badly, he must have her, he must, he must. She released his arms, turned away from him, then slowly slid her leather-clad bottom onto his lap; even through the leather and the material of his trousers she could feel the hardness of his straining cock. Enjoying the feeling of it crushing beneath her as she lowered her weight onto him, she swiveled across the width of the back seat so that her booted legs were fully stretched out on the seat and her back was resting against the side window.

Interlinking her fingers and placing her hands behind her head she gazed unblinkingly at him with her green eyes and casually enquired
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking, I want to fuck you so badly!”
“Are you now? And who says I want to be fucked?” she teased.
“Come on, you want it as much as me.”
” Maybe…but then maybe not,” she laughed “That’s for you to find out”.

Getting out of the cab when they arrived was difficult in the extreme; he’d never met a woman quite so erotic and his extreme state of arousal was impeding him both physically and mentally. Somehow managing to pay the cabbie, he walked after The Vision through the wrought iron gate and then the front door. The interior of the high-ceilinged hall smelt old and slightly damp.
“Follow me” Lucy instructed. “I hope you’re fit.”

The stairs seemed endless and he wasn’t sure whether the pounding in his ears was due to the exertion of the climb or the sight of her beautiful behind sashaying up the stairs in front of him, just at eye level. As they entered the front door she turned to him, crossed her gloved hands behind his neck and pulled him to her. Her lips and tongue devoured him and he felt her hard nipples against his chest, followed by the wonderful softness of her breasts. He felt his head swim as he let his hands fall naturally to cup the roundness of her buttocks through the supple second skin of soft, black kidskin. Keeping her groin pressed tightly against his, she leaned back from the waist so that her weight came onto her arms which were still crossed behind his neck. Staring deeply and unblinkingly into his eyes she asked softly,
“Wine or brandy?”
“Brandy, please” he whispered hoarsely.
“Make yourself at home” she called behind her, as she strolled towards the kitchen. He sat down heavily on the sofa, his now massive erection plainly visible as it strained to escape from its trousered prison. Slowly and very deliberately Lucy poured two large balloon glasses of brandy and precisely added six drops of light amber liquid to one of them, using a glass dropper.

His return to consciousness was slow and very confusing; he appeared to be standing upright but not really taking his weight on his feet and the room seemed completely dark too. It had all been going so well – what the hell had gone wrong? Feeling slowly returned to his limbs and he lifted the deadweight that was his head. He still couldn’t see anything though and, for a fleeting moment thought he’d gone blind. As his senses returned he realised that his head was covered with a tight-fitting hood which, from the smell, appeared to be made of leather. Although it didn’t seem possible he also seemed to be totally naked and secured by straps at his wrists and ankles. His lack of vision and complete immobility caused a wave of fear to sweep over him. He pulled vainly at the straps that clamped his wrists but escape was impossible; whoever had put him here knew precisely what they were doing. A thought raced into his head.
“What about Lucy, was she similarly imprisoned in the room too?”
“Lucy, are you there?” he called softly, his voice sounding muffled inside the leather encasement but there was no answering voice. The silence seemed absolute but then he thought he heard a slow, rhythmical tapping noise from what sounded a long way off. His senses were still dulled and he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining it. The sound grew louder and he felt a draught as though a door had been opened. He felt the presence of someone in the room with him.
“Still want to fuck someone?” came a soft calm voice.
“No” he thought, “it can’t be!”
“Lucy, is that you?”
“No, Lucy stepped out for some air but not before she told me all about your clumsy attempt to seduce her. I’m her twin sister, Sidonia” came the reply.
“Seduce her! She was the one doing the seducing. Anyway what do you mean, stepped out for some air. If you’ve hurt her I’ll kill you.”

He felt, rather than heard, the person move towards him and then a gloved hand cradled his balls.
“I don’t think we’re really in any sort of a position to issue threats, are we little man?” a voice quietly hissed very close to his ear and he felt the gloved hand start to squeeze his balls, oh so slowly. The pain grew and grew and he tried to pull away but there was no escape.
“Please don’t hurt me” he pleaded.
“It’s rather too late for begging isn’t it? You should have considered your position before threatening me, shouldn’t you, captive? We’re on a road of no return now and the only way out of the pain is for you to submit totally to my will.”
“W..w..what do you want with me?” he stammered, as the pressure on his balls was maintained at an excruciating level.
“You’re my personal slave now and you’re about to be re-educated in how to behave when in the presence of a lady. You will learn that your needs are very much secondary to mine and that your goal should be my complete fulfilment. Displease me and your punishment will be swift. Disobey me and I will be merciless. Perform to my satisfaction and you may experience some pleasure as well as pain.” At this Sidonia released his tender genitals and, bending forward, lightly ran her tongue across his erect nipples. He moaned with pleasure as he felt her silken hair caress his stomach and noticed that she was wearing the same perfume as her sister Lucy. Was he dreaming or was this really happening?
“B,but is Lucy OK, Sidonia?” he enquired.
“She’s fine, you’ll meet up with her later after I’ve finished your first training session.”
“Could you not just untie me and let me go – I promise I won’t say anything.”
“I’m afraid it’s a little late for that” came the calm, but slightly chilling reply, “Besides how do I know I could trust you, promises are cheap.”
“You can trust me Sidonia, honestly” was his earnest and somewhat desperate response.
“Good” his tormentrix replied. “Now, NEVER…NEVER…NEVER call me Sidonia” and at each “never” he felt an excruciating pain across the front of his thighs. Playing idly with her riding crop, Mistress Sidonia paced up and down slowly and methodically in front of her helpless captive, her skyscraper heels clacking metronomically on the polished wood floor.

“Firstly you will only ever address me as Mistress, understand?” There was a slight hesitation on his part.
“UNDERSTAND?” she repeated quietly but with menace.
“Why, Sidonia?” came the foolhardy reply.
Imprisoned in his leather headgear he thought he heard a sharp gasp and then nothing – the footsteps had ceased suddenly too.
“Aaaaah” he screamed as excruciating pain coursed through his nipples.
“Because I’m commanding you to, that’s why!” she hissed and twisted his swollen nipples even harder between her gloved thumbs and forefingers. He writhed wildly and thrashed against the restraining cuffs, begging and pleading for mercy.
“Please stop, Mistress, please, please I beg of you don’t hurt me.”
“You males think you’re so tough but at the first hint of pain you beg for mercy like the pathetic wimps you are. Unless you can shape up I can’t see you passing your training course and I’ve no time for failures.” Realising he had no alternative but to play the game he replied
“I’ll do my best, Mistress.”
“Yes, you will slave, because if you don’t do your best you will suffer, I can promise you that!”

Mistress Sidonia slowly crossed the room to where a single wine glass stood next to a bottle of well chilled Chablis, poured herself a glassful and sat down on a padded bench. She was exquisitely dressed in skintight white jodhpurs, which clung to her peach of a bottom, purple leather corset, short black kid gloves and knee-length leather boots which laced tightly up the front so they fitted like a second skin. They had outrageous 7″ heels and a 2″ platform so that she stood over 6 feet tall in them, which only added to her undoubted presence.
“I don’t think I can quite trust you yet, slave” she announced “so I’m going to have to keep you well restrained until you’re fully under my spell.

So saying, Mistress Sidonia strolled across to her well stocked equipment rack and selected a collar and lead and some handcuffs and leg-spreaders. Returning to her spreadeagled captive she released each ankle in turn and strapped them into the cuffs of the spreader bar. The studded collar was fastened tightly round his neck before she released one of his wrists from the St Andrew’s Cross. As she did so her slave-in-training took a wild swing at her with a clenched fist, which missed its intended target, fortunately for him. The free hand was swiftly returned to its strap.

“Oh dear” came a quiet, feminine voice “I think we need some attitude adjustment” and he knew he’d made a dreadful mistake. From inside his mask all he could hear for the next few minutes was the sound of cupboards and drawers being opened and closed and what he thought sounded like some form of equipment being put together. A cold sweat crawled
across his skin as he wondered what on earth he was in for. The noise then ceased and he heard the tell-tale sound of approaching spiked heels again. He felt something being slipped over the end of his flaccid penis and a gloved hand then slowly teased the tip of his hardening cock. As she stroked, Mistress Sidonia quietly whispered
“And I bet you thought I was going to punish you didn’t you slave?”
“Ye..es, Mistress” he moaned, luxuriating in the feel of the soft, warm leather glove on his penis, which swelled and rose as his arousal grew.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain towards the base of his manhood, which grew more and more intense as his tormentress’s teasing continued. The cock ring, for that’s what it was, began to bite into the soft flesh and the more turned on he became the more the pain increased, until his head was swimming with a mixture of intense stimulation and excruciating pain. Mistress Sidonia now began to gently rub one leather-clad finger around the tip of his swollen and well lubricated glans which, in the normal course of events, would have been an exquisitely pleasurable sensation. In his present predicament though, bringing him to maximum arousal only served to drive his tender flesh more firmly into the vicious spikes encircling his organ. His moans and gasps of pain were a source of great pleasure to his Mistress and she began to gently rub the crotch of her jodhpurs as she carried on simultaneously pleasuring and torturing her new plaything. He was sure he was about to pass out with pain when a breathtaking coldness suddenly enveloped his penis as his Mistress plunged it into a bucket of iced water. His manhood rapidly shrank and as Mistress Sidonia slipped the cock ring off she noted with satisfaction the ring of red weals round the base of her new plaything’s organ.
“Can’t have you enjoying yourself too much, can we slave? It’s time for your punishment now. Attempting to strike a Mistress is a most severe offence and deserves intense punishment, which I am well equipped to deliver!”

by slave Peter

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Brat Princess: Princess Aurora

Brat Princess: Princess Aurora

We’re so pleased to welcome the beautiful Princess Aurora to The English Mansion. This budding young domme has two very unique sides to her: the super cute academy girl or frou-frou spoilt princess which sits alongside a stunning elegant domme who loves to wear classic lingerie with fully-fashioned stockings or sexy rubber. Both sides like to put men in their place – at her feet and submitting to her cruel whims.

Don’t be fooled by her sweet exterior, this heavenly faced, lithe and graceful lady specialises in ‘mean girl humiliation’ and she is one hell of a demanding bratty princess who will discover your secrets and laugh while using them against you! Aurora particularly adores all xdressing scenes so you might find yourself pushed into panties or dressed up in the frilliest of lacy dresses. Lastly, she is also a serious nylon fetishist with a wardrobe of sheer pantyhose, fully-fashioned stockings and classic ’50s lingerie.

Princess Aurora is available for sessions as a prodom based in Manchester. She also runs the exclusive Mean Girls Party – a night of humiliation, CFNM & enforced sissy dressing at the hands of a group of beautiful young dommes. So if you’re prepared to leave your dignity at the door and want to disgrace yourself all for their amusement, you should check this event out. Visit Princess Aurora’s website Here or  More Info Here.

You can see her in action right now inside The English Mansion in Mean Girl Pegging and you will be seeing a lot more of her over the coming year.

Including the up-coming VR 3D experience Mean Girl Humiliation.

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The Corset Pt2 – Body Modification, Transformation & Restriction

Body Modification Royalty: Mr Pearl, Ethel Granger & Fakir Musafar

In Pt1 of this article I outlined how corsets have undergone a transformation and are rarely used to mould the body but have become a fashion statement, a new female armour empowering women. I realize purists will not regard these ‘fashion corsets’ as authentic as they are not faithful to their traditional purpose, so lets look at the darker side of the corset.

Body Modification & Fetishism
The corset has become an item revered and fetishised over by those who seek extreme body modification for themselves or others. Using them to reduce waists to tiny and even bizarre looking hour-glass figures. By wearing a tightly-laced corset for extended periods, know as ‘tight lacing’ both men and women can eventually reduce their natural waist size.

Ethel Granger in later life

The infamous Mr Pearl corsetiere to the stars has an 18-inch corseted waist and wears his corset 24/7 except to bath. His corsets are works of art and can take several months to construct. You have probably seen the stunning Dita von Teese in his creations and he has made corsets for designers such as Jean Paul Gaultier, Thierry Mugler and John Galliano.

He describes the feeling of being corseted as a “Permanent embrace”. And that,
“You feel quite vulnerable without it, like a beetle without its shell.”
The wonderful photo of him (top) – cane in hand is not a reference to BDSM but symbolic of the discipline needed for body modification.

Fakir Musafar father of the modern primitive movement and shaman used corsets to explore extreme body modification – along with piercing, scarification, tattooing and suspension. He achieved an 19-inch corseted waist. I’ve always been fascinated by Musafar he crosses over into BSDM and then transcends it – body modifications become modern rites of passage and a means to personal growth.

Lastly, I must mention Ethel Granger who achieved a 13 inch waist and Cathie Jung who currently has the ‘Smallest Waist On A Living Person’ at just 15 inches, see her official website here.

smallest-corseted-waist

The wearing of a corset especially to please another is rooted in submission, it transforms and restricts but importantly relieves the wearer of control over their body passing this power to another.

Corsets for Bondage & Male to Female Transformations

Transformation – Male to Female
The corset’s transformative powers make it perfect for feminizing the male figure. Like donning extreme high-heels, wearing a corset gives the wearer not just the look but the sensation of extreme femininity. I love to truss guys up in a full boned corset, getting my knee pushed into their backs, pulling them in tight and watching the transformation.

Restriction & Bondage
The corset can also be used for extreme bondage play, some even come with locks, as there is an erotic quality to the tightness and restriction of wearing one. Buckles or rings on the corset can allow for rope or chain to be attached. I adore these beautiful bespoke locking bondage corsets from Contour Corsets (but who unfortunately are no longer trading.). I have also used neck corsets, single-arm corsets, corset leg binders or even cock corsets for extreme bondage scenes, the neck corset below is from hwdesignshop.

Bondage/Locking Corsets including an extreme neck corset

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The Black Virgin: A Femdom Fairy Tale

femdom fairytale fiction sardax princessIllustration by Sardax

The Black Virgin

Once upon a time, a long long time ago, in a far and distant land was a remote little kingdom, for it was indeed a King-Dom, ruled for all time by Kings. The King of this land wished for a child, a son who would grow up to rule in his place. At last his wish was granted, (well sort of), he rushed to the bedside of his beautiful Queen and held the newborn babe up to the sky thanking the heavens for they had smiled upon him. Suddenly, a little grimace appeared on his face, which soon grew black – for it was a girl.

And thus, was the sad beginning of the little princess Hedda. Her father never again looked her fully in the face, for it always reminded him of his loss. She soon grew in to the most stunning girl. Yet, what she had gained in beauty, she had lost in virtue.

As she approached her womanhood, she began to realise that she did not have physical strength, therefore she would have to survive with a better strategy. She had a different kind of sway, she could flutter her eyelashes and men would flock to her, a few kind works and they would try to please her – and her tears, at sight of her tears they would do absolutely anything to make her smile once more. She decided she would cultivate and develop all her female charms to entrap men. She knew the eternal secret that her sex was her power, and she would rule supreme.

Her favourite pastime was the hunt, she rode every morning and what a glorious figure she made sat upon her magnificent white horse. Yet what she loved to pursue was men. It was a fine sport, and like foxes, she would hunt and then devour them, leaving then scarred and scurrying from the battlefield of desire. Her beauty was so beguiling that no man could fail but to fall under her spell, her delicate white skin, her deep red luscious lips set against the frame of her long black tresses. Among the townspeople she was known as the Black Virgin.

At the castle there was always good sport to be had with the palace servants. Accusations could be followed by swift remonstrations. To spend the afternoon with perspiration around her collar from beating the errant was truly delightful. It set alight her sprit. Once a brave boy protested,
“But I am innocent, this is not just, Ma’am”
She looked into his eyes and laughed “Justice! Justice was created by men in the vain belief that they could impose their ways onto the world. Your fate lies with fortune, and like nature, she is a woman, with a woman’s temperament.”

One day her father announced it was time she wed – he would have a grandson and heir. He was not so callous a man that he would choose a husband for her, however he had chosen some suitable suitors, and she may meet with each of them and make her choice. The princess smiled to herself how delightful a task – she would make sure that after meeting her once, none would ever bear to be in her presence again. Alone in her chamber, gazing into her mirror she announced, “I shall be more bitter than death – even their god cannot save them.”

Her first Prince stood gazing vainly at himself in a long gilt mirror, self-assuredly admiring his good looks. Approaching him, she saw the desire in his face and smiled showing him the desire in hers. She gazed into his longing eyes – slowly their faces came closer and closer together, and for the first time she rested her luscious red lips upon his boyish plump mouth. Suddenly, she bit deeply into his lower lip, his eyes opened widely instantly watering, instinctively he tried to jolt away from her but she held him fast. She looked into his eyes holding him for just a few delicious moments longer – for him an eternity. She tasted the iron of his blood in her mouth then freed him, putting her hand to her mouth to look at his sanguine blood as he fled.

The Princess was beginning to find her suitors quite tiresome as it was too easy a task to send them back hence where they had come with their tails between their legs – one had even cried. Today she must meet with yet another, on meeting him her sharp eyes fell upon a most ordinary and quiet young man. Immediately deciding to go for the kill, she literally thrust herself upon him, pinning him up against the chamber wall where they met. She felt a certain thrill feeling his rapid breaths and pounding heart against her. He only blushed and looked to the floor.

“Do you think one must suffer for love?” she whispered into his ear.
Barely audibly, he replied, “For true love, yes.”
“Then you must suffer to please me” she said as she slipped her hand inside his tabard and pinched one of his nipples, harder and harder she twisted and pinched. At the same time, her other hand slipped down to beneath his legs pressing down hard on to his manhood. She expected it to shrivel away – and yet it grew. The more she hurt him, the more it throbbed and hardened. Perplexed by this unexpected result and refusing to be beaten, she pushed him to the floor and pounced on top of him like a feral cat toying with its prey. She ripped open his upper garments and began to bite his neck and upper body. Sitting up on him she tore her long sharp nails down his flesh waiting for him to smart and curse at her. And yet, he looked entranced and still she felt his manhood throbbing beneath her. Furious and defeated she stood up and after glaring at him, stormed from the hall.

Preparing for her ride the next morning this same boy appeared “Let me ride along side you, your majesty, as your servant?” he requested.
“As my servant, of course,” she replied.
And so together they rode out into the wild forests of the kingdom. She was a sight to behold as her body rose and fell with the horse’s gallop. Her black hair and the white mane of her stallion blown backwards with the speed of the wind as it rushed passed. She seemed golden in the light of the new sun rising up afresh as though in honour of this goddess. Finally, she slowed and dismounted in a quiet break in the trees. The boy who had fought hard to keep up his chase, arrived minutes later to find her sitting on a tree stump, pink and white apple blossoms falling about her.

“My boots are muddy boy, clean them,” she barked.
Kneeling in the dirt before her he lifted one of her leather boots and slowly began to wipe it with his necktie.
“That won’t do,” she snapped, “use your mouth.”
And so, lifting the boot, he began to lick it clean with his tongue. She felt herself tingle with pleasure as she watched him working away, never taking her dark eyes from him.
“Now kiss my hand,” she ordered. He gently took her hand encased in taut leather elbow length gloves and began to slowly kiss up them making each delivery an honour, an act of total submission.
Fired with pleasure, snatching her hand away she kicked him to the ground. She sat upon him, tearing his lower garments with a fury to reveal his manhood, and lifting her layered skirts she mounted him. And so, in the morning sunlight, with the apple blossoms softly falling about her, she took her pleasure.

She had found her Prince; here was one who would not constrain her soul – who understood the darkness of her desires. And thus, the sad beginning of the Princess Hedda had led to a happy ever after – but this is all history now, or should we say her story.

in honour of Meisterin J.ZarA

Posted in -Fiction & Writting, Femdom Fairy Tales | Tagged | 1 Comment