This has been the subject of a few movies and books, not to mention squillions of crappy magazine articles, over the years. Mostly they come from the perspective within the meta-narrative which casts women as merely suppport actors… props and helpers of men. Some seem to accept living on the margins in the little feminine, passive box, which is their business.
Here’s my thoughts on the subject. It’s a lovely rainy day and I’m relaxing at home with my feet up, daydreaming about having them worshiped by a worthy slave. And another at my side on his hands and knees for me to rest my drink on. And another to serve the drinks… And another with an artistic phisique out on the lawn raking or something.
I like to have doors opened for me. Not because I’m one of “the weaker sex” but because I’m superior and deserve it. I like a male slave to pick up and clean up around the house because it’s his place to serve me. Most of all I like to be respected as the Goddess that I am.
A thrall comes in handy to kneel beside the bed and help slip my feet into five and half inch black patent stiletto shoes before we go out for a fetish night. Or he can wear a rope harness and skirt while he’s making dinner and setting the table.
I like to have a man kneeling at my feet to be flogged, spanked or caned when I’m feeling a little stressed and want to relieve myself. Forget stress balls. A good hard heavy whipping with a long flogger made of fine grain Italian belt leather is just what a woman needs to let off some steam and feel at peace with the world again.
On weekends my own darling slut comes over and serves me like this. It would be really fun to have other slaves around to call on during the week, just when I feel like it.
And fetish nights out are the greatest. There’s nothing like dressing up in black PVC, in a pencil skirt and wasp waisted jacket, like the senior female executive from hell (or heaven). Imagine going in to work in the morning and having to greet Her across half an acre of polished mahogany desk? The sexual tension would be absolutely tangible, but in an office it would all have to be deliciously unspoken. Magic. Almost makes me want to take an executive position managing a legal firm. I’d have a lovely dark office, all teal and antique gold, with ebony furniture heavy enough to double as bondage equipment after hours. Gaggles of males working in the place would wear silk panties and fishnet stockings under their three piece pin striped suits, not to mention the deep welts on their backsides from frequent canings.
Ahem… where was I?
My primary is slim and well groomed, with distinguished silver hair that he likes to refer to as ’salt and pepper’, he comes up very nicely in basic black for a kinky night out. I put his collar on him and he walks around all night on the end of my leash… It’s been a while since I’ve given him a proper flogging in public which is something that ought to be addressed next time we hit the clubs. Now that the weather’s warming up, he can walk around half naked so I guess I need to order him to get a full body wax too.
Last weekend I made up a couple of whips for a new order. One of them was indeed made from heavy belt leather. It was absolutely gorgeous. I’m going to make another, with a dozen or so half inch tails about two feet long. That will be absolutely thumping! It will bruise a lucky slut just looking at him, muahahaha. Considering I’ve also finished a matching set of cuffs for my darling slut, perhaps we do need to get out and play!
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