Femdom Authoritarianism

Femdomosophic Lifestyle

Men are born to serve women. To serve without holding back, putting off, questioning. Obedience is the supreme male virtue. Mistress Owner uses her males as she wishes: no whims, no cruelties are forbidden the superior gender.
-Femdomosophic Fragments

This picture could easily accompany a dictionary's definition of Femdomosophy.

Femdomosophic Mistresses espouse the doctrines of female superiority and supremacy. Men should, in body and spirit, be under women's foot.

Steven lived in gyms. He never omitted a workout. His goal was not health. He wanted women to admire him. Less fancifully, to have sex with him.

Women were one-use pleasure dolls. No affection. No repeat. Steven kept a count. A little booklet listed each one-night stand. He summarized the postures and pleasures of the evening. Never a woman's name.

Then he met Kasdeya. She had just joined his gym. During his workout, Steven stopped several times to pose. His attempt at subtly made her smile. Men preen more than women. They refuse to admit it.

Kasdeya joined the gym to meet Steven. She caught sight of him at a restaurant. Had he known, his fat ego would have grown stouter.

He saw one night's conquest.

She saw her next slave.

Kasdeya ignored Steven. She also posed as she exercised. She has a knack for displaying her breasts and hips. Many men and a few women marveled at her performances.

Lust overpowered Steven. Kasdeya seeming indifference left him horny, desperate, angry. Instead of dating, he went home to wank. She starred in every wet dream.

Feigning ignorance, she asked his advice. Was she using proper form? Steven was more showoff than teacher. She felt more eager to take him.

Her occasional touch created so much sexual tension that his groin ached.

Her prey hooked, it was time to reel him in. No mere male can resist the lures of the superior sex.

Kasdeya mentioned a restaurant she wanted to try. The least appetizers were costly. Expense was a test. Had she truly caught him?

Money did not matter. Only a chance to seduce her. Self-esteem demanded he bed her.

Kasdeya saw this. Steven's silly masculine ego left him defenseless. Libido and vanity, weaknesses that enhance womanly power. She was the seducer.

Meals with horny men bore women. Seeing her plans come together, his self-absorption delighted her. Kasdeya did not rush her meal. Steven barely touched the high-priced food on his plate. He fidgeted as she drank after-dinner coffee.

In the car, as they drove to her home, Kasdeya lay a hang on Steven's thigh. Her fingers brushed against his already erect penis. Aching with ecstasy, he shuddered.

She made cocktails. Steven forced himself to smile. He dared not let impatience ruin his plans.

The whiskey seemed potent. After a couple of swallows, he felt wobbly. He passed out, without realizing Kasdeya drugged his cocktail.

He woke. Opened his eyes. He must be dreaming. A leash and collar chained him to a brick wall. The dark, grimy room was unfamiliar. Steven willed himself to wake up.

The delusion died. Chains and shackles locked him in a grim, filthy room.

Steven yelled. No one answered. Screams and shrieks brought no response. Finally, he quit. Then wept.

The door opened. Kasdeya entered, long black whip in hand.

Steven passed through the normal stages of a kidnapped 'tough' guy. He warned and threatened. Demanded release. Begged. He wept. Tears brought only mockery and lashes.

She crushed his resistance. Self-abasement replaced self-respect.

Steven learned to call her Domme Kasdeya. He was no longer Steven. He became 'worthless.' Even when referring to himself, he must say ""Worthless begs Domme …""

She found the booklet in his back pocket. It prompted her to lock him in a thick metal chastity device. Telling him that his penis had retired, she burnt the book. It was as if his sexual history vanished.

Kasdeya is a minimalist. Naturally organized, her home remains tidy. She cooks and cleans for herself. Her chattel lives in the basement. The presence of a man would disgust her. Except recreational sadism, her life excludes men.

She wanted a plaything. Not a servant.

She furnished the basement only with bondage devices and dungeon toys. The slave's bed is a cement floor. His meals come from cans of dog food.

He lives without books, music or video. Each day consists of hours of boredom, interrupted only by cruelty.

Domme Kasdeya visits him at least once daily. Except when she spends the weekend elsewhere. Sometimes she forgets to leave enough food.

Other weekends a friend, often a girlfriend, joins her in the basement. Whipping alternates with varied torments.

Male misery, an incomparable pleasure. How sweet are men's screams.

A brilliant sadist, Domme Kasdeya irregularly omits the slave's torment. A few days without suffering delude him. Perhaps his misery is over.

Random breaks raise his sensitivity to pain. Torment resumed, vast despair overwhelms him. His soul grows dark with hopelessness.

He, like all her toys, will live a long life. Possibly he prefers to perish. She will not allow him even that escape.

Written by Richard Evans Lee
https://gynofascistmatritopia.bdsmlr.com/