Archive for the ‘FemDom dreams and stories’ Category

Phone Chat by eosuchus

June 3, 2012

Oral Servitude in a FemDom Marriage

LISTENING TO THE PHONE CHAT

by eosuchus

Phone Chat
by eosuchus

“Softer, especially the heel!” she said to him, in an aside from her phone conversation.
Jeremy, kneeling before Mistress during the usual session of foot massage at the end of the day, relaxed his grip on the heel of her right foot. The right was often sore, he knew. Mistress wore high heels to work and they took a toll on her poor feet. He took a dab more of the oil mixture– olive with some avocado oil added–  and rubbed it gently into the ball of her foot and then worked it up under the toes and between them.
He felt her relax, shift her weight a little in the chair, and immediately felt his penis harden in the chastity device.
“Oh, no,” she said now, still talking to her sister, Marilyn, who lived in Florida. “That was for my slave.”
She chuckled. “You don’t understand. I got back from the office twenty minutes ago, and he’s rubbing my feet.
Unh-huh, every day, dear, every day. Well, I wear heels, and my feet hurt when I get home.”
She laughed again, the free, easy laugh of an utterly dominant wife.
“That happens too, but not every day!”
Jeremy could sometimes just about hear Marilyn’s responses, and this time he heard something like,
“Thought that was the point.”
“No, silly, you just don’t understand. Out here we have the Section 11 Marriage. It’s for couples like us. I’m sure you’ve heard all sorts of lies about it, because it really upsets the conservatives in the south. Yeah, the radio?”
She giggled.
“Oh, god, do they still listen to that crap?”
Jeremy worked each one of Mistress’s pretty toes between his fingers. He had found that she really responded to a gentle squeeze along the toe, then some firm pressure underneath, and a pull off the end.
He would repeat this as often as necessary.
“No, baby, it’s not like that. I don’t ever do anything like that. Rubber? You’re kidding. Of course not. You really ought to try another TV channel, Marilyn, all that conservative stuff will rot your brain.”
Jeremy pulled up another dab of oil. He had gone back to the left foot now. Gentle pressure on the heel, a firm sweep up the underside of the foot with the knuckle of his thumb, then massage pressure on the underside with all the fingers of both hands, and then a shift to the ball of the foot, squeezing gently, then more firmly while making circling motions with the fingers to relax the tender tissues and provide comfort.
In reward, Mistress’s hand came down on the top of his head and played with his hair. Then she shifted her weight again, and crossed her legs. Jeremy’s hard on intensified, even though it was so uncomfortable in the custom made stainless steel chastity.
“Marilyn, I wear whatever I want to wear when I dominate him. Sometimes I put on a tight skirt and heels, and we play for a while. I find that can be very arousing sometimes. But, you know what, usually, I just wear bra and panties. No, never. I wouldn’t. Of course not. Most women in this kind of marriage are just like me. Marilyn, we’re not devil worshippers just because we spank men!”
Jeremy worked the toes on the left foot again. Gentle squeezing along the sides, then top and bottom, and pulling off at the end of each. He paid special attention to the big toe, because those big toes took a pounding in the high heels. One thing he knew she loved was very careful, delicate massage of the underside of the big toe. He concentrated on that. Mistress was very sensitive to her big toes. Jeremy often spent a certain amount of time in the evening with one, or both of Mistress’s lovely big toes in his mouth, while he sucked them. She enjoyed that as foreplay before he got down to providing orgasm services.
Mistress and her sister were now talking about her sister’s husband, Jed, and her sister’s troubles, which were mostly tied up with Jed and his irresponsible ways.
“Baby, you let him get away with it. But you do. He spends money he doesn’t have and puts you and your whole family in the hole.”
Jeremy had heard all this before, of course. Mistress spoke with her sister almost every day. Jeremy knew that Marilyn’s family life was frequently put into crisis, because Jed did something really stupid. There had been a Mercedes. Then a boat. Then an investment in gold coins. It went on and on.
“Baby, you got two sweet little girls. And you got a man that’s dumber than most rocks. If I were you I’d get a divorce, move out here and look for a nice submissive man for a Section 11 marriage.”
Jeremy had gone back to the right foot. A dab more oil, and gentle work on the heel and then the instep, before returning to the sole of the foot and the toes.
“Section 11 means the man accepts the complete authority of the woman. He surrenders his property to her and puts himself under her control.”
Mistress laughed again, but with a hint of annoyance too.
“No, baby, he does what you tell him to do. Or you
punish him.”
“It’s not weird at all. There are thousands of families here now living under Section 11. All kinds. Kids? Lots of kids are growing up in Section 11 families, and you know what?”
Jeremy worked carefully on the big toe of the right foot, being as sensitive as possible to every nuance, executing the pull off at the end with just the right amount of pressure.
Mistress was playing with his hair again. That was a good sign.
“No, baby, there was a survey. Section 11 families have almost no crime at all. The boys grow up respecting women. They may not identify with the way the fathers are, but they grow up with respect for women. And just as important, there are no domestic abuse crimes in Section 11.”
Mistress giggled, a thrilling sound for Jeremy.
“Well, if she wants to abuse her hubby, she can, within limits. She can spank him as much as she wants to. Or use the whip. Section 11 men expect that. Of course they do. They’re submissive men, and they willingly put themselves under their wives’ authority.”
Jeremy kept repeating the soft pull offs on the big toe on the right foot.
“No, he doesn’t have to take it if it goes too far for him. Of course not. This is still America. It’s a voluntary agreement, Section 11. But it does have the power of law behind it. Yeah, on property. He surrenders everything to the woman. Up to her, baby. Some women give it back, some don’t.”
She laughed. “Look, Marilyn, why you want to put up with all that, I don’t know. But, the point is a man in a Female Lead Marriage has the right to leave it. He can go back and reenter normal society. Get a job, whatever. Yes, there’s a whole procedure. You take them to the County. There’s a drop off place, and they are given a place to stay and some reeducation so they can get work and reintegrate.”
Jeremy heard Marilyn say something about “jobs” and he knew that was another sore point, because Jed was always getting laid off or fired. Marilyn had been through some rough times with her worthless man.
“Well, baby,” said Mistress at length.  “Sure, some women do that, and Section 11 men work in lots of normal jobs. But a lot of women prefer to keep their slave in the house. I do. I keep him at home, in chastity, and I keep him busy all day with chores. He doesn’t have time to go out and get into trouble.”
“No, baby, my point is we don’t have women getting beat up and killed and all the rest of that crap. No more. Never again. Not under Section 11. Has never happened.”
Mistress had taken a firmer grip on his hair, she was holding it like it was a set of reins. Jeremy’s hard-on was very uncomfortable in the chastity device, but it wouldn’t go down now.
“Yes, baby, we’re going to have a couple of kids. I want girls, of course. Yeah.”
“The father? My slave? Maybe. I mean I could go to a sperm bank. My slave would raise my babies, no matter what. But, I might have him father them, anyway.
I’ll make that decision, just like I make all the decisions around here.”
Mistress said that with a definite edge of pride. One of the things that appealed to a lot of women in her generation who had taken to the Section 11 lifestyle was the surrender of all decision making to the female head of the household. These women never had to argue about stuff with a man, they made the decision, announced it and enforced it with the paddle if they needed to.
“No, baby, I have an executive position. I won’t be here. Of course he’ll raise the babies. Just like he does everything else. That’s kind of the point, girl. When you have a slave husband, he takes care of the house, so you don’t have to.”
Mistress giggled again. “Baby, I haven’t washed  a dish or mopped a floor since I got my first slave. You know that.”
“Of course he cooks. And he does all the laundry and, well, baby, I have a list of things for him to do every day. Believe me, it’s a long list, too!”
She was still holding onto his hair, and she moved in the chair again, and he could sense that she was ready to move on.
“Anyway, girl, you need to think about what you’re doing over there. I think that fool you’ve got is dragging you down. He’ll be cheating on you, too. Dump him, that’s my advice. Move out here. You could get work. You’ve managed that restaurant for how many years?”
She released his hair and pushed him away with her foot, so she could sit up.
“Yeah, baby, gotta go now. Love you. Think about it, will you?”
The phone call was over.
“Bedroom,” she said. Then she tugged on his hair, pulling his head back, so their eyes met. She smiled. “I am so ready.”
She stared into his eyes and blew him a little kiss. then she released his hair, and pushed down lightly so he knew to go down and kiss her feet.
“Mmmmm,” he heard her murmur, clearly very satisfied with things.
She clipped the leash to his collar, stood up and lead him across the living room floor, down the hallway to the bedroom. As she went, she sashayed outrageously, swinging her big ass from side to side, while he crawled behind her with his eyes fixed on the squirming satin panty and the incredible way her magnificent behind moved.
In the bedroom, she stood in front of him for a moment, then hooked her thumbs into her panty elastic and slowly pulled the white satin panties down, revealing the big, smooth globes of an ass that she kept firm by four visits to the gym every week.
She released the panties, and Jeremy carefully pulled them down her legs and off her feet, while she rested a hand on top of his head to balance.
“Mmmm, honey, if you do me really, really good?”
She let the thought hang in the air of the bedroom for a moment. “Then I think I might give you a nice release. You’d like that, I bet.”
He bent down to kiss her feet again as loudly and enthusiastically as possible.
“Good, boy.” She sat on the bed, then lay back and snapped her fingers and raised her right foot, and then her left.
Jeremy crouched at the bottom of the bed and took Mistress’s big toes into his mouth and began to suck them. Smooth, strong suction was what she liked. It always got her into the mood for receiving oral devotion. He concentrated on that, but even as he did so, the thought of Mistress sitting on his face and giving him release was burning in his imagination and forcing his
cramped penis hard against the steel restraints.

copyright Permian Systems 2012.

Male Maid Service–doing the dishes.

August 31, 2008

An important aspect of Female Dominance, both in sexual terms and in
societal impact, concerns the matter of who does the housework.
Once upon a time, this would have meant a discussion of “role reversal” and almost nothing else, but in the past ten years FemDom in one shape or another has
edged out of the closet. The internet with its cloaking power, with its distancing capacity, has opened that closet door wide. Travelling around the net in a relative state of anonymity, millions upon millions of submissive males have found that they are not alone, that indeed they belong to a lively and
growing minority of men, and that there are women who have taken notice of their existence and even expressed an interest.
At the same time, and perhaps more important to this discussion, women in general have become more seasoned in the workplace. They have grown wiser to the way patriarchal society is set up and the way that it responds to challenges on the gender front.
Women still face discrimination in the work place, and sometimes openly sexist attitudes, especially from older men. At home the same women have found most men to be unwilling to take on housework.
Some women close their eyes to it. The dishes pile up in the sink, the floors turn into a nightmarish tangle of dust and junk, and they ignore it, like their men.
Other women hire cleaners, maid services, to do what they don’t have the time for, and their men won’t touch.

But here and there, some women are putting their foot down and demanding that he do his share. And, often unwillingly, a lot of straight men have learned how to use a vacuum cleaner, or even how to do the dishes. Or in other cases, have given up on marriages and relationships and gone home to live with their parents, and have their moms take care of them.
And then, more rarely, but perhaps more tellingly for the future of our society, there are those women who have taken the bull by the horns, or the male by the ear, and made him do the housework, starting with the dishes.

Here’s a great example of recent FD art celebrating the way of life in a “female lead” household. Hubby has his apron on and is doing the dishes. His Dominant Wife, eyebrows fixed in a stern frown, informs him that later his buns are going to be red hot and at that time, when the terms of their relationship will be revealed in stark clarity to both of them, he will be required to explain why he had left dirty dishes in the sink. Unfortunatly I have not been able to find this artist’s name. Anyone who knows it , please leave me a comment.

This, I suggest, is a very modern take on this particular aspect of the “role reversal” that is represented by men being required to wash the dishes. And from that thin end of the wedge, to go on to cleaning the house, and thence to…well we’ll get to where this may end up eventually in a little while.

Here’s a more traditional view of the same kind of thing, though more likely it evokes an earlier moment in the relationship between a husband and the dishes. Again, I don’t know this artist’s name and would very much appreciate any guidance on that topic. Here we have the Wife with riding crop in hand, wearing a straightforward skirt and blouse outfit, nothing to betray her Dominance at all, while her male has been given some stripes on his bottom, and put into an apron, with nothing else underneath it, and set to doing the dishes under her stern, but perhaps satisfied gaze. Hubby is clearly on the path to more of this, and more of other things too, one suspects.
I had thought for a while that this drawing was by Puyal, who has a thing about this entire aspect of the Fem Dom complex of issues. But close inspection leaves me wondering about that. Puyal favors a heavier line, the use of more shading, and nearly always, an “active” scene, no matter what is being portrayed. Here, in this quintessentially modern kitchen scene, we are past the active bit, at least for now.

We’ll come back to Puyal shortly. But first, here’s a typical Stanton take on the
drama of the dishes. This probably dates from the 1960s or 70s, and reflects Stanton’s own coming of age in the 1930s and 40s. Here we have one of his super-hot Dommes, albeit a Housemaid, who has taken charge of a bratty husband, whupped him with his own belt (role reversal being strong in Stanton’s work) put him in an apron and set him to doing the dishes. As is usual with Stanton goddesses she has a bustline somewhere between Dolly Parton and Pamela Anderson, and an attitude that brooks no refusals from a wretched male. The differences with the two
first examples are very clear and I think, reflect the shift that is underway both within society and within the FemDom world.
Of course, even in the 1930s, it was a very rare Housemaid that wore dark gloves up above her elbows or a super tight skirt, to match that fantastic bosom, but this is Stanton, an artist with near unsurpassable effect on the dream world of Female Domination in his era.

Moving up to the 21st century, there’s this wonderful example of Whizzer Black’s art. Whizzer is having his balls spanked, since as we can see his bottom is already
scarlet and sore from his Dominant Wife Constance’s attentions. He has failed, once again, to get the dishes washed before she gets home from her office job. And then in a modern twist, she tells him that some of “the girls” are coming over for dinner and he is to appear in his new Maid Uniform as he serves dinner to them. Role reversal here is complete. Whizzer exemplifies the enslaved househusband, constantly spanked and dominated by his lovely wife. Whizzer Black is a terrific comic artist. I wish there was more of his work to see. If there’s anyone that should have a website dedicated to his work, a la Sardax, it is Whizzer Black. FemDom eroticism combined with humor, it’s a terrific mixture.

And so to Puyal, and a male maid confronted with a domestic disaster, duster in hand. The vase has gone over, the water is on the carpet, and mr. maid is likely to be receiving a bit of a paddling when his Lady Wife comes home and discovers spots on the rug. Puyal, as I mentioned above, always takes great pains to render his scenes active. His work is well known on the internet and appeared for years in a variety of FemDom magazines, like the well known “Madame In a World of Fantasy” that came out of London. Here we have an interesting little detail. Mr. maid is hobbled, with rope around his ankles. Whether this is to make his day more interesting, or to keep him from running away is unknown. The rest of his attire is the
classic “Maid Uniform” of fetish fantasy– from the high heels and dark stockings, to the little apron and starched white hat. Check back to Stanton’s dark Dominant Maid from sixty years ago, and you have the switchover in roles caught perfectly.

And then there’s this example from an artist, new to me, named Pink. Pink’s work hews tightly to the Clothed Female–naked male, humiliation and subservience axis. The central figure, who may well represent Pink, himself, is this skinny youth with glasses, who is routinely humiliated in front of audiences of rather normal looking young women. Here he serves drinks while wearing a ridiculous “maid uniform” that leaves his pulsing erection fully visible to the ladies, who are laughing out loud at the
show.
Implicit in Pink’s nice little picture is the reversal of roles. The male is the servant here. This reversal is still new enough to the ladies that they are enjoying the symbolism of having this humiliated male, with his stiffy exposed, serving them while wearing his embarrasing little costume. In more extreme situations perhaps, such as a Whizzer Black-style household, such service would no longer produce much mirth, just routine demands for more olives, or wine or perhaps oral servitude in a quiet room upstairs.

Here’s Puyal again, in just such a scene. Three Dommes are at the table, one of them is receiving oral worship of her toes. Another holds a whip, for no discernible reason. The male maid is in full maid costume, a la fetish fantasy, with his genital bulge exposed, and his little white hat in place as he brings in the drinks. From such a scene it is easy to imagine what is likely to take place after a couple more glasses of wine. The lady who has already shed her shoes will probably take the slave on the floor upstairs for some private activities, while mr. maid may find himself hard at work pleasing the other two ladies from under the table.

My final illustration of “doing the dishes” comes from Elise Sutton’s Predominant Webzine, and the excellent artist Coeur. I know little about Coeur other than his (or is her’s?) excellent art work. Here we have the Dominant Wife of submissive men’s dreams, clad in a terrific FemDom outfit with tight leather skirt and some kind of stretchy material on top, that leaves her fabulous bosom prominently displayed.
Hubby, who probably lives with a nigh on permanent erection, is doing the dishes, but either not quickly enough or in lieu of some other task that his Wife regards as more important. The ear has been taken, her expression gives a strong hint that he is about to be disciplined. His expression conveys a considerable fear that such discipline may be long and arduous, and yet, of course, his erection remains. With a wife like that, nothing else would be expected.
The point here though, for my argument, is that within the modern FemDom world, which has evolved mightily since it first surfaced on the Internet in the 90s in such venues as Alt.Sex.Femdom, the role reversal is simply assumed. Males in female lead relationships do the dishes. They may also do all the housework, cook all the meals, do all the shopping, and polish their Wife’s shoes, too. Possibly with their tongues, while she wears them, an incidental detail of tangential enjoyment to both parties.
FemDom has moved on from the old “role reversal” thing. Today, that is simply assumed. And out in the real world, Female/male relations are also moving on. In the academic world, at least in the US, Britain and parts of Europe, the Female gender is in the ascendant. However, that ascendancy is in a situation where the rules are fairly clear and hard work and intelligence alone will produce success. Smart girls can do better than the guys in almost any subject once they put their minds to it. Such success does not automatically translate to success in the world of work. In businesses large and small, men and all-male networks, are tough nuts to crack.

Except in areas like sales, where brute numbers can tell all, promotion and power are closely held and are won usually only with the acquiescence of the guys in charge. This is usually where an assertive young woman runs into trouble. She may be marginalized within a firm, ordered to get the coffee and do “secretaryish” things and low-balled on pay until she quits. The older men know what they’re doing. They’re fighting a rear guard action to stave off the role reversal that many of us can sense is coming. In their generation, they rule and women obey– for the most part. But they can feel the change coming, feel the trembling in the walls of the patriarchal fortress. These men were already grown when the feminist uprising of the late sixties and early seventies took place. They didn’t care for it then and they don’t like “uppity” young women today, either. However, the tide is turning, even running against them now. The better candidates for so many jobs are female that turning all of them down in favor of not such effective young men is impossible. Like water flooding into a home from a river overflowing its banks, capable women are seeping higher and higher into the work space. Old men die, young women are promoted. There are losses along the way. Many women leave the work force to have children and thus derail their careers. Many women find the business world too harsh, too crazy, and seek something more bearable, such as teaching. But still, slowly, step by step, women make progress and somewhere, perhaps within ten years, they will reach a tipping point and become the majority of middle management and achieve equality in upper management. Only the CEOs and CFOs will remain majority male, and then even that fortress will be taken and women will be running, managing and directing the corporate world.

By that point the issue of doing the dishes, and the rest of the housework, will have gone through a revolution. Men will be doing housework, perhaps on a 50-50 basis with their wives, perhaps they will be doing all of it, like the sub-hubbies of female lead marriages now. Men who don’t do housework will most likely not be married by that point unless they’re rich enough to hire cleaners and cooks for their wives.

And the male maid? Like so many things that were once unimaginable, the man turned into a housemaid, wearing a little frilly apron (and a chastity device) will probably be a little odd, but perhaps no more than the lesbian couple who live down on the corner, or the gay guys who run the hot new restaurant in town are today. As mainstream society shifts towards female equality, and perhaps more than that, so the subterranean world of FemDom and submissive men will breach the surface more or less openly.

eosuchus

copyright: Permian Systems 2008

MEN ON THE LEASH

May 24, 2008

It’s one of the interesting minor aspects of Male FemDom fantasy, the dream of being trained to be Her Dog, or if not a Dog, a male slave pretending to be a dog.

The salient points are all pretty obvious. The male must be naked, except for
his collar, and possibly his chastity tube. Oh, well, he might have a little ribbon in his hair.  And he may be on the leash, or trained to walk “at heel.”

I have assembled some favorite examples of FemDom Art to illustrate how this
strand of FemDom fantasy plays out in male minds.
*

Here, for instance is Sardax’s wonderful evocation of the satisfaction for a
Dominant Female of walking her dog-men.  Sardax is so good at this kind of thing, he conveys so well the attitude of nonchalant, accepted Dominance. The young lady, wrapped in her fetishistically tight leather (or is that satin?) with her parasol on her shoulder, is a study in amusing arrogance. Watching her, perhaps feeling a little wistful, the girl in the retro-dress and hat, conveys more attitude. In this fantasy world of Sardax, gorgeous young women in skin tight clothing are expected to take their slave males out for a walk.  And, of course, the young lady watching the dog-men go by is wearing leather boots with high heels that are about to be licked clean by the male bootlicking service provided for passing ladies to use. The whole scheme here is packed with sexual triggers for the submissive male fantasist, even down to the back of another lady’s high heeled shoe disappearing into the doorway beyond the young
slave walker.
Sardax is definitely fond of this particular FemDom dream.
*
Here’s another example, taken from a poster for the wonderful Pedestal Club in London. Here we have one of his fuller figured Dominants, clad in a style reminscent of the 1930s, right down to the little hat. With her prominent breasts thrust forward, her
sashaying gait, her high heels and her easy handed management of the male that scurries along beside her on his hands and knees, this dream lady epitomises a
variety of Domme that many men desire to worship. Her cigarette, her whip, her full figure are all sensuous aspects of this dream. And again, Sardax has another female, a younger woman, wrapped in a tight, tight skirt, watching the lady parade her slave right up to the front door of the FemDom Club. What passes through the younger woman’s mind? Does she think about getting a slave male like that herself? Or does she already have one? Perhaps he’s late and she’s imagining his punishment, later inside the club?

But Sardax is not the only artist to have explored this window into the dream of
Female Sexual Dominance.
*
Here’s a famous example from Eric Stanton’s work. This piece is from the early sixties, I think, and his Dominant Female here is quite human, even if her breasts are on the extraordinary side of things.

With Stanton we’ve left the cool, super-stylish world of Sardax’s FemDommes behind.
Stanton’s Dommes are glamorous to the eye, but tend to be tough bitches when they open their mouths. The slave has been reduced to this incredibly foolish state, scampering along the floor behind this Dominating Bitch, with his swollen ass lit up with dozens of whip marks. He’s being trained to walk close at heel, perhaps for some kind of exhibition. Possibly there’s a hidden world of beautiful, fantasy women, who compete for weird ass honors by training male slaves to perform like dogs? With Stanton’s bizarre imagination, anything was possible.

And then we have Waldo’s take on this phenomenon.
*

Waldo’s text reads  “I’m offering you this Yorkshire”  presumably the bemused looking lad, crawling along behind the young lady’s legs here. “And if you groan again, I’m buying a muzzle.”

Who the muzzle is for is not quite clear, Any French readers of this blog are invited to enlighten us as to the exact meaning here.

However, as he does so often and so well, Waldo conveys all the prime erotic aspects of the fantasy, from the whip in Her hand, her slightly parted dress, unbuttoned enough to offer a glimpse of pink panty, her authoritative grip on her “Yorkshire’s” leash, and once again, the relaxed attitude of complete and absolutely accepted dominance. This is an everyday scene, in a fantasy France, where lovely young ladies with long legs, walk their recently enslaved males, who may still even have wristwatches, in public.

That wristwatch, by the way, is one of those things that have long since been stripped away from the slave males in Sardax’s dog-walking scenes. Those men have been
reduced to something less than human. Waldo’s Yorkshire is a recent convert to
dogginess. The little pink bow in his hair is perhaps a sign of where he’s going, and who can say how long he’ll retain the watch, as his life as a dog progresses?
end

The Power of the Female Ass

April 8, 2008

The Power of the Female Ass
by eosuchus

I am on my knees before Her.
“Good,” she says. “You are a good slave.”
She puts my gift to her away, folded and slipped between her lovely
breasts.
“You will be rewarded. Later.”
She turns and presents her derriere. Her behind is large, firm, a complex of
curves that are filled with enormous power.

In the rational part of my brain I know that those curves inform males that this Female is well fed, is in fine condition, and is quite capable of birthing and feeding
a child. Beyond that, there is more information, some of which is imparted in the way
she flaunts her buttocks, or hides them.

Truly, this is a line that divides Female Power from that of Male Patriarchy.
Flaunting the female ass is a provocative act. Within Patrarchal structures it is always regarded as low, vulgar behaviour. Women who do it are condemned, are seen as
prostitutes. As a consequence men are given almost free rein to treat such women badly, because “they brought it on themselves.” This all ties in to the Patriarchal need for men to “own” and possess women, in order to be certain that they only support their own offspring. Eosuchus will discuss issues relating to that topic in other posts.

And because flaunting the ass is so provocative, so dangerous to Patriarchal norms, even Women disdain it. Women are induced by social conditioning to regard their behinds as anything from “gross” to “too big.” That said, there is a counter-movement, the “booty” and just plain ass-loving community, but that is (still) a minority
viewpoint and most women, particularly women within the corporate environment,
strive to hide their behinds, to keep them out of view. Except that very often they don’t, because, truth to tell, Women are deeply conflicted on this issue.

Why?

Because the Female Buttocks are the ultimate symbols of Female Power.

If women were to flaunt their asses. That is, if they were to wear tight “provocative”
skirts and pants, or more provocative yet, if they were to show a little ass cleavage, then we all know that men’s imaginations would be on fire. Men would have a hard time thinking of anything else, other than those flaunted, beautiful Female Asses.

And since the patriarchal system operates on the understanding that a Woman’s worth depends on the man she weds and holds onto, so Women have been
willing participants in the suppression of the use of the the Female buttocks as a
tool of power. Thus so many women bemoan the fact that they have a large, powerful bottom. They see their buttocks, not as weapons with which to subdue and dominate men, but as liabilities, as a statement of dietary failure. They have been bewitched by
the arbiters of Fashion, acting as pillars of the Patriarchy, who have recognized that
if women do not feel that they must enchant, amuse and beguile men, that they will
not “catch” or wed a worthwhile one. To that end the world of Fashion elevates a slim, youthful ideal, a kind of Female that is extremely rare in the real world. At the same time, of course, the world of Fashion (and Fetish!) promotes the wearing of High Heels, which not only elevate the Woman, but force her buttocks into a rounder, firmer shape, one that increases the power of their signal to male eyes. Thus the complete
dichotomy of the Patriarchal mode is expressed in this way– women often dress to
hide their buttocks, and wear shoes to show them off at the same time!

The fashion ideal– the supermodel– is not only rarely seen in the real world, but the kind of woman it elevates has a curiously androgynous appearance. These females are slender, tall, small-breasted (usually) and equipped with small, boyish behinds.
They are also slim hipped, long legged and, to a degree, epicene.

Something strange is going on here. Feminine clothing is complex, the design element is a mysterious thing, hitting a sweet spot that both makes a “statement” and gives a look that is unusual, while at the same time rarely straying too far from the conventional and comfortable. Meanwhile, in general, truly “feminine” clothing is often quite uncomfortable to wear, viz corsets, stockings and garter belts, high heels, tight
constricting skirts and blouses. At the other end of the spectrum is the anti-sexual comfortable look– long skirts, baggy pants, comfortable shoes. Women often seem to be caught between these two impulses, to be comfortable or to be sexually attractive.
With a third impulse in the mix as well, to appear to other women as well organized,
well off, in good physical shape and equipped with good taste. Of course, taste is another nebulous concept that varies from woman to woman.

However, as Women move away from Patriarchal consciousness, so they often come to see their bodies as being natural, healthy, sexy and powerful. As opposed to seeing them as shameful, provocative, even evil. This can strongly affect how they choose to dress.

During the great outbreak of Feminism in the 1970s, many Women rejected the whole
closetful of feminine clothing. Out went stockings and garter belts, high heels, tight skirts, corsets, even bras in some cases. A lot of women found that jeans, work boots and t-shirts were just as comfortable for them as they were for men. Other women, in the corporate world, put on pant-suits, and chose sensible pumps with one or two inch heels. For a while these suits were “feminised” with silly add ons like big bows, or a lack of pockets, or a tight cut that exhibited hips, and even, yes, behinds. Today this kind of apparel is more often cut on a practical line, includes a pocket or two, and
women Lawyers, Executives and so on, wear equally sensible shirts, even though they may be called “blouses” and may not be white. Heels seem to go up and down on some hard to comprehend fashion-go-round. The early feminist rejection of
femininity is still echoing within the world of female apparel. Many women go months without putting on a dress or a skirt. Many, perhaps most, refuse to hurt their feet in high heels.

And yet, most women remain conflicted about their behinds. “It’s so big…” is a comment heard from women at every social level, or so it seems.

The struggle with Patriarchy is far from over yet, and on this issue it will take perhaps another generation before women can free themselves from patriarchal concerns and fears about the female bottom.

Because, ultimately, Women who enjoy their bodies and accept the power of their sexuality soon come to see that they have at their disposal the means to dominate men. They can offer sex, or withold it. They have what men desperately desire and thus they have a form of control, if they choose to exercise it.

Take it a few steps farther out of the mainstream and women can take up Fem Dom sexual practises and discover that they really can have it all, or at least quite a big chunk of it all, anyway.

First off, the Dominant Woman can choose between a host of men who are willing to submit to Her, even to the point of becoming “slaves.” Such men will do just about anything for the Dominant Woman in their lives. And such women can pick and choose from the palette of options on the Fem Dom spectrum. They can have a relationship that is quite cryptic to neighbors and friends, even apparently “vanilla” to the public eye. A marriage, say, in which the husband is under Her thumb, and is sexually dominated in the bedroom, but with no overt signs of this reality, except a somewhat elevated, obvious level of respect for Her from him. Or, women can choose a more dramatic lifestyle, in which the male is pantied, punished, cuckolded and even loaned out to other women for sexual favors or housecleaning duties.

This may seem laughable, even impossible to the uninformed reader today. But such
lifestyle choices are more common than many people understand.

Moreover, eosuchuis would point out that a web search of the term FemDom brings up nine million results, Female Domination produces two and a half million, Face Sitting gets more than seven million, and so on and so on, through the gamut of
Female Domination terms and phrases. In other words there are an awful lot of
men (mostly) busy searching the internet for FemDom images, words and experiences.

Eosuchus also notes that women in high paying jobs are — slowly– turning away from the traditional pursuit of an equally high ranking male, and settling for “Beta Males.” Guys who are fun to live with, who do housework, and who don’t necessarily earn all that much money.

There’s a major societal role reversal in progress, and of course this is unsettling and annoying to many people.

But in the end, eosuchus feels that not-only will FemDom practises become a more or less accepted part of liberal society– in the way that Gay Couples are today in the
more advanced parts of America and Europe– but more than that, the powerful female buttocks will come out into the open, so to speak, and that development will
shake the foundations of the Patriarchy.

She is wearing a tight, black leather skirt. It is a tool of Domination, as we both know. Running up the center is the zipper, which is actually quite subtle, with brass teeth. This skirt could be worn in public anywhere, well, perhaps not anywhere, but
in public, in the city, at the club, to a restaurant, it would be seen as suggestive, as
provocative– She does, after all, have a very shapely derriere, men always look at it when she passes–but not indecent. The zip would be a subtle sign, to a certain kind of man, that if they were good, that if they got on their knees, that if they kissed her feet and gave her nice presents, then yes….

“Kiss!” she whispers.
He kisses the warm, supple leather of the skirt, and keeps kissing. That is what she has trained him to do.
“Did you think about my proposal?” she purrs.
“Yes, Mistress”
“And?”
“I will put my apartment on the market.”
“Good. You will live here, in my stable?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
She chuckled, then, in a low voice, filled with knowledge of Her Power, she
says. “Raise the zipper, slave.”

And crucial to the power of Dominant Woman is Her use of Her derriere to
enslave a man. Or several of them. Men who submit to Dominant Women know this
truth, that when a Woman sits on a man’s face regularly, for her pleasure, controlling his breath, secure in her Dominance of him, he becomes increasingly submissive to Her. It becomes impossible to refuse Her anything or to disobey Her. Worshipping her
ass, feeling the heavy, muscular globes on either side of his face, tonguing her anus in the full knowledge of how servile and humiliating this practise is regarded by the
normal, “patriarchal” world, is an act that lets a submissive man surrender to his
own urges and along with that, to surrender himself to Her.
As the practise continues, the knowledge between him and Her of what he does at her bidding, builds her Dominance into a system of power and belief. Her ass, his face, it is their secret, or not-so-secret, and it is the mark of dominance and submission.
As a future filled with equality and more than equality for females falls into place around us, it seems very likely that male worship of Female Ass, will become much more common, much more significant, much more of an open aspect of sexual life.
Queening Stools and Boxes may even become fairly common household furniture.
That remains speculative. There are barriers, including disease, but oral-anal
sex between partners who are disease free can be perfectly safe.
Meanwhile, in a future where Women are the standard politician, are frequently
the CEO of the company you work for, where Women are the natural, dominant faces on television, even video games, and where men are increasingly seen as helpers of Women, workers for Women, servants of Women, so we can expect to see the Power Incarnateliberation of the Female Ass and a celebration of it and its power over men.


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