Unwinnable Femdom Predicament Game
See more Submissen artwork
Licking Domme Marie’s boots and shoes was one the chief delights of his life as her slave. She would exhort him:
“If my boots are not perfectly clean, they will crush your groin until it pops.”
When they met, he bragged of his faith in female superiority. Unless he became a woman’s slave his life would be devoid of meaning. She would be supreme in his life. No task would be too lowly. Obedience would be instant and unquestioning.
She shrugged her shoulders. It hurt him that she did not care. Domme Marie had heard these words before. Most men did not they know they lied. Most men were too selfish and weak for servitude. They only wanted sex games.
Domme Marie tested him.
She took him to a Victoria’s Secret. He modeled teddies under her direction. The mocking eyes of observing women made him blush. A few women snickered.
Domme Marie applauded him, the other women joined in. The shop filled with laughter.
Other ‘female supremacists’ had fled when put to the test. Visibly miserable, the novice slave did as he was told
She locked him in chastity. He was thrilled. Two days later, he asked for release. She gave him a choice: remove the chastity device or stay and serve her. He stayed.
Domme Marie knew men were inferior. Frequent painful spankings, enforced chastity and strict, stern controls were necessary.
She continued to publicly humiliate the man. He did onerous but trivial chores without whining.
Convinced he would be a worshipful servitor, Domme Marie ordered him to sell his home. His slavery would be 24/7.
His attentive service, unmixed adoration satisfied her. She never felt warmth for him. Mere men were too disgusting for friendship. Her relationships with men were prudential or sadistic.
He had hoped for some kindness. But he accepted condescension as fair. Open inequality, loss of freedom fulfilled him. Better to be kicked by a Domme Owner that to live with any woman in equality.
She was most sadistic when her girlfriend, Domme Jean was home. Domme Jean’s job required frequent travel. She was often absent.
When the two women were together, he waited on them continually. He cooked excellent meals. He ate none of it. Domme Marie forbid him human food. She punished him if the house were not immaculate.
These were the times of greatest labor. And most intense suffering. Each Domme sought to please the other with imaginative acts of cruelty. They would pass him back and forth. Each striving to bring more tears and louder screams.
One evening they decided to have a contest. The goal was to discover whose shoes and boots tasted best.
Slave would be the judge. He would lick their footwear.
Each Domme brought out three pairs: two of boots, one pair of shoes.
He licked the boots reverently, never hasty, the pressure of his tongue firm. At first, he felt the familiar delight of tangible worship of the women.
Halfway through the second set, his tongue grew dry. Friction hurt. His increasingly ragged tongue burned. He dared not hurry or linger. Deviance would anger the Dommes. Near the end, tears lubricated a pair of boots.
Domme Marie then demanded to know whose footwear had the finer flavor. They all were equal to the slave’s taste buds. Failure to choose would be seen as defiance. He chose Domme Marie’s.
His Domme Owner grew angry. He had insulted her girlfriend. She bent and backhanded the side of his head. How dare he presume to judge anything about a woman.
The contest was a trap. Neither woman was angry. Accusations were part of the game. They knew that his involuntary response to simulated wrath was the same as real anger.
He felt guilty. An emotion that made punishment more painful. The Dommes took their slave to an unused corner bedroom. It was filled with bondage gear and implements of discipline.
They chained him to attachment points in the center of the floor.
‘Garbage’, ‘scum’ and ‘worthless,’ were their mildest epithets. They whipped him for an hour. His suffering aroused the women. They unlocked him. His body slid to the floor.
He heard lovemaking from their bedroom. He waited. His torment would continue or he would be ordered to bring postcoital refreshments.