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some things Y/you should know about me

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atl, GA
this blog is about me and my expressions and acceptance of being a male submissive within a female dominated world. i accept the rule of female dominance and supremacy and realize that it is only a matter of time when this shall be the cultural norm within O/our society. in this blog one will find examples of my art, my writings, jottings, videos, observations and stories which chronicle and revolve around my life and fetishes. throughout this blog i hope to honor the creativity, superior intelligence, strength and physical vitality of women, while at the same time point out the insecurities, shortcomings and frailties of males. as such, this blog has a decidedly Femdomme slant.

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12/26/2018

sometimes ... a cup just isn't enough ... especially when ...

Can a girl beat up a guy?

  an informed response from: Quora


Jae Alexis Lee, Trans Woman, Researcher, Advocate

"In the school where I taught martial arts, there was a score board in the women's changing room.

The scoreboard tracked how many times each of the female blackbelts had broken a male student's groin cup. I seem to recall some debate about whether or not it was worth double points when it was done with a hand strike instead of a kick.


For context, this is the piece of protective equipment men wear so they aren't harmed if they're hit in the groin by a fast pitched baseball.  Sure, lots of people in martial arts learn to break boards, but the women in my style are aiming for a harder target.

via GIPHY

Amusing anecdote aside, physical size isn't the sole determination of who wins in a fight. Women are perfectly capable of besting men in fights, as always, who wins will depend on the individual man and woman involved. 

Equally, women are perfectly capable of beating the ever living tar out of their male partners. Female on male domestic abuse is a real thing, it does happen, and the belief that women can't hurt men only serves to trap those battered men in places where they're getting hurt without access to help. Abusers come in all shapes, sizes, genders, classes, ethnicities and levels of education. It isn't something that only happens to "people like X" ... and the sooner we stop thinking about it that way, the better."

some of my best kept secrets are those i've experienced with my Mistress

how true.but usually the handcuffs are on me quite a bit tighter than that.

11/19/2018

triggered at the doctor's office


today was a rather unsettling day for me. being sick for the better half of last week i lost some of my hearing and thought it best that i go to the doctors' office. everything seemed to be going well, even though I was forced to be in que, after seeing my doctor for a prescribed battery of lab tests and an x-ray.  things appeared to be going normal. i looked down at my cell phone to check my messages minding my own business.  i didn't notice that a very attractive, fit young woman wearing an extremely tight, well fitting pair of green camo chinos sat down across from me. still quite oblivious,  it wasn't until i glanced down at my phone and then saw that what she also wore smartly and wielded was a stunning and wicked pair of shiny, new, black Doc Martens, which walloped me into full attention.

well, Her boots startled me and i like the uncoordinated fool that i am dropped my prescription on the floor in front of the fit young woman. She peered back at me through Her aviator frames.
a slight smirk crept across Her lips and in tandem her right boot came crushing down on my paper.  it locked there, as She continued to talk to Her friend like nothing had happened. but, indeed something had happened. i needed that prescription and my name was next.  i looked at Her begging and pleading with my eyes, but the paper was all but engulfed in the treads of Her big, bad ass boots.  i gulped, sucked in some air and felt my heart actually miss a beat.

i was in a pickle. i really needed that paper. finally, i got up enough gumption to approach Her. i stood up and then very politely tried to interrupt Her conversation with Her friend. Her foot had not moved and after observing my apparent discomfort, it appeared that She was delightfully grinding my prescription into the carpet in front of me.

i cleared my throat a couple of times then started to speak, er  squeak out that my prescription was under Her boot and that i really needed it.

she spun Her head around and paused. Her contemptuous air was disconcerting, and i quivered a bit as a pair of green piercing eyes glared at me above the aviator frames.  "What do you want?" Her delivery was cutting and sharp.

i stumbled around the words a bit and clutched my wrinkled up jacket in my quivering hands like an unworthy offering.

 "uh ... please,  my prescription. ... You know ... uh, ...Your'e stepping on it ... i mean ... Your boot is on top of it. ...  could You move Your foot please."  i knew She could smell my fear.  shakily  i pointed with a trembling index finger.

She looked down disdainfully and tossed back Her cascading hair brazenly.
 "Well, go get it then."

i looked at her like she was speaking another language. "huh?'

"Go Down ... and GET IT."   She spoke rather emphatically, with a tone employed, as if i was just a bothersome little boy and then extended a well, sharpened, manicured nail and pointed downward, ...

"Now!" She ordered....

"ok", ... i replied sheepishly as i scrunched and shrunk down to Her boot level to retrieve the missing prescription.  as quickly as She had dispatched me, She turned Her head and began conversing again with Her friend, while nonchalantly propping her long extended leg on a taut athletic thigh and pumping Her muscular calf up and down.  the tread of Her boot narrowly missed clobbering the bridge of my nose or tearing and ripping ever so subtly across my cheeks. the intoxicating leathery, smell of Her boots was dizzying and i had to steady myself from toppling over from that lusty scent.

i was finally composed and set myself to the task at hand, or rescuing my prescription. i gingerly reached down and tried to pry Her boot up by grabbing underneath the thick 1" tire-like tread, but Her foot would not budge.  needless to say, i was now getting infuriated and annoyed. certainly, She must of felt my hand pushing up underneath the sole of Her damn boot.  but no, She just continued to laugh, converse and titter with Her friend, totally ignoring me and my plight.  then, i had a brilliant idea. using my knuckles as a wedge, i forced my hand in between the plush carpeting and Her treads.  i had just about reached the
now chewed up piece of paper,

when all of a sudden i heard an awful crunch like snapping kindling! my hand writhed in excruciatingly, unbelievably, intense pain. i felt sickened as Her thick platform treads came leveling down, upon my hand; devouring, chewing it up and locking it there. straining my neck and gritting my teeth, attempting to remain in some semblance of composure; the pain was toothache rocking!  to make matters worse, She began to grind those flesh eating black treads into the skin of my hand.  with eyes watering and face turning red. i tried with futility to dislodge her foot, but each time i made a little progress, She bore down all the more harder.

embarrassed to the core of my being, i looked up pleadingly at Her for mercy, and for release. Her head spun around quickly with brunette tresses following.  the pressure was eased a tad from my steam rollered hand, but She refused to release the sole of Her boot.  it continued to remain firmly, locked, stubbornly lodged and ground into my hand.  i could of screamed, or could hollered, but realistically there had been enough attention brought upon me and my ridiculous plight. my captive presence was causing a comedic stir.  all around me, i heard quiet church chuckling and an occasional giggle from Girls and younger aged Women. men seemed to look away from me with disgust, or just plain ignored me.

"Mmmmm ... you'll just have to stay down there awhile., won't You?"  She chided me as She looked at Her phone.
"I mean ... look at you."  Trapped, ... trapped with no where to go. no one to help you. "Awwwwe ... tsk, tsk, tsk ..."She leaned over me further, removed Her sunglasses and stared down hard at me with static unfeeling dewy, green eyes. 

i struggled and pleaded quietly with Her to release me. i was now the laughing stock of the waiting and reception area. "please, please ... what have i done to You?" i whispered. " just let me go. i'll leave ... really i will."  my hand throbbed with pain.

smiling coquettishly, She grabbed my head moved it gingerly and patted the side of my face against Her large, knotted, tightened calf. "now you know, i haven't finished playing with You just yet."  She growled, softly.

"all this pain and squirming is for me to reveal to You the importance of One thing."  She peered down at me and i thought Her gaze was going to burn a hole in my head. fearfully, i turned my head, afraid of what was going to happen next.

"wh ... wh... wh ... what is that? ... i asked plaintively.

She lifted up the treads of Her boots, and there was a sickening suction sound as each tread and crevice released the flesh it held onto so tenaciously.  i pulled away and up my bruised, mangled hand away from the flesh grinders and hurtfully cradled it in my arm.

She stood up towering over me, put on Her aviators then slung her backpack over Her shoulder and started for the door, then as if on cue She turned around, aimed Her faux pistol finger at me and said.

..."that you should know your place."

i stood up hesitantly, hurting and very much humiliated, watching as She and Her friend exited the building to the tune of the outright, mocking laughter. i could of sworn i heard some clapping, but maybe, my mind added that in.

in a cowardly sense, it wasn't long afterwards, that i too hastily exited the building to feverish whispers and muffled guffaws.

5/05/2018

Converse worship and pointing toes on slaves face

Converse worship and pointing toes on slaves face

now this would certainly be defined as a good day for me.

can you imagine the emotions the feelings the ecstasy at being degraded,
humiliated and objectified as nothing more than Her pedicure stand?