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Showing posts from May, 2015

Beach Bum Footslave

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The Gynarchy’s sandy beaches are littered with ‘beach bum slaves’ – buried up to their rusty necks in the sand, and at the foot-mercy of all and sundry:

His Just Deserts

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Another mammoth story by Slave Paul, complete with his own illustrations! It was a very high post for any free-male to hold in the States of the Gynarchy X. Assistant Immigration Officer was indeed a title to aspire to - certainly for someone who had only recently moved to the Gynarchy X himself! In fact, one of the main reasons for his recent move to the States of Gynarchy X was to secure this position. Paul and his beautiful girlfriend Lucy needed every penny they could get. For the last year Lucy had been the official guardian of her younger sister, 18 year old Aimee-Marie, ever since their parents had been caught smuggling ‘illegal substances’ across the Gynarchy border. Lucy’s parents were given the choice of a heavy fine, jail or banishment for life. They selfishly chose the latter. This meant that Lucy had to drop out of her postgraduate college training to become a housewife/carer to her sister. Aimee-Marie was 5 years her sister’s junior and Lucy could not stand the idea o...

Fear (of the whip!)

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‘Truly thy slave feareth the burn of thy mighty whip on his back, lover! See how he kisseth thy feet in supplication, lest thou be disposed to beat him again!’ 'And thine, my dear! And thine!' 

Submissive Males Volume 4

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1. Homework Mistress and her husband are going out clubbing for the evening. As I kiss mistress’s feet temporarily goodbye in the basement dungeon, where the happy couple are leaving me for an anticipated 12 hours without any food or water, the master-sir instructs me that I must write a 650 word essay eulogising a pair of his wife's thick, grey bootsocks (i.e. the ones she has on now) as I humbly await their return. As the mistress cruelly, but kindly, holds one of her thick-grey-socked feet up to my kneeling nose for sniffing, her husband explains that his beautiful wife has graciously deigned to leave her sweaty, grey bootsocks with me all weekend (as she will shortly be changing into her clubbing stilettos), so that I can garner inspiration for my essay. He further warns me that the essay must: Be written in fancy, but humble slave speak Be hugely respectful of his wife's socks Praise his wife's socks Conclude that I am not worthy to serv...