Femdomonomy

Masochists Adored Her

Paul Kamm

Subtle dissatisfaction marred her life. Something was missing or wrong. Never had she been able to discern source of her discontent.

She shed the mysterious ache at the gym. She worked her muscles to exhaustion. She left tired; her mind empty.

About three months ago, she noticed that a couple of her gym visits overlapped with a group of three women. They were not standoffish but seemed to take so much pleasure in each other to notice the other women.

She envied their camaraderie. Eventually she chose a station nearer to the women.

Their conversation was shocking. Mostly they talked about tormenting and punishing men. Often they referred to men as slaves. Their main hobby seemed to be humiliating men.

Soon she began remembering dreams in which she hurt her husband. She kicked him, laughed and kicked him again. She felt these were old dreams that hitherto vanished when she awoke.

She was so excited. But confused. How could she actually do any of this?

At the gym, she desperately wanted to talk to the three women. But asking strangers about her weird desires seemed too embarrassing. There talk might have just been private jokes.

Finally she felt she had no choice. After she spoke, the women looked at her as if she had not shared the gym with them for months. They had not worried about being overheard.

They resented the curiosity of people seeking a secondhand thrill. But she seemed sincere. Following a bit of Q&A, they accepted her.

All of them had periods when they faced up to their true nature and came out. She should feel no shame. Her dominance and sadism could bring her many worshippers. Many men were desperate to serve a Mistress.

Talking of her husband, they advised feminization followed by public humiliation. If that did not crack his ego and bring out submissiveness, she would best divorce him. No Domme should waste her time with a vanilla man who will not be ruled.

She had often wondered why she married her husband. He was not a bad man. Merely a very dull one. When he returned home that day she looked at him and saw prey. Thinking back that was probably always in her mind. She married him because she wanted to hurt him.

Their marriage had been an unfulfilling waste.

When he came home the following day, she told him she had bought him some new clothes.

He was baffled by the outfit. His wife told him to put it on; she would help.

Cuffs locked around his wrists. He started to speak but she slapped him in the face. She told him to keep silent. He was too scared to disobey.

His panic increased as she shoved his legs into high heel boots.

She locked him to a post. She re-tightened his corset. He could barely breathe. He tried to speak a couple of times but she slapped him into silence.

She stood back examining her husband. He looked so beautiful. Not that he was pretty. It was his helpless fear that made him seem radiant. This is what she needed.

The doorbell rang. Telling him that they had company, she went to answer the door.

Her friends from the gym had arrived. They had brought a few other Dommes.

With them were wigs, cosmetics, frilly lingerie and garish dresses. Her husband would put on a one-person sissy fashion show.

For her they brought a special present. Her first whip. All of the women were practiced with whips. Much of the evening would pass with whipping lessons.

This was the beginning of a happy life. Whether her husband stayed or fled, she would enslave many men.

Pent cruelty of the years left her fiercely sadistic. Masochists adored her.