The ball busting epic conclusion to my book’s first chapter, On Punishment! – tells the story of the most brutal ball busting ever dished out – and I didn’t even have to touch George the poor slave who endured it all: Crushed by Chaos: 500 strikes to the balls in 60 seconds! Now I don’t need to go into any further detail about that session with Sven because all you need to know is this: in the two and a half hours I had him tied up, suspended from that beam with his legs pulled apart so that his balls were fully exposed, I only needed to kick him exactly four times. Heck, for one of those hours, I wasn’t …
The Art of Psychological Domination Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 were previously published for my Patreon Subscribers is immediate, instinctive reaction was to buckle his knees inwards to protect his testicles. But the ropes I had tied so securely kept him from budging, his legs still stretched out wide. Next, he tried lifting his feet to shield his vulnerable area, but with just a few inches of slack in the rope, it wasn’t enough. His feet hovered above the floor but were barely able to move. Then came the jerking motions—twisting his body left and right, trying to rotate his groin to make it harder for me to reach. It was a futile attempt. I wasn’t in …
It’s challenging to command another person when I lack the proficiency in English to demand respect and don’t have the depth of experience from numerous sessions to guide my actions effectively. My first clue about how to conduct myself in a session came from a video I watched while studying the femdom lifestyle on kink.com—which, granted, is mostly a porn site with a thin layer of femdom around it—but it does have tiny nuggets of gold that can be found if one looks closely enough. In the video, the submissive slave is dominated entirely in a foreign language he clearly doesn’t understand. His discomfort tilts the balance of power in his Mistress’s favor, and I found this technique to be …
Fanvue written thoughts from today. I’ve been all over the place with my health the past three days and the first ten days of February haven’t been anywhere near as productive as I’d have liked them to be. But I managed to sleep for most of the past 48 hours and I’m feeling better – though it is 3am as I write this long post … I started at midnight. So I’ve pasted the 3,000 words that I wrote on FanVue earlier tonight down below and now as sort of a prologue to the post I’m adding to it at the top here. Sometimes when I write – to get myself in the mood to do it because it takes …
Speaking of lingering pain, I’d be lying if I said this whole philosophy of dishing out punishment strategically came together perfectly from day one as a Mistress. The first time I ever hit a man—well, other than my ex-husband—was during my second session, and let’s just say it didn’t go very well. In fact, saying “it couldn’t have gone any worse” would be a more accurate description of that fateful afternoon. The problem that day wasn’t the slave we were seeing, nor the Mistress who accompanied me, or even the dark, dank condo we had traveled to for the session. Nope. The real culprit of that afternoon was the bullwhip that had arrived earlier that week—a very expensive Indiana Jones …
My extreme femdom philosophy dictates that I don’t sit facing the slave’s head during extreme pussy worship or extreme shit feeding; I always sit facing the slave’s balls. Today, I’m facing this way because, let’s face it, men like to see a face get attacked with a pussy. To begin a teasing or toilet session, I always (since 2024) lay out three tools on the desk for the slave to see: a small branding iron sitting on top of my equally small electric oven, a taser, and the tiniest opaque bottle you’ve ever seen—the inside contains Resiniferatoxin, or what I tell my slaves is “hell unleashed on your balls.” From that point, I matter-of-factly lay out the rules for the …
In the heart of Bangkok, where shadows dance with the night, a dominatrix crafts her dominion. Born from the darkest corners of her past, she now controls with an iron will, her sessions a blend of fear and fantasy. Every touch is a story, every command a testament to her survival. Here, in her world, she’s not just untouchable; she’s the one who decides who falls, who rises, and this is the 75th word. And this part should now be the exciting part of the story. The part that is behind Patreon’s paywall on my blog page. So I’ll color this green. If this works, when I look at this from my phone, this part should be hidden. I’m …
“After fifteen years of mastering the art of influence and control, I’m finally pulling back the curtain on what really happened behind the scenes at my website. The truth about the illusions, the power struggles, and the ones you thought you knew will surprise you. This is a first in a series of my unfiltered account—written without restraint, so click on the attachment if you’ve ever wondered what it’s really like to navigate a world where perception is everything, you won’t want to miss this.”
Today, as an old family friend pulled up to say hello, I found myself doing a little mental exercise. He was wearing the same red shirt I last saw him in 10 years ago, riding the same rusty old motorbike with its sidecar. I imagined plucking him right out of this scene and dropping him into Bangkok traffic just to see how wildly out of place he’d look. Once I had that image clear in my mind—him looking utterly lost on Sukhumvit Road—I took it even further. I transported him to Times Square in New York City. This man has never truly seen traffic in his life. I asked him point-blank to describe the worst traffic jam he’d ever experienced, …
