Whipped for the Sin of Maleness
“You sweep and mop my floors. You wash my dishes and clothing. You cook my meals.”
Domme Ilsa spoke with acid contempt.
“But that is not why I let you live in my home.”
Her enjoyment was obvious.
“Your service is secondary. I keep you to see you weep. To watch your bruised, scarred skin redden under my lashes.”
Her arm swung fast and sure. Domme Isla was practiced in the punishment of men.
“This is what I wish I could do to every man.”
She punished him for one reason. For being male.
“Your hairy body disgusts me. If your penis were not locked in metal, I wouldn’t be able to control myself. I’d cut it off. Maybe eventually, I will.”
She paused to catch her breath. It was time to switch to the cane.
“Your mind, how filthy is it? Men are selfish, greedy. You are childish but not childlike. Men are never innocent. You are born guilty.”
Domme Ilsa put her foot on his head and pressed down, then resumed his whipping with more force.
“One day, every woman will realize their superiority. The natural right of woman to rule man.”
She grabbed his hair, raised his head, slapped his cheeks.
“Every man will be a slave. Women will keep men in kennels. Men are dogs; they should live like them.”
She kicked his side.
“Lick my shoes.”
He obeyed with propitiatory fervor.
“On your back. Clean my soles. I stepped in dog excrement earlier.”
A routine day in the house of a female supremacist. This happens daily throughout the world.
One day these women will unite.
Originally posted 2017-02-11 06:18:05.