Male Chastity, Female Supremacy And Why I'd Be An Amazing Domme

by Sarah on May 21, 2010

I’d make a superb Domme if I was into female supremacy and not just male chastity.

This isn’t an idle boast, and since Joe’s comment the other day, I’ve given it a lot of thought and chewed it over with John.

Why?

Well, not because I have any intention or desire to incorporate it into my life and relationship with John, so you frisky subs out there might as well just get your hands out of your pants before you start dribbling.

And there are two overwhelming reasons for my not wanting to pursue a female-led D&S relationship with John:

  • First, as I’ve said before, I find submissive men unattractive. This isn’t to say I dislike them as individuals. What it means is I wouldn’t consider them as suitable sexual or life partners. Slice and dice this any way you want, but it’s just as much a personal preference as men who like blondes with big tits and women who like fat wallets.
  • Secondly, John simply isn’t submissive. He might like orgasm denial and the dynamics of male chastity, but female supremacy is an idea he finds hilarious. I mean, come on… women are “superior” only in what they’re best at; and men are “superior” in what they are best at. To hold them both up and claim one is wholly and intrinsically “superior” to the other is plainly silly, and only plainly silly people really believe it.

But none of this means I wouldn’t make a superb Domme for someone.

It’d just have to be someone I wasn’t having any kind of sexual relationship with. So that immediately, from where I’m looking at it, means as far as I’m concerned, he’d be in permanent orgasm denial as well as permanent male chastity.

Just to back up a bit: I’m something of a perfectionist. This isn’t to say I claim the ultimate objective truth about female supremacy or anything else; rather, it means I’d have my own idea or model of what it meant to be a Domme, and then I’d do whatever was necessary to ensure anyone playing the game with me met my standards exactly, with no room for discussion, compromise or flexibility.

This does not contradict what I’ve said previously about flexibility, because I’m not talking about being in a relationship with a sub male. He would be in my presence only to obey and I would have scant regard for his feelings or desires.

My rules, and he doesn’t have to play if he doesn’t want to.

So, my meandering thoughts down this path were I’d have to be a professional Domme, since I have no interest in having a submissive man in my life or engaging in female supremacy for pleasure. I don’t want “serving” and when I want sexual pleasure, I have a real man, John, to please me, his male chastity notwithstanding.

My typical client, then, would have to be a particular kind of man. His vision of seeing a Domme would simply have to be he has no right or expectation of receiving any particular treatment, good or bad.

The only thing he would be sure of is there would be no chance whatsoever of his orgasm (with one or two exceptions, as I’ll describe in a moment). I might engage in tease and denial, but then again I might not. Male chastity would be a given, and female supremacy an undeniable and incontrovertible fact within our microcosm.

He’d also have to be affluent or at least committed to paying for quality. See, I’ve looked at local (and not so local) Dommes and they’re all the same: you pay by the hour. Now, John, as a marketing whizz, saw the flaw in this immediately. If you can give people what they desire, what they have that insane craving for, they’ll pay you anything you ask.

So instead of hour-long sessions, I’d host entire weekends. My clients would pay £5,000 for a weekend of the most strictly enforced iron-discipline they could imagine, and then some.

I’d qualify them beforehand, and anyone not willing to accept my terms, I’d simply turn away. My terms are simple: uncompromising male chastity, utter female supremacy, and complete obedience. That’s it.

The only possible exception to their orgasm denial might be if I hired a local whore, or perhaps a rent boy to give them an orgasm against their will. I mean, if they are going to get release, I’d want them to have it in a way that makes them as self-loathing as possible, yes?

They can stop at any time they like by using the safe-word, but once it’s used that’s it. They leave immediately and there’s no refund. Now, you might be reading this and thinking, “fuck, I’d not pay that much!” or “I’d never be able to put up with that”, but that just means you’d not be in my target market. You wouldn’t embrace the depth of female supremacy I’d demand.

Anyway, where were we? Ah yes… the weekend.

If you’ve seen the old Other World Kingdom, you’ll perhaps know one common complaint from guests was it was too easy. The men wanted harsh treatment, and didn’t get it.

Remember, I’m going way beyond just male chastity here.

So their first night would be spent kneeling, locked in a posture bar with their hands behind their backs. They’d be in my bedroom and they would be treated to an exhibition of how I fuck a real man. John, of course. This is where I might tease and deny them, too. Would I let John come? I don’t know. It might be fun to enforce his male chastity, and let him sample the benefits of female supremacy, too.

Something else I might do, for especially discerning men whose wives are in on the secret, so to speak, is arrange for them to watch their wives being fucked all night by a hunky male escort, kneeling in a posture bar, as I said before. Just musing.

Punishment?

Oh yes. I’d promise – nay, guarantee them a caning the likes of which they never dared dream of. There’s no point in playing at this. I’d have them restrained, gagged and thrashed like fuck until they were genuinely weeping and begging for me to stop.

But overriding all of this would be the psychological aspect. And here’s what really would make me an exceptional Domme, and easily worth that £5,000 for a weekend of exquisite suffering: my imagination. This is what makes a man sexy to me; this is what makes me sexy to men.

Because, bluntly, I’d fuck with their heads, non stop.

Never mind male chastity, never mind female supremacy, they would leave my castle after their weekend completely psychologically broken to slavery, broken to the cane. See, in the true style of good business, they wouldn’t be just getting a weekend. I would deliver more than they paid for. It would never stop.

They wouldn’t be able to get me out of their heads.

Perhaps I’d throw in a bespoke chastity belt with the fee, or have it as an optional extra, with the agreement being once it fits and once they’re acclimatised to it, the key is mine. I would be their keyholder (or perhaps their wives would be… so many options, no?).

But this would be male chastity and female supremacy because the understanding would be that as soon as it becomes possible, permanent male orgasm becomes a way of life for them.

Again, this wouldn’t suit everyone, perhaps.

But it would suit enough. And, frankly, once I had them before me, I’d twist their subby little minds so they would be begging me to cut their balls off and put them in a jar just so they can’t ever orgasm and lose this mad and insane craving for release.

They’d come to me knowing they would leave broken, enslaved and owned men. They’d pay me for it, and pay me handsomely. Male chastity would become their religion, female supremacy their scripture, and I their fucking Goddess.

They’d go back to the pathetic ruins of their lives desperately looking forward to the next time they could afford to come and spend another weekend in Hell with me.

I would destroy them, and they would thank me for it.

Of course, none of this is real and will never happen.

Because I don’t want it to. It’s that simple. I just don’t want to be a Domme.

You might just want to be thankful of that.

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