Femdom Cave

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Editor’s Choice Blog – December 2022

Three books on the subject of female supremacy of the interracial kind, as three very different men meet VERY similar fates at the hands and feet of exotic and masterful women from various points of the globe comprise this month’s Editor’s Choice selection…

And for just over a third of their original retail price!

AND THE THEME FOR DECEMBER…?   

The husband, settled in domestic and career bliss, who finds all his certainties regarding his life torn from him and fashioned into something quite different by dominant women who see him at his weakest and use that weakness for their own controlling and sadistic ends.

MANIPULATED AND OVERMASTERED…

First up is Nirupa Devi’s “Chattel” and her tale of a man who has lost not only his business and his family but his very freedom… And then, when the latter is returned to him, has it taken from him again in a far more final way.

A way that will ensure he finds revenge on the wife and her lover who betrayed him.

And a way that will also ensure he becomes the indentured for life servitor of the young Indian woman who has long dreamed of owning a man just like him!…

A snippet of the text contained in: “Groomed for Servitude”:

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Description automatically generated Where does a story really begin?

That’s the question we each of us ask when setting out to describe either an adventure of our own or, as in this case, that of another.

Is it at that exact point where the adventure we are about to relate actually began its life in the physical – those events related to the episode in question and ignoring all extraneous factors leading up to it? Or does it have its origins in an earlier and seemingly unrelated event?

Perhaps not an event even, but a character flaw of some kind that drew the personae dramatis together as surely as two magnets who feel the other’s irresistible pull and can do no more than accept this immutable law – albeit that one will fare better than the other in the resulting clash.

Accepting that one of those magnets is capable of exerting a far greater power of attraction than its opposite.

Such was the case when the stars aligned and brought Michael Grafton under the influence of one Nirupa Devi and made his life until then academic. The one, a handsome Englishman in his mid-forties at the time, the other, a matronly Indian widow some eleven years younger. An Englishman and an Indian woman who, not so long ago, would have been likely to be Master and servant or, at the least, employer and employee, rather than the male dependent and female ruler they were shortly to become.

That the man had once been a reasonably successful owner of a business with an attractive wife and doting children while she, Nipa Kakka, had been the young wife of an arranged marriage to an even more successful and older Indian husband who, though he might have looked like a bull-frog, ruled her as if he were a King of the jungle and she a lowly but necessary and constant presence on the food-chain, made no difference. The death of her sterile husband (that fact explaining, no doubt, why he was not able to attract a more beauteous example of Indian womanhood to his arranged bed) and her deliverance from a consequently childless union had freed the frustrated wife to use the wealth bequeathed her to become a Queen of the jungle in her own right.

Consequently, the stars sitting in judgement upon the fates of man and woman – no matter how unfair or harsh their indifferent rulings may be to one or the other – had decided that the paths of frustrated and once dominated Indian housewife and proud and once affluent English husband, father and businessman should cross.

And to hell with the consequences for the down-on-his-luck Englishman.

The freedom conferred by widowhood and the means by which to pursue her long held and undeniably warped sexual and domestic fantasies of physical and mental dominance, together with complete economic control, had set in motion the oft imagined plans she had thought must always remain a figment of her imagination.

A fantasy in regard of taking complete control of a handsome man and ruling his life in all ways.

The man of her fantasies being always a handsome Englishman.

A handsome, older, Englishman…

THEY STRIPPED HIM OF HIS MANHOOD…

Gudrun Lindstrom brings us our next tale with “Free Man to White Slave”, as a Scandinavian wife with “certain” desires that do not involve him, actually sells her husband to the young – and very wealthy – Arab girl for whom the company he owns is completing a commission.

An illegal deal that will see the unsuspecting husband transported to the middle-east in the girl’s private plane to a new life.

A life of the most unmanly service and one from which he will NEVER return…

A snippet from “Free Man to White Slave”:

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 My wife is astride me, staring down into my eyes hungrily, as if this is the last time we will get to fuck for a while and she wants to imprint the experience of it onto the hard-drive of her memory.

Imprint made for those cold nights of my absence when the need for her to ride my thrusting cock is greatest.

Hedvig!

My Nordic goddess of a wife, unmistakably Scandinavian without the necessity to speak.

So Norwegian, in fact, she is almost a stereotype.

But what a stereotype!

The body that rises above me as we make love in the only position in which she says she feels comfortable is as powerful as it is perfect and as shapely as it is exquisite. Short and French-cropped blonde-hair frames her features and the slight overbite of her teeth that imparts both a schoolgirl quality and a sense of wilfulness contradicts the womanly breasts below that are so full, conical and firm, as to need no support from the bra she insists upon wearing anyway.

A bra that is absent now and allows me an unobstructed view of nipples that rejoice in having her husband below her and his cock buried deep inside her.

“Do you like being fucked by your dominant young wife, Howard?” she said, taking me by surprise as I concentrated on holding back my eruption until I was sure she had reached her own crisis. It was the first time I had heard her speak during our lovemaking and it seemed, somehow… shocking. She was the last person I would have taken to be into game or role-playing but a small part of me that was not surprised welcomed the introduction.

“Is this what you would like from now on? To be under no illusions? To know that you are being ridden like the animal you are, powerless beneath your Norwegian goddess?”

I had never been into BDSM or anything like that – and certainly not from the receiving end – but her words and out-of-character aggression towards me triggered a need to be…

What?

Used by her?

“It is what my little Howard has always wanted, I think,” she continued, giving my cheek what I took to be a playful slap.

Her accent giving words and actions and the intent behind them an extra edge as my heated thoughts pondered the ‘little’ crack.

“To have your wonderful Hedvig take control. To be her obedient little husband.”

This was new ground for me and I was not at all sure if I liked the feel of it underfoot – or back, as it were.

So why was my cock harder than I could ever recall it as my wonderful – and now playful – wife squirmed upon it in ways that made holding my orgasm for her more difficult than I had ever found it to be previously.

And, believe me, I had never found it easy.

“I have read that some men take pleasure from having their wives serviced and satisfied by men with larger cocks,” she said, staring down at me without a trace of self-consciousness for having dared say such a thing to me.

Despite feeling appalled at the prospect, my cock twitched.

“Yes. I thought it would be so,” she smirked, taking the action of my cock for confirmation of these supposed suspicions.

“No!” I began, only to receive another, not so playful, slap across the cheek.

“Bad boy!” she scolded, making my engorged cock twitch a second time. “Do not interrupt your goddess when she is educating you to know your true self.”

SHE HAD HIM TAMED… SO SHE THOUGHT…

Our three offerings are completed by Rafael Menton’s “The Manservant Revisited”, ass yet another man is betrayed by a woman – though not on this occasion his wife – and finds the shell that is left picked up by a strange African couple left suddenly wealthy by the death of the older and childless Englishman for whom they had worked as domestics and been left his estate as thanks.  

An African woman and her husband who now want a long-term and captive domestic of their very own…

A snippet from “The Manservant Revisited”:

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Description automatically generated The image of the maximum-security prison where he had spent a year-and-a-half in a terrifying hell before the slightly less appalling stay in a prison of the Open variety and what the stain on his record had meant for his future made the decision for him.

It was not what he wanted, but he had no choice.

And the numbing winter cold the inefficient heating system of his lodgings was doing nothing to offset only his decision that much easier as he thought of the warmth and security he had once known.

Besides, the situation would only be temporary until he could find something better, he told himself as he scanned the ad in the London-UK section of Craig’s List.

“MATURE MAN WANTED BY AFFLUENT COUPLE FOR LIVE IN POSITION. SUCCESSFUL APPLICANT WILL BE EXPECTED TO PERFORM DOMESTIC TASKS AND OTHER VARIOUS HOUSEHOLD DUTIES IN RETURN FOR FOOD AND RENT-FREE ACCOMMODATION TOGETHER WITH A SMALL WEEKLY STIPEND.”

Don Jenrick shook his head as he once again rued the war-zone that had been made of his life over the past two years and a montage of images flashed through his mind as he recalled with bitterness bordering on hatred what had happened to him and the life as a teacher he had loved.

Not to mention the marriage he had loved even more and was now nothing more than past-tense.

Something that was always likely to happen when the faith in one a husband thought he could expect from his wife turned out to be as substantial as a most solemn promise from Boris Johnson or Michael Gove.

Her faith in her husband so lasting and durable it saw her divorcing him and taking their children with her after the sentence of two-years had been handed down to him.

No matter that he had protested his innocence and genuinely had been.

The wife – Caroline – who had refused to support his claims of innocence striking up a relationship with another man so quickly after his sentencing that he could not be blamed for suspecting a head start; and especially when she had relocated with him to Canada and taken his children with her being right at the top of his list of least favourite figures.

Despite a stubbornly enduring love that would not release its hold on him.

His Children, poisoned by her no doubt, no longer seemed to want anything to do with him and were at least old enough now to have a say in the matter.

Small wonder he was bitter.

And the eighteen-months he had spent incarcerated – fifteen of them in a maximum-security that frankly terrified him – hadn’t sweetened his disposition.

Strangely though, his bitterness and hatred did not extend to the love-struck and thwarted fifth-former whose lies had seen him accused.

Accused and convicted.

And, though he could have no way of knowing it, about to be enslaved…

***

Three adventures in female domestic and sexual dominance for a fraction of their retail price.

If you have suggestions for the themes to be used going ahead with the monthly “Editor’s Choice” feel free to add a blog of your own highlighting what you would like to see by way of a compilation and I’ll do my best to oblige..

Enjoy!

Editor

FDC.

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