Cfnm And Female Supremacy Stories

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I do wish people would stop repeating this lie.
Even in the piece you wrote, you clearly showed that women do not have equality: they have superiority.
I was 15 when I first learned about Female Genital Mutilation and Riot Grrrl and declared myself, officially, a feminist. That was also the year when I had a growth spurt and went on an Atkins diet, and first started to receive a new form of attention. It expressed itself in…

BUT if it’s slavery you want, if it is to live under the yoke of a dominant woman that you crave, then don’t fool yourself. You have nothing to say, nothing to lose, nothing to negotiate, nothing to sign, nothing to trust, nothing to expect, nothing to demand, and nothing to give.
Naturally, this doesn’t suit your interpretation. See why you tackle this by the wrong angle? because you are putting yourself and your will as first and foremost, as the decisive factor. It’s alright if you want to choose a house, a watch or even possibly, a partner. If you want to state your demands, proclaim your interpretation of what servitude under a woman should be and then scan possible candidates to fit in with your scheme of things. But this can’t work if you want to be chosen, taken, enslaved. Then it’s simply not you who will be the decisive factor. And rest assured that, should you end up being chosen and enslaved, then nothing will suit you. Simply because nothing will be supposed to. Instead you will have only one paramount goal in life, that not only you but everything you do always perfectly suits Her. You will be spurred by a permanent urge to make sure every aspect of your Mistress’ life gives her perfect satisfaction — even the most mundane, minute details of her life. Including what should not be of your responsibility, as you will have realised rather painfully that you invariably end up being the victim of her displeasure, no matter the reason. Nothing will ever be more vital for you than her full contentment.
By then you won’t ever give a thought to what could possibly suit you or not.
Thinking of yourself as a pair of shoes sitting in a shop window could already be a great step forward to start grasping the situation. The situation as it is, and not as you wish it to be. Yes, as a possible slave, that’s about all the options you have, and all that your wishes can amount to. All you can do is be such a pair of shoes that it could attract the eye of a passing dominant woman. And that would be no small feat. Imagine, to be so outstanding that it would be enough to make her glance at you, make her stop and consider you, make her cross the threshold, demand to try you, step into you and stretch you to see how you fit, take a few steps in you looking casually at herself in the mirror, and even… even… maybe, make her feel like picking you up and take you home as loot. So instead of wondering why dominant women don’t fit in with your expectations, why not try your best to be the most attractive pair of shoes, and also, to be displayed in the right shopwindow. And beyond that… things are not, and will not ever be in your hands
And then, even if you are chosen and picked up, even if your owner is wonderfully beautiful, you will only be one more pair amongst her collection of shoes. In fact, the more ravishing and vainglorious she’ll be, and the harder and more frustrating it will be for you. Oh sure, she will probably have taken a fancy at you and she might try you as soon as she’s home. She will wear you, bend, stretch and soften you so that you mould yourself around her feet to become a supple and comfortable wear. She might slip into you and take you out quite often even, if you’re such a great pair of shoes, you could be one among her favourites. In the beginning. For a while. A whole season maybe. Yet, sooner or later, she’ll tire of you and you’ll find yourself increasingly spending endless time in some dark wardrobe, waiting with so many other shoes, anxiously hoping she might pick you up again, just one more time. But there will always be more shoes coming in, brand new shoes. Those will be the ones picked up and taken out now. Not you. In fact, after some time, never you anymore. And the realisation will settle ever so slowly on you, as implacably as thin dust. Until you’ll know you are forgotten, forsaken. Disgraced. And then, then you’ll start making yourself as discreet as can be. Then you’ll only hope for not being noticed. You’ll cringe with fear each time she opens the wardrobe. You will know your fate by then. Inescapable fate. And you will only hope to remain ignored in that dark cupboard, because there, there at least you will still be hers, you’ll still get those occasional glimpses of her, you’ll still be able to cling to that shred of slavery. You’ll be one of hers, in her stable.
The dreaded spring cleaning will have become your nightmare. That fatal day she will pick you up and exclaim lightheartedly ‘Ah yes, these ones, I remember. Ages I haven’t worn them. Don’t think I’ll ever wear them again either. Better get rid of them.’ If you’ve really been that very remarkable, exceptional pair of shoes for her maybe you’ll catch a shade of nostalgia on her smile. For a very brief instant. Before she dumps you. Most likely you’ll simply be discarded without a glance. Dropped in the dustbin. So long slave. You’ve had your time. Your day of glory. That ephemeral bright beautiful day she took you home as her last acquisition. When she was joyfully trying you in her bedroom, playfully wriggling her toes inside you, smiling at the thinness and softness of the leather.
If slavery is what you want. If without consensus, without gift, trust or expectation, only to be taken, used and abused, torn apart, exploited and dumped for the sole satisfaction of an egotistical mistress is your craving… nothing would stop you from craving it. Surely not the realisation this will be your fate. And you would not bother with your hopes, all your expectations and interpretations of Female Supremacy.
The Underground Life in Imperia-Laboria’s

The Latest picture uploaded to the Zlita Story folder, in the website, shows the underground life in Imperia-Laboria.
When we Earthlings talk about the underground life of a large megalopolis, we often refer to some avant-gardiste, even elitist group of people, such as artists, trendsetters, socialites, forming a rather confidential cultural group on the margin of mainstream society.
On Imperia-Laboria, the Underground refers to quite the opposite. There it designates not an elitist group of insiders, but rather the ignored mass of males at the lowest strata of society. Laborious and despised, kept captive below the surface of the infernal planet, in the dark subterranean maze of factories and sweatshops where the light of the sun never penetrates. They are the silent, insignificant, innumerable ants toiling endlessly, without ever any respite or any hope of escaping their condition. They come from all the confines of the Galaxy, from such a variety of worlds, societies, cultures. Yet, now that they are enslaved by the Amazons they all look alike, totally interchangeable, shorn, their naked and emaciated bodies bruised and marked by the whip. All these males have one thing in common: they all, at one point in their life, made that fatal encounter with the Amazons of Sleeek and from that moment on they have been the slaves of their captors.
Of course all that is old news, we’ve been dwelling on Imperia-Laboria for some time now, the infernal planet whose reputation is such that the mere mention of its name sends shivers down the spine of any men in the Galaxy. And for good reasons too. For males, that industrial hell deep inside the galactic Empire of Sleeek is literally a black hole. It is so greedy for male labour that it drains all the available resources of slaves on the market, further creating such a demand that thousands of pirate ships are scouting the Galaxy and venturing deeper and deeper into the Federation territories to capture always more males. And as a black hole, it never let any male it engulfs reappear again. There is even a law forbidding any slave from leaving the planet under any circumstance, with the few exceptions of personal slaves of visiting Amazons. Since there is never enough male labour, it is only natural that the mistresses are overworking their beasts of burden to the limit, and far beyond, subjecting them to the harshest discipline and the most degrading living conditions. Not that males’ fate is much rosier in the rest of the empire, but here on Imperia-Laboria, it’s even worse.

‘There all is order, luxury, serenity and voluptuousness.’
Now haven’t you ever dreamed of such a world? Well, it’s out there, all around us, already occupying a large part of our Galaxy. And of course it is far more formidable than you could have ever imagined in your wildest fantasies. More than a utopia, it’s a reality. And it’s a perfect world. THE perfect world. Bright, elegant, harmonious, luminous. As the poet used to say, there all is order, luxury, serenity and voluptuousness.
Of course for males, the picture is somewhat different. It’s not all that bright, luxurious and voluptuous. Quite the contrary in fact. Like in any perfect world it’s quite natural that some have to pay the price for all that perfection. And perfection is not cheap, as anyone knows. It’s always the same routine, the omelette, and the broken eggs. (Yes, broken eggs. No, of course not, the pun was not intended.)
‘Like in any perfect world it’s quite natural that some have to pay the price for all that perfection’
Anyway, so it’s the males who have to foot the bill, and isn’t that wonderful? So fitting actually. In a Female Supremacist world, what more appropriate role could be devolved to males than to be reduced to the most abject servitude? Males were born with that sole purpose, to be sacrificed, to be broken and conditioned into docile tools only destined to serve and toil for the benefit of their superiors, their feared and revered Mistresses. Actually they love it. They really do.
Any Amazon of Sleeek could easily demonstrate to a visitor how happy and grateful her slaves are to sacrifice each and every minute of their lowly existence to serve her, to provide her with all the wealth and power and comfort she is entitled to. And the reason why the males are so happy to do it, no matter how harsh and abject the conditions of their servitude, is because it is their true nature as males to serve. They relish in the hardship, the oppression, the degradation that is their lot. It is their happiness to be exploited mercilessly, knowing that their suffering contributes to the wealth and comfort of their adored mistresses. What could slaves do with the luxury and leisure anyway, or indeed the power that is the privilege of the women? Obviously they wouldn’t know what to do with it, they would be lost, and that would make them unhinged.
‘One only needs to look at our deplorable little planet. What went wrong is that somewhere along the line males got in charge’
One only needs to look at our deplorable little planet. What went wrong is that somewhere along the line males got in charge. Evolution was derailed, mixing technical progress with retarded superstitions and uncontrollable violence. In a frenzy of paranoia psychopaths obsessed with power but usually still putting their faith into some primitive, supposedly omnipotent and spitefully misogynistic bearded god have saturated the planet with nuclear weapons, waiting to see who would be the first one of them to initiate global destruction. Other megalomaniacs are playing a sick game called the markets to concentrate into their hands riches that they could never spend in their lifetime, in the process wrecking the economy, plunging the rest of humanity into poverty, when not complete misery, and worse of all, poisoning the planet and eradicating other animal species. That’s what happens when men are in charge. Not surprisingly, our planet has been evaluated as being out of control and spiralling into self destruction by the rest of the Galaxy and therefore quarantined indefinitely. Just as it had reached its industrial age and was on the brink of its space age.
‘Our planet has been evaluated as being out of control and spiralling into self destruction by the rest of the Galaxy and therefore quarantined indefinitely’
And planet Earth is not an isolated case. A large part of the Galaxy is still in the grip of similar patriarchal perversion. These primitive worlds are united under the banner of a federation named… The Federation. Yes, indeed, how original! It’s the males you know, what could you expect?
And it is that scourge that the Sleeekean empire has to combat. Of course it’s a fight of galactic proportions (well, it’s a galaxy, after all). And it’s a war that has been going on for such a long time, thousands and thousands of Earth years. The Amazons have to fight the Federation almost all over the Galaxy. Of course they are bound to prevail. They are the good girls. The males are the bad boys. Let there be no doubt about that. But still, it’s a difficult struggle, and a confrontation that might still endure for thousands more years probably.
But that’s only part of the Zlita saga. The main purpose of that story is to show the daily life in the Empire of Women. It’s difficult to imagine for Earthlings, even those who are sympathetic to the idea of Female Supremacy. What is the social structure of an Amazon world? What are the mundane aspects of life in a millenary matriarchal society? What can be the mindset of Amazons who have been ruling the most powerful empire of the Galaxy for so long? And of their slaves? It would certainly seem strange to many an Amazon of Sleeek, but in a pure spirit of scientific curiosity we have also decided to describe the Sleeekean Female Supremacist society not only from the viewpoint of the Mistresses -the only one of interest, really- but also from that of their slaves. We know that many readers feel some kind of weird interest if not even empathy for the lowly creatures.
‘there are those unruly pirate slave-huntresses marauding around’
Maybe some male readers are contemplating the possibility of ending up under the yoke of these wonderful women? Not an altogether impossible prospect really, as Planet Earth has been a reservoir of raw male material for the Amazons of Sleeek for ages. Of course this predation has somewhat slackened since the planet is quarantined, but still, there are those unruly pirate slave-huntresses marauding around, you know. So, better show some caution if you are wandering in some remote part of our planet and you see a strange vessel obviously coming from outer-space. Or, if that’s what you dream of, jump on the occasion, but be careful what you wish for.
There, the stage is set. Come visit the Empire of Sleeek.
In the Zlita folder in:
http://nanshakh.com/fsp6.htm
The Adventures Of Zlita Slave Huntress From Outer Space is an interplanetary saga raging from one end of the Galaxy to the other, on the trail of a charming young slave huntress, a dashing officer freshly out of the Imperial Space Academy of planet Sleeek, the planet at the heart of the Amazon Empire, siege of the Empress. When she is not hunting or trying to secure ever larger supplies of males (the slave trade is permanently booming in the Empire), Zlita is pursuing her arch-enemy Vulka, the ruthless pirate girl.
Both young women were together at the Space Academy, both are consumed with ambition and both have chosen the slave trade as an easy and exciting way to satisfy their greed and their thirst for power. Also, both have known each other from early childhood, being the heiresses of two of the noblest and oldest dynasties of Sleeek, with their family estates contiguous to each other. As if that was not enough, both their mothers have been very old and good friends. It seems everything destined these two aristocratic girls to be the best of friends, almost sisters, when in fact it all concurred to separate and oppose them. One is an angelical looking buxom blonde, the pride of her mother, of the Imperial Space Academy and of the Imperial court of Sleeek. The other is a brunette.
As if that didn’t say enough, the latter, Vulka, has been the bad girl from an early age, showing dispositions to antagonise any form of authority and a notable talent to scandalise all the Sleeekean good society. A rebel.
To be perfectly honest Zlita’s adventures are not that breathless. One of the reasons undoubtedly being the excruciating slowness of the author. That said, one has to bear in mind that adventures in outer-space tend to happen at a rather slow pace.
‘that Galaxy, or ‘the Milky’ as people familiarly refer to it in Outer Space, is criss-crossed from one end to the other by spaceships with utterly bored crews and passengers’
If only because even at the amazing speeds reached by the most advanced spaceships, and we are talking here about thousands of times the speed of light, yet interstellar travels are so long, but so so very long. Really it’s exasperating. To put it simply, that Galaxy, or ‘the Milky’ as people familiarly refer to it in Outer Space, is criss-crossed from one end to the other by spaceships with utterly bored crews and passengers. So much for hair raising pursuits in space. A high speed chase between spaceships through the Galaxy would be significantly less breathless and scary than a pursuit with gondolas through the canals of Venice four centuries ago.
Arrogant women, born to rule, spoiled from the cradle, raised in the most superfluous luxury, surrounded by myriads of slaves whose lives are worth less than that of insects
No, the real interest of the Zlita space opera, it’s the Women. Oh right! and the Outer Space stuff too, of course. You know, ‘all’ the rest of the Galaxy, ‘all’ those millions of worlds that we Earthlings could not possibly imagine. Plenty of exoticism there, sure. But what really matters, it’s the Amazons. Imagine that, a huge, hundreds of thousands years old empire of dominant women. Arrogant women, born to rule, spoiled from the cradle, raised in the most superfluous luxury, surrounded by myriads of slaves whose lives are worth less than that of insects. Educated by their mothers to be naturally imbued with their power, their absolute superiority and their mission to expand their Female Supremacist empire to the entire Galaxy.
The young Amazons of Sleeek are trained to conquer, vanquish, and enslave. Males, enslave males, of course. They have no grudge against any other living creature of the universe. It’s just the males. They do not really hate males either, it’s just that males were born to serve, and the thought of any male not being enslaved to them is quite upsetting. Male slave labour is the vital fluid of their Empire. A formidable empire controlling a la
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