Femdom Obedience Stories

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Femdom Obedience Stories
Stella snapped her leash onto my collar again and said, softly, “Get up, Arch.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied as I sat up on the couch and stood in front of her.
She stood very close to me and looked me up and down. “I see my phallus is resting…waiting for instructions from me.” She touched its tip very lightly with her crop. Then she walked around behind me and let her fingers trail over the cheeks of my ass, which was still stinging slightly from the two recent strokes of her crop. “Nice,” she mused to herself. She returned to stand in front of me. With the crop hanging from one wrist and the leash from the other, she reached out, grasped my nipples and rolled them between her thumbs and middle fingers. Then, suddenly, she dug the nails of her middle fingers into them and squeezed with her thumbs.
Immediately, I flinched, sucked in my chest and let out a gasp, “UUGGHHH.”
She continued to squeeze and pull while looking directly into my eyes and smiling, saying nothing.
I stood still and clamped my jaw slightly, enduring the pain that I was not accustomed to experiencing. With each breath, I emitted a soft sound, “mmmhhh, mmmhhh, mmmhhh, mmmhhh.”
After four or five breaths, Stella let go and, still looking directly into my eyes, said, “Nice, sensitive nipples. Oh, Arch, I’m going to enjoy training you…and I think, eventually, you are going to enjoy it, too.”
Then she turned and began to walk away, saying, “Come with me, my slave,” as she pulled on the leash. She led me across the room and seated herself in a wing-backed chair. “Kneel in front of me, Arch,” she commanded, pointing with her crop.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I dropped to my knees and sat back on my heels. As I started to raise my head, I could see that she was sitting with her legs slightly apart. Because her shirt was short, I could see quite clearly that she was wearing no panties, and that she had a neatly shaved pussy.
I must have been staring, because she said, “Look at my FACE, Arch!”
When I looked up, she was smiling. “Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, smiling back.
“Arch, I’m sure you’ve heard the expression ‘position is everything’. Well, you are about to learn the correct position to assume when you kneel before me. Pay attention!” She smiled and moved her knees just slightly farther apart. “When you kneel, your knees must be spread apart…as wide as possible without being uncomfortable. Your back must be straight and your hands must be on your knees, palms up. Your back must be straight and your head held up so that I can see your eyes. Your eyes shall be cast slightly downward, so that you are not looking directly into mine, unless I tell you to look at me. Do you understand?”
“Good! Assume the position I just described.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” As I adjusted my position, I was thinking how I might escape this situation. However, I could think of no possibilities at the moment and decided to bide my time and find out what she had in store for me.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I looked into her eyes. They twinkled pleasantly. Her face had a gentle, kindly expression.
“Arch, your education as a slave begins with obedience training. You may find it a bit humiliating at times and unpleasant at other times. You may find some of my orders objectionable and, initially, you may balk at some of the things you are told to do. At such times you are likely to think me harsh and hard-hearted, but you must remember that my purpose is to make an obedient and trustworthy slave of you. The sooner you learn to bend your will completely to mine, the sooner this phase of your training will end. Do I make myself clear, Arch?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered, feeling a bit apprehensive.
“Good! Henceforth, when I refer to you as ‘slave’, you may behave as the person you are now…obedient and respectful. When I tell you to follow me or to go somewhere, you will walk erect, stand or sit where I tell you, and generally act as my obedient servant. However, when I refer to you as ‘puppy’, you shall immediately position yourself on all fours as my puppy dog. When I tell my puppy to sit, you shall assume a position similar to that you are in now, except that your hands shall be on the floor in front of you. You shall move about on all four and obey my commands in that mode. You shall, in either slave or puppy mode, respond to my instructions in the manner you have already learned. Do I need to repeat any of these instructions?”
“No, Ma’am,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“Alright, then, puppy, let’s get started. Assume the puppy sitting position.”
"Yes, Ma'am." Reluctantly, I leaned forward and placed my palms on the floor just in front of my knees.
“Puppies generally love their Mistresses, don’t they, Arch?”
“And how do they often show their affection, Arch?”
I didn’t want to bite on that one, so I responded, “In many ways, Mistress. I am not sure what you have in mind.”
“They often lick their Mistress’ feet, don't they, puppy? I’d like you to show your affection that way now!” She extended one foot.
I hesitated, but only momentarily. As she began to tap the palm of her hand with her crop I replied, “Yes, Mistress.” I crawled forward, lowered my face, and began to lick the foot she had extended. I noticed her toenails were neatly pedicured and polished bright red like her fingernails. I was glad her feet were clean.
After I had diligently licked both her feet, she stood up and said, “Good puppy. Now you must be thirsty. Follow me, puppy.”
She led me, on my hands and knees, across the room and through a doorway into a bright, well-appointed kitchen. “Sit,” she commanded.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I sat back on my heels and again placed my palms on the floor in front of me.
Stella opened a cupboard and withdrew a metal bowl. It was a type that is frequently used to provide food or water to a dog. She filled it with water and set it in front of me. “Drink, puppy.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” I started to pick up the bowl and lift it to my mouth.
“NO!” She bent forward, grasped my ears, and pulled my face close to hers. “Drink from it like the puppy dog you are!” Her eyes told me she meant business.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said softly. I leaned down and began sucking water from the bowl.
When I was finished drinking, she patted me on the head and said, “Good puppy. Now I think it’s time for a walk. Follow me, puppy.” With my leash in hand she opened an outside door and, holding it open, said, “OK. Out you go.”
I was horrified. I had no idea what nor who might be out there, and I was stark naked. “Oh my god, Mistress! I can’t go out there! I don’t have any clothes on!”
“Oh my,” Mistress said with a sigh. “I can see I’m going to need my strap.” She reached up to a hook beside the door and took down a heavy leather strap. It was about eighteen inches long, two inches wide, and split about half its length into three equal tails. Without saying another word, she leaned back and delivered a sharp blow to may ass. WHACK
“AAAHHHH,” I yelped and nearly leaped through the doorway.
Stella followed, closing the door behind her. She held the leash in one hand and the strap in the other.
We were on the back porch of a well-built fieldstone building. Three steps down was a beautifully landscaped yard, beyond which was a dense stand of mature trees. There were no other buildings anywhere in sight. While the front of the building through which I had entered appeared to be a small, stand-alone office building, the back was that of a private home in a quiet, secluded location in the countryside.
“See, you can come out here, can’t you, Arch? This isn’t so bad, is it? Let’s take a stroll through the yard and, perhaps, into the woods.”
I sat back on my heels, placed my palms on the floor in front of me and, looking up at Mistress Stella, asked, “Mistress, may I speak?”
“Mistress I need to pee and I think it would be good for me to go back inside and go to the toilet before we take our stroll.”
“That won’t be necessary, Puppy. You will get your chance to pee soon enough.” She turned and tugged on the leash, indicating for me to follow her down the steps into the lawn.
I decided I could hold it for a while longer, so I said no more and followed her. We made our way slowly across the soft grass toward the trees at the back of the yard. Along the way we stopped to admire various flowers and plants. Stella sniffed some of the flowers and remarked about their pleasant odor. When we reached the trees, she continued leading me into the wooded area ten or fifteen yards. Then she stopped and said, “Alright, Puppy, you may pee now.”
I was taken aback and exclaimed, “Here, Mistress…now?”
“Yes, Arch, here and now! You know how a puppy pees. Pick out a tree, lift your leg, and pee on it.”
“Do it,” she ordered, making sure I saw the strap in her hand.
I hesitated a moment, then said, “Yes, Mistress.” I crawled to a tree, lifted one leg, and peed. In order to avoid peeing on my self, I had to use one hand to direct my stream toward the tree. Mistress raised no objection to that.
When I was finished, Stella said, “Good puppy, Arch. Whenever you need to pee, just let me know and we’ll come outside as promptly as possible. Puppies must be housebroken, you know.”
“But what about when I need to defecate,” I asked.
“Just like any puppy, you’ll do that in the yard, also. Then Slave Arch will be sent out with the pooper-scooper to clean up after you.”
Now, we’ll head back to the house,” she said.
I followed obediently, but I was startled when we came out of the trees into the yard again. There were a number of other women strolling about, each with a puppy on a leash. Two were slave puppies, like me, and the rest were real puppies—adult dogs, actually. When I hesitated, Mistress simply pulled on the leash and continued walking. I felt myself flush with embarrassment, but I followed.
One of the women who were walking real dogs was Angela McBride, the secretary who had contacted me and invited me to this incredible meeting. Stella lead me directly to her, and they began chatting as if there were nothing unusual about this scene. I simply remained motionless, looking down at the grass.
Suddenly, I felt something behind me. It was the dog Mistress Angela—I assumed that is what she should be called—was walking. It was sniffing at my ass and between my legs. When it actually licked my balls, I sat down quickly.
As the conversation ended, I hear Mistress Stella say, “Tomorrow, I want to introduce my new puppy to everyone. Will you pass the word that we’ll all have coffee together at nine in the morning? And please remind them not to bring other puppies. That might be too distracting. We’ll concentrate on getting to know Arch…and on Arch getting to know us.”
“Certainly, Stella. I’ll be most happy to tell all of them. See you in the morning,” Mistress Angela replied. She left us, leading her dog around the side of the house. When she was gone, only Mistress Stella and I were left in the yard.
I was embarrassed, humiliated, and tired of this charade. I thought to myself, why should I continue to be so docile and to submit to this? I wanted to get away from here. I raised up on my knees and grabbed the leash, trying to pull it away from Stella. As I did so, I said assertively, “Enough of this. I want my clothes back, and I want to get out of this place!”
To my surprise, Stella said nothing. Rather, she held tightly to the leash and produced a whistle from her pocket. She began to blow on it, making a loud and shrill noise. Immediately, three women came running from the house. Stella jerked hard on the leash and threw me off balance. I fell forward on the ground. As I was struggling to get up, the three women pounced on me and pushed me down on my stomach. One of them sat on me while the other two pulled my wrists and ankles together and secured each wrist strap to the corresponding ankle strap with a steel snap ring. They also attached a leash to each of the ‘D’ rings on my ankle straps As soon as this was done, they all lifted me and set me on my knees, making sure my legs were spread by pulling on the leashes attached to my ankles. Mistress Stella held her leash tight and pulled down on it so that me face was on the ground. As soon as they had me in this ass-high, face-down position, one woman stood on the leash attached to my collar and the other two made sure my legs stayed spread by holding tension on the ankle leashes.
Stella wasted no time. She positioned herself beside me and began to thrash my ass with her strap, saying, “BAD PUPPY!” with each hard stroke. THWACK, THWACK, THWACK.
I began to scream in pain. “AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH. AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH, AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH.
Mistress was relentless. She continued beating my ass. THWACK, THWACK, THWACK, THWACK, THWACK, THWACK, THWACK, and I continued to scream, AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH.
Finally, she stopped. Breathing hard, she puffed out, “Thank you, ladies. Now, please help me carry this naughty puppy into the house.”
My ass was on fire, and I continued moaning as they carried me. They set me down in a corner of the kitchen in front of a cage made of steel bars. It was three feet wide, about three feet high, and six feet long. It had a thin pad on the floor. The door was open.
Stella passed the leash through the opening in the cage and upward through the bars at the top. She held on to the leash and made sure her strap was gripped tightly in her other hand. “OK, release his arms…or should I call them his front paws?” When I was again on all fours, she smacked my sore ass lightly with the strap and ordered, “In you go, Puppy! Your training will continue tomorrow, after you have had a night to think over your bad behavior.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I whispered and crawled into the cage, which she promptly locked behind me.
None of the women seemed at all upset by the events that had just taken place. It was as if this was all in a day’s work. One of the women said jokingly, “Well, Stella, do you think that got his attention?”
“In one way or another,” she replied with a smile. “Did you notice my phallus is certainly at attention?”
It was only then I realized that, sometime during the strapping Mistress Stella had just given me, I developed a rigid erection.
The women were all giggling as they left me locked in the cage with my sore ass and my hard cock.

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July 24, 2019 July 24, 2019 by goldenSlave101
My sissy slave Dream  The three Women laughed in unison. It was my Wife’s birthday and She had invited over her two best … Read more

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Mature wife controls her new husband.
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An ordinary detached house in a plain, unremarkable suburb, 65 miles from London. 44 Green Meadows was built, along with hundreds of others after the war. Rows and rows of neat, adequately maintained windows and neatly manicured lawns. Apple blossom trees evenly spaced outside every other house, and a post-box on the corner. You can hear the blackbirds on the telegraph wires and the odd crow on the tops of the Douglas firs down in the valley by the local newsagent.
At exactly one minute to ten an unremarkable event took place. The doorbell of No.44 rang, ding dong, pressed by the finger of a handsome 23 year old man. Slight of figure, shy and with a flop of black hair over his eyes. A minute passed, two, a robin landed on a fence, bobbed and flew away over the rooftops and the lines of washing and neat little patios and acres of decking. Three minutes.
Inside, Mrs Eleanora Martin smoothed down her plain cotton dress, checked her hair in the mirror, with a quick upward pat at the back and opened the door.
Silently and with head bowed Simon entered the hall, and stood there, unable to move, holding his suitcase in front of him like a shield, staring into mid-space at the light, well vacuumed powder blue carpet that smothered the floor and stairs in a sweetly scented veil of feminine control.
This was the first time they had met. The air was full of anticipation. An electric atmosphere of expectation. Simon breathed in the warm, almost stale air of the place. The radiators were on, all the double-glazed, hermetically sealed windows were shut, locked, with their little keys hung on tiny brass hooks high above each curtain pole. The house was filled with dainty objects. Neat clean little porcelain figurines on intricately carved mahogany veneer shelving.
The house looked like a page from the back of a Sunday paper colour supplement. You half expected to see a glamorous granny wrapped in a towel emerge from a side entry bath, or be offered a set of commemorative mugs depicting some deeply depressing memory from a bygone age.
"I will show you to our bedroom, Simon.'
The word 'our' tore through Simon's brain, and a sudden rush of adrenalin and near panic made him glance almost imperceptibly behind him, as if trying to map out his escape route. He need not have bothered. Mrs Martin had already shut the door, put across the chain, locked both the bottom and top bolts and pulled across the thick curtains. The house was now sealed. Locked down, airless, oppressive and silent.
'Yes Mrs Martin", Simon whispered, following her up the staircase to the first floor landing.
Mrs Martin wore a neat mid-blue lined cotton skirt, a flared hem just below the knee, plain tan tights and beige court shoes, with a modest heel. On top a cotton blouse with sleeves locked tightly down with a neat row of satin buttons, and a high frilled neck. At the top of the stairs Simon noticed every room was shut. The powder blue carpet continued to create a uniform feel of feminine control and each identical door, painted white, with small brass handles gave away nothing.
Mrs Martin opened the door to her bedroom. Neat, clean and orderly. A double bed dominated the room. Plain, sturdy with a padded pink headboard. Simon noticed the bedclothes immediately. Not a duvet but an old fashioned eiderdown neatly tucked over traditional pink blankets and cotton sheets. Every sheet perfectly tucked in, ironed, wrinkle free. Each pillow perfectly aligned.
The curtains were open. Pink, ruffled and tied back with large satin ribbons. Heavy net curtains obscured the view of the rear garden. The windows tightly shut, locked. Silence. The ticking of an alarm clock by the bed. A long cotton nightdress neatly arranged on the left-hand pillow. Casting his eyes around the room, a plain oak dressing table with an assortment of stiff wooden hairbrushes and clothes brushes. A matching wardrobe. Locked. The key missing, presumably in the possession of Mrs Martin. Everything was in it's place.
Simon had been in the house less than 5 minutes, but could already feel the control that Mrs Martin exerted on him. It felt as if everything that was happening had been carefully choreographed, arranged, it almost felt as if the house itself had rules.
'As we discussed Simon, you will live with me for 6 weeks as my...... 'husband', and we will see whether you really do want to live in a household where every detail of your life is controlled by your..... 'wife'. Indeed we will see if you suit my needs as well."
'Oh, I do, Mrs Martin, I do", Simon whispered, and he meant it too. His feelings of nervousness completely overwhelmed by the erotic pleasure of this
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