Group Femdom Stories

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Group Femdom Stories

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Where Women Hunt Men: Inside Dominatrix Foxhunts




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Cutting-edge trends, rising stars and big ideas.
Because being hunted goes both ways.
Fifteen men stagger through the English countryside, naked apart from their shoes, paintball masks and groin guards. Their thighs are scraped and bruised from falling, their bottoms striped in red. When a whip cracks behind the men, one of them stumbles and falls. Dominatrix Mistress Medulla stands above her capture. At first he cowers, and then he submissively nods his head. He belongs to her for the rest of the weekend to trample, whip, gag and abuse as she likes — or at least up to the hard limits written on his leather collar.
Human foxhunts are an esoteric fantasy, even for the sexually adventurous BDSM crowd. Many involve corseted dominatrices chasing their prey through woodlands, their submissive quarry eager to be caught. The stalking takes place across the world — recent hunts were held in England, Australia, Florida and California. It’s a niche but growing area of female domination (femdom), where (mostly) men pay for the right to be subservient. But interested parties can’t just show up. To join the hunt, you must fill out an application, come with a recommendation and have an established presence in kink communities like Fetlife. For genuine submissives, working for it is part of the process.
I don’t love the idea of a paintball hitting my cock. But being under a mistress’ control so completely — well, that would be worth it.
“The first time we did a slave hunt, we pelted them with eggs,” says Mistress Natalya Sadici, a participant in the Florida-based weekend retreats of the Order of Indomitus, a group of dominant women. “The slaves are given a head start on the property — we have five acres for them to run around.” Eggs proved sticky and smelly in the Florida heat, so the order’s creator and organizer, Mistress Michelle Lacy, and the other priestesses changed the ammo to paintballs launched with slingshots. Slaves wear protective goggles, footwear — there are alligators in Florida — and a collar. Nothing else. And they follow strict rules. “We have a system of how a slave should conduct himself,” Mistress Natalya says. “They don’t speak unless spoken to. We keep them on point the whole weekend.”
The Order of Indomitus was founded in 2010; their hunts began in 2013. Slaves pay $2,200 for a weekend of worship, which includes floggings and sleeping in locked cages (no extra charge). The order has so many applications that they limit the number of participants on the receiving end. Their biggest event involved 12 slaves (a total haul of $26,400, for those of you doing the math). Thomas, a 35-year-old customer service rep from England, who asked that his last name not be used, is considering attending a hunt next year. He finds the idea very exciting — and the beauty of it is that any reservations he has about participating only add to his arousal. “Of course, I’m worried about being hurt and struggling,” he says. “I don’t love the idea of a paintball hitting my cock. But being under a mistress’ control so completely — well, that would be worth it.”
Though every slave hunt is different, I’m told repeatedly that they’re all inspired by Other World Kingdom, a Tolkienesque place that sounds like some perverted fairy tale. But here truth is stranger than fiction. In 1996, a group of dominatrices banded together to establish a micronation in a remote part of the Czech Republic. “You can’t be in the industry and not know of OWK,” says Mistress Ayn, an Atlanta-based dom. “It’s like saying you’re a football fan, but you’ve never heard of John Elway.” The femdoms resided in a 16th-century castle, serviced by male slaves who slept on straw, bowed to every woman they met and lined up for daily lashes. It was a femdom utopia governed by latex goddesses. Financial difficulties forced OWK to disband around 2008, but millennial femdoms keep the beacon alight with modern-day hunts.
For those who can’t attend in person, there’s a Second Life alternative. The avatar-based world has lost followers since its 2003 launch, but BDSMers have found its manufactured spaces perfect for virtual slave hunting. The Dominion, Roawenwood and other groups run hunts where captured slaves submit to every whim of their mistresses. There are enough of them that the blog Second Life Hunt was set up to chronicle the pursuits, the captures, the punishments.
Of course, the real-life version is infinitely more satisfying — but it also remains more elusive, as many doms don’t have the resources or the demand to run a pursuit. “I have never received a request for a scene involving hunting,” says Mistress Selina Raven. The Northern California–based dom is intrigued by the concept, but says it would be a challenge to do professionally — a responsible dominatrix needs to think about venue safety, permissions and medical facilities. Atlanta-based Mistress Ayn scoffs, “The idea of hunting [men] in the woods seems farcical. It’s not part of being a professional dom.” She adds, however, that she’s not an outdoors person. “Getting scratched, dirty and bug-bitten has no appeal to me,” she says. “I like a nice, clean dungeon .”
Bay Area sexologist Dr. Sandra Lindholm doesn’t see slave hunts becoming mainstream for BDSM play. She thinks the sociopolitical implications — such as the African-American slave experience — deter many people. However, as long as hunts are safe and consensual, she doesn’t have a problem with them. “Feeling free to not be in control can be very erotically exciting,” she says. “[Just be sure that ] participants are able to decipher between fantasy and reality.”
For those who fantasize this way, Mistress Natalya Sadici says it’s often a reaction to today’s patriarchal society: “A lot of men find women who embrace their power very attractive.”
Correction: An earlier version of this article misstated the name of the organizer of the Order of Indomitus event. It is Mistress Michelle Lacy. In addition, the earlier version of the article did not specify that participants in the event wear protective goggles as well as footwear and collars.

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Up to now, Miss Spiteful had worked to my tolerances but not exceeded them. That was about to change!
I was lying spread-eagled, my arms and legs tightly secured with ropes that dragged them wide apart. I was gagged and she had connected my genitals to her electrical device. She had moved a chair to sit beside me, the device on her lap. The session was only just half way over. "This is what you came for, slave" she smiled, "Electrical Torture!" She caressed and teased my nipples and I saw them grow firm and hard in anticipation of what she was about to do to me. "You remember my web site, slave - no concession for wimps?" I nodded and grunted to indicate agreement. "You also remember that my electrics can go from "barely perceptible" to "screamingly dreadful?" Again I grunted. "Well, it's now far too late for you to have regrets." She laughed, "Now I am going to really hurt you. It is going to be dreadful - and you will scream!"
Her hands moved to the device's controls. "First we'll establish your "limits" She switched on the device. "I want you to grunt the moment you feel any sensation." She turned the intensity control a fraction and I grunted as I felt a barely perceptible tingling in my genitals.
"Good. Now I want you to remain silent until you really can't take any more!" As she advanced the control the sensation turned from pleasant trembling to pain and then to unbearable pain. I cried aloud behind the gag in wild protest as the shocks grabbed my genitals. She noted the setting on the dial and nodded, satisfied, and switched it off. Instantly the pain vanished.

"I am just going to check your ability to stand that much, slave." She turned on the device again and once more advanced the intensity until I was begging desperately for her to have mercy. "Did I hear you trying to beg for mercy, slave? I'm afraid I shall enjoy this far too much to even consider giving you any mercy!" She switched on the device again, allowing the shocks to be stimulating without real pain. "This time the level will go beyond your limits so that I can check how much is needed to have you screaming!" The needle on the dial moved up.
I begged her to stop, to grant relief from the pain ripping my testicles and penis. She smiled, pleased. The needle went on moving. My body began jerking and struggling in its bondage. I was screaming, the agony truly unbearable. Screaming again and then again! The pain stopped and I lay gasping and shuddering. "One more thing for you to learn, slave," she snapped, "there will be pauses between the sequences of pain and during those pauses you will not attempt to speak or plead. I only want to hear you whimpering or sobbing: nothing more. Do you understand?" I tried to say I did but the gag distorted the words into muffled sounds. "Good," she said, "because if you disobey I shall punish you."
She paused and looked at me, her face seraphic and smiling. "Just so that you will know what to expect for disobedience, know what my punishment will be like"
Her hands moved on the controls altering the sustained setting she had used while experimenting to find my "limits"; she set the control to manual, the setting at the level at which I screamed and - .
I shrieked wildly as a jolt of current slashed my genitals.
A second, third and fourth shock rippled them. I screamed each time; screamed again and again as she demonstrated how I would be punished for trying to plead for reprieve or release.
"I did warn you, slave, that I have absolutely no compassion for other people's feeling because I enjoy torturing them far too much to consider any but my own! And you did ask to be taken beyond your tolerances with electrics, that you had longed to submit to a Dominatrix who revelled in cruelty, was genuinely sadistic and expert and who had no mercy. So what happens now is going to be quite atrocious suffering - for my enjoyment!"
She ran a hand tauntingly between her thighs. As one of her gallery pictures had been titled - a "Strange Love", an outrageous sexual delight.
"I am going to start by watching your body "dance" for me and your screams will provide the music." She set the controls to run the device so that it went from zero to the level at which I screamed and back to zero again onto to repeat the sequence automatically.
The control was on "Slow". I began to beg, and then scream; my body twisting and shaking desperately to try to alleviate the pain. It came again and again and peaked with my struggling vainly and screaming uncontrollably.
She changed the speed to "Fast". Scream after scream were forced from be in quick succession three or four times before she altered the speed once more to Slow. I lost count of how many times screams were dragged from my agonised body before she switched it off for the promised pause in which I might recover.
I lay there shuddering and gasping for breath; I was desperate not to speak or plead.
I was whimpering without pause. "Good. I enjoyed that. So we'll do it all over again!"
I couldn't help myself. "Oh no, please, in God's name, no, no, no - please, I beg you!" Of course the gag made nonsense of the words, but words they undoubtedly were.
The shocks were savage. Six separate shocks that had me shrieking as each hit my genitals. "I did warn you, slave!" she laughed, "now to repeat your dance!" Again the rhythm of the shocks, slow, slow, fast, fast, fast and altered at her whim made me scream for mercy she had no intention of granting.

65
A Caning By Miss Spiteful
Always On The Bare
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
Charles
George
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Judicial Punishment
Kevin's Poem
Kim
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
Loving Domination
My Visit
Penitence
Plimsolls
Robin's Electrical Torture
Shoeshine Boy
Slave To The Cane
The Basement
The Cleaning Maid
The Colony
The Escape Artist
The Huntress Caning
The Language School
The Worm's View
Webb Encounters
Z

She walked around the desk. I stood up.
She led me to a small room. It was like my doctor’s room.
“Please remove your clothes, Peter. Here is a gown for you. Our doctor will need to give you a short medical check, and measure your present weight without clothing. The doctor will be with you in a few minutes”.
She left the room. I undressed, and put on the gown. I sat on the bench, and waited.
The doctor came in. She was a powerful-looking woman with short blond hair. Another woman came in with her. She also looked strong.
“Good afternoon, Peter. Please step onto the scales. And you will need to slip off your gown too. We need your exact weight, without clothes”.
I was embarrassed by this, but did as she asked.
“Very good. You may put your gown back on. Please sit on the bench”.
She gave me a short medical examination. 
“That’s all good” she said at last. “Have you had a tetanus injection within the last five years?”
“Then I recommend that you have one, since you will be on a farm for your training. I can give you one now, if you wish”.
“Ok, thanks, let’s do that” I said.
She prepared a hypodermic needle. 
She looked at me, as if she was trying to say something.
“This also contains a sedative, Peter. Is that ok? You can still refuse if you wish. You still have 24 hours to change your mind, so you may want to wait before getting this shot. So if you don’t want the shot, just say, and I’ll tell them you declined.”
“I don’t understand. Why would I refuse? I want to do this” I said.
She gave me the injection. I immediately felt the effect. I felt sleepy.
“There. No turning back now! Not for you! Lie down on the bench and rest. You’ll be asleep in a few seconds now. We’ll take care of you from now on, Peter” she said.
I lay down. I suddenly felt enormously tired. “Good luck with your new life, Peter” I heard her say. She seemed to be a long way away.
I was not aware of falling asleep, or of sleeping at all, but I must have, because I suddenly woke up.
I was in a different room, which I did not recognize. Time must have passed. I was lying on a stretcher. A Lady I hadn’t seen before stood before me. I had some kind of jacket on. When I tried to sit up, I found I was held down. And my arms were held across my chest by the jacket. I realized it was a strait jacket, strapped tight. I realized I was naked under the canvas jacket.
“Relax, Peter.You have been asleep for 24 hours. We have put you in a lunatic restraint, a strait jacket, as a precaution.” said the Lady “You are perfectly safe, but you won’t be able to get out of that restraint, so don’t bother fighting against it. It’s just a standard precaution. We put you in it while we were transporting you here, while you were asleep, just in case you woke up early. I’ll take if off in a few minutes. Just relax”.
I stopped struggling against the straps, and lay still. She looked down at me, and smiled.
“I welcome you to your new life, Peter. 24 hours have elapsed, so your contract is now fully in effect. You can’t cancel it now. I am your Supervisor. You are now at our Farm. This is where you will serve out the terms of your contract. As you recall, you agreed to the training course that we have devised. Our course is designed to harden males physically, reduce their weight to a value proper for a healthy male, and to modify their male impulses as required for the service of women. For new entrants, this means we need to use methods which require some degree of compulsion. And that includes you, Peter! You probably didn’t realize it, but the contract you signed contained your agreement to be committed here for the term of the contract. We therefore have the legal right to use enforcement. And we intend to!”
She continued “I see you are a well-fed male. And have not been exercising much. All our inmates are overweight and unfit when they arrive. We remedy that gradually, and with care, so that our men become as lean and strong, as males are naturally intended to be. But our Society provides more improvement than purely physical. We modify male attitudes, and make males into good slaves of women. I emphasize the word “good”. Any male can be a bad slave. We train males to be good slaves!”
I still felt sleepy. I must surely be hallucinating from the drug. I could not believe what I was hearing. What on earth was she talking about? Male slaves? She obviously hasn’t heard about gender equality! Time for me to straighten this out…..
“Excuse me? Miss? Miss Supervisor? You are making a mistake, I’m not here for....” I started to explain….
“Be quiet!” she shouted. I was immediately silent. She was quite frightening when she spoke like that! She was very angry!
She took a breath. I did not dare move. I could not, anyway, in the strait jacket. She was clearly angry.
“Alright Peter. Please excuse my anger. I’m calm now! Please understand that I am not used to a male telling me that I’m making a mistake! And it’s been a long time since a male even spoke to me without permission! But of course you are new here, and do not know our rules. So I won’t punish you! But, please, just be quiet. I will give you a chance to speak later”
She went on. “This farm is owned by a private group of Ladies, who wish to hold men as slaves. We mean real slaves, not pretend slaves. We therefore seek out suitable men, men who are able to make the needed financial and time commitment, and we then train them to be slaves. REAL slaves. You have been selected, Peter. You are now an inmate, and you will now, in your turn, be trained to be a slave. Your weight loss will be attained, although it is just a small part of your training here.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but then shut it again when I saw her expression. She obviously had some big hang up with me speaking. I did not wish to chance my luck about that. I would wait until I was out of this strait jacket, and this mistake was sorted out. Something very strange was going on here, or maybe I was still dreaming.
She continued. “This is real, Peter, not a dream, not just another
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