Female Supremacist Family
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Raised In A Female Supremacist Household free porn video
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RAISED IN A FEMALE SUPREMACIST HOUSEHOLD
Story by R Black
My name is Jennifer. I'm sexy, beautiful, in good shape, and at home, I'm the overseer of my mother.
I was raised in a Female supremacist household, which meant that my father and my two brothers were trained to be my slaves.
And my mother's, of course.
When I felt I had spent enough time watching Mom monitoring the slaves' work, she told me I would soon be allowed me to supervise at her side. She is so good at doing this, and it looked like so much fun. I liked the way she induced this fear in my dad and my brothers' eyes. I laughed at lot just being with her.
However, the day I came of age, she put me in charge on my own. No need to say how nervous I was. The males seemed surprised by this unexpected announcement. they didn't express anything, as usual, but I think they were worried I might not been up to the task due to my young age. "She's a Woman now," Mom said, and that's all that was needed to put them in line.
Before I started, she advised me to wear thick clothing while in case I'd get a rebound from my own whip. I put on one of my leather jacket, a pair of leather pants, gloves, and knee-high Gothic-style boots.
I looked at myself in the mirror of my bedroom, all dressed in black, and I felt sexually aroused by all this leather. I felt so sexy, so powerful, but I knew deep down inside I was still just a novice, so I was worried sick inside myself.
The slaves were kept naked, of course, except for their collars, shackles and chastity belts as usual. they didn't have any protection from my whip at all.
Then, she let me assign a task to each slave. I had paulie cleaning the bathroom starting with a bare-hand polishing of the toilet bowl. I sent dad to polish the silver in the living room and had vincent clean up the kitchen floor on his hands and knees. Like Mom always did once they're all in position to start working, I cracked my whip in the air to announce the beginning of the day's chores.
My father and brothers immediately began to toil on my behalf. Mom left to her room with a good book, leaving me on my own with three slaves, all older and physically much stronger than me.
The first ten minutes that followed were the worst for me. I was worried to be either too hard (or worse) - too soft on them. I was walking around them, whip in hand, checking their progress when vincent accidentally dropped some water off his bucket. he knew he had made a mistake and was already sponging the (rather small) excess of water.
I came from behind him and gave him a good kick in the ribs with my booted foot. he crubed on himself in pain and gasped for air. Then, I raised my whip and hit him three times on his back side.
"Look what you did, you stupid asshole! Didn't you know I'd be watching you?"
I didn't yell at him, I just told him, but sternly enough for him to understand I wouldn't let him get away with anything.
As he started to get his breath back, I stood close to him and ordered him to apologize.
My brother bowed down to me and asked forgiveness. I accepted his apology and sent him back to work with a good kick in the ass.
"Fine!", I said.
Mom discreetly showed up in the corridor and smiled. We both restrained ourselves from laughing out loud in front of the slaves but it was very funny nonetheless. I discreetly showed her vincent's marks appearing on his back and she smiled at me. She gave me a little bump on the shoulder and kissed my forehead.
dad had seen what happened and I think, from the look on his face, that he was also proud of me.
Once a slave had finished his chore, I assigned him another.
The whole thing lasted the entire afternoon and at the end, the house was spotless. Aside from a few more kicks, a derogatory comment now and then, a couple of good smacks in the back of their heads and having to raise my whip one more time on paulie (who spilled some water too after I had sunk his head in the toilet), nothing out of the ordinary happened. However, I found it to be a very good experience. It demanded a lot of attention but it was physically very easy.
Most importantly, I was dripping in my pants.
For example, even though I was right by the fridge sometimes, I interrupted a slave from his work so I could get served a drink or such thing. I had dad lick my boots once, and I used paulie's mouth as a urinal.
When paulie had the chance to speak to dad, I heard him say: "Her vagina was wet", and dad whispered to him: "She's just like her mother".
I acted as if I didn't hear it, but I felt complimented by what they said.
Later on, I took a fifteen minutes-long break sitting on vincent's back while I kept him cleaning the floor.
I loved the fact that they kept calling me "Mistress" the entire time.
I felt confident in myself and it was wonderful.
Once the job was done, I sent the slaves to the showers and ordered them to report to the kitchen to prepare us dinner. Mom joined me in my room as I put my whip back in my drawer.
"So?", she asked, curious about my first experience as slave laborer.
"Oh my! You HAVE to do this at least once in your life!", I exclaimed. It really felt great and I loved it!"
Mom was very proud of me.
"I say forget dinner! Let's lock the slaves in their cages instead! I'm taking you to your favorite restaurant for all the good work you did by cleaning the house today".
I was thrilled for being rewarded so well.
We took the slaves in the dungeon and locked them up before heading for the restaurant.
The next day, I officially became Mom's "Overseer". She wanted me, like her, to get the best from the slaves and to enjoy myself at doing so. I pleasantly turned out to be haughtily arrogant as well. I quickly learned to love assigning them rigorous tasks and chores, especially the burdensome ones, like cleaning the floors on all-four, and forcing them to do it in a demeaning manner, say by using nothing but their toothbrushes. (I make them brush their teeth with them when their work is done!) I keep an eye on them when they works and bestowing systematized swift blows when they slow down or don't do something right.
Mom made it clear to me that any sign of frustration or anger from any of the slaves, even if it's just giving me a dirty look must be dealt with in an expeditive kind of way. Even in doubt, she's known for giving superb bitch slaps to the slaves. She made clear to me that the reason to scourge them hard is to break down any desire for revenge from the slaves and to make sure that the next time they'll look at me again, I'll see the eyes of a battered dog, not those of a man who thinks he has the right to get mad at me.
When it happens, I not only scourge them hard as well as she does, but I expect an instant apology from the slave.
At home, it is clear which is the 'weak' gender and who's in charge.
Mom also explained that I would make mistakes and that my perceptions could have been altered by a mood swing or such thing, but that in no circumstances I was to feel guilty for inflicting punishment by mistake.
"To err is human, but to forgive without punishment is weakness", Mom always said in this case. "But if they really haven't done anything wrong, that it's me who's been mistaken?" She smiled and said;"Then it is better that a dozen slaves should suffer under the lash than to see the Mistress being convicted of having been at fault"..
She told me once that when I start whipping, I look implacable. I must admit that I like to inflict pain in a methodical kind of way, like any good mistress should always do. She said I tend to draw back my lips a bit, just enough to reveal my teeth, which makes me grin. It's true that I relish in my power and authority, that I love to hurt them with the whip, that I'm happy when I'm making them suffer.
The whip I own is perfect ofr the job. It isn't a real bullwhip, of course, because that would cause too much damage to the slaves and I wouldn't be able to make the fun lasts, but it's the next best thing to it. It's a black leather six inches whip which end has been made to kick pretty hard on the slaves. The bruises it causes are great to look at. I wanted a whip which would reflect my personality and the moron who did it for me managed to design it to my exact specifications.
I found out he was quite submissive to Women when he privately asked me to try it on him. he ended up under my heels alright, and as a result, I got the whip for free (which was only fair)
The way I had it made, it allows me to manoever with grace and agility and it is long enough to give a strong strike when needed. I love to hit my victims repeatedly with this well-practiced precision I have and I just can't get enough of the sound of the it makes. I take pleasure in the grace of the movements with the body and the infliction of pain.
Whipping a slave can be really empowering. I learned how to whip the slaves from my Mother, but most of all, I wanted to develop my own style, which in my case mean that the amount of pain I would bring down on them would be greater than her's.
I examined her technique carefully, scrutinized her every move, and studied the welts she left on the slaves' bodies. She really knew how to inflict pain without causing permanent damage on them. I also liked how she rebukes a slave when he's done something wrong, and how she uses verbal humiliation to put him back in his place. All the slaves could do was to crawl to her in submission and apologize.
This is probably why I wanted to follow her footsteps in my own way; to control, to dominate, to rule. I wanted to have men crawling at my feet and kissing my boots too. Not only because I love men that way, but also because her work is truly admirable.
After a short but intense period of experiments on my father and brothers (which I admit, was quite hard on them, but then again I had to learn, right?), I became an expert at beating them.
Whatever it's with a flogger, a riding crop, a cat-o-nine tails or my favorite single-tail whip, I'm glad to say that the slaves prefer Mom's whipping to mine because she's not as hard on them as I am. The main reasons are that I tend to hit them in their most tender parts of the male body, like the sides right below the ribs, for example. A spot which Mom usually prefers to avoid. The other reason is for each ten hits she would give them, I'd give them fifteen.
I secretely heard the slaves complaining about it once among themselves for me being too hard on them, and I was glad to have my hypothesis confirmed. I was proud to know that all the slaves got the message. It didn't take much time for the males to know that the Daughter was more ruthless than the Mother. I wanted to be more vindicative and unyeilding than her, so I had to be more severe in my discipline and punishment, whatever it was justified or not.
The End
R Black
Virginia
- 21.02.2021
- 12
- 0
