The Conquerable, A Femdom Novel

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We begin. My boy Douglas arrives early Monday morning. I greet him in my bathrobe, revealing more feminine charms than my staid office attire as I point to a spot in my apartment vestibule.

“Strip!” Terse, authoritative, no nonsense, Douglas is no longer a patient, though I will offer rehabilitation such that he can once again function in the real world, if being under my tutelage can be so termed.

He wordlessly complies, removing his clothing and placing such in a newly purchased lockable box. I take the time to inspect and admire, the resulting twinge of lust brings thoughts of my Sybian waiting in the spare bedroom. Diverting, but it is early on a workday. For now my pleasure must be subtle and reserved.

I present his items of bondage, Posey cuffs. Adhered utilizing velcro, the foam lined strips of nylon are ubiquitous in asylums and nursing homes. Safe, well-tested, ineluctable, small luggage locks assure that Douglas will not remove. He peers at the collection of restraints and straps with a look of reminiscence, hinting that I have correctly guessed at one element of bondage used during his captivity.

“Yes, brings back memories as I intend,” I lecture. “Wrists and ankles, now. Be a good boy for me.”

He encircles each limb. I snap closed the tiny locks.

Yes, he will have adequate opportunity and equipment to cut away the nylon. Shackles would be more permanent, and wonderfully gothic. But as stated I want to replicate the conditions of his capture. There any sharp instruments, knives, scissors, etc., were denied him. Here I will just punish should he in any way cut and alter his bonds.

Straps connecting ankles and wrists are designed to assure he is constantly reminded of his status, captive to a governing woman. Yet I offer enough slack so he can work, stepping reservedly and often planning each reach of his hands to accommodate his connected wrists, thinking and being constantly reminded of capitulation, bondage, of governance, instilled by a woman.

I hand him the typed list, chores to be performed while I shower and dress, preparing coffee and toast, thereafter cleaning. All to be performed before I leave for the office. For thereafter, his bondage begins in earnest. There are more than simple cuffs.

“Read and memorize the hand signals. Carry out all these chores. And Douglas, you’ll be thrilled to learn I acquired a Segufix restraint system. I am sure you will recognize it.”

The Posey cuffs are good, but the imposing Segufix system of straps, broad bands and instantly latching magnetic locks is both Teutonic and wonderfully institutional. Designed for mental patients threatening self harm, once placed within the myriad of restraints it can be adjusted, if desired, such that there is no possible body movement and obviously no escape. There is even a subsystem to immobilize the head, utilized quite well by Douglas’s captors and not only for his dental modification. Thinking of it is deliciously enticing, my non-vanilla predilections causing a degree of giddiness. My naked house servant appears forlorn. But I know otherwise, letting his circumstances mentally sink within, pausing before snapping my fingers. Having scanned the list, he knows to begin by falling to his knees and kissing my bare feet.

This brings a smile as I learned in last week’s interview; he kissed more than the feet of his interrogator.

While a broad and ample tongue laps my toes, my right hand reaches to the pocket of my bathrobe. Establishing control over a man... boy... requires either a forceful yet reasoned display of strength and determination or the threat thereof. So I remove a short, flexible but strong length of rubber tubing.

“This will be for later, Douglas. Would you like to bear this for me?”

I dangle the seemingly innocuous length before him, veiling my smile as I see his eyes widen to saucers. He looks down, like a punished puppy. Oh this is delicious, and I have yet to really begin.

“It is necessary, I know,” his tongue and lips wrestling, the words struggling for emission.

“It offers a woman quite a level of control, doesn’t it Douglas?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And a boy like you is better being under control. A naughty boy who conspires with terrorists.”

He sheepishly nods.

“It will be time consuming. Once inserted it is probably best left in place. Very aggravating to take it in and out... for both of us.”

He nods and I am sanguine in having planted a seed of thought which will grow throughout his long trying day.

“Time for coffee and toast.”

I pat his head and move to the bathroom knowing my naked and trussed house servant will have my simple breakfast waiting for me after morning ablutions.