This is a story featuring the most notorious, multi-talented, supreme Femdom Girl Gang of your submissive, kinky wet dreams. The Soho Mean Girls.
Written By: Miss Mila
Based on true events.
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Deep within an undisclosed NYC high rise apartment, The Soho Mean Girls lounge about in a sleek, modern, warmly lit living room. Some of the Girls are sipping Champagne, others are gossiping about Domme life, business tactics, current events, and recent Femdom sessions of the past.
But none, however, are lifting a finger to do actual work. You see, Femdoms are the superior beings, and everyone knows that in the world of Female Domination, males are the ones who cater to the Females, dedicating their entire lives and suffering to make Womens lives better! That's where our little house sissy comes in…
The tattooed, raven-haired Goddess, Mistress Vivian, lounges on the couch with her laptop. She rattles a little golden bell and calls, “daisy!”
daisy waltzes in from the kitchen promptly. A chubby yet feeble-framed looking male squeezed into a baby pink and white lacy French maid outfit, with sheer white stockings and a frilly bow atop his thinning brown hair to match. his rosy cheeks are checkered with spots of adult acne. he only stands at 5’5” in his pink ballet slippers, a mouse compared to the long, slender high-heel-cladden Goddesses towering around him. Lets just say, he’s physically disappointing in every way. Typical of an inferior beta male!
To put it simply, the name, ‘daisy’, was the brainchild of Mistress Victoria, who thought it would not only be super emasculating, but dainty and delicate sounding, just like the sissy’s weak ego, body, and malleable mind.
daisy stands up straight in front of the Girls, grabs the frill of his dress and curtseys; a respectful gesture drilled into his head thanks to the intense training of Mistress Mila, who has conditioned him to always curtsey when entering and leaving a room of Femdoms. Being a Supreme Humiliatrix, training daisy was like training a scrawny, lost puppy; desperate for guidance, female attention, and lifes purpose.
“daisy,” Vivian calls again. “My glass needs refilling. Stat.”
“C-certainly Mistress.” replies daisy.
And just like that, daisy shuffles over to the coffee table, picks up a bottle of Dom Perignon, and gently pours it into Her glass.
“Here you go Mistress.”
Vivian barely pays him any mind as She continues typing on her laptop. She shoos him away.
Daisy bows her head. “Thank you Mistress.”
For someone like daisy, this was true paradise. Being surrounded by powerful Females and being invited into Their world was an incredible privilege and dream for a little sissy beta male. Having any sort of attention from Women, was not something daisy had in his waking life, because of obvious reasons. A fragile ego, unseemly body, inadequate sexual parts... the list goes on! daisy was just a weak little beta fish in a world of Alphas, and Real Women would never look his way.
So, he had to find other ways to please the Females he looked up to and admired, by serving and becoming their little bitch instead!
Mistress Lady Luger, with hair just as colorful as Her audacious personality, comes marching in from another room, Her platform stiletto boots clicking on the hardwood floor. Even post-session, She was glowing. Her flawless face and beaming blue eyes glistening. She snaps her long fingernails and points to a door.
“Equipment needs cleaning, sissy bitch.”
Right on cue, daisy comes running with a tall glass of ice water and hands it to Luger, making sure she’s hydrated and comfortable after Her session, before running inside to clean. It was daisy’s intention to go above and beyond to make sure his Goddesses don’t waste energy on anything, even as small as pouring a glass of water. he knew his job, his place, and his destiny all too well.
And so, as the day progressed, daisy waited on hand and foot (and sometimes on all fours) for all the Mistresses, toiling and working his hardest to meet their demands.
Fingers snapped and bells chimed, and daisy would always come running. For he knew that if he screwed up even the most basic task, he would find himself severely punished in any diabolical way the Mistresses saw fit.
“Daisy, fluff Our pillows.”
“Daisy, massage Our feet!”
“Daisy, fold Our clothes!”
“Daisy, pour Us drinks.”
“Daisy, prepare Our dinner!”
Most people would find this sort of treatment incredibly tedious, emasculating or even degrading, but it was all music to daisy’s ears.
As the day progressed, as sessions came and went, despite how hard and tiresome the labor became, daisy never stopped, but instead, felt deep satisfaction, as if a flame was ignited deep inside.
As if reading his mind, a long dark-haired, dark-eyed Goddess steps out of the bathroom, donning a black silk robe, emerging from a cloud of steam. Like walking out of a dream, daisy laid his unworthy eyes on his main Owner, enraptured by Her authoritative aura and charm. his dream Domina. his secret sissy crush. The One who taught him his lifes purpose.
Miss Mila.
“daisy!” Mila barks, Her deep voice confident and stern. “Are you familiar with painting the toes of a Goddess?” She waves a bottle of shimmering red nail varnish and strides across the room propping Herself in a tufted arm-chair.
Daisy snaps out of his day dream and hesitates.
“W-well, im n-not sure M-miss, but I could learn.”
Milas dark cat-eyes narrow as She reaches for Her favorite wooden paddle on the coffee table.
“You will learn, you pathetic stuttering mess.” She points a finger at daisy in a ‘come hither’ motion. “Get over here...:”
daisy glides over as if being pulled on an imaginary leash. he falls to Milas feet, cowering under Her on all fours. She lifts one slender foot and waves it in his face.
The feeling was so right, being under the feet of a Goddess. And suddenly, daisy couldn’t help but feel aroused. He freezes for a second, admiring the breathtaking view from under Mila’s gorgeous soles. She stares back with her sultry, immensely sadistic eyes. Her grip tightens around the paddle, playing with it in her hands.
“Well? Get to work, bitch.”
Just as daisy is about to open the nail polish, something warm and wet wells up in the crotch of his panties. A clear drop falls from under his frilly skirt and lands onto the white carpet under them.
Daisy freezes with fear, realizing what just happened, but is too late. Milas gaze falls to the floor. Her eyes widen.
“Did you just....” Her voice rising now, Mila slowly gets up from the armchair and towers over the sissy, who is nearly shaking below Her on his knees. He hastily attempts to wipe the wetness off with the hem of his dress. In a matter of seconds, Milas hand comes down and backhands him so hard across the face he sees white.
“You little slut!”
daisy slowly comes to, shocked and dazed.
“Hey girls! Look!” Milas voice booms. Before daisy could even react, Mila grabs him by the ear and pulls him up, then lifts up daisy’s dress for everyone to see.
Just as suspected, a wet spot in the center of daisys panties oozes a string of pre-cum down his trembling legs.
“This little bitch wet her panties!”
And just like that, everyone in the room bursts out laughing. Some point, some gasp, others cover their mouths in astonishment.
Daisy, still in shock, looks down, cheeks burning red with embarrassment and the stinging pain of the slap. Too humiliated and ashamed to look into the laughing faces of his Goddesses.
For most Femdoms, this was a spectacle you see almost every day, as a result of toying, teasing, and torturing poor pathetic beta males who come to be dominated by beings far superior to themselves. To some, this was just clockwork. But to the Soho Mean Girls, this type of extreme humiliation never gets old! But this was just the beginning...
Mila throws Her head back and lets out a laugh, then leans down and yanks the panties down to daisy’s ankles, exposing an unusually small pink chastity cage. Within the cage, a tiny pathetic excuse for a “dick” squirms around, throbbing against the tight metal bars, aching for some sort of touch or release.
Lady Luger tries to stifle a laugh. “Aw, what’s the matter daisy? Little slut can’t control his little slug?”
“No wonder his only use is to serve Us!” Mistress Evelyn snickers and points towards the cage. “That thing is useless!”
The sounds of giggling and laughing surround daisy. But the more they laugh at his expense, the harder his little dicklet becomes, pressing deeper into the walls of the tight cage, begging for release.
“Bend over, bitch.”
Mila takes daisy by the back of the neck and pushes him down against the coffee table. Daisy doesn’t resist, accepting his well-deserved punishment. He bends over, face down, exposing his flabby, yet smoothly shaven ass.
Mila reaches for the wooden paddle on the table, the corners of Her mouth twisting into a smirk. “You like making sissy messes, you dirty slut?”
daisy had no words he could possible say to convince his Owner of how sorry he was. He knew taking his inevitable punishment was the only apology he could offer.
Face squished into the coffee table, daisy pleads, “P-p-please forgive m-my stupid mistake Mistress! i-i-im just a p-p-pathetic sissy. i-i-i couldn’t help it-
“WHACK!”
The sheer power of the paddle’s blow thrusts daisy’s body into the table. The smack radiates through the living room.
he lets out a high-pitched whimper, akin to a dog toy being squeezed.
Before daisy could give another pathetic excuse for his defective sexual organ, Mila rears the paddle high over Her head, and swings it down again.
“WHOOOOSH”
THEN
“BOOM!”
Another SQUEAK emits from daisy. The room fills up with snickers and giggles and laughter once again as the Dominas watch this pitiful yet entertaining scene. With each impact, stronger and more powerful than the last, the Girls couldn’t tell if daisy was being pushed deeper and deeper into the table, or if he was humping it. Either way, daisy’s chastity cage was being shoved and rubbed into the side of the table. As pitiful as it sounded, daisy was secretly elated at some sort of stimulation against his throbbing worm, even if it was just a lifeless, wooden table. PATHETIC!
“Here,” Lady Luger chimes in. She flips her sapphire blue hair out of her mischievous face, smiling wide. “Allow Me to hold this tramp in place.”
She marches over and straddles the sissy, then props Her perfect ass on his back as if sitting on a cushion. daisy struggles to breath, overstimulated and even more aroused by the feeling of Lugers smooth latex leggings sinking deep into his back. How close yet so far he was!
And so, the beating continued.
SMACK….
SMACK….
SMACK…!
With each hit sending tremors and shockwaves through the helpless sissy, his ass turning bright scarlet, Mila couldn’t help but beam with amusement.
Daisys eyes started to well up with tears, not only from the pain, but the amount of mental, physical, and psychological stimulation was almost too much to bear. It was like the ingenious Miss Mila had infiltrated his thoughts and saw every little dirty secret he was trying to hide, and manifested them into reality. So many emotions flooded his trembling mind and body: Fear, pain, arousal, joy, guilt, satisfaction, comfort, shock, awe, ecstasy. The swirling accumulation of feelings juxtaposing inside of him.
Suddenly, the sissy lets out a gasp, his body seizing up as an explosion of energy surges from his swollen sissy balls and little worm. The sweet release of being pent up for days. Days and days of hard work, worship, suffering, and dreaming. Dreaming of this final moment.
The beating ceases, and the room is quiet. Mila gazes down at the mound of bows, frills, sweat, and tears below Her, laying in a puddle of cum. As disappointed as She was about daisy coming without Her permission, she couldn’t help but laugh at the sad, yet satisfying spectacle She induced. She swung the paddle and gave the sissy one last WHACK for the premature release, then settled down in her armchair and kicked her feet up on top of his catatonic body, who was still in a state of painful euphoric sub-space.
Mila takes a deep breath.
“Now...where were we?” She smiles and places the bottle of ruby red nail varnish on the table next to daisy’s drooling face.
The rest of the Goddesses continue to go about their business, happy to have another hilarious, debaucherous story to gossip about later on.
And all was well at the Soho Dungeon.
Till next time…
