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Welcome to the Femdom Poetry section, where words become a symphony of submission and dominance. In this captivating corner of our magazine, we celebrate the art of expression through verse, exploring the depths of femdom dynamics, desire, and power exchange. From sonnets to free verse, each poem offers a unique exploration of the intricate dance between dominant women and submissive men, inviting readers to immerse themselves in the beauty and intensity of femdom relationships. Whether you’re drawn to the sensuality of seduction or the raw emotion of surrender, join us as we journey through the poetic landscape of femdom, where every line is a testament to the intoxicating allure of female dominance.

Behind Every Great Woman is a Submissive Man

Behind Every Great Woman is a Submissive Man

Oh, listen up now, I’ll tell you a tale,
Of women so mighty, so grand, without fail!
They lead and they conquer, they stand tall and true,
And guess what? Their men wear a different shoe!

With a “Yes, dear!” and “Right away, ma’am!”
They follow with glee, they don’t give a damn!
They carry her purse, they polish her throne,
They smile and say, “Boss, I’m yours to own!”

She speaks, he listens—no fuss, no fight,
He knows that her wisdom is always right!
She builds, she shines, she takes command,
While he waits with tea (and a foot in the sand).

Now, some may chuckle, some may sneer,
But balance, my friend, is crystal clear.
For every queen, a loyal knight,
Who bows with love and holds on tight.

So let them lead, let them reign,
Let them break each rusted chain!
For behind each great woman, there stands a man,
Not holding her back—but holding her fan!

Women’s History Month

Women’s History Month

She walks where echoes still remain,
soft footprints pressed in stone and flame.
A voice once hushed, now rising strong,
a chorus built from silent songs.

The ink of history fades too fast,
but she is more than just the past.
She is the present, bold and bright,
the hands that shape the coming light.

Not just a name, not just a tale,
not just a face behind a veil—
she is the fire, the storm, the sea,
the force that bends what’s meant to be.

So speak her story, say it loud,
let every name be strong and proud.
Not one month, nor just one page—
but every breath, every age.

Sissy

Sissy

You’ve turned me into a sissy,
A sissy slut for you.
Now you tell me that I must be
A slut for others too.

You say that you were taught to share
Your toys with all your friends,
So, I must always be prepared
To be a toy you lend.

Now trained to swallow, lick and take
Another up my rear
I’ve no choice but the choice you make,
You’ve made that very clear.

Mistress, my fate is up to you;
I wait to be told what to do.

Doggone It

Doggone It

Attention is the greatest gift
That one can ever get
And so it gives my heart a lift
To be told I’m your pet.

I love it when you say “Good Boy!”
And pat me on the head.
To be your dog’s to me a joy;
(You’re glad that I don’t shed).

Being a man was much too hard,
I’ve no wish to run free.
I’d rather play out in the yard
Which you have fenced for me.

Mistress, I know some think this strange,
But there is nothing I would change.

’Twas The Night Before Christmas and All Through The Dungeon

’Twas The Night Before Christmas and All Through The Dungeon

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the dungeon,
Not a safe word was spoken, not a plea, not a one.
The paddles were hung by the chains with great care,
In hopes that the Mistress soon would be there.

We subs were all nestled, each snug in his cage,
Awaiting her orders, our bodies ready to engage.
Our collars shone bright under flickering light,
As we each dreamed of discipline this Christmas Eve night.

When out in the corridor arose such a clatter,
I knelt to attention to see what was the matter.
Crawling forward with caution, head bowed low and meek,
I glimpsed a high heel’s shadow—tall, dark, and sleek.

Her boots, how they gleamed! Her corset, so tight!
Her gaze was commanding, her aura alight.
With a crop in her hand and a smirk on her face,
She exuded such power, such elegant grace.

“On elbows, on knees,” she commanded with flair,
Her voice like a melody, cutting through air.
We scrambled to obey, heads bowed to the ground,
For her word was our law, her power profound.

Her corset of crimson, a fierce, fiery sight,
Her crop tapped with rhythm, commanding the night.
With power and grace and a sly, knowing grin,
She ruled over the dungeon, and controlled all those within.

She moved through the dungeon, inspecting each chain,
Ensuring that all would submit, feel the strain.
With a flick of her wrist, she teased here and there,
Pulling tight on a leash, adjusting with care.

And then, with a flourish, a gift she bestowed:
New clamps for my nipples, restraints to behold.
Her laughter was gentle but held iron inside,
As she watched me quiver, unable to hide.

She spoke not a word but went straight to her work,
With a smack and a tug, she gave a quick jerk.
My backside was reddened, my cock still denied,
But her praise filled my heart with submissive pride.

Each sub got a token of her holiday cheer—
A stinging cane’s kiss, a whisper in ear.
And though we were bound, denied and constrained,
In our hearts, the spirit of Christmas remained.

For beyond all the shackles and muffled soft moans,
There’s comfort in service, in kneeling at thrones.
The glow of the candles gave warmth to the scene,
As power and trust shimmered, unseen but serene.

As the hours passed by, she pushed each to his peak,
With teasing and edging so torturously sweet.
And just as I thought we could take it no more,
She declared, “Good boys,” leaving us all sore.

Then she turned with a flourish, her beauty aglow,
Her laughter like bells as she headed to go.
“Rest well, my pets; tomorrow we play more.
For tonight, I’ve given you all you adore.”

No sugarplums danced, but we cherished this bliss,
A truly kinked Christmas sealed with Dominant’s kiss.
I heard her exclaim as she walked out of the dungeon’s low light,
“Merry Christmas, my pets, and sleep tight through the night!”

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