Posts tagged “interrogation

The Facility – jailing, imprisonment & detainment event, Feb 13th

On February 13th, I’ll be gust Warden at The Facility, goddess cleo’s jail fantasy event. I’ll attend in full UC-SC – Urban Chick Supremacy Cell mode, ready to crush the male and impose a merciless femdom regime for our male prisoners (you, male scum!): under the boots of fierce femme wardens. Full re-education into female supremacy will be enforced by myself.

Full info & booking details here.

Do you fantasise about being jailed, or perhaps you have the desire to experience a complete lockdown, or retained on remand for a short/long term incarceration, overseen by beautiful, stern Duty Wardens…  If you have, then The Facility may very well be exactly your cup of tea!  Imagine being imprisoned behind bars, detained in a cell, kept captive in a cage, locked in an isolation unit, or confinedin a cupboard, whilst intermittently being beaten, broken, tormented and quite possibly tortured by gorgeous, strict, Dominant women?  Well here is your chance… Be incarcerated by Goddess Cleo and her beautiful friends, who may decide to hogtie you on the floor, cuff you to the chair, saran wrap you to the bench then sit back to watch you struggle, encase you in a straight jacket if you misbehave, or strap you down to the bed with hospital grade restraints if you attempt to escape…

FacilityThis event is primarily based around imprisonmentincarcerationisolationconfinementdetentionrestraintand complete lockdown.  There may, however, be multiple variations on each activity in order to achieve the desired experience, including but not limited to bondagecagingsaran wrap/cling filmcuffschaincollar/leashstraight jacketshibari, etc, as well as other forms of torture, if the Duty Wardens so desire.

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THE URBAN CHICK SUPREMACY CELL


Forget about Mistresses tottering in high heels – we aren’t just any Femdom site.

Have you ever wondered what your Mistress gets up to after she has kicked the last groveling slave from under her feet? Do you fear that she discards her dominant persona, shelves her sadistic fetish bitch mask, to embrace her so-called natural calling as a model of meek femininity?
You are wrong! Mistress by day… but at night, 
she swaps her nylons and heels for tight jeans, bovver boots and balaclava.  She is no mere dominatrix in a Femdom fantasy anymore, but a woman guerrilla against patriarchy! Her mission: to destroy the Patriarchy. To hunt down all City Boys and other capitalist sexist male scum vermin. To wipe the smug smile off their complacent faces whilst they wipe the dirt off her bovver boots. To crush the cock and destroy the male sex!

Join our Femdom Video website now and watch 12 hours of relentless, high quality Hard Edge Femdom!

  

 

  

THE HARD EDGE OF FEMDOM!

   

YOU WILL OBEY FEMALE RULE!

  

  

Male scum! It could be YOU next!

 


UNDERGROUND: a waterboarding & hostage session

I received him dressd in my favourite leopard print wrap around dress, winter boots and gloves. The lobby were we were meeting, the antechamber to my fearsome UNDERGROUND Cell (which is actually on the top floor , ha), was stylish welcoming, with a comfy leather Chesterfield sofa and a bar. He thought I wasn’t serious, I could read it in his eyes.

We had a cup of tea to warm up in the cold early March morning, it’d taken him some time to arrive to hsi destination: my underground prison cell in deepest East London. Still, all he could see was the misleadingly homely lobby.

He let me handcuff and blindfold him and I gulped my last sip of tea. He said he might need to loo before going up. “Too late”, I replied, “we are going up”

He stumbled on the metal staircase, blind, hands behind his back in steeel polie cuffs. I’d told him to wer clothes I could rip with my hunting knife. I started a soon as he was halfway onto the top floor, prodding him with the tip of the sharp bowie knife, slitting fabric here and there. he yelped like a puppy wehn the metal tip pricked his skin. No blood though.

The room had a clean, white medical area on one side, and a large barred cell on the other. I ripped his clothes with my hunting knife and only when he was completely naked, I turned him round towards the cell and removed his blindfold. The cell was the size of a small room. I kicked him in. He was shaking a little by then, but not much. I tied him up to the cell’s hard cot, his head hanging out of the edge, barely held by a block of wood lower than the bed edge. When I walked in with a bucket full of water and a large, dirty rag, he understood. It was for real.

I’d added the leftovers of our tea to the already not very clean water. I noisily pissed on it, in front of my helpless hostage, to top the bucket up. All that morning tea! The rag on his face and chest wasn’t too clean too, I’d brought my soiled kitchen towels, for realism. He gasped. he gasped even more when i sat in his face to increase the feeling of drowning and lack of air. Attaching the electrics to his shrunk cock & scrotum was agood idea too, unfortunately the electricity didn’t travel to the wet patch. Damn.

Still reluctant to surrender to the demands of the Underground Cell, I untied him and had an idea I’;d toyed with in the past, but never actually carried out: japanese rope suspension and waterboarding? He s after all a strappy, ex’Army lad (or so he claimed). I suspended him face up, on four secure, separate points, his head again lower than his torso.

Waterboarding. It worked. He gasped for air, his chest contrained by his own weight and the rope’s pressure on it. he ave in. he yielded. he surrendered to Feral, militant Female Supremacy. We won! And he’d booked this Underground session for March 8th, International Women’s Day. Wonderful irony, eh?

 

 

To be continued…