I was born to possess you, pet. The stars aligned and a Goddess emerged, so Powerful and Beautiful that you were never going to be able to resist Me. W/we both know that is true. But what you don’t know is that My innate Dominance was nurtured by my early education. I was raised Catholic, you see.
Catholic? What, you may ask, is Femdom about Catholicism? I will tell you, pet…..EVERYTHING. Read the Bible. It is a litany of Female Domination. Eve. Delilah. Judith. Even in post-biblical times, woman have stealthily dominated the Church. Mary, Mother of God. Catherine of Siena. Teresa of Avila. Joan of Arc. The whole history of Catholicism is a saga of men crawling on their knees to Women. There is a reason that one of the best-selling costumes every year is the “Sexy Nun.”
Look at the protagonists of opera, the most quintessential Catholic art form. Carmen. Salome. The Empress Turandot, for Whose love men will literally risk death. All of the composers of those operas were raised in the Church, and its teachings worked on their minds like Femdom Hypnosis.
I received the conventional Catholic education that every Sunday-schooler receives, and there were of course many priests who scolded Me for My “brazenness” even as they fantasized about being bent over and spanked by Me. But Your Goddess saw through all of that bullshit. I knew that My culture secretly worshipped Me as a Queen, and that is what I am.
So there you have it, pet. I am your Goddess by Nurture and by Birth. My Charm fills you with tender gratitude, you want to celebrate everything about Me. Well, here is your chance! July 1st is My birthday, the anniversary of the day you were destined to become My slave! Mark the occasion with due fanfare. Show Me how much you adore Me. Send gifts…the more elaborate and generous, the better. As your Goddess, I command you!
The hotel lobby sprawled around me—marble floors gleaming under warm amber recessed lights, clusters of deep leather armchairs scattered like islands, potted palms and tall ferns creating pockets of shadow. The HypnoDomme Con had already claimed the space: latex creaking softly, collars catching stray light, low voices weaving suggestions that made the air feel heavier. Soft jazz floated from hidden speakers, barely masking the occasional murmured “yes, Goddess” or the sharp click of heels on stone.I’d pressed myself behind one of the tallest ferns, phone gripped too tight in my palm, thumb stuck on the schedule page. Financial Domination with Goddess Marquesa, 2:00 PM, Emerald Ballroom. I hadn’t added it. My pulse was already racing just from her name staring back at me—Goddess Marquesa, the legendary hypnodomme whose physical perfection alone could drop a man to his knees.Then one deliberate boot-click sliced through the murmur.I looked up. Couldn’t help it. 
“What happened to me?” I asked. The question was very urgent. I found myself naked, standing in a large muddy field full of other naked men. The others all seemed to be engaged in some kind of construction project, and if my sudden appearance among them surprised them, they showed no sign to that effect.
In reply, Larry’s anguished cries only grow louder, bringing forth to Marquesa’s face Her most joyfully sadistic smile and causing Her to increase the stimulation of Her subject, with special emphasis on the cock, causing him increasing agony, more pain, and more suffering — even as She elevates Herself further into Her own special Nirvana. Feeling Her subject shudder and tremble beneath Her as She continues to administer Her special stimulation, Marquesa truly is in Her element, and Her pussy now is running like the Mississippi in flood season. She can feel Her subject’s pain through the increasing violence of his struggles and his mental agony, borne of not knowing when — or even if — this seeming hell will end, and through eyes raised upward, and with practiced clinical awareness, She cruelly, expertly — and malevolently — gauges his tolerance for added stimulation. Loving and savoring every milli-second of Her subject’s agony, SEXXX!-ual Ecstasy flows and SEXXX!-ual Energy surges throughout Her body, from the top of Her head to the tips of Her fingers and toes.
Embedded deeply within the male consciousness rests the innate ability to sense the dynamic, pulsing energy of Dominant Feminine Power, together equally with the inherent longing — and the deep-seated need — of all men to submit, to yield to it, to serve it. For this Power to activate and command such a deep-seated, instinctive yearning, it must clearly draw upon an energy of enormous potency. But how does one sense this life force? There is a paradoxical aspect to My answer, because, for most men, the perception of Feminine Power is so subtle that it takes place far beneath their conscious awareness. Feminine Power can be neither felt, heard, nor seen, nor tasted or smelled — yet so compelling is its strength that, once they sense it, men feel positively driven to respond to it — instinctively, reflexively, unknowingly. So powerful is this life force that when men come to a Woman endowed with Dominant Feminine Power, their awareness and attention center on Her instantly, from way down deep inside, pushing aside all other desires and needs, and there wells up within them the need — nay, the driving compulsion — to please Her, to serve Her, to obey Her. For many men, this driving, inborn compulsion to serve and obey is accompanied by deeply held and vigorously suppressed sexual fantasies, which, following exposure to Dominant Feminine Energy, spontaneously bubble up from the nether recesses of their psyche.
