The FemDom Ball 2024: Part II
Mistress Medusa Storm, Temptress Lua, Mistress Sophia True & Queen Amber Evergreen at the FemDom Ball 2024.
It may come to no surprise that one of my favourite kinks is teasing. And darlings, I know I have kept you waiting for this next instalment. But the best pleasures are always worth a little anticipation and delayed gratification, don’t you agree?
Welcome to Part II of my International FemDom Ball 2024 series, where I lift the velvet curtains on the day of the Ball itself. If you have already indulged in Part I, with its sublime FemDom High Tea and The Matriarch Ezada Sinn’s poignant workshop, you will know that this weekend was no ordinary affair. But as divine as the prelude was, there is far more lusciousness to share from this extravagant celebration of Female Supremacy.
In this post, I will take you behind the scenes: from the steamy reunion with my executive assistant S, to the glamour of getting ready, to the moment we entered that grandiose ballroom. There were dazzling performances, fashion shows dripping with power and seduction, and of course the extravagant raffle with all sorts of naughty and enticing prizes. So enjoy the ride, darlings. Part II is where things begin to heat up….
When Waiting Becomes Worship
As the day of the Ball arrived, the anticipation between myself and S was electric. We had not seen each other in several months, and the build-up had been steeped in teasing messages, tasty memories and tantalising daydreams about how the weekend might unfold. Ever the considerate gentleman, S had secured us a room at Madame Caramel’s exclusive Hotel Takeover; the perfect base for indulgence and mischief.
On his way to the hotel, he messaged to say he had “excited butterflies in his tummy.” The feeling was entirely mutual.
Our reunion took place on a grand staircase at the hotel entrance. It felt ever so fitting as I stood poised at the top, and there he was below, beaming up at me, his eyes full of admiration as he rushed to be by my side. The embrace that followed was charged with months of longing.
Within moments of entering the hotel room, we were engulfed in our passionate reunion. Our hands were all over each other, urgent, hungry and reverent as we caught up on lost time.
In the mirror, I admired the steamy scene: my stockinged legs wrapped around him, bra pulled aside, breasts exposed and my entire body worshipped like a sacred relic. He made me orgasm, over and over again, and even after his own release, he stayed rock hard; still serving, still focused, still mine.
At one point, I teasingly asked if he wanted to come again. Breathless and with a cheeky smile, he said “No, let’s save it.” Good man!
Afterwards, flushed and satisfied, we slipped into something more civilised and headed to a nearby Italian restaurant for a sumptuous late lunch to fortify ourselves for the evening ahead. We sat in an intimate L-shaped booth, where I could still feel how hard he remained beneath his napkin; forever deliciously devoted.
And, the night hadn’t even begun yet...
The Art of Preparation
After our indulgent lunch, it was time to prepare and get ready for the extravagant Ball that was only hours away. While I made my way to the salon for a professional blow-dry, S was assigned several tasks to keep him occupied including steaming my dress, sourcing batteries for his favourite cock ring, as well as reviewing the etiquette guidance I had sent earlier (noted in Part I).
The salon I chose gave off effortlessly cool vibes; sleek interiors, moody lighting, thumping beats and a team of gorgeous, sassy stylists casting knowing glances at one another across their workstations.
As I settled into the chair, Luigi, my flamboyant Italian hairstylist with a flair for all things fabulous, coaxed my red hair into luscious, regal waves. When I revealed my beautiful tiara for the evening, he gasped with delight. Before long, he was twirling around the salon with it perched on his own head, declaring himself “Queen Luigi!” Other stylists joined in the camp celebration, flaunting down imaginary catwalks and tapping into their inner divas.
By the time I left, the salon had shifted from sleek and composed to sparkly and light-hearted, with warm wishes and suggestive winks following me out the door.
Back at the hotel, S was waiting, tasks completed, and his eager anticipation palpable. I slipped into my gorgeous floor-length green chiffon gown, which hugged my curves just right, before adding the final flourish: a stroke of red lipstick, his ultimate weakness. He looked at my lips with longing, yet remained obedient, resisting the urge to kiss me in case he smudged perfection.
The Grand Entrance
We arrived at the luxurious venue as a flurry of taxis pulled up with glamorous guests. It was wonderful to see so many beautiful Dommes in their finest ball gowns, alongside men in black tuxedos, some already wearing their mandatory mask, collar and lead.
At the ticket desk, the alluring and formidable Mistress Tess held court, inspecting guests with authority. She took visible sadistic glee in pulling up any man whose attire did not meet the strict dress-code. If a man did not have their mask on, she promptly whacked them with her fan accompanied by a scolding reminder of the evening’s protocol.
Madame Caramel, our resplendent host, stood at the entrance of the ballroom in a glittering red ballgown that hugged her curves and shimmered like molten fire. She exuded glamour and grace, as she welcomed each guest with regal warmth; Mistresses and their submissive counterparts alike. Her presence alone lit up the ballroom.
Madame Caramel welcomes guests at the International FemDom Ball 2024
The venue itself was majestic with high wooden walls and chandeliers that twinkled overhead. It felt like stepping into a grand medieval court, only here, the crowns belonged to the many Queens in attendance.
Around the room, tables were elegantly laid and strictly reserved for Mistresses. Meanwhile men lined the walls in tuxedos and black gimp masks, standing silently or else stationed dutifully behind their Dommes, awaiting instruction. Some sissies added a splash of pink or sparkle to the otherwise monochrome wall of male submission, a delightful contrast to the extravagant elegance of the women they served.
The Ball Begins
The Ball was officially opened by Madame Caramel, who welcomed the assembly of radiant Mistresses now seated at their tables, champagne flutes in hand and heels elegantly crossed. From the periphery, tuxedoed subs stood in silent reverence; some scanning the room in awe, others unable to look anywhere but at the woman who owned them.
Then, the first performance of the Ball ignited the room: a skilled flamenco dancer strode into the centre, captivating every gaze. Her stomps echoed across the wooden floor, her skirt swirling like fire as she spun with dramatic intensity. The room erupted into applause afterwards, her magnetic energy setting the tone for the night to come.
The Matriarch’s Mantra
After the performance, conversation resumed and champagne flowed. It was such a pleasure to be surrounded by powerful, intelligent and sensual women in a space designed to celebrate our supremacy.
Suddenly, a crack of a whip sliced through the air.
Murmurs fell to silence as The Matriarch Ezada Sinn made her impressive presence known. She stood magnetic and powerful near the stage in a flowing silk gown of champagne-cream, radiating divine Dominance - like a Greek Goddess with a taste for control.
She cracked her whip again, a mischievous grin playing across her red lips as she summoned all the men to follow her. “Come, boys!” she declared with wicked delight, striding towards the adjoining room like a kinky Pied Piper, her heels clicking and whip trailing behind her.
The men quickly obeyed by forming a hasty line. S looked back at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and mild panic, before he disappeared with the rest.
Women around me were left puzzled, some completely bereft that their support had disappeared. Nearby, Mistress Medusa Storm in her thick Irish accent exclaimed loudly “where’s she taken my man?! I need my man back!”
Thankfully, we only had to wait a short while, as the men all came back with smiles on their faces and knowing looks. As S approached, I asked him what happened, “oh I can’t tell you, it’s a secret…” leaving myself and others curious as to what had just occurred.
We were soon to find out that the Matriarch Ezada had spoken to the subs about the importance of FemDom and serving the women they adore. As the room settled again, the Matriarch Ezada gave permission for the men to repeat the mantra she had just taught them. All around the room, subs repeated the following mantra whilst lovingly gazing at their Mistresses:
“With respect, obedience, and love,
I serve and worship the Woman who guides my life.”
It was a beautiful moment, watching the subs including S repeat the mantra with such devotion in their eyes. At the end, applause thundered through the room, Madame Caramel and the Matriarch Ezada cheering the loudest.
Throughout the Ball, S fulfilled his duties to perfection, making sure to be a complete gentleman and assisting any women nearby. He kept my table of fabulous FemDoms topped up with champagne throughout the evening, pulling out chairs for women needing a seat and just being his charming, best self – exactly as I had expected. Several women wondered “who does he belong to?” to which I proudly declared that he was Mine.
The Sexiest of Catwalks
Next, was a series of jaw-dropping catwalks that took place down the centre of the ballroom, with stunning women of all shapes, sizes and personalities strutting with powerful confidence.
The garments were fetish artistry at its finest; latex, lingerie and exquisite detailing that clung to skin and curves, shimmering under the lights. Three leading fetish brands took centre stage: the futuristic elegance of ADA Zanditon, the sleek sensuality of Amentium Latex, and the bold provocations of GDSS.
Each Mistress radiated presence, commanding the gaze of every onlooker as the ballroom filled with jubilant cheers and whistles. Every look was a statement. Every step, an act of seductive power.
The Myth Reclaimed
Then came Mistress Vivienne Veinne’s hauntingly beautiful performance; part monologue, part reclamation, and entirely enthralling. Draped in a flowing, evocative ensemble and crowned with an elaborate headpiece with golden snakes, she was carried into the ballroom on a chaise lounge by four devoted submissives, like a Goddess returning to her temple.
Her voice reverberated through the vast room; rich, venomous, grief-stricken, and ultimately defiant. She wove the tale of Medusa as a woman transformed by pain, rage and survival, rather than perceived just as a monster. Every word dripped with theatrical force, and every pause held the weight of a thousand silenced voices.
Mistress Vivienne Veinne Performing as Medusa at the FemDom Ball 2024.
Around me, I felt the collective stir around the room since many of us had lived some version of Medusa’s metamorphosis. Mistress Vivienne’s performance was both captivating and cathartic, a reminder of the power that can arise from violation.
As her final words hung in the air and applause erupted across the room, I turned to my table with a playful grin and asked, “Here’s a question: if Medusa had snakes for hair, does that mean she had tiny snakes on her fanny?” Several Mistresses burst into laughter at such an image, allowing for a moment of shared silliness after such intensity.
The Kinkiest Raffle of All Raffles
The grand finale of the Ball - before the debauchery of the After Party (Part III) - was the most extravagant and delightfully kinky raffle one can imagine. Throughout the night, attendees roamed the venue in search of the elusive Mistress Raffle to purchase tickets, each strip an exciting chance to win a naughty prize. Several tables were lined with a whole range of enticing prizes and delights, ranging from pearl necklaces to luxury photoshoots, dungeon visits, a broad assortment of adult toys and exquisite equipment.
Around our table, we kept an eye on our tickets as numbers were called. After several winners were announced around the room, the ever hilarious Mistress Sophia True began muttering “scam” with each announcement. But when Mistresses at our table did win, we erupted into gleeful cheers and celebratory toasts.
The raffle itself was wonderfully indulgent in both length and reward. So many prizes, so much teasing anticipation but it was the most decadent end to the Ball’s formalities.
From Ballroom to Playroom…
As the final raffle numbers were called and the last flutes of champagne were sipped, the atmosphere shifted. Submissives quietly slipped away to retrieve coats and bags, each movement charged with anticipation and eagerness. Transport was summoned and the dazzling FemDom Glitterati were ready to carry the night into its next, naughtier chapter.
Because, my darlings, while the formal Ball may have ended, the decadent debauchery was just beginning.
In Part III, I will reveal some incredibly juicy moments when the velvet gloves came off and the Mistresses revelled in their seductive glee. Naturally, restraint was only reserved for the subs…
Just as I mentioned earlier, I do love to tease… and darlings, I intend to make you wait a wee while longer before unveiling the final part of this tantalising blog series.
But for those who simply must know what happens next: well, I might consider sharing (since it’s already written), should the tribute be suitably tempting…
