The FemDom Ball: Part III

Well darlings, here we are: the third and final instalment in my juicy little trilogy chronicling the extravagant International FemDom Ball weekend of 2024. Just in time for the countdown to the next dazzling affair in October 2025.

If you have been following along, you will know the Ball itself was merely foreplay. The real debauchery began after the last flutes of champagne were drained, ball gowns slipped off, and the Mistresses descended into the dark, decadent shadows of the After Party.

So follow me into the depths: where ropes coiled like serpents, whips sang through the air, and the scent of sex, sweat and surrender lingered like perfume. The Ball celebrated power and poise, meanwhile the After Party was where Mistresses rose, submissives knelt, and FemDom reigned supreme. Elegance gave way to ecstasy, ceremony to carnal delights.

 Arriving at the After Party

The After Party was held in a separate venue: an underground speakeasy tucked beneath the city’s surface. Dark, decadent and deliciously charged with erotic energy, the space was scattered with kink apparatus and shadowy corners, all patiently waiting to be claimed. When we first arrived, the expansive club was relatively quiet as guests slowly filtered in from the Ball.

Unlike the previous year, when I had been a newbie numpty by forgetting to bring a second outfit, I certainly came prepared this time. As did S.

We parted ways to change. It should be noted that transitioning from glamorous ball gown to seductive kink is no small task. So, I took my time: sliding into silky Wolford stockings, wiggling into a leopard-print and black lace Honey Birdette teddy, refreshing my red lipstick, and pulling on long black satin gloves. To complete the look, I adorned a sultry cat mask - this sexy kitty was ready to prowl.

When I returned to the main room, S was waiting. Gone was his smart tuxedo, replaced by a gleaming black PVC bodysuit, collar and lead clipped snugly in place, and his bare feet silent against the cool floor. The throbbing effect of his cock ring was boldly displayed beneath the glistening fabric. I don’t believe he softened once all night. Mistresses took notice. He was devoured by their eyes; appraised, admired, toyed with from afar. Whilst it may have been his first kinky party, it was clear that he was in his element.

The Matriarch’s Magnetism

One of the first scenes to set the room ablaze unfolded with hypnotic intensity. The Matriarch Ezada Sinn leaned with effortless Dominance against a leather vaulting horse, one silky nylon-clad leg raised, her whip coiled at her side like a resting threat. In front of her were two entranced women: Mistress Giada, her radiant lover, and a stunning Mistress in a silk dress.

Ezada’s gaze alone was a magnetic force, commanding and impossible to look away from. Under its spell, the silken-clad Mistress dropped to her knees, eyes full of reverence as she gazed up at The Matriarch. With complete devotion, she began to worship Ezada’s glossy legs, inch by inch.

Then, with one hand, Ezada guided the worshipper’s mouth higher to her core; with the other, she pulled Giada in for a passionate kiss that was both possession and promise. Around them, people paused and admired the presence of pure, feminine power. 

Sophia Rose’s Wicked Web

While the After Party thrummed with possibility with Mistresses dancing, laughing and playing freely, Madame Caramel had arranged for a few exclusive performances. Unlike the formalities of the Ball, these were exceptionally kinky and deliciously untamed. It was time for the Mistresses to rise, reign and revel.

A crowd began to form and curiosity tugged me towards the centre with S obediently at my side. Slipping between bodies draped in latex, leather, and lace, we caught sight of Sophia Rose taking centre stage. Two naked subs stood bound in front of her; an artful, precarious setup of her design.

She moved around them like a Black Widow, dimples flashing with mischief as her hands danced across the ropes. With expert grace, she spun and pulled, threading tension and control with each knot. By the end, the two men were bound back-to-back, their cocks and balls stretched far apart by a cruel and intricate harness, both exposed and helpless.

Beside me, S stood wide-eyed, jaw almost touching the floor, occasionally letting out squeals of sympathetic torment. His PVC bodysuit caught the club lights as the outline of his cock visibly pulsed, stubbornly erect. Whatever his mind was processing, his body was utterly enthralled.

Pleasure in Torment

By this point in the evening, the After Party was in full swing. Everywhere I looked, kink was in motion; Mistresses played with their loyal subs or generously shared them with trusted friends for mutual amusement. Some subs remained suited and standing to attention, while others were completely naked except for their collar, leash gripped tightly by their owner and a chastity cage.

It always tickles me that the International FemDom Ball takes place in October: a month affectionately known in our world as Locktober. And it certainly lived up to its name. So many eager subs were locked up tight, aching and helpless whilst being surrounded by stunningly seductive women, teased mercilessly and denied release over and over again.

Amid the playful chaos, Mistress Medusa Storm was having great fun with her favourite toy: a devoted pain slut who absolutely thrived under her torment. They both enjoyed inviting other Mistresses to join in the kinky fun, turning him into a communal canvas of sadistic sensation.

I fondly recall a moment from the Ball’s After Party the year prior: at least ten of us Mistresses circled around him, pinging elastic bands against his naked flesh. I had been hesitant at first, concerned one might snap back and strike me, but the sweet masochist gave me some useful pointers. By the third attempt, I made him flinch, the band landing with a satisfying snap across his chest. He looked up and smiled in delight, praising my technique. Naturally, the next target was his cock. Practice makes perfect, after all.

A Scene of Kinky Worship

Back at the After Party, another scene gripped the room with fascination. This time, I was sitting with a group of Mistresses, cocktails in hand, our eyes fixed once again on The Matriarch Ezada Sinn.

She stood tall, commanding and powerful. Before her, Giada was bound to a St. Andrew’s cross, wrists stretched high, body stripped bare. Exposed, humiliated and offering herself completely.

The whip cracked hard against Giada’s skin, each strike seeming more merciless than the last. There was no softness in the Matriarch Ezada’s rhythm, only deliberate precision. Giada gasped, flinched and trembled, but never looked away. Her eyes stayed locked on her Mistress, Ezada her anchor in a storm of pain.

One moment, the Matriarch’s mouth curled into a sweet, affectionate smile. The next, it shifted into something sharper - a smirk, a sneer - as she raised her arm and lashed out again with punishing grace and severity. Occasionally, she drifted in close, stroking Giada’s face and body, whispering something private, checking in before stepping back to strike again, harder and fiercer.

To complete the scene, behind the cross knelt The Matriarch’s male devotee, hands outstretched as he held her purse in silent reverence. His eyes followed her every move, filled with awe, adoration, and just enough fear to know his place.

When Ezada finally released Giada from her restraints, The Matriarch stood back, lifted her chin, and posed like a Goddess basking in her element. Giada, bruised yet glowing, immediately dropped to her knees, saying her special mantra in a soft voice, her eyes wide with love, devotion and blissful surrender.

Their connection was magnetic. The chemistry, palpable. In Giada’s surrender, Ezada blazed all the brighter. Watching them was witnessing worship: pain as an offering, power as love. 

Goddess Gina & Her Burlesque Brilliance

The club was a whirlwind of mischief and desire as we chatted, giggled and admired the kinky play around us. All shadowy corners seemed to have something deliciously depraved happening.

Suddenly, a roar of cheers and laughter drew our attention to one corner of the room: a radiant circle of Black American Queens clapping, hollering and hyping someone up with pure, uncontainable joy.

I pulled S closer as we moved through the crowd. At the centre of it all was a vision: Goddess Gina with her sumptuous curves embraced in glittering red lingerie, her body shimmering with confidence, lust and seductive energy. Her hips moved like honey, her hypnotic and flirtatious eyes making it impossible to look away. She twirled, teased and twerked with such sensual confidence it felt like the whole room tilted in her direction.

All around her, Mistresses raised their glasses, snapping fingers, cheering her on and basking in her light. Gina commanded the willing audience with her mesmerising performance, devouring the spotlight with her radiance. With each flick of her hips and suggestive sparkle in her eyes, she enchanted the crowd further under her spell.

Goddess Phoenix & Her Golden Precision

The final performance of the night belonged to the legendary Goddess Phoenix, who claimed the St. Andrew’s Cross that had earlier echoed with Giada’s cries. Towering and magnificent, this Amazonian blonde exuded seasoned Dominance as she prepared her scene.

With two floggers wrapped with neon pink lights in both hands and years of skill behind her, Goddess Phoenix moved like a force of nature: focused, precise and utterly breath-taking. She struck with such rhythm that her lashes almost danced, snapping through the air in harmony with the beat of the music. Her golden arms rippled with power, her expression a portrait of calm concentration and complete control.

Despite the crowded space, not a single stroke was misplaced. She remained mindful of others whilst concentrating on her target. Her lucky sub was strapped tight, back exposed and laid bare for her pleasure. He did not flinch or pull away, rather he completely surrendered. His body swayed and gyrated under the crack of her lashes, responding as though the leather were a lover’s caress rather than a tool of torment. It was clear he adored being under her finesse, lost in exquisite subjugation.

My Favourite Highlight of the Night

As the night stretched into the early hours, I curled up beside S, gently teasing him through his slick PVC bodysuit while we observed kinky scenes all around us. Kink was in full bloom; music pulsing, laughter rising and the air thick with celebration and arousal.

He turned to me, eyes locked on mine, and said with urgency, “My Queen, I either need to dance… or we need to go home.” Well then! Since I had no interest in leaving just yet, there was only one thing to do.

However, I hesitated at first. I love to dance but it had been a while since I found myself in a club, especially one filled with such mesmerising goddesses. A flicker of self-consciousness rose and I felt a little shy.

But as soon as we stepped onto the dance floor, my nerves melted away. S let loose with wild abandon: barefoot, grinning, spinning, bulge gleaming, completely unbothered. His joy was contagious and within moments I was laughing, swaying and feeling gloriously free.

At times, I think we were the only ones dancing, but we did not care. The music was too good, the night too alive. To top it off, the songs we lip-synced and danced to included “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” followed by “Man! I Feel Like a Woman.”

Aftercare & Dirty Burgers

As the night wound down and guests began to depart, S and I decided it was time to retreat to the hotel for some restorative alone time. There had not been much food at the Ball, and after hours of decadence and dancing, we were both famished. It was time for what we fondly call a dirty burger. Sometimes, only a greasy cheeseburger will do.

So there I was, standing in a Shoreditch takeaway queue surrounded by tipsy strangers, dressed in lingerie, a coat just short enough to let the top of my stockings peek through, and yet I felt perfectly at ease. With one hand wrapped around S’s arm, I felt safe with my devoted protector by my side.

Back at the hotel, I collapsed onto the bed. Ever attentive, S removed my heels, massaged my sore feet, and worshipped my weary bones. Bliss!

I slipped into one of the hotel’s plush robes, tantalisingly naked underneath, and we both devoured our well-earned dirty burgers. Afterwards, we snuggled up together, glowing with contentment, replaying the highlights of the night and basking in the afterglow of it all. The magic of the Ball lingered in the air and simmered within our memories.

A Final Caress

So, my darlings, I hope you have enjoyed reading this final glimpse behind the velvet curtains of the International FemDom Ball 2024 as much as I have relished reliving it.

What a weekend it was: from the elegant poignancy of the FemDom High Tea to the glamorous grandeur of the Ball itself followed by the delicious debauchery of the After Party. Each moment was a celebration of FemDom, connection, beauty and blissful surrender; a reminder of what becomes possible when we embrace our desires without apology.

For me, the Ball is oh so much more than kink and glamour. It is a welcoming sanctuary where power is revered, individuality celebrated, and community interwoven with joy, sensuality and mutual respect. An inclusive space for the bold, the curious, the worshipped and the divine to gather and shine. Last year was my second attendance at the Ball, and S’s first exploration into the kink scene, therefore we remained fairly relaxed and observant during the After Party, rather than indulging in more public play. This year, both of us are ready to ramp up the juiciness and thoroughly enjoy all that the extravagant weekend has to offer.

The next International FemDom Ball takes place on the 4th October 2025. As it will be the 10th Ball, it promises to be even more decadent, daring and divine than ever before. So, if you were not lucky enough to secure one of those much-coveted tickets, I suspect this glimpse will leave you wondering… aching… and yearning for more.