Back to the Dungeon: A Femdom Homecoming

It had been a long time since I set foot in the dungeon. Life has a way of keeping us busy, tangled in the complications of day-to-day tasks. I’ve poured so much of myself into building my world—this world. But sometimes, the pull to return to where it all started becomes undeniable.

After a girls' night filled with tequila and laughter, my sister suggested I go back. She’d been nudging me for a while, and maybe it was the drinks or the longing for my community, but something told me it was time. I missed my friends. I missed the atmosphere. And yes, I missed my boy, strapped to the table, eager to serve. But we’ll get to that.

I lost an eyelash but My lipstick stayed on!

Preparing for the Night

Getting ready wasn’t just about slipping into the right outfit—it was about stepping back into my power. My sub helped me dress, and let me tell you, I felt unstoppable. If you’ve seen my videos, you’ve seen those pants. They’re my absolute favorite—worn down from the inside of the thighs, but irreplaceable. Paired with my thigh-high boots (which always make me feel like a swashbuckling pirate) and my leather jacket, I was in my element. My uniform. My armor.

My boy was excited too, though he had recently pulled a hamstring. Heavy impact was out of the question, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t play. Enter Sir Boppington—a mini baseball bat wrapped in a pool noodle and spray-painted black. Yes, it’s as ridiculous and delightful as it sounds. Alongside my elegant leather crop, it made the perfect pair of toys for the evening.

Back in the Dungeon

The moment I stepped inside, it was like I had never left. The familiar clean, neutral scent, the sound of my boot heels clicking against the floor—it all felt like home. The best part? The warmth. Hugs, laughter, smiles. Everyone was happy to see me, and I felt the same.

That night was a special one. Hosted by a group called Wonderfully Wicked Women (WWW), the energy was electric. While I caught up with friends, the submissives stripped down and prepared to await orders. There’s a unique comfort in being surrounded by powerful, intelligent women, and it’s a type of healing I hadn’t realized I needed.

When the subs returned, they were radiant. Curvy, lean, tall, short—none of that mattered. What made them shine was their submission. Every shy glance and eager smile was met with praise and admiration. My boy, ever the devoted doll, took my order and even checked on the other Doms. I was so proud of him.

I felt deliciously shiny Sat night, like an ink splat.

Collaring Our submissives

One of the highlights of the evening was the collaring ceremony. For those unfamiliar, a collaring ceremony is where Doms collar their subs for the night. Some wear personal collars, while others use a house collar. With a stamp indicating consent for public play, it was a beautiful sight to see.

A Delightful Transformation

The night only got better when one of my friends decided to dress her boy up. Watching him transform under the care and creativity of so many women was pure joy. Schoolgirl uniform? Check. Pleaser heels? Check. Eyeliner, lipstick, and nails? Absolutely. And yes, I did his nails myself. The laughter, the encouragement, the sheer fun of it all was unforgettable.

Teaching him how to walk in those heels with everyone? That was the cherry on top.

My crop & Sir Bobbington

Our Scene

Meanwhile, my sweet boy had grown sleepy, longing for his favorite station—the bed. But since it was occupied, we settled for the massage table. Given his injury, heavy impact was off the table, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t have our fun.

I started by gently warming his skin with soft strokes, preparing him for Sir Boppington and my crop. Then, the games began. One of my favorite rules? No restraints. Just pure willpower. I tickled him, demanding he keep his hands down. If those hands lifted? We started all over again.

And then, the moment we both anticipated.

If you’ve heard my face-sitting story, you know how we first met. It felt only right to revisit that memory. Though latex pants do add a little extra challenge, the laughter and joy it brought were well worth it. There’s nothing quite like the realization that my thighs have completely swallowed his head, followed by the giggles from the crowd when I jokingly ask, “Where’d you go?”

Coming Home

Reuniting with the dungeon and my community was like reclaiming a piece of myself. For all my solitary tendencies, there is magic in finding people who understand this side of me. It’s a reminder that while I can build worlds on my own, I’ll always have a place to return to.

And I am so, so glad I went back.

Tell Me Your Story

Now, I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever walked away from something, only to return and realize how much it healed you? Share your stories with me, you might even get a response back.

Until next time, my sweet dolls, be good for me. And if you can’t be good, try to behave—though we both know you won’t.