I was feeling mischievous and glowing with excitement as I prepared for my first trip to Club Pedestal. Not only that, but it was also going to be my first night out since the first lockdown. As someone who had been very active in the fetish scene for years, attending events with friends while meeting new ones, I had missed this immensely.
This was going to be a night for Dominant women to flex their muscles. I would be among my own, and this evening would undoubtedly be a celebration of who we are and what we represent – a rebellion of female supremacists all planning to turn the world on its head, just for one night.
We were helpfully dropped off in London and took our place in a long queue outside FIRE (Club). But I didn’t mind the wait as I had so longed to be in the company of kindred spirits and was just happy chatting to those nearby in the line. As we talked to some new people who were not new to Pedestal, I discovered that it’s a great place for the male attendee’s (for so many reasons) because it doesn’t matter if you are a single sub. That is all part of the experience. You can still join in, talk to us and serve us; it is not just a place for FLR couples.
As we were still standing outside in “vanilla-land”, we were all trying really hard to keep a lid on our excitement. This was our first night out somewhere kinky in over a year for most of us, but we managed it. It is important for our community and the event organisers to behave ourselves while out in the public eye. The last thing we would want to do is live up to their misconceptions or endanger the club’s reputation.
I would also like to take a moment to point out the care taken by Club Pedestal to ensure everyone had passports or negative covid tests. This gave a sense that even though we were here to play, as always, safety was a relevant factor.
As we finally entered, the club was already filling up. People were pulsing around the changing rooms to shed their vanilla garments and finally don their fetish gear. Everyone eagerly awaited the opportunity to lose themselves in this femdom utopia so carefully created by the Club Ped team. I was soon surrounded by many amazing latex ladies and leather-clad attendees. All varieties of dominant women, submissive men and women, transexuals and TVs are welcome at Club Ped. Everywhere you looked, there were men in collars, some on a leash, down on all fours, obediently following behind a pair of high heels. There were some men keenly kneeling close-by and Mistresses having their feet worshipped and massaged. I felt immediately at home.
In this venue, men are secondary to any woman present. Labels such as Mistress, Dominatrix or Femdom all merge into one, and whether you are lifestyle or Pro-Domme, the response from the male attendees is the same – universal adoration.
(Submissive women are, of course, welcome, but I did not come across any that night. For explanation – when I talk about submissives, I am talking only about male submissives.)
I was with the radiant Mistress Manouche, and as we began to look around, we were approached by a house slave who took our coats and bags for us but not before welcoming me as a newcomer. He was very polite and respectful, with a glimpse of mischief behind his eyes. He was pleased to tell me all about the rules and requirements of a house-slave at Club Ped:
Circulating the club with refreshments or flowers.
Offering shoeshine services for attending Mistresses.
Never interrupt a Mistress.
Never to touch a Mistress without permission.
Provide on-demand foot massage and pampering to any woman who requests it.
Fetching drinks from the bar for Mistresses as instructed
Any other services required by Mistresses requiring a temporary slave.
After this, Mistress Manouche took me for a little tour, as she had been before. Numerous rooms were running off the main area, which contained a variety of stunning fetish furniture. These pieces were the focal point, with chairs running along the edges of the room for the Dominant women to sit and be worshipped - if they required it. The main event was a frame/cage where slaves would lay down next to one another, creating a human carpet; it felt like I was looking at a “Live” version of one of Sardax’s illustrations. Several enthusiastic, sharply heeled Mistresses traversed this walkway of male body parts. Each would climb inside and use the provided ropes/frame to support themselves as they trampled, trod, jumped and crushed the slaves underfoot. It was a delight for the ladies and a fantasy come true for those beneath their boots.
Next door was the “Goddess Room” where more chairs were surrounding more furniture. Servitude slaves were ready and waiting on their knees for their next orders, being used as foot benches, laying under spiked stilettos, massaging bare feet, or just holding drinks and bags, or possibly fanning super-hot Mistresses. Each task was a chance to serve a real-life Goddess, and all the male slaves surrounding us were desperate to be summoned.
There were also rooms for the masochistic slaves, where subs were tied to the torturous furniture, and the weapon-wielding women were whipping, flogging, spanking and generally toying with their prey. The gathered audience surrounded them to watch as they went to work on their soft and sensitive body parts, with eager hopefuls, congregated close by waiting their turn.
As I moved through the crowd, men cleared a path for me (as they should), acknowledging the hierarchy as a superior Domme passed by. When I finally sat down to watch the cabaret show, it was not long before I had the first male of the evening approach me to offer his services as a foot slave.
Whilst I enjoyed the selection of artists performing and celebrated the coming together of like-minded people and our survival through these unusual times, I had my new foot slave remove my shoes, lay on his back and massage my feet whilst another male slave fetched me a drink from the bar. His role was to watch me at all times and make sure my cup was never empty for long. This was indeed a treat for them as well as me.
I met a wonderful variety of people and was attended to by a selection of well-mannered slaves throughout the night. Some had recognised me from social media and made a beeline for me, though some had just seen me at the event and wished to offer their services.
As I was off duty, I was taking my pleasure from the evening by watching the fun and games that took place rather than playing myself. At an occasion like this, I enjoy the interesting conversations with my fellow Mistresses. So, as a male slave getting the opportunity to speak to me (or those I was chatting to) could be tricky. It wasn't until the last moment when I was about to leave that another prospective foot-slave approached me and respectfully mentioned that he had been trying to talk to me all evening and would be honoured if I would trample him. I thought he had shown great restraint by not interrupting and waiting patiently all evening. Though he got points for this, my inner sadist could not resist the offer in any case.
I instructed him to remove my shoes, create a space between the small crowd gathered around the trampling frame and lay down for me. My feet were well-rested after all the delightful massages, and I was suddenly in the mood to feel warm, solid flesh beneath my feet.
As I looked down whilst padding up and down on his broad chest with my size 4 feet, I could see him smiling from ear to ear, even as I made my way down his chest and began to shift my weight onto his vulnerable cock and balls. I was watching him wince as he tried to control his responses as I ordered him to “behave and take it!” I revelled in his ecstatic anguish and noted his eagerness to please…taking full advantage of his total disadvantage.
Eventually, I exited the cage and left him there for the next lady’s trampling pleasure, and I felt revitalised. It had been the perfect ending to my night.
As I reflected on my initial experience here and glanced around, I couldn't help but notice that feet are a big part of this Festival of Femdom. Foot worship is certainly a silently symbolic gesture that shows the power at play. It is mildly degrading or seductive and indulgent, depending on how you view it. But it was a way for these slaves and submissives to get intimate with a dominant lady and provide pleasure (while being largely ignored).
For those considering attending a Pedestal event in the future, you should know that it is a very welcoming arena with a beautiful variety of people. However, it is not like other kink events. It is crucial to recognise that, as a male, you are there for our enjoyment and to be useful and subservient. If you do not enjoy serving women and consider yourself a dominant male, then this is not the best event for you. Equally, if you are a kinky man but not totally subservient, you will come unstuck here very quickly if you behave disrespectfully to the women attending. We are not there to perform for you; you are there to serve us.
I adored being in an environment where you get to experience the etiquette and protocol that I demand within my chambers but on a larger scale. I truly believe the world would benefit from a female-led hierarchy, and I relish being in an environment that embraces this.
I want to say a big thank you to the organisers of this event and to all that have helped this become a reality, and long may it continue. I can hardly wait for the next one!