Hello, my name is Amanda Abigail Andrews and this is my story. I'm 27 years old and a strident believer in female supremacy. It's not that I think women are superior to men. I know they are. Over the past ten years or so, my gal pals and I have proven this beyond a doubt. Thanks in large part to my philosophy, I own real estate in Manhattan, Los Angeles, Miami Beach, the United Kingdom, and France. I’m married to a rich �man.� He works long hours while I don’t work. Every penny he earns goes directly to my bank account. It’s been a long and wonderful journey to reach this point, and that makes it a story worth telling.

I’ll begin in one moment. First I need to emphasize to you, the reader, what makes me tick. Here's a hint without giving it away: It's the little mound that resides between my hips. Need more clues, silly? It's located in the middle of my body at the intersection of my thighs. I think of it often when I'm turning men into stuttering, exploited fools because I know it's always foremost on their mind. To them, it's a more powerful drug than heroin, crack, or whatever a junkie-loser can't help but indulge in. To them, it’s the most delicious biscuit in the world, and it reduces them to slobbering dogs.

In the world today, there are an increasing number of women like me. Millions of us now know that we possess the ultimate power to enslave men, and that power is nestled comfortably between our legs. What a stark contrast to the ridiculous-looking thing that resides between a male's legs - an organ that provides women with an easy and available conduit to a man’s body and soul.

Let me briefly describe myself. I'm from an upper-class suburb. I'm an only child. My father is a brain surgeon and my mom is what you could call a "high society" lady. Growing up, we lived in a beautiful Victorian house in an exclusive suburb in the Northeastern United States. In terms of interests, since my early teenage years, I’ve enjoyed aerobics, photography, graphic art, and women’s literature. In high school, I was a straight A student. Outside of class, I was always popular enough and had plenty of girlfriends, but tended to avoid boys. It wasn't that I lacked interest. It's just I thought it wasn't a good time in my life to get involved because, quite simply, they didn't have the maturity level to meet my needs and/or expectations. To get a better understanding of that, you probably need to know more about me - namely the way I look.

This might sound conceited, but I've never had a problem with attracting men. I'm like a small version of a model. Since I was about 19 years old, I've been five feet one inch tall and weighed between 95 and 99 pounds. Never 100! For a time, it bothered me that I was so tiny until I realized that my size has never stopped me from getting exactly what I want. I came to learn, a lot of men are infatuated with petite women. It's probably because they are all perverts at heart, and there's something precious about a little girl. I should add that I have natural blonde hair, penetrating blue eyes, and high cheekbones. Other than my eyes, my facial features are small. I have a teensy little nose and ears, a narrow mouth. Even my teeth are small. In terms of body type, I've been told by more than one person I have an extraordinary figure. I took ballet as a child. I'm naturally thin, with a narrow waistline and high, somewhat prominent hipbones. The one place on my body that might have some cushion is my ass. Don't get me wrong - my pride and joy is small and firm. But it's not flat. I spend plenty of time in the gym making sure it stays in fashion. As for my boobs, let's just say I wear an A-cup. When I stretch out in the gym, you can hardly see them. They are little and it's fine with me. My nipples are tiny and pointy. I have a high-pitched girlish voice, and that’s the way it’s always been. I can lower it or be quite shrill when need be.

So back to boys and high school. As I said, I didn't date much back then. I went to parties and flirted-a-plenty, but I developed a well-earned reputation for being a prude. One time, one of the more popular boys who spent most of sophomore and junior year unsuccessfully trying to get into my panties called me a cock tease in front of his friends at a party, to which I replied, "you're fucking right I'm a cock tease and don't forget it." I don't know why, but the exchange was the stuff of legend in the boys locker room at high school. After that, none of them messed with me.

I grew up expecting to be pampered by men. It’s the way I was raised. Blame dad he bought me a BMW M3 for my 21th birthday and that typified the way I was treated growing up. But don’t think for a moment that I was prissy. I was an all-state gymnast in high school. Gymnastics are hard. I probably could have tried to make the Olympic team as a 19 year old, but fuck that. By then, I was burning out. I didn’t like all the perverted boys and men in the stands eying my body. Our coach was all broken up about it, but I didn’t really care. I officially retired after my junior year and have no regrets.

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