Embracing inferiority

It’s such a relief to stop pretending.

Between the chores, privileges and of course those ‘little kindnesses’ she so likes you to show her, the day can get quite busy.
Whe nshe got there, she realised that of course they weren‘t there – she’d put them in the cellar. She was dreadfully embarrassed, poor thing.
Oh, I hope she’s not going to chat for long. I get so socially awkward in these situations.
Thank goodness. If there’s one thing every men’s group needs, it’s a woman’s guidance. Otherwise the conversation can go in all sorts of unproductive directions. Men can achieve so much when they are all working to a common purpose – imposed by a woman, obviously. Just see how much a chain gang can get done, for instance, given the proper motivation not to slack off.
At least four of them played suspiciously badly… almost as if they wanted to be, to be… no, that’s ridiculous.
Sonme of us want that even less than others. But we’re not the decisive half of ‘us’.

Some women bear children in strength

‘Tis Mothers’ Day!* So we celebrate all mothers, mother-in-laws, stepmothers and other females prepared to take young lads, or older ones for that matter, firmly in hand.

*Yes ’tis, ’tisn’t in May. Not in Britain, we prefer our Mothering Sundays cold and miserable, to match our outlook on life.

Actually, Mum prefers old-fashioned methods to using electric shock collars, but she’s got enough respect for her daughter to take the remote in the spirit it’s offered.
Almost.
There could be many, many things. He should try gasping a few of them out.
I’m sure she’ll be understanding about your being so late. She understands men very well, very well indeed.
I wonder what present she’s got? Something to get the marriage off to the best possible start, I imagine.
It’s sadly rare in modern societies for a mother-in-law to take some of the responsibility for a husband’s upbringing, but it can be so important.

You may only see it once, but that will be enough

Friday the 13th, it is. I’m not superstitious, of course. I believe that rational (and therefore female) thought can explain any apparent mystery. And there’s no such thing as bad luck, not really, except as the working of chance. Like the coin my SO tosses every month (to avoid stressing me out, she tosses it in private and tells me the result): it’s got an equal chance of heads or tails so it’s perfectly understandable that it should have come up tails eleven times in a row – it’s just a one in two thousand chance, that’s all. Which is extraordinarily unlucky, true, but then, as she often points out, I’m extraordinarily lucky to be married to her, so it more than evens out.

Anyway, thought we’d go for a slightly macabre theme today, in contrast to the usual romantic fluff.

Being married, of course, they didn’t have to be careful not to leave any marks.
Does Pink Floyd count? Genesis?
And everyone else lived unhappily ever after, to her great delight.
Wow – speaking of luck, what a lucky escape you just had, running into these two! They look very capable, too: I’m sure they’d be more than a match for any castrating, mutilating psycho serial killer.
Aww… she said you have yummy eyeballs. I reckon you’re in, here.
Actually Gothic Griselda and Strict Nanny Susan aren’t that different. Both enjoy expensive presents and neither is particularly keen on ‘happy endings’, for instance.

Just do as she says

hmm? So much easier.

Actually, guys with small penises have proportionately more everything. My little finger, for instance, is huge in comparison – a woman remarked upon it, once.
They’re reworking the pay structure too, to make it more discriminatory.
Zoe’s good at games, usually winning on the first move when she plays slaves at chess. She also enjoys playing ‘guess the voltage’.
I expect he’ll come up with some lavish belated gift or other… she can even make some suggestions while she has his full attention like this.
Of course it’s best to wear thick gloves when handling that X stuff as it can irritate the skin. But they’re professionals, they know how to handle things that can be irritating.
She likes to give her clients a ‘happy beginning’ occasionally.

Whipping yarns

Sometimes, the simplest things – and males are very simple – can be the hardest to explain.
Quite right too – how absurd to claim any incidents involved excessive brutality. The level of brutality is always just right.
Working for Mistress is a reward in itself and she’s very generous with her rewards.
She’s covered against accidental breakages too.
She’s a very keen gardener – has boys out there in all weathers planting, potting, pruning or just spending a few hours making the lawn nice and neat with a pair of nail scissors.
Sometimes she’s just not in the mood to tolerate it… oddly enough, the consequences are much the same in both cases.

Disdainful pleasures

Or at least, if you do mind,you’re OK with her ignoring that?
Any man who still clings to outdated notions that women are slow to adopt technology should try locking an electric shock device onto his genitals and handing his partner the remote. He’ll soon learn.
I’m sure they’ll all accept Fergus’s heartfelt apologies, eventually.
I’d be very anxious, if I were her husband, but I guess that just shows why he needs the pills.
It’s funny how many men visit ladies like ‘Strict Auntie Susan’, claiming their wives don’t understand them… when if given half the chance, those wives would understand all too well.
I’m sure she appreciates the clarification and she’ll show that in her response.

Fairy tale romances

Yes, more scenes from stories of brave princesses rescuing – or not – helpless knights and suchlike. A ‘happy ending’ every time – without even the need to plead and beg for it.

They get porridge to eat, of course, and it’s always ‘just right’ too, despite being cold and lumpy.
Ah, the first electric shock of married life. I remember mine so well. It’s traditional for the husband then to ask his loving wife ‘How long do I have to wear this, darling?’ to which the correct response is of course a peal of delighted laughter.
You do get a say. Not the decisive say, not even an important one, but a say, anyway. Or a squeak, at least.
It’s not as easy a life as you might imagine – those pegs hurt just as much as they would if they were suspending a ‘normal’ male body, for instance.
The grateful populace of the kingdom later began a tradition of staging a re-enactment every year, to celebrate their beloved King’s heroic deed, although obviously, lacking centaurs, they had to use ordinary horses and stable-lads.
He may have found a comfortable place to live, but he remains vigilent. As he trots obediently at her heel, or chases madly after sticks, Sir Foofles is always alert for possible witches in the vicinity, but so far he has never found any. Perhaps they don’t exist? That would certainly explain it.

Bitter sweet hearts

If they haven’t, perhaps she could suggest some.
He’s not. And she’s even arranged for a lovely, bracing shower before he gets home… well, about fifteen minutes before he gets home, actually, to allow time for him to dry off by running around a bit.
All trainers know that rule number one is to make sure you remember the names of each and every one of your group. But rule two says “Except Robert or Rupert or whatever the fuck that idiot’s called”, so that”s OK.
Top tip: if you’re offended at being treated like this and want to emphasise – politely but firmly – that you expect to be treated with the dignity due an adult, I suggest balling up your fists, stamping your feet and screaming hysterically about how unfair it is. I’m sure she’ll react appropriately and start treating you the way you deserve.
Think of it as an investment. In thirty years’ time, lying in a hospital bed on a drip, you’ll be able to think fondly back on this.
Ah, like the days of Covid when we were getting used to all this. We’ve all got our embarassing Zoom stories, I expect – mine involves a funnel gag, a plastic sissy dress and one of the bulls my SO had decided to let into our Covid bubble, but I’ll spare you the details. Bull in a bubble, you ask? Yes, she had to limit herself to just three, which she found very frustrating, poor thing, but I’m proud to say that I was able to help her work through her anger.

A slap in the face is more effective than ten lectures.

It makes you understand very quickly.

Leopold von Sacher-Masoch wrote that. He knew a thing or two, that lad. They should name something after him, to commemorate his life and work.

Males sometimes find it hard to understand why such things matter. Most women will have a sensible answer, usually along the lines of ‘Hand me your belt and bend over that chair.’ It’s a Mars/Venus thing, just go with it.
Period pains can be pretty intense, as he’s about to find out.
Screaming in agony and pleading for mercy is just another way of giving a woman oral stimulation, if you think about it. I think about it a lot.
More electric shocks. Isn’t the modern world wonderful, with all this technology to make routine domestic tasks easier?
As it turned out, she got a bit confused over which was which, so both got punished for both. It really didn’t matter anyway, certainly not to her.

Cruellan (and Goddessian) material continues to become more and more available. Go check out the ‘SLOC’ programme and download gigbytes of sneering, beatings and delicious unpleasantness – and there are ever more magazines. ‘Is it free’? No it’s not free, you cheapskate, and nor are the best things in life. Like a lot of this stuff, though, I’m sure it’s vastly cheaper than it used to be when these things were bought wrapped in flowery paper in a Soho shop and carried home in shaking hands and breathless anticipation.

The school has a policy about bullying. So does she.