August 2013 – Contemplating the divine

Extra duty

Hey honey. How are you?

Oh – yeah, well quite a day. You know we’ve got this terrorist suspect? Well, I was in charge of his interrogation this morning, and he broke completely – but he hadn’t done anything! I mean, I made quite sure. We had a full three-hour session, and he was screaming and begging and pleading for mercy, almost from the start. You know? I’d already learnt everything before I even started on the second fingernail! He was completely innocent. Of course, I had to do the rest, and the other stuff as usual – got to do it by the book!

Apparently he was only here because some ex-girlfriend of his was cross with him or something, so she tipped off the security police that he was plotting to bomb a bridge. It’s really silly, the way they’ll just bring someone in for that sort of thing! Such a waste of all of our time – and his life and career of course! Apparently, he was some sort of computer programmer, and I don’t suppose you can do that without fingers. I think someone should have a word with that ex-girlfriend of his.

So I reported at lunchtime that he was innocent, and do you know, that silly old cow Colonel Travis wasn’t satisfied! Said she thought maybe the suspect was ‘holding out on me’ and maybe I needed to ‘be a bit harder’ on him. Ridiculous! I mean, I know when I’ve broken a man.

But anyway…orders are orders, so I had to go back and do a full afternoon session as well. You should have seen the look on the suspect’s face when I appeared at his cell door again! Shrieking in terror – frantically scrabbling at the walls to get away. He was desperately begging to be executed… especially when I said I wasn’t going to be as easy on him this time. Poor thing.

Of course, I didn’t find out anything new. He confessed to everything in sight, of course, but it was just because he was so terrified. Especially when I started on his eyes – they always hate that.

Hmmm? Oh yes, he’s still alive. There’s not much left of him, of course. Anyway, Cow-nel Travis had gone when I finished, so I just left the report on her desk. If she has me go back and do him again in the morning I’m going to be so cross! Still – I left a few bits untouched, just in case I have to.

What? No – not those bits! Honestly, you men! One track minds. They came off early in the afternoon. Shame – he was kind of cute.

Oh don’t be ridiculous! How can you be jealous? Quite apart from the fact that there’s not much of him left, I think he’d be too traumatised for the rest of his life even to speak to a woman, let alone –

Oh were you joking? Sorry, honey. I’m still just so keyed-up over having my professional judgement questioned like that.

Anyway…one of those irritating days. Grrr!

How about we skip the movie, order a pizza and you can take away some of my tension…hmmm?

Cuando las mujeres atacan

The title is a tribute to my favourite tumblr at the moment, which for a long time I assumed went by the name of “When women attack”, until I bothered to ask Mistress Google what it meant. And a much better title than mine it is, too.

So, on we go. Another post, featuring several hovercraft full of eels.

Lily looks rather sweet, doesn’t she? Not mean at all. Odd, that…

Oh dear, they’re going to be so embarrassed on Monday!
Also on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday – oh, and then really mortified on Friday, when I understand the girls have something special planned.

The lady of course is from Planet Femdom, where Nanshakh paintings come to life…

One of the advantages of male submission, as compared to other sexual perversions, is that you can use it for self-improvement. My Significant Other taught me to fold my shirts properly, for example, by showing me how and then hitting me until I got it right. It’s useful on business trips.
Not a particularly amusing or wry comment, I know, but it happens to be true.

From SchoolMistressFantasy – but my virus checker gets alarmed by this site, so I won’t link: your choice, your risk.

Of course, if they start coming out the other end it doesn’t count.

This is Mistress Elektra Skye, for whom I can’t find a dedicated site – but she’s here, among other places.

Yes, Ma’am. Miss Hurley. Ma’am.

Locked in abasement

It’s where you’ll usually find me. If you can be bothered to look.

Chastity femdom picture that kind of thing

She feels your pain. But not quite as much as you do.

Caning femdom picture that kind of thing

It’s supposed to look like that. But then – you’re supposed to be caned, too.

Let’s hope it’s not a third six. It can happen, though. I once rolled a huge pile of dice and almost all of them came up six. I can’t remember exactly how many, but it was at least seven of nine.

You wouldn’t think dommes would be so indecisive, would you?

At least one of these magnificent ladies is the awesome* Madame Sarka, formerly of the OWK and now of herself. If any ‘readers’ can help identify the other lady, I will be grateful.

One art critic described her work as ‘a joyful celebration of life, movement and freedom’, which is rather ironic, when you think about it.

* When I use the word ‘awesome’ it should be understood in its original sense, meaning ‘inspiring awe’, rather than it’s modern sense (pronounced ‘ossom’) meaning ‘quite good’.

Party animal

Oh, hey
loser!

Yeah, I did
want to see you. Imagine that! You, actually talking to me.

Anyway, I
heard you’d been, like, perving around trying to find out about my party, so
you can come to it? But you know, it’s
only, like, for attractive people, so you can’t go?

Well… are
you really desperate to be there?
Really? I mean really desperate?

OK, that’s
pretty pathetic. So I’m going to help
you out.

See, it’s
going to be a real blast. There’s going
to be a lot of guys there, and they’re going to drink a lot and get pretty
blasted and there’ll be, like, drugs and stuff, you know?

So, the
place is going to be pretty trashed, and my folks have said that if I leave it
in that state again, I’m going to be grounded.

So – here’s
the deal. You can come to the party, as
long as you’re not there too early, and as long as you clean up, OK?

How late? Well… I
guess it would be OK for you to arrive by about 3am. Most people should have gone by then.

Anyway, when
you get here, you go to the utility room and you put on an apron and get some
brushes and cloths and things and start cleaning up, OK? There might still be some people partying by
then, but I guess most people will have gone, or they’ll be making out, or just
chilling, you know? You can clean around
them.

So – the
first thing will be cleaning up all the food, and spilt drinks. You can have leftovers, but no alcohol,
OK? You’re a clumsy idiot when you’re sober, so I am not letting you drink. And make sure you get any vomit
up straight away, because that smell can really linger. Scrub at it with a stiff brush and plenty of water.

And you just
keep on cleaning until you’re done. No
vacuum cleaner before I’m up next day, OK?
If that thing wakes me up, I’m going to make you put your cock in it and
put it on turbo. And our vacuum
cleaner’s really powerful, so you don’t want to make me do that. Do not for one second imagine I’m joking.

You’ll have
all day, if you need it, to get it all straight again. My folks are coming back early the day after.

OK, so
you’ll be there tomorrow night? Good.

Well…?

Well? Are you going to thank me for inviting you to my party, you ungrateful little shit?

OK, that’s better. Now fuck off.

Oh – one
thing? If my folks aren’t satisfied with
the way it looks? And I’m grounded? Then I will make you regret that every single
day for the rest of the year. Do not
test me.

And if
anyone asks, tell them I’m paying you to clean, OK? I don’t want them to think I invited
you. In fact, bring some money that I
can hand you as your wages.

OK, you can leave now.

Self-discipline

They say that self-discipline is a very important trait to develop. But it’s just never as good as the real thing, is it?

On we go, burbling and stumbling gradually into total irrelevance.

He was known as a bit of a ball-breaker too, which is actually rather ironic considering what happens to him when the laundry isn’t done to everyone’s satisfaction.

Aren’t they great? ~~This is the Dutch airforce. Well, not all the Dutch air force, obviously.~~ Found on this rather unusual tumblr (I don’t often credit tumblrs, but this is a bit different) http://dommesmilitaire.tumblr.com/ If anyone knows of a country that’s likely to be invaded by ~~the Netherlands~~ in the near future, do let me know, as I think I’d like to be oppressed by these people.

OK, thanks to an anonymous commenter below, I now know this is not the Dutch air force, but the US air force. In Alaska. Not Holland. Well… I was close.

Still, I suppose that will at least make the task of finding a country likely to be invaded by these people a little easier.

Kind of puts things into perspective, don’t you think?

Oh for goodness sake! I’m into femdom because I don’t want to make choices! Why are so many dommes so soft?

This is an image from Cruella, the Lady Victoria – who was presented as the Editrix of their magazines. Of course, that was long ago, before the Internet. 1990 or thereabouts, and I a callow young student, nervously travelling down to London to buy a brown paper bag of magazines… aye, we made our own entertainment in them days, you know.

In some households the husband fucks the maid, too. But not in this one. She doesn’t have the key, anyway.

Bridegroom punishment in female led relationship

Yes, that’ll help get you in the mood to take your weddings vows. Not the wishy-washy ones during the church service. The real ones, just before.

Pre-nuptial agreement

Ah, there
you are, darling. Now have you written
that note?

No? Well why not?

Oh don’t be
ridiculous, darling. It’s just a
precaution. I mean, we both love each
other now, of course we do, and I fully expect that we’ll both love one another
for ever. But just in case – just on the
off-chance – that something happens and our marriage isn’t working any more…
well, then it’s useful to have arranged something like this beforehand, that’s all. Isn’t it?

What do you
mean, you don’t know what to say? It’s
pretty simple. You don’t have to worry
about getting the wording exactly right or anything. I mean if you really were committing suicide, you’d
be a bit distraught, wouldn’t you? You’d
probably just put down any old thing.

Just say –
you know, that you can’t take it any more, you hate your life and you’ve
decided to put an end to your worthless existence. That sort of thing. Oh – and probably best to say you’re sorry for any pain you’ve caused me, but that you think this is the best thing for both of us.

Hmm? No – best
not to specify any method. We don’t know
whether you’d be co-operative if I ever needed to use it, so I think I’d better have to improvise whatever I can at the time. If I ever need it.

Are you
writing it now? Great. Well, when it’s done, give it to me and I’ll
put it somewhere safe.

And then I can
tell you all about the plans for the wedding!

There must be an angel

(playing with my heart)

It’s amazing what you can achieve with a little thoughtfulness and the daily touch of a razor-sharp blade.

When the cat’s away, the mice will.. well, do their chores and write lines, by the look of it.

Sometimes these things are just, well, involuntary aren’t they? It’s not that she wants to burn your hand with the iron – she just feels a compulsion.

She’s probably joking. Don’t you think she’s joking?

There are more hot chicks in empire-line dresses right here, if that’s your thing. According to Google, though, I’m the only person in the world for whom “hot chicks in empire-line dresses” is a thing, so maybe not.

Forensic examination

Ah, Mr Sandwick. How are you feeling?

Yes, well no bones were broken, fortunately.

It was a nasty crash, though. You had bruises all over.

Now – we’re going to need your help with something. The police need us to put together a full report on the injuries you sustained, so they can determine what happened in the crash. Obviously, your chin got that horrible gash as the dashboard crumpled upwards, and there are bruises around your shoulder, where you jarred against the seatbelt…

…but there’s some quite severe and sustained bruising on your buttocks that we’re trying to understand.

Any thoughts?

No, well I suppose you were losing consciousness at the time. Not really fair to expect you to remember! I just thought, maybe…

Only…it’s odd, because there are two quite distinct patterns of bruising, on your buttocks and upper thighs. The majority of the bruises – and we think these were sustained first – are consistent with some sort of heavy, but soft and flexible object repeatedly impacting your buttocks horizontally. Like – I don’t know. Maybe like a leather or a rubber belt. But probably heavier than a normal belt. Was there anything like that in your car that could have caused your injuries? Maybe a fan belt from the engine, next to the driver’s seat? I mean, it seems unlikely it could whip about repeatedly like that, but…

No? No, well that’s what the police said too. Very hard to understand.

And then there are some really nasty bruises from something long and straight and thin – six of them, almost perfectly evenly spaced across your buttocks, starting on the upper thighs and going up. Those look very sore. I expect you can still feel them when you sit down. Any thoughts how those might have happened? It was probably after the first lot of bruises. Oh – and we’re pretty sure your buttocks were probably stretched taut at the time of the impact. As if you were doubled up… or bent over.

No? Well, it is a mystery, isn’t it? We’ve been discussing it, here on the ward, and none of the doctors or nurses can make head or tail of it. Everyone’s fascinated. Quite the little medical mystery – just like a TV show!

Do try to remember, though, if you can. We’ve been wondering if you might – perhaps – have been doing something before you got in the car, that caused you to sustain these bruises? Some kind of activity that might have involved the kind of repeated impacts that I just described?

No? Can’t think of anything at all? Oh well.

Only the other car’s driver is disputing liability for all of the injuries, you see. So I expect you’ll be asked about it as a witness in the court case. In court. Under oath.

What’s that? Oh good lord, no, you can’t just drop charges now, I’m afraid Mr Sandwick. The insurance companies are involved, and they’ll want to make sure they’ve got to the truth.

Anyway, I need to take some photos. If you could just pop your pyjama trousers down? That’s right. And if you wouldn’t mind – it’s better if you stretch a bit, so it’s easy to see everything. So if you could stand here – that’s right – and then bend over with your bottom up in the air. That’s right. Don’t worry about the pyjama bottoms, down there around your ankles is fine.
Ooops! Silly me – I forgot the camera. You just wait in that position. I won’t be a moment. If anything jogs your memory about what might have happened, you will say, won’t you? Only it’s probably better now, than in court.

Just looking

What? Oh God,
no. You don’t have to do anything like that. He can’t cope with real women.

We just have to stand here wearing these
for half an hour while he watches. Then we go and get changed and leave him the
underwear. God knows what the little
pervert does with it – puts it on or wanks into it or something. Easiest money you’ll ever make.

No, don’t worry about that.
He gets off on humiliation. You
can say what you like.

Can’t we, pervert?

That’s right.

By the way, pervert, after this, we’ve got an appointment with a real
man. He wants to fuck both of us all
night, and we’re charging him less than a tenth of what you’re paying for half
an hour!

Isn’t that funny?

Hmm? No, he never speaks. Just sits there and watches. Kind of creepy, isn’t it? Still, probably better that he does this than going off to watch girls in the park, or something.

How are we doing for time? This is the first time I’ve had someone with me. It’s good to have someone to talk to, instead of just me and the creep. He got very excited when I said I was bringing a friend – didn’t you, pervert? Asked if we could kiss, and maybe cuddle a bit.

And what did I say to that, pervert? Do you remember? Oh but you don’t say anything, do you? You just sit there, drinking in the humiliation. Well, I’ll tell you again. I told you to fuck off, didn’t I? There’s no way you’re going to see us doing any lesbian stuff. Not for you to get off to, anyway. Actually, we really are lovers, in real life. I’ll probably kiss her the moment we leave your apartment. And then we’ll probably fuck each other in the threesome. But you wouldn’t want to see us fucking anyway, pervert. That’s real sex you see, between two real women. It’s not like those pictures of straight girls gently stroking each other in pristine underwear, wearing lots of make-up and glancing back at the camera. That’s just porn for perverts. The real thing would scare the shit out of you. Probably leave you impotent for days… if you’re not already.

In fact, fuck it, you don’t deserve the full half hour. We’re leaving early. Come on – let’s go and get changed. He’ll just have to sniff extra hard.

Oh – and pervert? Next time you book us? You’re only getting fifteen minutes. Same price. And we’ll decide what time to arrive – you can just wait for us all evening, if we’re running late.

Now you can call us a limo.

Fedmom capyions

Just for all those of you too excited at the thought of all these pictures of dominant ladies to type into Google correctly.

One of the most common search terms for people finding this blog is “Contemplating the devine”. No. Just no. Write it out correctly 500 times, and then go and see Miss Hardcastle, boy!

On we go.

Where else could you be?

Clue: the right answer is “Yes” or, better, “Yes, Mistress”. Don’t worry – you can always borrow the money if you haven’t got it!

Men say the oddest things sometimes. That’s why sensible wives don’t let them speak without permission.

The safeword is your credit card number.

You have laugh really, eh? All those bitter tears of loss… Over someone else’s balls. Funny. Isn’t it?

By the way, I shall be on holiday for about the next two and a half weeks. The blog will continue to update itself twice a week via the magic of ‘scheduler’ *. But if I don’t respond to your comment for a few weeks, it’s not because I am rude, or too lazy to do so**, it’s just because I’m not really here. But I’d like you to keep commenting anyway…

*actually, to tell the truth most of the captions and stories these days are produced using an AI script anyway, which is why they are so repetitive and formulaic. The real ‘Servitor’ died of shame about six months ago. Nobody cared.

** unless of course you are a representative of the ruling gender, in which case my failure to reply is a sign of laziness and rudeness, and I hope you’ll be taking appropriate disciplinary measures to deal with this disgracefully impertinent behaviour.