Turning points number eleventy-six

…well, I can’t remember if it’s exactly the eleventy-sixth in the series, but it’s certainly something like that.  Yay!  Turning points!  Captioned images that – unusually for a blog about femdom – do not depict femdom situations. Not yet, anyway.









Just click on ‘turning points’ in the wordcloud thingy over there if you want more of this.  Or on something else if you don’t.  Clicking “Other world kingdom” for example, will take you to captioned images of situations that are rather unambiguously femdom.  Clicking on ‘giant wooden dildo’ will take you to the only caption I have done featuring a giant wooden dildo.  That kind of thing.

My philosophy

Fundamentally, I am rather lazy, as my Significant Other will confirm.  As She’s not here just now*, I thought today that rather than bother to write any captions myself, I would let others do so – freely and shamelessly borrowing from the world’s greatest philosophical thinkers (and Craig Silvey, whoever the hell he is but he has a great quote).



I must be a very bad man, then, because I desire it desperately.





*You won’t tell Her, will you?

If it is there it is here – but not vice-versa

A few weeks back, several of you were kind enough to comment on a post of mine asking advice about publicising this blog.  I have now set up a Tumblr version of the blog, at http://servitor-again.tumblr.com/. 

Many thanks especially to Total Discord and an anonymous commenter who suggested doing this.

However, if you’re reading this here there is little point in going there.  I have set up automatically to update when I post to this blog, but Tumblr requires that posts are categorised as photos, text and so on.  So a mixed post of this sort does not go up.  I have the automatic update set to ‘photo’ so every time I post here the first captioned image will be on Tumblr, but nothing else:  not the other images and no text.  A story using photos (like the recent Anne in Space) will be rather incomprehensible, as it would just consist of an uncaptioned picture of Anne wearing a spacesuit.  Which is very nice, obviously – almost as nice as Anne not wearing a spacesuit – but not really what I intended.  I’ll also queue up some old captions, posted here long ago, to keep the Tumblr ticking over.  But anyway, there will be nothing there that has not already been posted here, so you’re in the right place already!  Well done, you.

On with the show:

Very wise precaution.


Isn’t it just?  Fast Show reference, obviously, for UK viewers.
No?  I’ll get me coat…


Leave the back door open and lock the front.  That’s what my mother always used to say, anyway.


Oooh – exciting!  I wonder what she’s planning for those crucial last few seconds?  (Actually, of course, I already know but let’s just say I don’t want to ruin the surprise).

New dommes – don’t try this at home!  No, hang on.  Let me clarify: if you want to get drunk in session, do try it at home.  Not down the pub.

Outer space now belongs to…

Anne!  And it’s got some stupid title but anyway it’s the Anne in space film!

Here are some publicity photos, and a sneak preview of the dialogue – well, monologue – from one of the best scenes.

Houston?  Crewmember
Brand here for Janus 9.   We have an
emergency. Oxygen levels are now at 43% nominal and dropping fast.  I am in my suit and my status is green, but
Commander Cooper and Crewman Benlow are out of their suits. Please advise, over.

Negative, Houston. 
The Commander and Crewman cannot en-suit at this time, because they were
engaged in sexual congress and the Commander cannot disengage.  Over.

Yeah – it’s kind of a forced bi thing I was making them
do.  We’ve had a bit of a femdom scene
going on up here, and I thought it would be funny to make the Commander fuck the Crewman up the ass.  They begged me not to, but I’m in charge in here.  Over.
What?  Well sure it’s relevant to the emergency, dickbrain!  Ahem, sorry, the Commander’s sexual organ appears to be
unusually engorged, Houston, probably due to the sudden drop in capsule pressure.  Consequently he cannot disengage from the
Crewman.  Over.

Houston, do you copy?  Oxygen at 31%.  Rate of depressurisation constant.  Over.

Negative, Houston, the Commander is unable to join this conversation.  It’s just on my suit channel.  I’m not broadcasting it through the cabin, Houston, because they’d be really embarrassed and they might hyperventilate.   Right now they’re breathing fast and shallow, like we did in training for emergency depressurisation.
Request permission to detach
the Commander’s penis from the rest of his body and thus enable both
crewmembers to suit up. Over.

Houston, do you copy?  Over.

Houston, awaiting response.


Glad you’re back, Houston.  You went kind of quiet there.  You want me to say again? 
Sure.  Can I castrate the
Commander?  He really doesn’t want me to
but I think it’s the only way.  I’ve got
a scalpel right here.  Oxygen now at 23%

Say again, Houston? 
Turn the oxygen back up?  No, I
don’t know how to do that.  I’ve heard
it’s kind of complicated.  Over.

Negative, Houston.  I
can’t see a dial that looks like that.  
I could look for one, but it would take a long time. But I’ve got the
scalpel.  Right here.  Please advise, over.

Oxygen levels now at 19% nominal, Houston.

Your call.

You can get more with a kind word and a whip…

… than you can with just a kind word.

These ladies know that.

Disappointed?  Well.. maybe a little.


He can continue to explore his interest in blow jobs too, I understand.



Enjoy. Only 25 seconds now…


I’ll confess, I don’t often last the full twenty seconds.  But she’s not one of those women who minds if her man comes very quickly.


At the hairdressers

Hi honey!

What?  Oh, my poor embarrassed baby!  You haven’t been worrying about that all day,
have you, honey?

Listen – if that’s what makes you feel sexy, it’s fine with
me, OK?  But I just need you to wash the trainers
out each time you do it, before I use them again, that’s all.

Oh, really?  Well, honey, you know
I run every day, so I guess they’ll get stinky again pretty quickly, won’t they?
Not stinky enough?  Awww… I’m sorry honey.  But you know, it’s not nice for me when I want to go for a run, if you’ve spurted all over the inside, see, and –

Oh – hey!  I just had
a brilliant idea.  Why don’t we keep an
old pair of my trainers for you to come in? 
You could sniff the pair 
I’m using as much as you like, but then when you jerk off you’d do it into one of the old ones.  Then I
wouldn’t have to worry about finding my new trainers all sticky! 

Yeah?  That works?

Oh – if I force you, huh?  Honey, you’re really pretty kinky aren’t you!  Sure – I can force you.  I’ll tie your hands behind your back and force your face down onto my stinky trainers with my foot – how about that?

Yeah – I thought you’d like that.  Or I could tie you to the bed and leave one over your face all night. Yeah, you betta believe it.  All night, honey.  Not in my bed, obviously.  I’m not sleeping with a smelly old trainer in the bed.  But I can put you in the guest bedroom.

What’ll I do?  Oh, I’ll be OK.  No, really. It’s OK honey.   
I mean, it’s not like our sex life was great anyway and – oh, I’m not
blaming you, honey!  It’s not your fault
you’re so small.  But I think we’ll both
be happier if you don’t have to try to please me in bed any more.  I was thinking anyway of telling you not to bother – I mean, it just makes you all embarrassed and ashamed, and it does nothing for me so –

Hmm?  No honey, that’s
just Mario talking.  I’m at the

Not these, honey.  These are mine, OK?

Well of course he heard, honey, but don’t be silly about it. 
Mario wouldn’t say a thing. 
Hairdressers know how to keep secrets – don’t you Mario?  Anyway, I told him weeks ago about our wedding
night, so he already knows half the story.
Well sure, honey.  About all the condoms being too big to stay on and how you had to ask at the hotel reception for extra small and all that.  He was really sympathetic, even though he’s never had the problem himself.  Just the opposite, actually.
What? Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that, honey.  Just talking nonsense.  I do when I’m at the hairdresser’s.  Listen, anyway, we need to get my trainers cleaned up.  If you won’t wash them, then I guess you’re going to have to lick it out, aren’t you?  Yes, now, honey.  You got them there? OK, well you’re going to have to put the phone down to get your face right in there and lick it all out, OK?

Oh – hang on!  Before you hang off, my old trainers are in the closet by the kitchen door, OK?  Those are what you use for playing with yourself, honey, not the new ones!  I mean it!

That’s right.  OK, honey, have a good time.  I’ll be back quite late – maybe not until nine or so.  I’m having some complicated hair treatments today.  I expect you’ll find something to amuse yourself with until I’m back.  Won’t you?


See honey?  This is where you’ll be making love from now on.  You’ll always have a choice between two sexy lovers who’ll never tell you you’re too small, and they don’t mind how quickly you come!  Do you wanna give them names?  I think you should give them names.


A ‘turning points’ story.

Darling, can we talk about last night?  About the party?

Yes, I know you had a bit too much to drink.  That’s what I want to talk about.

No, you were fine.  Just a little tipsy.  Not like Mark.  You weren’t being drunk or embarrassing, or anything like that.  I just wanted to talk to you about the game.

The game of ‘consequences’, of course.  Have you forgotten playing?  We did one round, just before the Saxtons went home.

I’ve got all the strips of paper here, you see?  I got them out of the wastepaper bin.  Now – you had a blue pen, didn’t you?

Oh don’t try to pretend darling, yes you did, I know you did.

Right, so let’s have a look, shall we?  Hmm…let me see.  I’ll just unfold them.  That one’s OK, you went first but um…yes!  What about this one?  I’ll read it out.

“President Obama” met “Humphrey the Cat” in “a cattle market in Australia”.  He said to her “There are better cakes in Portsmouth” (that’ll be Mark, of course.  Anyway, doesn’t matter.) She said to him “That’s six of the best with my cane – pull your shorts down!”  And the consequence was “the Bee Gees reformed and released a Garage album.”

You don’t remember which of those was yours?  OK, let’s try another.

“Mr Tickle” met “a strict headmistress, flexing her cane menacingly”, in “Transylvania”.  He said to her – well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?  I do recognise my husband’s handwriting.

Or this.

“Adam Ant” met “Seven of Nine” in “Cardiff”.  He said to her “the flowers that bloom in the spring, trala, have nothing to do with the case”.  She said to him “Because reasons”.  And the consequence was “She put him across her knee, and spanked his naughty bottom until it glowed.”

Honestly, I could have died of embarrassment when we read them all out.  Mark whispered to Gerry that you should be sent to bed early with a smacked bottom!  And everyone heard him.  Everyone except you, apparently.

If it was just a joke, it was a very silly one.  But perhaps there’s something we need to discuss, is there, darling?  Because if you want me to put you across my knee and spank your naughty bottom until it glows, believe me – you’ve picked a very good day to find out what it feels like!

Resistance is futile

Utterly futile.

I love the way a recent article in the Guardian about science fiction on British TV just *happened* to use an image from this episode featuring whip-wielding dominatrices to exemplify the series Space 1999.


That’s only fair, because you’re not in fact safe.
The awesome Jean Bardot.


Aww… look at that little pout.  Isn’t she sweet when she’s cross?  Better do what the little woman says, hmmm?  Just to humour her, you know.  You can assert yourself later, I expect.


If you want a picture of the future, imagine a sweaty trainer stamping on a human face — forever*.


I do.
Mistress Francesca Harding, prepared it would seem to help with life-long learning experiences.

*Test time!  What is the slightly garbled literary reference?  Hmm?  Anyone?  You!  You at the back – hands out of your pockets, boy! – what’s the answer?

Verified by MonsterInsights