She is looking good, for beauty we will pay

In fact, some of us have to.  Music is mostly unrelated.
Because he knows there are things much worse than a good hard kick to the balls.
The forceful, talented and literary Mistress Miranda, another lady who has had the misfortune to encounter Servitor in the quivering, unimpressive flesh.


It’s all very well to be carried away with love at first sight, but can you build a lasting relationship with a pair of sports shoes, when fashion in sneakers is so fickle?


OK, not the sexiest of topics.  But if you don’t know, you can’t imagine. Really: if you’re a pain-slut you should be trying to develop a good set of them.


Punishment fits the crime… tightly and closely.


You replied “I do” and that was the occasion when a safeword might have been advisable instead. Too late now.


The Frog Prince

The frog sat still on Princess Maria’s palm, its only
movement an occasional bulging out of its throat, as its big round eyes watched

“A prince?” she said thoughtfully, after a while.  “Prince of where?”

“Of Lower Lotharingia”, the amphibian croaked.  “A land of prosperous farmers and merchants
waiting to welcome me back with my beautiful queen, if you would do me that homour.  It is blessed with a fine climate, and
limitless wealth from its – “

“Silver mines” she interrupted.  “Yes, I know all about them.  Daddy lets me sit in on the military
briefings.  We’ve 200,000 men poised on the
borders, and we’ve made a deal with Upper Lotharingia to split the country
between us.  The enemy army’s just a bunch of part-time soldiers – merchants and farmers. They won’t last two days against our armoured divisions.  Then we can enslave the survivors and put them to work in the silver mines.  Daddy thinks we can double
the output!
A chain-gang of 30 miners can produce almost 30 ounces of silver a day, if they’re whipped hard enough.”
“So why would I want to marry you?”

“But… but you could be a beloved queen, and – “ the frog

“Or a despotic empress” she laughed, picking the animal up
by its back foot, where it dangled helplessly for a moment, before being tossed
onto the sun-baked flagstones for the crows.
Try clicking on ‘fairy tale’ in that word cloud to the right, if you liked the words, and on ‘heart-stopping beauty’ if you preferred the pictures.

Price discrimination

Good session for you? 

Yeah, it got pretty intense there in the middle, didn’t
it?  I really thought you were about to
use the safeword. You were like – oh my
god, I can’t take this.  But you just
about got through it, didn’t you?  You look pretty exhausted now, though!

Oh – while you’re getting dressed.  There’s something I wanted to mention, about
session rates.

See, I’ve realised I’ve just got too many clients and it
seems crazy that a session I really actually enjoy with some devoted old slave
costs the same per hour as a one-off with a businessman visiting from Tokyo, or

So I got together with Anne, and we, like, went through the list of
all my regulars, you know.  So the ones I
actually like sessioning with were rated ‘A’ and they’ll only pay half rates
and so on.

Yeah, it’s a good idea isn’t it?  Should have done it ages ago.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you were rated
‘D’.  So if you want to keep on
sessioning with me, you’ll be paying five times as much as you have been.

Hmm?  Oh no! It’s not
that I don’t want to session with you any more! 
You’re not an ‘E’.  I just need a
lot more money to tolerate spending time with someone as irritating as you,
that’s all. 

OK, you can go and get
dressed now.

Still here? Go on – fuck off.

The part of the lovely Tiffany Naylor in this little tale was played by the lovely Tiffany Naylor.  Who, I am sure, never tells her clients to fuck off unless that’s what they want.  Or need.

Contemplant le divin

Regular readers will know that this blog’s theme does not lend itself well to standing up bravely against intimidation.  Quite the opposite, actually.  Nonetheless, although I don’t often mention it here, this blog is produced in Paris, where I live.  So, I just want to say:

Allons enfants de la patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé!
Contre nous de la tyrannie
L’etendard sanglant est levé!
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes,
Mugir ces féroces soldats?
Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras
Égorger nos fils, nos compagnes!
Aux armes, citoyens!
Formez vos bataillons!
Marchons! Marchons!
Qu’un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons!
For those of you looking for something more in the usual line, try  this:
Or wait until Tuesday.

Agony aunts

She’s got so much to give.
So much easier than a long drawn-out evening of silence.  Although, oddly, no quicker.


Boys can be so messy.  Especially during edge-play.


Poor Selina. I hope she’s feeling better.


Oh well… at least you don’t have to get down on your knees and apologise to him properly.

Let down your hair


No – don’t try to struggle. 
I tie men up for a living you know! 
I do know how to make sure they can’t get free.  Just wait quietly while the glue sets.

I said quietly! 
There’s really no point in trying to talk.  I can’t understand what you’re saying through
that gag.  And anyway, I don’t care.

You know, I thought I recognised your voice, when you phoned
to make the appointment?  But I couldn’t
place it.  But the very moment you walked
through the door, I remembered of course. 
Billy.  Billy the bully.

I suppose you call yourself ‘William’ now, do you? Maybe
you’re a reformed character too, hmm?  Or
are you just as unpleasant to the people you work with as you were to us at
school?  Hmm?  Especially the women, I expect.  Unless you want something from them – I’ll
bet you’re a real arse-licker to boss, hmm? 
You always were.

So now here we are. 
Dominatrix and client.  Helen and
William.  God – that year when we had
French together with Madame Kerguelen!  I
was sitting right on front of you.  I
don’t think my head ever stopped hurting that year.  You were such an evil little bastard.  You know I even got detention once for crying
out, when you tugged really hard?  Maybe
I should do that to you too – make you sit alone in a room for a few hours.

But it’s the hair-pulling that I really want you to
try.  You see all that apparatus up
there?  Well, when that glue has set in
your hair, the cords I’ve threaded all the way through it will be meshed firmly
into your hair.  And I’ll attach them to
some of those chains and then we’ll start to have some fun.

“A bit of fun”? 
Wasn’t that how you always described it?

Well, Billy boy, this is a pro-domme dungeon and I really
know how to have fun.  Pull the hair and
make her cry, that was your favourite game, wasn’t it?  Well, here we’ll play it with grown-up

I’ll attach the chains to some of those little pullies I’ve
got up there, and I’ll put weights on them. 
And we can slowly pull your hair. 
You see – I’ve got some on the side, as well?  So I can pull parts of your hair in different
directions.  And I think from time to
time I’ll pick one up in my hand and attach a particularly heavy weight – and
then I’ll drop it.  For a good old-fashioned
Just like old times.

The part of Domina Rapunzel in this tale was played by the original, mysterious, alluring and occasionally terrifying Mistress Eleise de Lacey.

Taking pains

She does and so, therefore, do I.

But not here. I just slap any old rubbish on a photo and stick it on the blog.

Damn.  Why is it always about penis size?  Honestly, sometimes it just seems like women are obsessed with it.


Urrgglll – nnnnh!


I’m glad I’m into humiliation.  Otherwise, I’d probably find a lot of my encounters with women quite unpleasant.


Well, that went well.


Goodness, sounds like she’s going to get quite cross.  That could help, actually.

Love is…

… savage and cruel and it shines like destruction.

Or at least, I’ve always found it to be so.

I usually deal with it by shrieking like a little girl, thrashing helplessly against the bonds and frantically begging for forgiveness. I guess everyone has their own way, huh?


She shouldn’t worry about a thing. He’s really good at toppling over onto his side.


Yes, I suppose that would be very special.


Well, that’s a bit last-minute isn’t it?   Honestly – that Raoul!  He does make me cross sometimes, he really does.
Letting daylight in on industrial light and magic.

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