Repressed sexuality

It’s the best kind, as long as the right person is doing the repressing



I can’t remember – but it was ‘maggot’ very soon after, that’s for sure.
 The magnificent Gigi Allens, of course. She’s been featured here before.
I’ve been working through feelings of self-loathing with my therapist. She says I’m getting quite good at them… but I know I could do a lot better if only I weren’t so lazy.

Cute, isn’t she?  And the girl’s nice too.  Ba-boom!
Oh well.  No harm done.  And probably quite a lot of good, really.


Everyone’s different.  Some of us are more diferent than others, though.

.







A sea of retarded sexuality and bad poetry.

Sometimes I link to 80s British music at the start of these posts, and it’s only just struck me that never once so far have I featured the greatest band to come out of the UK in the last – oh, fifty years at least.  So here’s something from the Tap.  Oh – and the content?  Just for once, it is actually related to the general theme of this blog.



OK, so her kink is not your kink.  But would it kill you to do something that turns her on for a change?
Democracy’s wonderful, as long as not too many men vote.  This set-up looks OK.
She’ll want to be tight up there for the bridge shot.  But stick around, as she’ll probably change down to something a bit looser to finish the break.
Hmm.  You’ll appreciate that as a sub male I don’t at all approve of threats or allusions of CP towards women?  But what I approve or otherwise is unimportant.






I’ve heard he’s been in some space movies too.  But the only space movie I’ve ever enjoyed was Interstellar, so I wouldn’t know about that.


Abjective reality

He could try offering her all his money.  Oh hang on – he did that already.

Gender sensitivity training.  I’ve tried and I am very sensitive indeed to women’s concerns.  But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t benefit from further instruction, obviously.

Medical research has shown that male impotence can arise from many quite sepaarte causes.  Failure to leave out the bins on rubbish day, addressing your wife in an impertinent manner – even ironing a blouse badly can lead to weeks or even months of being completely unable to sustain an erection.

My domme uses my real name in session these days, but only after she made me change it legally to “Maggotdick”.
 The lady pictured here contemplating Colin’s immediate future is of course the Divine Mistress Heather.  Have I ever mentioned that that she once – oh, did I?  OK, then I won’t mention it again this time.
No… no problem at all. I’ll just get my coat…


Male order brides

Another themed post!  Mainly so that I can deliver the excruciatingly weak pun in the title.  But nonetheless… brides, we gottem.  Or, more accurately, they gottus.


 

Well, it’s not a very traditional service, that’s all I can say. Shouldn’t the lady giving you away be the one to lead you out on the leash?
You’re a special little snowflake.  And she’s the sun.

Honestly – now you’ve ruined the honeymoon surprise.  Well… one of them.
You’re not going to be kissing the bride at the end of the ceremony either.


What is it with dominant women and grammar?  Precision in language is important, sure, but its not the only thing that matters is it?


Gynarchy for the UK

It’s coming some time…maybe.

All these are to be read out in a Bri-ish accent, orright?

Don’t worry – she’ll give her one more chance. She’s quite forgiving really.  She’s just cross because she’s got to go to all the trouble of murdering you and disposing of the body, that’s all.

I myself am very firmly opposed to corporal punishment.  Forunately, nobody pays a blind bit of attention to my views.

She’s good at riddles, too.
Send him out?  Honestly, Henry shouldn’t let her just boss him around like that.  He should stand up for himself… be a man.

He does.  But I’m sure he’s grateful inside.  The British Institution – not to be confused with the Royal Institution, although the one time the BBC made that mistake was the best Christmas science lecture series ever.



See if you can spot the eight men concealed within this picture!





Her aim is true

Girls with guns! Babes with bazookas!  Ladies with lethal weaponry!  Women with weapons!  Femmes with firearms!  Honeys with hunting rifles!  Goddesses with…erm… guided missiles? 


That’s today’s theme, anyway.  We don’t always have a theme.  But today we have naming of parts.  Makes a change from daily cleaning.

When I look at her, I can barely think at all.

This is her rifle.  There are many like it, but this one is hers.

Or in a pie.

Hmmm.  If only men could think faster.  I’m sure I could come up with a plan.

It’s always irritating just hearing half of a phone conversation, isn’t it? 












 

Fun, fun, fun. In the sun, sun, sun.

After last Friday’s shivery Saturnalia, here are some sunny-themed captions to warm the hearts and bottoms of any males spending the long dark winter nights in an unheated kennel.

He could protest.  After all, you need to be careful not to spend too much time in the sun, if you have sensitive skin. On the other hand, you really don’t want to piss these two girls off if you have sensitive skin, either, come to think of it.






Go on.  What have you got to lose?

How about that?  She noticed you!

If it stings him on the penis, it could swell up to three times its normal size.  So, hey – six inches at last!  There’s that to look forward to.

That’s actually not the worst of it.  Just a few months ago, he congratulated the coffee boy at work for being the only person he knew who could make coffee the way he liked it, the way his wife did.  Plus, he’s about to be drowned, of course.  So it’s a bad day all round, really.

Not actually summer, but they are about to get nice and warm.  Twice a day, on a regular cycle.



Baby it’s cold outside

…but not quite cold enough yet for me to be allowed to sleep in the house.  Never mind.  Here are some wintrish captions.


It’s a bit cruel of her, to focus so much on the depressing news of our changing climate. Look how unhappy he seems.

The treatment he’s experiencing looks most unethical.  I’d click to inform People for the Ethical Treatment of Males about this disgraceful behaviour, but I only have one hand free and that one’s typing.

Oh well.  At least your day had the prospect of some meaning, for one brief moment.  Back to your squalid and pointless existence.
The UK’s not generally known for its outdoor porn shoots: pallid, goose-pimpled flesh shivering under a grey sky isn’t really a turn-on for most punters.  Femdom porn, as ever, is an exception and Cruella especially has lovingly documented the effects of the changing seasons on the male British body.  The shoot above appears to me to be in early summer, when the weather is no longer wintry but is turning merely ‘bloody cold’.  Impressive they managed to find a day when it wasn’t raining, too.


OWK does actually have a complaints box for its male guests, surprisingly enough.  I spent six hours in it once. 


Bring me to my knees

Mistress Chrissie always does.


Witchcraft? Oh what nonsens

Apparently, they’ve just discovered a new treatment that prevents testicular cancer altogether.  My SO has arranged for me to have it next week – wasn’t that thoughtful of her?
Could be the solution to our over-stretched prison service.  I happen to know several ladies in London who own cells, cages and suchlike – they should get in touch with the Home Office, offer to help out.
She does extras. Tip her enough and she’ll even fake laughing at your jokes.





She’s making mushroom surprise.






Fiction: Boundaries

[There’s a general disclaimer to the right over there about the factual accuracy of this blog (zero), but just for the avoidance of doubt – and because I would never, ever want to put someone off taking that step of contacting a pro-domme for the first time – let me just emphasise that this is a work of total fiction, and utter nonsense.  OK?  OK then.]

 





My new project?  Yes, sure.  I can talk about that.  Yes, it’s actually quite exciting.  In a way, what I’m trying to do here is push
the bounds of femdom – or rather push beyond the bounds that have traditionally
defined it, if you see what I mean.
So much of femdom is clichéd and stereotypical, don’t you think? Especially in the pro-domme space.  So
I’ve always tried to experiment, but until recently it was always still basically within those same
bounds.  But what I’ve been trying lately
with some of my more experienced clients is more… holistic, in a way.  Kind of edgy and experimental, but there’s a
thrill to it too.
An example? Sure. 
Erm… well, suppose I’ve got a client who’s into humiliation. He likes to
prance around in a maid’s costume and I’ll order him about and I’ll find fault
with everything he does and punish him, then send him home happy, OK?  And that’s fine – it’s a fun way to
play.  But what do you do when you’ve
played that same session a hundred times? 
Well – what about all of the time when he’s not in session?  How about playing the same game – very same game – there?   
So, I
got him to start telling me more about his life and his work and all of that,
and one day I took a stroll around the hard drive of his laptop while he was
tied down upstairs.  And I started
looking through this Powerpoint show he’d made on his computer for an important
client meeting the next day –



 – well, yes, it is a true story, actually.  
Anyway, I expect you’re thinking I’m going to say I put in
pictures of him in his maid’s outfit or whatever, to humiliate him in public?
And I was thinking of that, but then I thought – well, that’s really just
another femdom cliché, isn’t it?  Let’s
try something different!  So I just
fucked around with it a bit: putting in spelling mistakes, changing some of the
calculations so they didn’t add up.  Put
in the name of a different company, to make it look like he’d recycled a
presentation for someone else.  That kind
of thing.
So the next session I asked him all about it and he just
poured out this tale of humiliation and shame! 
He’d lost the contract and his boss had spent the whole afternoon
shouting at him in front of the whole office. 
I got a fit of the giggles to be honest, but he was quite upset.  So I pointed out that he’d been thoroughly
humiliated – at my hands – and wasn’t that something to be grateful for?
Hmm?  Was he
grateful?  Well, no.  Not at first. Actually he stormed off.  But when he got back in touch wheedling to
see me again, I made it a condition that this was something I was going to be
working into the play from now on, so if he wanted ever to see me again, he had
to accept it.
Yeah, sure, he still comes for sessions.  Not as often as he used to. He’s been sacked
from a couple of jobs now, so his income’s a lot less than it was. Plus, my
fees have gone up so it’s a lot less affordable all round.  But he still sessions when he can.
Anyway, that was the start. 
I do still play games in session. 
I’ll dress in leather and I’ll spank and I’ll dress the clients in
humiliating clothing and all the rest of it. 
But I insist on more commitment than that too.  So – yes, I can spank your bottom.  But I’m also going to insist that before our
next session you break your arm.  Yes,
you can clean out my toilet.  But you’re
also going to be getting an evening job cleaning public urinals. Yes, you can
have a bondage session.  But you can also
spend your summer holiday chained up in your back yard, eating raw
potatoes.  Yes, I can stomp on your
fingers. But I’m also going to run your foot over, in my car.  That kind of vibe.
Is he wearing a mask because he’s playing a role? Or because his face is marked with cigarette burns?  And if so – isn’t that just another role, really?

It can get pretty edgy. Like, last year I finally tried out
something I’ve wanted to do for a long time and got a client sent to
prison.  I helped him beat this other
client of mine with a baseball bat, and then he got arrested and sentenced to six
months.  If you can get into the right
headspace for it, that would be quite a trip, right?
Hmm? Is he what?
Oh, is he in the right headspace? I don’t know.  He’s only done four months, so far.  I’ll find out when he books his first session
after being released, I suppose.  When he
comes out I’m thinking of setting up a revenge beating – you know, reversing
the roles?  But don’t print that: it’s
going to be a surprise for both of them.
This is not a prison scene. There are no beautiful blonde warders spanking your bottom in prison – but there are people who might put glass into your food.  Are you ready for that?
Do they enjoy it? 
Hmm.  You know, I’m not sure
that’s really the right question. Sure, you can visit a pro-domme and get
slapped around and spat on, and that’s going to be fun, yeah?  But is it enough?  Really? Is it creative, is it radical, are
you pushing the bounds?  I sometimes
think life is nothing more than the experiences we have and the goal is to have
as many experiences and as varied an experiential journey as possible.  And if you’ve – say – find yourself naked
and alone in the back streets of Johannesburg without a wallet or a passport…
well, maybe you won’t ‘enjoy it’ as such.  In fact, you’ll probably hate every moment. 
But you’ll certainly have something to remember, won’t you?
Hmm?  Yeah, exactly
that. I’ve done it twice actually.  And I’ve tried it
in Caracas too, but that didn’t work out so well.
No, I don’t want to talk about that. It was a bit upsetting. I
shouldn’t have said anything.  Move on.
So you’d eat the ash from my cigarette in session… but would you lick out the public ashtray at the entrance to your office building?  You don’t know?  Then maybe we should find out.


Where can I take this next? OK – now that is a good question.  But I’m not going to give too much
away!  As you can imagine, surprise for
the clients is a big part of this whole scene. 
Plus I haven’t worked out all of the details, to be quite honest.  But one idea I’m really excited about is taking medical scene femdom
out there into the real world.  I’ve been
reading up on some medical web sites – and I’ll admit I’ve had a little help
from a client with medical qualifications too! –  and I think I’ve got a few ideas.  I’ve started a couple of things with one or two clients
already, by spiking their drinks, but they won’t have noticed anything yet, as it takes the symptoms a
while to emerge.  Actually, one of them
called me today to delay his next session, because he thought he had some kind
of cold coming on, but actually that’s the more serious symptoms just beginning to
manifest themselves.  He’ll notice soon that it’s not just a cold.  Anyway, we’ll
see.  They’re both going to experience a
lot of pain and some quite significant permanent damage to several major
organs, so… it’ll be quite intense.

And I’ve a few more things planned too, in the medical
area.  Like – lots of people with
incurable diseases think to themselves ‘why me?’, you know?  So how’s that going to feel if you know the
reason why you’ve got just six months to live, or whatever, hmm?  If you know who did that to you?  And how are they going to serve me, how are
they going to relate to me in those last few months?  
I don’t think it’ll be easy for either of us.
Brutal?  Yeah… yeah I  can’t argue with that.  It’s brutal.  But life’s brutal too, isn’t it? I mean, we can kid ourselves that everything’s fine, but with all the suffering that’s going on in the world, don’t we have a duty to be exploring where femdom fits into all of that?  I think my art – and yes it is an art – should mirror reality in all its horror.  You see pictures of those awful boats full of refugees, sinking in the Mediterranean and what do you do? You switch channels, you look away, maybe you give a donation on the way into your comfortable office the next day.  But me, I see a former foot-slave of mine called Simon, who took what he thought was going to be a holiday trip to Tunisia with me, and whose body was washed up onto a remote beach on Malta last month.  So don’t talk to me about brutality.  I’ve been there.

Sorry. That got a bit heavy.  But… this is my life, you know?  It’s what I live every day and it’s important that I keep on going, pushing the boundaries, seeing where I can take this thing I’ve dedicated my life to.
What’s that?  Yeah,
I’m still accepting new slaves.  I’m
quite choosy and I’m very particular about who I see.  But if any of your readers would like to meet
me in session they can go to the web site and respectfully – respectfully –
fill out the form.  Don’t worry about all
of the stuff I’ve been talking about here. 
We’ll just play within the usual femdom boundaries until… well, until I’ve
decided you’re ready to move on.  Some
never are. And if you are lucky enough to be taken there… then you’ll be a part
of my life journey, won’t you?  And I
think any true submissive would be happy with that.

[Once again, this is a work of total fiction.  Mistress Eleise, whose pictures grace and magically improve this depraved little tale, is the most professional, careful and thoughtful mistress imaginable.  She is very choosy indeed about her slaves – that bit is actually true – but if you are granted the privilege of meeting her, you won’t regret it.]
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