A dose of unreality

Reality.  It’s a tricky concept, one I certainly often struggle with. I used to think that would hold me back in life, but it seems it’s not even a barrier to becoming President of the United States, so what do I know?

Anyway, moving on from feeble political point-scoring , I thought it might be nice for once to cast aside the usual rigorous attention to authenticity and gritty realism on which this blog has built its reputation.  No: let’s ditch that obsession with verisimilitude and instead present what might be the first in a new series* : glimpses of ‘Pervworld’ in which the world actually works the way it does in femdom fantasy.  

Could it be reality one day, you ask?**  Who knows?***











* Or it might not. 
Not least because I am already running out of ideas.  Astute ‘readers’
will have noticed that #2 and #4 are basically the same. 

** No, obviously not.  Idiot.

*** See above: I do.   So do you, if you’re honest with yourself.  Do try to get a grip, hmm?


Despotic love

I suppose I can wait to watch the cookery programme – I’ve become quite good at coping with deferred gratification.  Thank goodness it’s only Raoul this time, anyway.  Sometimes she invites all the guys round to watch a big game and I’m rushed off my feet fetching and carrying beers, snacks and condoms.  She must find it quite exhausting too. 



It’s funny how the simple act of having electrodes attached to your genitals can change your whole perspective on things.


I know she’s a busy woman, but I really think she could cane her own husband. And detention is a very special time in any relationship.

She works hard for her money (so he’d better treat her right).

But with dignity.  Always with dignity.

We do what we must

 …because we can.

Part 2 in the exciting Portal ripoff featuring Serena and Alice.  Read the first part here!  Read the ladies’ previous adventures here!  But don’t blame me if they haunt your nightmares, OK?

Warning: contains scenes of torture, mutilation, coprophagia, death and almost all the possible permutations of those things.  Or to put it bluntly: contains Serena and Alice.  If you don’t like reading such unpleasant tales, you’re probably a normal, well-adjusted ethical human being. And we don’t really cater for those around here.



Of course, this isn’t a picture of Serena and Alice, it’s just something I found on the Internet. But it looks remarkably like them, don’t you think?


Some hours later, a sparkling flash around the oval rim of
the orange portal on Serena’s wall, along with the happy laugh that so often
betokened Alice’s arrival, announced the ladies’ return.  The seven males within earshot – some engaged
in tasks, others simply secured or stored awaiting future use – flinched
visibly, their eyes cast down to the floor. Those two still free to use their
mouths whispered silently as if in prayer. 
Serena was nearby and that was never good news.  Admittedly, Alice was with her which
sometimes led to their Mistress being distracted by thoughts and pleasures
unrelated to inflicting agony on males, but those thoughts were never far away
and in any case, Alice’s presence often inspired still greater creative
cruelties in Serena’s dark and savage soul.

To be fair, Alice herself was also capable of immense
cruelty but in a more playful, carefree manner. 
Where Serena tortured hungrily, methodically, Alice simply dabbled:
turning dials, attaching weights or applying probes as if for the first time,
laughing in startled pleasure at the screams and desperate pleas that resulted,
as if it was her first experience of having a man strapped into whatever device
she was fiddling with.  Her childish
enthusiasm was oddly effective: many men went to their deaths experiencing
agonising pain at her delicate finger tips, yet still their last thoughts as
the red tide of pain finally overcame their senses, was often what a sweet
little thing she seemed to be.  Even
those who had seen the horrific results of her playful exuberance at close hand
managed to find her adorable, while also of course utterly terrifying.

This was the Alice who had finally allowed herself to be led
giggling from her bedroom at home, through a pair of portals connected by
dimensionless space, back to Serena’s underground laboratory.  For, dear reader, if you have neglected to
click back on the link above to read the first part of this tale (and why not
haven’t you?), you should know that Serena’s latest passion is portals:
teleportation gates, each blue and orange pair linked inseparably, no matter
how far the distance between them, much like Alice and Serena themselves who
loved one another deeply, united by a bond far stronger than merely sexual
desire for one another and for the suffering of men, although that was the root
from which their romance had grown. 

Portals can be small: 
small enough for a man’s genitals to poke through (as we saw in Part 1),
leaving those unpleasant organs In Serena’s hands to do with as she wished,
even though the male physically still attached to them was miles away (and
also, of course, in Serena’s hands, even if not physically, to do with as she
wished). They can also be large enough to travel through.  That was a slightly alarming concept to
Serena, whose life’s work and favourite leisure activities all depended on
males being unable to escape from the places she confined them, so she had
taken precautionary measures, including a ‘dead-switch’ that she could flick to
deactivate all portals under her control. Any male attempting escape through
one when she did so would find himself merely dashing himself against the
concrete walls of his cell. Of course, the dead-switch would also remove the
connection between the various sets of genitalia and the remote males who
wrongly considered those genitals ‘theirs’, resulting in instantaneous

You might guess that Serena
would be unbothered by this thought but there, dear reader, you misjudge her,
as Serena regarded any castration that was ‘instantaneous’ as being a waste, as
well as somewhat unartistic. 
Nonetheless, if she recoiled at the thought of any male’s castration
being quick and near-painless, still more did she hate the thought of any of
them escaping her control and so avoiding the retribution they so richly
deserved for whatever wrongs they might have committed against women (she
rarely bothered to try to learn specifics these days, as in her experience all
men had), so the dead-switch never left her belt.

At the sight of the cabinet full of living male junk (an
appropriate name, Serena had always thought), Alice cooed with pleasure again,
especially at the sight of the dark purple flesh that had once been “Peter the
lawyer’s” pride and joy.  She flicked at
the bruised flesh hard with a finger, giggling delightedly at the thought of
how sensitive to pain it must be, after its earlier treatment.  She pinched hard, digging her nails in and
drawing blood. “Of course, if you’d rather we went back to my bedroom, it’s only
a few steps away’ she began slyly, but Serena shook her head.  “I’ve something else I want to show you” she
smiled, taking her wrist and leading her to a table in the corner of the room,
leaving Peter the lawyer’s bits to fall to the ground (much like Peter the
lawyer himself, who was presently writhing in agony on the floor of his
well-appointed office near St Pauls, desperately trying not to alert any of his
co-workers to his condition, as he knew full well that it was only the income
from his high-paying job, transferred each month into Serena’s account, that
explained why the 98% of his body that was not his genitalia was able to move,
free of burn marks and largely intact).

“Take your panties off” Serena instructed her lovely blonde

“Well, I wish you’d make your mind up” grumbled Alice.  “I mean, I’ve only just suggested that we go
back to the bedroom but you – “

Her friend shushed her. 
“And put this pair on” she said.


Alice gets ready to take part in an experiment exploring the physics of trans-dimensional space.


She was holding a pair of delicate cream silk panties from
one finger.  Looking closely, Alice could
see they seemed to have a reinforced gusset, as might be the case in a pair adapted
to take a thin sanitary towel.  Both
ladies were familiar with such garments, of course, both for their own use and
(in a rather coarser format) because the design was ideally suited to dealing
neatly with the mild bleeding and occasional oozing that often followed a
castration, particularly if carried out with blunt cutting instruments, or even
blunt instruments that did not cut at all.  
However, this pair was different, because nestled in the soft material
that would be going between Alice’s legs was a small dull oval, which Alice now
recognised as an inactive portal.

“Where’s the other end?” she asked, but Serena merely smiled
and dialled up a code on her phone.

The miniature portal flashed orange then, almost
immediately, a tongue appeared.  It took
up about half the area of the oval, the other half affording a glimpse into a
dark, living space behind.  Alice could
feel breath, as the tongue quested around for anything it should work on, and
then subsided, part drawing back. 
Clearly, the other portal was just inside some male’s mouth.

Alice grabbed the panties and pulled them on,
enthusiastically.  Then she pulled them
up tight, brushed her skirt down smooth and stood there, beaming up into her
lover’s eyes.

“So what do we do?  Do
we need to give him a signal to – ooh!” 
She giggled.

“I think he got the – ooh! 
Oh that’s very nice.  He’s very
well-trained, this one, isn’t he? 
Because, I – oh!  Oh yes, this is…
this is…”

Serena broke into a broad smile, overjoyed to see her having
such a good time.  She put her arms
around her waist and hugged her tightly to her own body.

“You see, it’s just you and me here.” she murmured.  “We can have a perfect cuddle, undisturbed by
any unsightly males, while still enjoying the benefit of one of the few things
they can do to please a women.”  And she
crushed Alice’s lips beneath her own.

The two stayed locked in the embrace for a while.  When they drew back to breathe, Alice gasped
“Hey – I know!  How about if you wear one

Serena smiled and kissed her innocent companion on the nose.
“Already wearing one” she confided.  “I
put it on when we got dressed and activated it at the same time as yours.  I just don’t make… Alice noises when I’m
being served that’s all.”

“I don’t make – “ Alice began crossly, but proceeded to
betray her own stifled protestations, by gasping desperately.

Serena just chuckled and kissed her again and for a while
the two simply writhed in an embrace, the only sound being the ever louder
urgent gasps and cries as Alice reached her fifth orgasm of the day (Serena
herself was generally much quieter and in any event, the sounds of her own
climax were usually hard to discern above the loud screams or the grinding,
drilling and sizzling noises that often accompanied them).


No, none of these people are Serena or Alice either.  It’s a quiz!  Five lovely ladies above, all looking quite happy but only two of them are wearing Serena’s patented portal panties.  Can you pick the right two?  To make it easier, both ladies activated their portals about ten minutes before their pictures were taken so have been enjoying the attentions of some of Serena’s most skillful ’employees’ for a while. 


Eventually Alice flopped in Serena’s arms, smiling up at her
goofily.  “That was… oooh, that was
lovely!” she sighed contentedly. Then she frowned “Oops!  Need the little girls’ room – like I always
do, afterwards.” And she made to pull the panties down, physics-defying insert
and all.  But Serena just reached out to
stop her, shaking her head slowly.

Alice looked confused (it is a tradition in Serena and Alice
stories that Alice has to be far behind the curve and look sweetly confused at
least once).  Then realisation dawned (well
done, Alice, we knew you’d get there).

“Oh” she said.

“You mean, I can just…?”

Serena nodded.  “Right
here. Go ahead.”

The two ladies stood in silence for a moment, gazing at each
other.  Alice looked excited at first, then
her eyes took on an increasingly far-away look. 
Eventually she burst out giggling. 
“Look: I can’t do it if you’re watching!

Serena sighed and turned around.  “Better?” she asked.

“Or if you talk.” replied Alice, primly.  There was silence for a while.

“Oh, here we go” Alice remarked, after what seemed an age to
Serena. “Oh yes.  Oh this is nice.  Mm… I needed that, I really did.  Oh.”

Then she burst out in surprised laughter. “Oh – he’s licking
me clean!  What a well-trained boy!”

“One of my best” Serena nodded.  “He was already quite good when I recruited him and he was a volunteer too – fell in love with me, actually.  Those are often easier to train than abductees.  Plus, he has a low pain threshold which helps. One of the lowest I’ve ever encountered, actually”.  She smiled to herself, as if recalling a happy memory.

“Where is this one, then” Alice asked with interest. “Whose
mouth did I just pee in?  Government
Minister sitting quietly in his office? 
Respectable family man in his ‘den’ at home?  Ooh – or a priest or bishop or something,
pretending to pray by himself?  I’d love
to piss in the mouth of a bishop – don’t know why, but I’ve always wanted to.  They’re so… pompous.”

“Not a bishop” laughed Serena, making a mental note because
Alice’s birthday was just a few weeks away and she’d been unable to think of a
special treat for her.  “In fact, this
one’s strictly in-house. Very strictly, actually – come and see.”

She led Alice down a flight of steps into one of the many
dark sublevels below the laboratory.  She
flicked a light switch to reveal an empty room, with bare concrete walls.  The wall facing them was mottled in various –
but not as many as fifty – shades of grey.

“Oh, I recognise this place.” Alice said, after a while.
“You used to keep a lot of boys here. It was cages all over, you must have had
at least fifteen in here.  But the room
seems… smaller. Funny, because normally when you take the stuff out of a room
it looks bigger.”

“I still store males here.” Serena replied.  “More than ever, actually.  I think there’s now” – she quickly checked
her phone – “twenty-two.”

“But where?” wailed the reliably slow Alice.

“In the walls” smiled Serena.  “Look, I’ll show you.”

She pulled out an ominous, coffin-shaped box made of wood.
Inside were some rough cardboard shapes, of the sort that oddly-shaped packages
are often wrapped in for shipping.  She
picked one up: it looked like the crudest possible face-mask.

Alice looked adorably puzzled, once again.  “But where are the boys?”

“The male goes in the box” Serena explained.  “I put these things on him – like a cardboard
suit of armour, you see?  That’s to give
him just a little bit of wiggle room when I pour the concrete.  The cardboard soon decays so it’s just him in
the concrete space after that. It’s good to have a bit of an air pocket, so I
don’t lose them all if there’s a power outage, or something.  Plus, they seem to die very quickly if you
just pour wet concrete on them.  This
way, they can stay alive in their little male-shaped bubble inside the concrete
forever, as far as I can see. Haven’t lost one yet – not by accident, anyway.”

(Fear not reader: Alice is supposed to be delightfully slow
on the uptake but not an utter moron. 
She is not about to ask how the males can breathe or eat and drink
entombed in concrete.  Given the context
of the story, even Alice has worked that out. 
If there are any readers who haven’t, I suggest you try simpler femdom
sites that are more suited to your mental capacities, such as those with pictures of models with their
tits out over impractical latex garments, pretending to be dominatrices by
gritting their teeth at the camera and vaguely waving bullwhips.*)

“So all the stuff goes in and out…” Alice said wonderingly…

“Precisely” Serena beamed. 
“Or round and round, for that matter. 
Come and see.”

This lucky lad is just about to be fitted out with portals and cardboard protectors, before being boxed and placed in a hole in the wall just to the left of this picture. Then the concrete will be poured.  He is actually looking towards the wall where his brother has been placed, while his father is about six inches inside the concrete just behind his feet.  Serena managed to capture the full set, on a family fishing trip that went wrong (for them – for Serena it went quite well, as – obviously – it also did for the fish).  Serena disapproves of fishing for sport, considering it cruel.


She led Alice back upstairs, down a corridor and threw open
some double doors to reveal a complicated machine.  Clear plastic pipes snaked around in convoluted
fashion, all connected up to a triple row of shimmering orange portals, each of
similar size to the ones sewn into the ladies’ adapted panties.  On the far right, a large plastic tank
labelled ‘food’ contained a greasy greeny-brown mush.  As Alice watched, a pipe suddenly started gushing
a lumpy reddish broth that raised the level of the mixture in the tank by about
two inches and turned it appreciably darker.

“Comes from various waste disposal points in the lab” Serena
explained.  “Obviously, there’s a
standard food waste shredder to make sure that nothing goes in that’s too wide
for the portals or might clog them up.  We
flush all the recipents through with high pressure water once a week or so, just to make

“What do you feed them?” Alice asked.

“Oh, it’s mostly food waste.” Serena replied
dismissively.  “I try not to let non-food
ordinary household waste in too much – at least 75% of what’s in there is what
might be considered edible, at a pinch, in normal circumstances.  It seems to keep them alive, anyway.”

“And the outflow pipes…?” Alice asked, with a keen interest.

“Don’t always outflow straight away, obviously.” Serena nodded.  “They can loop back so the same male eats or
drinks his own excreta, or one another’s of course.  It’s easy enough to set up quite complicated
routes and loops, actually.  If you time
it right, the same food can pass through as many males as you like. One day I’m
going to try putting a radioactive tag in the food to see how many
of them I can get it through before flushing it away.”

“Oh: we tried that before, didn’t we?” Alice said enthusiastically. “You remember: when you were teaching me about the science of radioactivity!  You put a boy in a big metal box and dropped this special stuff in, and all his hair fell out!  It was funny.”

“Yes, but that was plutonium.**” began Serena “I’m talking about trace elements of – “

“And he said ‘Oh my skin feels itchy’ and then it turned black and started peeling off!” giggled Alice, remembering the salient parts of her science lesson.  “He looked so surprised!”

Serena smiled, indulgently.  “Anyway”, she said “it’ll be fun to see how many times I can get the same piece of food to pass through them all.    Of course, I could just close the loop and
they’ll just eat each other’s shit for ever.”

“Can we try?” Alice asked eagerly.

Serena looked serious. “No, that would kill them, so we can’t do that. Not yet.  I don’t know how long it would take or what specifically they’d die
of.  I’d keep the food going, so they
wouldn’t starve but I suppose in some way they’d just clog up or burst under the
pressure.  So… it’s going to be the grand
finale to this little experiment, but I’m not ready yet – lots more I want to
try first.”

Seeing the look of disappointment on her friend’s face, she added “Don’t worry.  I’ll let you know when I’m ready to do it.  Maybe over Christmas, OK?”

Alice cheered up, but was then struck by a rather horrible thought.  “So the mouth that just licked me out has

Again, the response was a shaking head.  “There’s a little warning that pops up if I’m
about to spray shit into the mouth of one of the ones I’ve flagged for oral
service.  So I don’t do that – not hygienic.
In fact, that reminds me…”

She checked her phone, frowning, then selected a few

“OS23B?” she said, in a quiet speaking voice. “Oral service
slave formally known as Lee Taylor?  You’ve
been quite slack using your tongue lately, so now you’re going to taste
something different.  You have a couple
of seconds to say thank you Mistress, before your mouth fills with shit.”

A faint sound came from one of the tube-covered portals,
before being cut off by a squelching, gurgling sound.

“All of you other oral service slaves?  I hope you’re paying attention.” she added.

“They can hear us?” Alice asked.

“Oh yes” Serena replied. 
“Sorry, I suppose I should have told you. 
There’s a mic here – I sometimes like to tell them what’s about to
happen.  Or just talk to them about
stuff.  It must be very isolating, being entombed
in concrete, so I think it’s probably something they look forward to.”

“So… they heard our conversation just now?  They know they’re all destined to die choking on each other’s
shit when you’ve finished playing with them?” Alice asked.

“When I’ve finished conducting my scientific experiments
Serena corrected.  “Yes.”

“Well: they do
now, anyway.” she added.

“That must be quite demotivating” Alice remarked.

“Plenty of motivational devices here” Serena laughed and she
showed her friend the controls for the electric shock treatments.  Individual males could be shocked in various
places and at various intensities, so Alice had fun at first pressing individual buttons, while trying to guess
above which name a little light would go on indicating that electricity was
being applied.  Most also screamed (those that didn’t were probably in the process of being fed, or at least receiving some kind of solid matter through their feeding tubes). The screams
could only be heard faintly, as of course they emerged inside the plastic feeding tubes. Alice thought the effect was rather lovely – soothing, like church bells heard in the distance would be to someone without Alice’s fanatical sadism (or indeed to many people with it: it is an offensive caricature to believe that people like Alice and Serena who so love torturing, maiming or murdering cannot also apreciate the gentler pleasures in life).  

 Then Serena showed
her how to set up multiple and timed shock patterns, and how to run pre-programmed
sequences and Alice stood in wonder before the displays of flashing lights and
accompanying muffled screams.

“So pretty” she smiled. 
“I could watch all day.”

“Oh, but there’s more I want to show you” Serena smiled.  “Things you can do with portal-fitted males,
here on the outside.”

“The lucky ones” nodded Alice, only half-listening to her
friend as she continued to enjoy the son-et-lumi
ère show.

“Not really” Serena replied.

This attracted Alice’s interest.  “Worse than being entombed in concrete being
tortured with electric shocks – and nothing to look forward to but a slow death from being force-fed shit?” she asked, disbelievingly.

“Well, OK.” Serena conceded. 
“Not strictly worse, necessarily.  But just as bad.  Come and see.”

And she led Alice away towards part 3.  At the door, Alice cast one last admiring
look back at the lights flashing so prettily on the board and then the ladies
were gone, and the muffled (but frantic and urgent) screams had no one but the empty
room for audience. 

As I’ve said, I’m afraid I don’t have any actual photographs of Serena or Alice.  However, I’m told by people who have met Serena and survived that this picture is extraordinarily similar to how they remember her, when they awake in the cold sweat of terror in the middle of the night.

It took a few years but Part 3 is finally here… 

* Actually, we feature those images here sometimes too.  But ironically, you know? 

** You might think Serena having access to Plutonium is a terrifying idea.  But actually, when you think about it, it’s only marginally more terrifying than Serena not having access to Plutonium.  It’s just one more thing, is all I’m saying.  If you want to read more about Alice’s science lessons read Love among the test tubes.  It is the Serena and Alice story: so much so, that I didn’t write another for years afterwards, because it all seemed to have been said.

Times you really wanna cry

You could try hopping from one foot to another.  It does no good, but it’s traditional somehow.

And then they could sit on them sitting on the cones.

If all else fails, ‘being male’ would do.

I was once told by a sex worker that 45 seconds with me was worth as much to her as an hour or longer with a “normal client”. I thought that was such a nice thing to say that I got distracted and nearly missed my deadline.

Let’s hope someone brought the lube!

Hack job


“Dear Strict Mistress Tricia

Thank you for your reply. I am so much looking forward to visiting you again at your dungeon this afternoon. You asked whether I had any special requests for this session and I am writing to convey a fantasy that I have long nurtured but never really dared to express before.

Please could you “


Please could you I humbly beg for a much ‘harder’ session than usual. I have been quite exceptionally naughty and I believe that I deserve particularly severe punishment. I humbly request that we start ‘in character’ from the very second I walk in the door: you can order me to remain silent, while I strip, then without a word you handcuff me and gag me with a”

With a… with a…

a with one of my own socks, firmly held in with masking tape, so I cannot make a sound. Then I deserve nothing less than two hours of relentless physical chastisement. Hard spanking with a wooden paddle, the belt across my shoulders and back and please could you finish with an exceptionally hard beating on my buttocks and thighs with a”

Hmm…oh yes, of course.

“cane. Yes: a long, brutal caning with a long, brutal cane. I need to be strapped securely across a whipping bench and thrashed soundly. Don’t worry about my ‘limits’: Just for once I need to be seriously hurt, so no play acting. My wife is away so don’t worry about leaving marks either. I want my bottom to be a mass of welts and bruises.

I have one slightly strange request, Strict Mistress. Each time you begin with a new implement could you say “This is from Lucy”? It’s just a weird little fetish I have had for a long time and I hope that being very thoroughly beaten “for Lucy” will help me get it out of my system.

Counting the hours until I can be at your feet again, Strict Mistress.



“Slave Trevor”

And… send!




Fair mistreatment


How soon will she be back?  Oh… you know.  It’ll be forever and it’ll also be too soon, same as usual.


There’s actually another guy out there, but you’re unlikely to see him unless you start digging in the compost pile, and why would you do that?

 The lovely but, by the looks of things, retired Princess Neive. I wonder what she did with the boots?  I’d give them a loving home.

Poor thing. She seems very upset.  I hope this will make her feel better.

As her name is ‘Josephine’, maybe you’re better off sticking with ‘hamster’?  At least ‘hamster’ fits on one line.



Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll get the hang of it.

I once had a date with a girl who claimed never even to have heard of SPH, but she was really good at it.  I guess some people are naturals.

“Let the butt plug take the strain” was actually one of my few successes when I worked as an advertising copywriter.

On your toes and bent over – at the same time.  Welcome to the modern marriage.


The unkindness of strangers

… and loved ones, for that matter.

Aww… she gave you an advisory warning.  Many new brides wouldn’t… she seems rather sweet.

Very fair point.  The unfair bit is that homosexuality’s illegal there, so not only do they force you to suck off other inmates, they give you an extra 20 years for it.

‘Normally’?   I’m normally out on the landing desperately hoping she’ll throw my trousers out after me at this point.   So… new situation.  Scrabble?

I hope she moves to a lower chair.

Actually, this is described quite clearly in Revelations.  You just have to read it with the Bible held at the correct angle, in the right light.  And Contemplate the Divine.

Abject pleasure

Any prisoner being mistreated has the right to protest about it, too.  As much as he likes.

Shame really… if the two of you were gay, you could save a lot of money by doing this voluntarily instead and not paying her to force you.

The lovely Goddess Snow, who makes the most wonderful tease videos in which she induces uncontrollable erections by… well, by existing really.

It’s complicated.  To be honest, I don’t quite understand it myself.  But she assures me there is a very good reason and I don’t like to argue.

I do occasionally wonder – especially when bent over and quivering in fear while being caned – what life would have been like if I’d had a different sexual fetish.  Plushies for instance.  That must be really easy.

I’m told I have a very punchable face.  I can confirm that.

She’s the latest and the greatest of them all

Dommes and cats… am I right?  Ever noticed that?  Dommes and cats…

And a lot harder

The simply wonderful Amy Hunter.  I once had the remarkable pleasure and the still more remarkable pain (mainly the tawse on the hands – ow!) of visiting her.

I have a purpose to my existence.  My SO has promised some day to tell me what it is.

Arachnophobia play is quite culturally specific.  In the UK it’s just a matter of harmless terror, but in Australia I’ve heard it ‘s considered quite edgy.

It wasn’t actually feeling that nervous – it’s just got one of those faces, you know? But it’s beginning to get a bit jittery right now.
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