Everything she wants, any way she likes, right now

She was beside herself with worry, the poor thing. Nothing to worry about now… for her to worry about, I mean.


It
might add to it, if anything.  But it’s nice when it finishes – or when
the weals heal, a week or so later, depending on the severity.

 

 

 

In the event, she realised of course that she didn’t actually want a slave with a bashed in face and a pulped, deformed nose, snuffling around the whole time.  So both of them ended up having to leave.  Funny how some people just don’t think things through, isn’t it?  Still, no real harm done and I guess she learned something.

 

 

 

Oh dear, that wasn’t a very tactful thing to say.  She’s not an unkind person, you understand; it’s just never occurred to her not to despise you.

 

 

 

If Kitten can’t have nice things, why should you have nice things?

 

 

 

For those of you who might have sleepless nights worrying about Kitten not being as happy as she deserves to be, all the time, I am delighted to share the following picture:

 

Isn’t that lovely?  Doesn’t it make the world a better place?  You can think of it every time you pay off the monthly installments of the loan – ten years, wasn’t it?  Lots of time to think of Kitten’s happy smile.  And she decided to keep the black one, too, for when she’s just not in a red car mood.

Now… Kitten has some ideas for other things she’d like to have.  Get a notebook: you can make a list.

 

 

*** UPDATED***

Kitten saw this and would just like you to know that she has always liked yellow best of all the colours.  

 


Come on now, don’t be mean…


 

 

 

Life (of a sort) imitating no sort of art

 Not a proper post today, but continuing in the same theme of actual things that actually happened to the actual me…

 

So… I had a wonderful session last week with my wonderful beautiful smart creative and witty regular domme.  And one of the wonderful things this wonderful person decided to do was have me kneel before her while she read a poem and occasionally she’d stop and I had to guess the rhyming word and if I didn’t get it right she slapped my face.

And that’s a lot of fun if you’re me.  And the poem she chose was The Raven by Poe.

And I was just thinking as I knelt there, looking happily into her smiling face, that this is quite a strange thing for a sex worker (that is a term she uses and is proud of) to do.  I mean, some sex workers presumably have actual sex, although that’s not an activity I’ve ever tried in session. We all have our limits, after all.  Sitting there, fully clothed, reading poetry and occasionally slapping someone is an odd thing for a sex worker to do.  If you think about it and I was thinking about it, while also frequently trying to guess a rhyme and being slapped when necessary.

 

 

And then she got to the line “And is there balm in Gilead” and I suddenly had a profound moment of deja vue (and a good hard slap) as I remembered this:

 

…which I had previously posted in my almost universally unpopular series of ‘Rule 18‘ posts, in which I put up pictures (usually uncaptioned) of lovely ladies dressed or behaving weirdly, and one is supposed to imagine the poor things gamely trying hard to fulfill some usually unseen client’s ludicrously over-complicated sexual fantasy. 

 I particularly liked the one above… even though I had to caption it.  It’s the expression of vague embarrassment on the blonde lady’s face and the way her colleague declaiming is making such an effort to get it right.  (My wonderful domme did it effortlessly of course).

The original ‘Advice to a novice domme’ post defining a ‘Rule 18’ violation is below:

 

 

That’s all for today.  Abnormal service as usual from now on.

 

 

 

 

Oh all right then, you’ve read this far, you can have one new captioned image.  Advice to a novice domme, obviously.  Which (for the avoidance of doubt) my own wonderful, clever, elegant, creative and perfect domme does not need.

 

 

 

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