Stories and pictures themed around female domination and male subjugation and servitude. Unsuitable for children, for alpha males, for hard-core practitioners with an interest in the politics of bdsm and the mechanics of complicated rope work. Of interest to perverts like me, basically.
Embracing inferiority
It’s such a relief to stop pretending.
Between the chores, privileges and of course those ‘little kindnesses’ she so likes you to show her, the day can get quite busy.
Whe nshe got there, she realised that of course they weren‘t there – she’d put them in the cellar. She was dreadfully embarrassed, poor thing.
Oh, I hope she’s not going to chat for long. I get so socially awkward in these situations.
Thank goodness. If there’s one thing every men’s group needs, it’s a woman’s guidance. Otherwise the conversation can go in all sorts of unproductive directions. Men can achieve so much when they are all working to a common purpose – imposed by a woman, obviously. Just see how much a chain gang can get done, for instance, given the proper motivation not to slack off.
At least four of them played suspiciously badly… almost as if they wanted to be, to be… no, that’s ridiculous.
Sonme of us want that even less than others. But we’re not the decisive half of ‘us’.
6 thoughts on “Embracing inferiority”
Please do tell me more about Mila!
To a true pervert like me – in the literal sense of my arousal triggers having been diverted from most people’s such that I am excited by things “normal” people wouldn’t be – that last photograph is absolute catnip. The vast majority of men on this planet would find nothing remotely stimulating about it, but to me this very ordinarily-attired young woman’s expression of disdain and self-confident hauteur is an aphrodisiac like no other.
This time, unlike my jocular request for some of the previous photographic subjects’ contact details, it is imperative that I know more about Mila precisely so that I can AVOID any possibility of encountering her. Were I to meet her face-to-face, the consequences would undoubtedly be catastrophic for me.
All she would need to do is fix me with this look, and I would be powerless to resist any command she might choose to give me – losing absolutely everything: my wallet, my car, my savings, my home, the shirt from my back, my entire life.
A delicious fantasy, perhaps? Surely a fate I might actually crave? But no: penniless and destitute, I would no longer have the means to possess an internet-enabled device that would allow me to access your website, and that would be an unendurable hardship 🙂
Kind of you to identify lost access to my site as the unacceptable price of losing all to Mila, but surely we can both agree that if that made her life a little better, or just amused her slightly, that would be well worth it?
As for telling you more… well, if you do persist in this bizarre obsession with not being ruined and wiped off the sole of her shoe, what can I say? Obviously you’ve already discovered that you need to stay away from the tag ‘Slava Ukrayinkam’ on this blog as that dangerously leads to more captioned images of this Slavic siren. And you certainly won’t want to watch this video, follow this twitter account or peruse the photos on this web site, but as long as you don’t go near them, you should be fine. And I’m sure you’re strong enough for that, right?
That sounds very sensible, tom. Safety is this blog’s watchword, as regular readers like you will appreciate. In my Serena and Aliece stories, for instance, neither lady ever suffers the slightest harm (although there was a close shave when Serena nearly broke a fingernail while using an industrial hydraulic press as a scrotum crusher).
I’m afraid I have identified a whole series of videos that you should go nowhere near. I particularly caution you against the one where she’s dressed as a nurse and the one helpfully just called ‘Mila Azul’ in which she eats a doughnut. I’ve also discovered that her real name is Ekaterina Volkova, but that turns out also to be the name of an older actress from a certain neighbouring country Ukrainians don’t like to mention. Anyway, should you ever perilously find yourself in her presence, Google Translate assures me you should call her ‘Pani’.
I cast my mind back to my undergraduate days. Always surprised by fellow members of the (male) university rugby team who seemed to cross-dress at a moment’s notice. Cheerleaders featured prominently, and unconvincingly, in their costume choices.
I suspect several are now captains of industry and CEOs – who still dress enthusiastically as sissies, albeit in discreet dungeons in Paddington and Holland Park.
Not that I can talk. I pined after a beautiful medical student who later became a distinguished urological surgeon. Then dated a trainee vet.
I suspect that the great majority of adult-sized ballet skirts in the country are sold to rugby players, PP. Well, it’s all just a way of blowing off a bit of whatever they’ve got left to blow, after the serious businesses of puffing and grinding in the scrum, with their faces wedged between one another’s thighs, isn’t it?
I can’t say I ever dated a vet, but I did know one once… well, she was more of my SO’s friend than mine, to be honest, and I only met her on two occasions, the second of which I try hard not to remember. Yeah…
Please do tell me more about Mila!
To a true pervert like me – in the literal sense of my arousal triggers having been diverted from most people’s such that I am excited by things “normal” people wouldn’t be – that last photograph is absolute catnip. The vast majority of men on this planet would find nothing remotely stimulating about it, but to me this very ordinarily-attired young woman’s expression of disdain and self-confident hauteur is an aphrodisiac like no other.
This time, unlike my jocular request for some of the previous photographic subjects’ contact details, it is imperative that I know more about Mila precisely so that I can AVOID any possibility of encountering her. Were I to meet her face-to-face, the consequences would undoubtedly be catastrophic for me.
All she would need to do is fix me with this look, and I would be powerless to resist any command she might choose to give me – losing absolutely everything: my wallet, my car, my savings, my home, the shirt from my back, my entire life.
A delicious fantasy, perhaps? Surely a fate I might actually crave? But no: penniless and destitute, I would no longer have the means to possess an internet-enabled device that would allow me to access your website, and that would be an unendurable hardship 🙂
Best
tom
Dear me, tom, sounds like you’ve got it bad.
Kind of you to identify lost access to my site as the unacceptable price of losing all to Mila, but surely we can both agree that if that made her life a little better, or just amused her slightly, that would be well worth it?
As for telling you more… well, if you do persist in this bizarre obsession with not being ruined and wiped off the sole of her shoe, what can I say? Obviously you’ve already discovered that you need to stay away from the tag ‘Slava Ukrayinkam’ on this blog as that dangerously leads to more captioned images of this Slavic siren. And you certainly won’t want to watch this video, follow this twitter account or peruse the photos on this web site, but as long as you don’t go near them, you should be fine. And I’m sure you’re strong enough for that, right?
Best wishes
S
Thank you, S.
Yep, no way I’ll go anywhere near any of those links you mentioned.
Thank you for keeping me safe
tom
That sounds very sensible, tom. Safety is this blog’s watchword, as regular readers like you will appreciate. In my Serena and Aliece stories, for instance, neither lady ever suffers the slightest harm (although there was a close shave when Serena nearly broke a fingernail while using an industrial hydraulic press as a scrotum crusher).
I’m afraid I have identified a whole series of videos that you should go nowhere near. I particularly caution you against the one where she’s dressed as a nurse and the one helpfully just called ‘Mila Azul’ in which she eats a doughnut. I’ve also discovered that her real name is Ekaterina Volkova, but that turns out also to be the name of an older actress from a certain neighbouring country Ukrainians don’t like to mention. Anyway, should you ever perilously find yourself in her presence, Google Translate assures me you should call her ‘Pani’.
Best wishes
S
Cheerleaders
I cast my mind back to my undergraduate days. Always surprised by fellow members of the (male) university rugby team who seemed to cross-dress at a moment’s notice. Cheerleaders featured prominently, and unconvincingly, in their costume choices.
I suspect several are now captains of industry and CEOs – who still dress enthusiastically as sissies, albeit in discreet dungeons in Paddington and Holland Park.
Not that I can talk. I pined after a beautiful medical student who later became a distinguished urological surgeon. Then dated a trainee vet.
Each to their (pervy) own
PP
I suspect that the great majority of adult-sized ballet skirts in the country are sold to rugby players, PP. Well, it’s all just a way of blowing off a bit of whatever they’ve got left to blow, after the serious businesses of puffing and grinding in the scrum, with their faces wedged between one another’s thighs, isn’t it?
I can’t say I ever dated a vet, but I did know one once… well, she was more of my SO’s friend than mine, to be honest, and I only met her on two occasions, the second of which I try hard not to remember. Yeah…
Best wishes
S