Servitor – Contemplating the divine

Art is born of humiliation

And so is unoriginal, mediocre crap like this.

Adapting your behaviour’s really easy. In fact, if you just go with the flow, she’ll adapt it for you. [P.S. Don’t you love her t-shirt? I wrote the caption, for which the image was already perfect, before I’d noticed it.]

There are many things he’d like her to do. He’s learnt to cope with disappointment, though.

One fact-checking organisation did give *Contemplating The Divine* a 7% rating for truthful reliability, but that was focused on a few posts in which I’d exposed and deprecated my own sexual and other inadequacies… a more representative selection of posts would probably put it about 1%… maybe 2.

You could say no…. even to Sven. But imagine that disappointed face, hmmm?

The most important part of the session – handing over the tribute – went without a hitch, so anything else is best regarded as an extra.

Her predictions usually come to pass. She’s brutally honest with them, too: doesn’t hold back from giving bad news.

This image (and associated Femme Fatale movie) is of a truly historic event, in featuring Mistress Eleise de Lacy and Lady Sophia Black together. Two of the most beautiful, talented and creative dommes ever. Servitor has had the extraordinary honour of serving both wonderful ladies in person, but never together… that, I think, would have made my head and probably several other body parts explode.

Sexual inequality

Oh, those grabber machines… they can be such an exercise in frustration.

Their buy-one-get-one-free offers are pretty good, but they had to abandon their no-questions-asked policy on taking back damaged goods, as too many dommes were abusing it.

You’ve got to be careful with the wording of hard limit lists. For example, mine rules out blow torch play, but it turns out welding arcs are actually hotter! Oh well, live and learn.

It’s easy to tell them apart – his helmet reads ‘other gimp’.

It might all sound complicated but actually, it’s a lot easier to learn Czech than… well: refusing to learn Czech. You’ll see. Don’t worry about making grammatical and other mistakes at first: the ladies expect that; in fact they rather enjoy pointing out those little errors.

The trutch can be painful, but not usually quite as painful as lies.

A state of war only serves as an excuse for domestic tyranny

This blog’s all in favour of domestic tyranny, of course – despotism begins at home – but has mixed feelings about war. Nonetheless, today, as so often before, we pay tribute to those heroines who fought in a war they did not seek*, to overthrow a cruel, oppressive patriarchy and replace it with the cruel and oppressive matrarchy the good boys who read this blog fervently wish for.

* You might imagine that the female supremacist side started the war but you’d be wrong (male, are you? Yeah, that explains it. You’re probably wrong about a lot of things – don’t worry, there’s plenty of women who can set you right). They were no more responsible for the war than a wife wearily sighing “Oh darling, don’t make me whip you again!” is responsible for the consequences of your impertinence. The losing side in WWM had only themselves to blame, and if they didn’t take that opportunity to do so and apologise to their superiors, the survivors had plenty of time for that after the war.

Getting your unjust deserts

Or desserts, even, if you’re into messy food play (or toilet play, for that matter).

I’ve never disappointed a woman in bed. Sexually, I mean. I spend my life disappointing women in other ways, in other places, obviously.

Why would anyone look closely? Horrible male bottoms… we don’t pay dommes enough for thrashing away at them.

I’d hate to try hypnotherapy, as I have this deep-seated feeling of terror at the thought of losing control. I suppose that might sound odd – in the lifestyle I live with my SO, have I not already lost control, you might ask? Yes, I have, and I spend my life feeling terror – thank you for asking.

The two options are (1) handing them cash and fucking off or (2) handing them cash and not fucking off just yet, in case they need more cash, basically. Of course, they’re not *your* options.

Let’s hope she switches the light off, or you’re in for a sleepless night, I’m afraid. I don’t suppose you could reach the…? No, no I suppose not.

*** **WORDPRESS READER WARNING** ***
Our fact-checkers have red-flagged this claim as ‘Unsupported by evidence. Probable misinformation’. And they reckon the rest of the blog’s a load of old wank, too.

(The real thing: Mistress Eleise de Lacey)

No special Valentine’s Day theme today, you might ask? Well, you see, when you’re in a long-term relationship as I am, you don’t need a special day to show your love. Valentine’s Day is just another day as I see it, or rather, every day is Valentine’s Day.

That’s my take on it.

Unfortunately, my SO took a different view and expected a present. So we discussed it in our usual way and once we reached the part of the discussion where she takes the gag out of my mouth and reduces the tempo of whipping so that I can gasp out coherent words, I explained how for me, every day was Valentine’s Day. So now she expects a present every day. She says she’ll be giving me something every day too, to remember this conversation by. So that’s nice.

They do say love has no boundaries or limits and I’ve certainly discovered that to be the case, today and every day.