Author: Servitor

Late handing in homework

Sorry!

I could… but you’d never believe me.
 

 


Can I brush my teeth now, please? Mouthwash would be nice, too.



 

 

And how he’s going to get there, with no money for the bus.  Still, she hasn’t stood in his way: credit to her for that.
 

 

Synergies!  Clever domme.
 

 

What a bitch.

You can wear the uniform and I could play along

And so it goes…

“…and if there’s war between the sexes then there’ll be no people left.  “
Actually, I’ve never believed that. Some of us would be traitorous quislings from the start, for one thing.

PS – she didn’t recognise him, actually.  Not her fault – they used to get a lot of men at OWK.  They all look the same after a while, I expect. 

 
 
The holiday starts here.
 
 
 
 

 

Some of us have high natural levels of this chemical in our bloodstreams already.  It’s produced in the spleen, I expect.  Mostly because I enjoy typing the word ‘spleen’, which is a rather underused organ in femdom porn, I’ve always felt.
 

 

 

 

It’s best not to let the cute ones off too lightly.
 
 
Nazi dominatrices!  Cute, huh?  A bit illegal in Germany, but hey – this is the blog that treats its readers with contempt, remember?

Blonde justice

C’mon now!  Are you going to let her get away with that? Huh?
Oh.  OK then. 
 
 

 

Yeah, the human body has remarkable self-healing powers. And if not, there are lots more men out there.
 
 
 

 

She should watch out… illegal to watch that sort of thing in Britain.  Illegal just about everywhere to actually do it too, so don’t worry about a thing – she’s only playing.
 
 
 

 

Just try to hold onto the memory. For about eight weeks.
 
 

 

I like to be helpful.

Respectful silence

…

Get ready… they’re rough.
 

 

It adds a bit of tension to an otherwise dull game.
 
 

 

Very wise.
 

 

Oooh.
 
 
 
Of course, there’s always a risk in catching up with old schoolfriends, that they’ll make you feel bad by being, like, waaay more successful. But really, when your future’s the butcher’s hook, there’s no point in drawing fine distinctions, I say.
 
 

Gynophilia/gynophobia

The love of women and the fear of women.  I have both conditions.

Hmmm… She’s merely disappointed, not repulsed. I’ll consider that as progress.

 

It’s a sacred bond – or a device for getting the housework done, depending on whether your finger’s on the button.

 

Don’t worry: he’s very professional.  You can be tied tightly naked over his trestle, and no matter how horny he’s feeling, you won’t have a thing to worry about. Well, except the savage beating you’re about to receive, obviously.

 

…and she does mean everywhere.
She’ll track them down. She’s very persistent. Anyway, can’t have feral males running about the place can we?

 

It’s a tonic for the troops!

 

 

Women, eh? Sometimes there’s no pleasing them.  You try to apologise, and they just run you over with a tank anyway.  Still… I guess we wouldn’t have them any other way, eh chaps?



 




Cathie might need a new lawyer in her stable.  She gets through slaves quite quickly – doesn’t look after them properly, truth be told.
 







She has a plan.
 This is the delightfully delightful Miss Tiffany Naylor. ‘A dominatrix based in Milton Keynes.’ To be honest, for me that’s a hard limit right there.  But it would be worth it, to meet her.






I suppose there’s little chance of either being a blow job? No? Worth asking…
 






I suppose any Radio 4 listeners amongst you will want to point ou that I got the apostrophe in the wrong place.  Radio 4 listeners are like that.

The rest of you have no fucking idea what I’m talking about, have you?  I don’t know myself sometimes, to be honest.

Making babies together

Hey there!  Morning
tiger!  How ya doing?
You want to ring a doctor? Oh!  Why?  Is something wrong?

Awww… not too personal to tell me, surely honey?
Not gonna tell? OK. Let me guess. The end of your prick has swollen up and it’s
red and sore, right?  And you’re feeling
kinda woozy?

 
Uh huh.  Well, I know
what that is.

What!??  No!  It is NOT a sexually transmitted
disease.  Honey!
No, it’s much more beautiful
than that. We’re going to have a baby! 
Well… I am.  But you’re going to
hatch it.

Remember when we fucked last night, and you felt a sudden
sharp sting at the end of your cock? 
Well, that was me! And it wasn’t a sting, it was an egg-laying
proboscis.  And right now my lovely
little daughter is all curled up inside your cock, ready to grow.

No…no, don’t try to leave, honey.  She wants to be with her Mommy.  And if she senses we’re growing far apart,
she’ll release more of the paralysis toxin. 
The only reason you’re conscious is that I’m here.  She only needs to do that for a few days,
though.  She’s got filaments spreading
along your nerve fibres, and when they reach your brain she can take
control.  You’ll be free to move and
speak and stuff, but she’ll be in charge. 
That way she can keep you safe as she incubates and feeds.  It’s like being carried around wrapped in a cushion
of your favourite food!

Hmm?  Oh, about nine
months, rather like you humans.  She’ll
burrow up into your torso in about a week or so, though, there’s not enough
flesh in your cock to sustain her for more than a few days. She’s got feeding
tendrils that’ll spread throughout your body… muscles, liver, lungs.  She’ll take a little from everywhere, try to
keep you alive as long as possible.  Your brain’s probably going to be last on her menu – it’s kinda yummy but if you eat it up too quick, the host dies too soon.

Anyway, have some of this fruit. You’re probably hungry,
right?  That’s her as well, trying to
fatten you up.  I’ll fix breakfast.  You want some
pancakes?  I can do pancakes, the old-fashioned way.  With maple syrup!

Back under the saddle

Ah well, summer holidays over and it’s back to the daily grind.  Which to be honest can leave you quite sore, especially when you then have to get up and go to work.  But who am I to argue?

I hope you enjoyed the archival clear-out over August.  But not that you enjoyed it so much you did anything you shouldn’t.

Back to normal.  More of the same, but written more recently.

Down you go.  You’ve got at least 10 hours before sunset.
 
 

 

Submissive man not actually very good at housework, in reality!  Who’d have thought?
 

 

It’s just her thing. Go with it.
 
 
 
 
She got you, babe.
 

 

Yes.  Anyway, it really doesn’t matter how big it is, if you’re not allowed to do anything with it.