Author: Servitor

Consequences

A ‘turning points’ story.



Darling, can we talk about last night?  About the party?

Yes, I know you had a bit too much to drink.  That’s what I want to talk about.

No, you were fine.  Just a little tipsy.  Not like Mark.  You weren’t being drunk or embarrassing, or anything like that.  I just wanted to talk to you about the game.

The game of ‘consequences’, of course.  Have you forgotten playing?  We did one round, just before the Saxtons went home.

I’ve got all the strips of paper here, you see?  I got them out of the wastepaper bin.  Now – you had a blue pen, didn’t you?

Oh don’t try to pretend darling, yes you did, I know you did.

Right, so let’s have a look, shall we?  Hmm…let me see.  I’ll just unfold them.  That one’s OK, you went first but um…yes!  What about this one?  I’ll read it out.

“President Obama” met “Humphrey the Cat” in “a cattle market in Australia”.  He said to her “There are better cakes in Portsmouth” (that’ll be Mark, of course.  Anyway, doesn’t matter.) She said to him “That’s six of the best with my cane – pull your shorts down!”  And the consequence was “the Bee Gees reformed and released a Garage album.”

You don’t remember which of those was yours?  OK, let’s try another.

“Mr Tickle” met “a strict headmistress, flexing her cane menacingly”, in “Transylvania”.  He said to her – well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?  I do recognise my husband’s handwriting.

Or this.

“Adam Ant” met “Seven of Nine” in “Cardiff”.  He said to her “the flowers that bloom in the spring, trala, have nothing to do with the case”.  She said to him “Because reasons”.  And the consequence was “She put him across her knee, and spanked his naughty bottom until it glowed.”

Honestly, I could have died of embarrassment when we read them all out.  Mark whispered to Gerry that you should be sent to bed early with a smacked bottom!  And everyone heard him.  Everyone except you, apparently.

If it was just a joke, it was a very silly one.  But perhaps there’s something we need to discuss, is there, darling?  Because if you want me to put you across my knee and spank your naughty bottom until it glows, believe me – you’ve picked a very good day to find out what it feels like!

Resistance is futile

Utterly futile.

I love the way a recent article in the Guardian about science fiction on British TV just *happened* to use an image from this episode featuring whip-wielding dominatrices to exemplify the series Space 1999.
 

 

That’s only fair, because you’re not in fact safe.
The awesome Jean Bardot.

 

Aww… look at that little pout.  Isn’t she sweet when she’s cross?  Better do what the little woman says, hmmm?  Just to humour her, you know.  You can assert yourself later, I expect.
 
 

 

If you want a picture of the future, imagine a sweaty trainer stamping on a human face — forever*.
 
 

 

I do.
 
Mistress Francesca Harding, prepared it would seem to help with life-long learning experiences.





*Test time!  What is the slightly garbled literary reference?  Hmm?  Anyone?  You!  You at the back – hands out of your pockets, boy! – what’s the answer?

OWK memories

As most of you will know, the Other World Kingdom closed its doors some time ago.  Like many submissives, I was completely captivated by the images and videos produced by this place, and I wish I had had the opportunity to go.  Especially in the very early days, there was a freshness and originality to OWK.  I still remember seeing the first full-page glossy ad for the place in a magazine (before the Internet – or at least before I had access, in 1992 or so).  There were these stern ladies escorting prisoners with a real concentration-camp vibe.  So different from the scenes shot in the British home counties, or the usual studios.

Anyway, through the extensive use of a media technique known in the trade as ‘making it up’, this blog managed to secure interviews with several of the OWK’s ladies just before it closed, reminiscing about the early days and their time at the OWK.  The author would like to thank all of these ladies for donating their completely imaginary time, as well as for the advice they provided to him for self-improvement, during the course of the fantasised interviews.

We miss you, OWK.

 

 

 

 

 

No means no

There’s been a lot of news lately about the need for men always to seek a woman’s consent before any sexual activity.  And I think that’s exactly right.  If she says no – that’s it.  You’ll just have to wait until next month.

 

Finally found something you’re good at!  Well done.
 

 

The selection process is quite rigorous.  Some don’t survive.  But there’s plenty of them, so that’s really not a problem.
 

 

Well, if being told off and humiliated by an attractive lady in a sharp business suit doesn’t take his mind off sexy things, I don’t know what will!
 

 

They’re more kind of… snaily, if you know what I mean.  You don’t?  Oh.  Well – kind of like a cockroach that’s been squished under a boot most of the day – and I expect you know how bad that tastes!
 
 
Awww… sweet.
 

Because she says so

…is there ever any other reason?



It’ll help take your mind off the pain, while you’re waiting, anyway.  Nothing like ‘more pain’, to do that.



 

 

How exciting!  I wonder who it is?
 
 
 
It’s good to talk these things through.  And then to smack them out.

 

You’ve either seen the movie or you haven’t.

 

 

 

Can’t stop staring at.. the …gloves…!  Oh, er, right!  Dinner.  yes, right away.

Temper temper



Oh hi darling!  Locked myself out again!  So annoying – I mean, I knew you’d be coming home late today.

Actually, I’m having a bad day all round.  I lost my temper earlier on, and I’m still on edge.  You see, I went to buy some new boots, and –

– well no, not these boots actually, darling.  That’s the point of the story.  I do wish you wouldn’t interrupt.  You know how cross it makes me. Just listen, will you –


Anyway, I saw this lovely pair of boots – like these ones! – at lunchtime, so I bought them and I thought I’d wear them straight away, but when I got back to the office, what do you think I found?

No, of course you have no idea, darling.  It’s a rhetorical question.

Anyway, I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before, but I suddenly noticed they were all scuffed, at the side around the top of the keel.  I mean really scuffed – not just marks, but the leather had come up ragged in a few places.  And they’d obviously been like that when I bought them, because all I’d done was walk along the road to the office – it’s only ten minutes, you know, from that little row of shops near St Pauls.

So I went back after work, and I found the shop assistant who’d sold them to me – rather a creepy little guy, actually!  And he was smiling and nodding in that obsequious way they have, you know, and calling me ‘madam’ but then he said he couldn’t change them!  And I said why not, and he said because he couldn’t be sure that the damage hadn’t happened after I’d bought them!

I mean – really!  He was practically accusing me of lying!

Anyway, I just saw red.  You know how I get.  And I was just shouting at him, at the top of my voice… and I grabbed his head and I forced him down, shouting ‘Look!  look there at these boots you sold me!’ and I might have called him all sorts of awful names.  Poor guy – he was really upset.  Started stuttering and breathing hard – honestly, I think he might have been about to cry!

So I took off the boots and I was holding them right in his face, shouting at him.  When he took them his hands were just trembling.

And the store manager came over.  Quite a young lady – younger than him anyway.  Very smart and proper, you know?  And I was telling her all about it and – I feel awful now – but I was saying what a useless sales assistant she had, and she ought to give him the sack and all that sort of thing.  And he was just getting redder and redder in the face, and breathing harder and harder.

And then he ran off!  I mean, I must have just pushed too many of his buttons!  He just started gasping, and he bent half over and just scurried off through some door at the back of the shop.  With the boots!  I don’t think the manageress knew what to say!  She went to go and make some sort of phone call, from the till.

And then a couple of minutes later, he came back.  He seemed to have calmed down a bit, although he was still very red in the face.  And he was panting away, as if he’d just run a mile or something.  Goodness knows what he’d been doing back there!  Maybe he’d been crying.  But anyway, he had a new pair of boots with him!  Just like the others, but not damaged.  And when I said ‘But I thought you said you couldn’t change them’ he muttered something about how he could always pay for them himself, out of his own wages.

Well, I didn’t really think.  I just sat down and I held my hand out for him to give me the boots, but he just kneeled down in front of me and put them on me himself!  And he said ‘Thank you, Madam’ and he held the door open for me, when I left the shop.  I think I must have sacred the living daylights out of him!

Poor guy.  I mean, it’s not really his fault, is it?  I felt awful afterwards, I really did.  I shouldn’t think he’s paid very much, do you?  And it can’t be much fun, selling boots and shoes to stroppy ladies all day, even if they don’t all get angry, and shove their boots in his face and call him names!

Oh dear.  Do you think I should go back and apologise?

Do you think she should?

Hurtful things

…and he’s good for relieving my… tension!
 

 

Oh well.  At least you no longer have all that awful responsibility of making sure you’re keeping within the distance.  You can be fairly sure it’ll be no more than four feet.  Always.
 

 

I don’t want to think about this.
 

 

Fucking off is something I’ve always been really good at.  All the girls would agree.
 

 

We used to talk about my cock quite a lot, in the early days of our marriage.  But ‘gorgeous’ wasn’t one of the words she used. 

For old times’ sake 2


Oh hi!  Wow – it’s
really you!  When I saw the email from the agency,
I thought it must be someone else with the same name.  After all this time!
It’s so great to see you again!  Because, you know, I often think I never really thanked you enough
for giving me a chance in your startup. 
I mean, you were like this tech guru?  The big boss!  And I was just an intern!  And now look at me – you know how much I got
for the IPO?  $146m!  It’s kinda crazy. 
What a shame you had to leave the company
over that sexual harassment suit, just before we did the deal with Apple.  I really didn’t want to tell the investigators anything you know – none of the girls did.  I mean, except Julie, obviously.  But, you know, there was this really mean lawyer and I had to sign a thing saying I was committing the crime of perjury if I said anything untrue in my statement, so… you know.  Had to kind of tell them all about it.  But I cried about it that night.  And we didn’t speak to Julie again.
Hmm?  No, she moved away.  Bought like her own island in the Caribbean, or something.  So you needn’t worry about running into her too!

Still, it’s good to see you’re still in work.  And I’m so pleased I can help by being a
client!  Because really, you know, I owe
all of this to you.  I mean, it was your product.  Even if you signed away your rights to it, I expect you still feel some kind of ownership, huh?

So – why don’t you start in the bathroom?  You’ve got all your mops and sponges and
things?  Great.  Well, you get started.  I’m going to play tennis today – I have to go now, actually – but I
think you’re on a ten-hour shift? 
Great.  So we’ll have time to
catch up.

Oh – in the bathroom, we have these granite tiles?  With little gaps between them?  You should use a little wire brush for
those.  There’s one in the utility
closet, if you don’t have one with you.

Oh – yeah, and we only use natural cleaning products?  No chemicals, all through the house.  You have to work a bit harder to get a shine, but we think the planet’s a bit more important!  And if it takes you a bit longer, you get paid more don’t you?

Don’t you?  Oh.  Well, we have to pay the agency by the hour.

Oh.  That’s mean.  OK.  Well, maybe I can give you a little extra, OK?  The agency said not to, but if it’s just a few dollars, I don’t see the harm in it.  If you do a good job!


See you later!

Not a proper post

…just a few links and questions.

Firstly, if you haven’t watched R100 already (and you should have done because Paltego featured it ages ago on Femdom Resource, but now the full movie is on Youtube) just do so immediately, OK?  Don’t worry about it all being in Japanese – I understand the plot doesn’t make much sense anyway, and in all honesty are you really watching it for the plot?

Here are some photos, anyway. Not carefully selected from hundreds of vanilla shots: a lot of the movie really is like this, all the way through.    You know how you skip through movies looking for the kinky bits?  Yes you do, just admit it.  That’s better.  Well, in this, you don’t need to skip.

 

 

 

 



Secondly, and very different, there’s this.  It’s not really femdom, because there’s nothing overtly sexual about it.  But if you’re into 60s housewives and if you’re into menacing, dangerous ladies (and I expect you are, because let’s face it, you’re a bit of an old pervert aren’t you?), you might like it.  But after the dominatrix-fest of R100 don’t go expecting it to be femdom in the mainstream, OK, because it just ain’t like that.  Just a menacing little tale.



And finally, if you’re still here you’re probably a regular reader and I thought I might ask you about the blog.  I don’t really understand what’s going on with the stats.  I have more and more pageviews than ever – August 2014 was nearly 100,000, equal best ever, thanks to daily holiday photos.  Took me over three million all time, woohoo.  But there are fewer comments and absolutely no new followers: my follower list has been stuck on 296 for as long as I can remember.  So I’m beginning to think maybe more and more of my traffic is web-crawlers and suchlike and really the blog is static or in decline.

Most new blogs seem to be on tumblr.  Should I move to tumblr?  I don’t really like it as much as blogger… it feels more ephemeral and less serious than blogger.  I treat tumblr as a sort of database of internet porn photos and often don’t even notice whose blog I’m on.  So I feel the blog would lose identity if I moved it.

Is there anything else I should be doing?  I occasionally get extra traffic from having a captioned photo posted on tumblr (hence the little watermark), but it never seems to translate into sustained new sources of traffic – the sources of visits here are always the same (thank god and paltego for Femdom Resource!).

None of this matters all that much.  I am fairly happy continuing to post things, and I have well over a year of unposted captions just now, so… I’m not about to stop or anything.   I just wondered whether I’m missing anything and I’m in a declining section of the Internet.  Surely the population of perverts on the Internet isn’t maxed out yet?

Anyway, here’s a captioned image for reading this far.  Thanks.



Effortless superiority

Don’t worry.  If you lack the self-discipline to stay away from the ciggies, I am sure she can find alternative, external sources of discipline.  She’s got willpower enough for both of you.
This is surely from Cruella, and this is Mistress Chambers, who quite apart from her other wonderful characteristics, has a delightfully pretty nose, I’ve always thought.  Seen to better advantage here. 

Hmm… Do you think they’re going to live happily ever after?
 

 

Well, it’s probably someone’s kink. A pink kink.
This is Mistress Jessica, looking remarkably stern and – fairly obviously – playing the role of Auntie  in her house.
 

 

That’s a relief.  I was beginning to think something was wrong with me.
 

Scamper back to little wife’s apron strings or stay talking to Ms Ratajkowski?  Oh what a horrible choice.  Dammit, I thought submission was all about giving up responsibility for difficult choices.