Author: Servitor

For old times’ sake


Oh hi!  It’s, err…, Mike isn’t it?  Oh wow.  Long time.

Well yeah,
yeah I’m fine.  You probably heard –
after we broke up I finally got serious about my work, and now I run my own
business consulting practice.  I kind of
split my time between here and New York, you know?  Although these days Shanghai’s almost as
important.

So…um.  How long’s it been?  Oh – listen to me, what a stupid thing to
say!  I know exactly when we broke up…
not going to forget it.  I guess we’ve
both moved on a lot since then!  I mean,
I got so upset, didn’t I?  Why shouldn’t
you ask me for a blow-job anyway?  I
suppose I was really conflicted, because back then I didn’t have the confidence
just to say no, so we had a scene and well… you know.

How about
you?  Do you live round here?  Pretty swanky neighbourhood, huh?

Oh, did
you?  Oh I’m sorry to hear that.  So many companies closing down lately, I
know, it’s been tough all over.  Which
one were you with?

Right.  Yes, they had a big rationalisation after
they got taken over by that French company, didn’t they?  Is that when you lost your job?  I know, a lot of people did. I worked on the
post-merger business plan, actually – that was my firm’s big break!  My client started
calling me the Surgeon – you know, for all the fat I cut out of the
company.  And the nickname got around and: ‘Hey!  Send for the Surgeon!’  You know? 
Really lucky break.

But anyway,
erm… obviously tough for you…  But
it’s nice to see you again!  I mean, just
to say hello, you know.  It’s not like I’d
want to get back together!  I mean, I
spent  – oh it must have been years –
hating you and loving you too, and thinking that I’d just pick up the phone and
maybe we could get back together… give you a blow job.  It was usually that bit that put me off,
actually!

Hmmm?  No, no serious relationships.  Actually, I usually pay for it these
days.  That way, I can get exactly what I
want and no fuss.  I’ve got so much
money, I just prefer it that way.  They
have to go down on their knees in front of me, and they have to be reluctant,
but then I start handing them the cash, one note at a time and they give me
oral sex… and I’ll tell you a little secret. 
They have to pretend to be called Mike!

Whoops!  Too much information.  Moving on! 

So what are
you doing today?

Begging on
the street?

Oh.  I see.

Well, honey,
let me see I’ve probably got a few notes here. 
Yes – here you go.  I – oops, I
dropped it!  How about that?  Go on: pick it up if you like. 
There it is – just down there in the gutter.

Nervous anticipation

Surely the sexiest feeling there is.  Don’t you think?  No?  Try a vanilla blog with lots of pictures of naked women instead, then, because this just isn’t going to be your thing.

Mistress Hellena is magnificent
Well… as long as they’re housetrained.
The lady above is Mistress Hellena, web site as recorded on the bottom right of the picture.  She has lots of very creative videos on the site – not the usual stuff by any means.  At one point, a slave gets wrapped up in brown paper.  She is clearly a wonderfully commanding and creative domme and I’d love to session with her, but her voice sounds exactly like my mother’s and that freaks me out.  Poor old screwed up Servitor.
 
 
Will he go under or over the barbed wire, I wonder?
 

But hey, it’s what we do, right?
 

Don’t you hate it when women do this?  They say “Is there something you want to talk about?” when really they already know all about it?  And then they strap you across the whipping block and flog you mercilessly, halve your pocket money and ground you for six months?  Women, eh?
 

It’s sad, but there are just too many submissive men chasing too few dommes.  The pound is the only answer.  Don’t worry: they’re very humane there.

Truth or…

 



 

The worst
thing I’ve ever done to a boy?  Oh…
I’ll probably take the dare, erm –

No!  No, I got it.  I’ll go with truth!

OK, so there
was this, like, really cute guy a couple of years above me?  And he really wanted to feel my breasts?

So I told
him that I’d let him, if I could kick him in the balls.  I mean, I was joking!  You know?

But he said
OK!  I couldn’t believe it!

Well, we
just stood there for a bit, and for some weird reason I just found myself
saying ‘How many times’?  And he’s like
‘Just one, bitch’.  So I’m like, ‘If you
can take ten, I’ll let you go all the way’. 
And he’s like, ‘OK, but you have to stop if I say so, OK?’.  And I’m like ‘Sure!’ 

Anyway, he
made me promise to stop if he said so – and for a joke, I made him agree that
he had to say ‘Please Carly, I’m a wimp and I can’t take any more, please
stop.’

So he opened
his legs a little bit, and he breathed in and out for a bit and then he looked
at me – he was looking kinda scared! – and was just, like, ‘OK!’.  Real tense, like that, you know?  Just: ‘OK!’.

And I kicked
him really hard, right in the nuts.  I
was wearing these kinda goth boots? 
– even though I’d already started going emo back then, but you know,
they were cool –  and the toe went right
between his legs so the top of the boot smashed right up into his balls. 

I don’t
think he’d expected me really to kick him as hard as that!  Especially not for the first one.  Because his eyes bulged out, and all the
breath came out of his body, and he staggered back and he’s trying to gasp for
air?  And he looks up at me with these
horrified pleading eyes – I can still see them now – and I think he was just
about to try and say something when I kicked him the second time!

And of
course, after that I went through with the whole thing.  I mean, I knew he wanted me to stop.  But he could hardly even scream, he was in so
much pain – let alone say the complicated sentence we’d agreed.  So I could just keep going.  Once he got as far as ‘PleaseCarlyI’m
awimpand’ – but then WHAM!. you know, and he shut up again.

And – I
guess the worst thing about it was that I’d planned that?  You know? 
Cos I’d seen boys who’d taken, you know, a softball in the nuts and I
knew what it would be like?  That’s why I
made him agree he had to say such a long thing if he wanted me to stop.  And then I just had to make sure I went in
really hard for the first one.

For the last
four he was writhing on the ground – I think he was trying to crawl away just
using his arms, but of course that didn’t do him any good, and those were the
hardest of all.

And I left
him there.  I figured he wouldn’t want to
try collecting on his part of the deal that day! 

Anyway… I
heard he went to hospital, for a long time, then they moved away.  I was kinda worried for a while that I might
get into trouble, but I don’t know – maybe he didn’t want to admit to anyone
that a girl did this to him?  Or maybe he
was just scared of me.  But anyway,
apparently he told his parents and the police that these three big black guys
had done it.

I thought
that was kinda mean.  Huh?  I mean, why say they were black guys?  There’s so much, like, prejudice and hatred
in the world, you know?  That was
nasty.  Made me realise he wasn’t a very
nice guy.  If he ever did show up and
want to collect his side of the deal, I’d just be like, no way!  I don’t fuck racists!  What an asshole.

Anyway, I
guess that’s the worst thing I’ve done. 
I mean, there was another thing a few months later that was a bit worse,
but that wasn’t just me.  I had my friend
Amy with me.  She’s really cool – you
should meet her!

 
OK!  Your turn. 
Truth or dare.

 

You know…I’m
going to have to think of something really embarrassing to ask you.  Cos I’ve got such a great idea for a dare for
you!  There is no way you are leaving tonight until I’ve made you do it.
 
Let me think…

 

Informed consent

It’s very important.  She always informs me when my consent is required for something.











Penectomy trouble
Ignorance is no defence. 






Check-out time is when she decides to release you.





Hmmm. Interesting.  I wonder what she does use, then.  Any thoughts?





..and what’s the best?




Probably best not to ask… I certainly don’t know.



She seems nice.






I was going to point you to this forthcoming movie which looks very fine, but Paltego beat me to it.


So instead (trigger warning: vanilla.  And you have to enter access code 7201969), how about Anne Hathaway in space! 




Man talk



 
Now listen
darling, just about dinner tonight. 
Annie wants you to talk to Victor: she’s trying to get him into
chastity, and she thought you might be able to help reassure him.  If you could just tell him how much you love
being in chastity, how you’ve never regretted a single day and all that kind of
thing.

Well… I know
it’s not quite true, darling.  But
Victor’s a bit reluctant, so it’s probably best not to tell him about the early
days. I expect he’ll have to go through the same anger and frustration, the
tears – god, all that constant whining and pleading!  But that’ll be good for their relationship,
just like it was for ours.  They mostly
only play at CP these days, so Annie will have to step up a bit in that
department.  She’s quite looking forward
to it – she was asking my advice about canes.

Just as long
as Victor accepts that first step and lets her lock him.  After that, she can use it as leverage to
sort out the rest of their relationship, and soon it won’t matter in the
slightest what he wants.  So telling a
few little white lies isn’t really such a bad thing, if it helps with that, is
it?

Just
remember: big smiles, best thing that ever happened, very happy husband.  Oh – and Annie asked me to make sure you were
never alone with Victor.  Of course, I
told her you’d have strict instructions about what to say and you wouldn’t dare
disobey me… just make sure either she or I are in earshot at all times.

I mean – you
don’t have any regrets do you darling?

Do you,
darling?

No, didn’t
think so.  Off you go and get ready.

Unreasonable force

Young dominant wife in charge mmmm
He’s a lucky guy.
Planet Femdom, of course.  If you like statuesque ladies brutally dominating… well, that bloke mostly.  I do, actually.  Rather a lot.

 
 
Castration at home
Cruelty-free farming has its downsides.  Still, I’m glad she found a solution.
 
 

Obedient servant femdom
Oh dear.  Another of those painful conversations.
 
 

Actually, the story is rather simple.  The post of office tampon boy was advertised, so he studied, and prepared and pulled every string he knew of to get it.  But wouldn’t you?



Try not to take it too badly.  Just because you’ll be spending the rest of your life alone, in poverty, with your empty days filled only with the longing for her doesn’t mean you have to be miserable.  It just makes it very, very likely.

Good news bad news

 

 
 

Now, my dear prisoner, I have good news and bad news.  Which would you like to hear first?

The bad news?  Yes, I suppose that’s a good idea.  Hear that first, to get it over with.

Well, the bad news is that the rest of your life is going to be spent down here, and it is going to be utterly miserable.  Your hands will stay cuffed behind your back like that forever, and the hobble chain between your ankles isn’t going away either.  You won’t be able to stand up, or even crawl, but you should be able slowly to wriggle around, like a maggot, to get across this cold stone floor.  You can scream and shout if you like.  No one will hear you.  Not even me, and there’s no one else for miles around.

There’s more bad news too.  In a moment I’ll be leaving, and I’m going to switch off the light and close the door.  So it’ll be pitch dark down here – you’re now in the last few moments of light that you’ll ever experience.

That’s right – look at me.  This is the last time you’ll ever see anything.  Remember me. 

 

More bad news, I’m afraid.  You’re going to die down here.  But not immediately.  There’s plenty of water and I’ve left some piles of food around.  Some of the food’s fresh, so if you can find it, as you inch around in the dark, I’d eat that first, as otherwise it’s going to start rotting.  But there’s quite a lot of dry food that should be edible for a few months.

But then that’s it.  One day, you’ll be painfully wriggling across the floor in the dark; sniffing and licking wherever you go to try to find more food, and there just won’t be any left.  But of course, you’ll never be sure that you’ve found it all, so you’ll probably keep trying, as you get weaker, hopelessly dragging yourself back and forth trying everywhere in this pitch black cellar, until you starve to death – alone, in the dark, with no one to care.

So that’s the bad news.

The good news?  Oh – erm, yes, now there was some good news.  What was it?  Goodness, it’s completely slipped my mind.  Oh I don’t suppose it matters. Whatever it was, I’m sure it didn’t really concern you anyway.

 

Goodbye. 

The lady in the pictures is Stella van Gent.

In the morning when the madness has faded

 
  


Oh hey, good
morning!  Listen, thanks for last night,
OK?  You were great.  One of the best I’ve had.

I loved the
way you shrieked when I was pinning your cock to the board!  Don’t you dare tell me you were faking!  If you were, you’re just the most amazing
actor ever, and I don’t want to know, OK?

Oh – and I’m
sorry about the mix-up with the enema bags. 
You probably realised the soapy one was supposed to go up your ass, not
into your mouth.  Still, I don’t suppose
it did you any harm.  I’m sure you’ve had worse.

Anyway – the
money’s over there on the sideboard, in an envelope.  I put a little extra in!

Hmm?  Well, it’s your money, sweetheart. For the
sub session.

What?  You mean you’re not…?  You weren’t expecting to be paid?

So, you
just…. Oh wow.  I mean, wow.  I’m sorry, I just assumed…

Well, you
must let me pay for something.  Otherwise
I’d feel awful, about doing all those things 
to you.  It is quite a lot of
money… and I don’t mind, I have plenty. 
That’s right.  You just take
it.  Buy yourself some nice things.

And you must let me
put a little make-up over the bruises  on
your face.  So you’re pretty, just in
case you want to try another trick tonight, now you’ve done it once.

And… listen,
I was thinking.  I don’t have to be
anywhere until after lunchtime.  Erm… would
you like to earn a little more?

Don’t worry
about having breakfast – it’ll be easier to do this on an empty stomach.

 

Bit of politics, bit of politics

I’m trying a few themed posts just at the moment.  This is a theme some of you seem to like, presumably because it deals with such a subversive, transgressive topic: men’s lib.

Dangerous to bring politics into what is intended to be a fun and sexy blog and I certainly don’t want to offend anyone.  Nothing in this post should be taken in any way as an endorsement of a political programme of equality for men.

 
 
 
 

 
 






…and a little bonus story.

Speaking truth to power

“The so-called men’s liberation movement” Simon wrote “is an
absurd caricature of a true political cause: its slogans meaningless, its
demands more like an infantile tantrum than a realistic political
programme.  I regret wasting so much of
my life on it.  Men simply are not the
equals of women, and the sooner we accept that, the happier we will be.”

He stared at the sentence he had just written.  Strong stuff. 
A complete repudiation of everything that he had fought for and believed
in for all of these years.  But it had to
had to be said.

He imagined the horror that an activist in the movement
would experience, on reading those damning words.  Or indeed, how he himself would have reacted
just a few months before.  He had been ‘Commander
Riotboy’, shadowy author of numerous savage polemics against the oppressive
matriarchal system and the attitudes – of both men and women – that allowed its
injustices to be perpetuated down the generations.  Oddly, the strongest memory for him was a
smell – the smell of the hot ink as the illegal press whirred furiously through
the night, stamping out copy after copy of their newsletter, to be stapled,
transported around the country and furtively distributed on any of those rare
occasions when men gathered together without close female supervision.

He remembered running too, the sounds of pursuing police
whistles seemingly right behind him, his comrades seized to be taken no doubt
for ‘re-education’.  He had always
somehow escaped to fight on another day, in the process becoming something of a
legend in the movement.  Riotboy – the man
who would never give up.

But that, he reflected, had all been before he met Karen.  And here he was.   A meek
little househusband, dressed in skimpy little shorts that she had chosen for
him, beneath which his cock nestled securely in a locked tube to which only she
had the key. Where before he had devoted his life to producing articles furiously
calling for male liberation, today he spent his days at his desk writing words
that said exactly the opposite.  And he
felt strangely content to do so.

He sighed.  Best to
get on, as Karen would be back soon, and she would come up to check on his
progress.  He’d already had a hard
spanking this morning, he certainly didn’t want another.

He picked up his pen and carefully wrote the number “312.”  Then next to it, with equal care (because
more than three crossings out on any one page would mean writing that page all
over again), he wrote:

“The so-called men’s liberation movement is an absurd
caricature of a true political cause: its slogans meaningless, its demands more
like an infantile tantrum than a realistic political programme.  I regret wasting so much of my life on
it.  Men are not the equals of
women, and the sooner we simply accept that, the happier we will be.

313.  The so-called
men’s liberation movement is an absurd caricature of a true political cause: its
slogans meaningless, its demands more like an infantile tantrum than a
realistic political programme.  I regret wasting
so much of my life on it.  Men are
not the equals of women, and the sooner we simply accept that, the happier we
will be.

314 …”

 
What a long way off number 500 seemed.  He hoped tomorrow’s line would be shorter.
 
 
 
 
 
…aaaaaand a bonus bonus little mini-story.  This is from earlier in the same timeline, just after Simon met Karen:

“And what do you think about the men’s-lib movement?” she
asked sweetly.

“Men’s lib is a ridiculous idea.”  Simon replied.  “Men must accept their place in society and
be obedient to women, for their own good.”

He tensed. 

There was
a pause and then an agonising CRACK! of the paddle across his buttocks. He
cried out loud at the shocking pain. 
That had been the hardest yet.

“What do you think of the men’s lib movement?” Karen asked
again.

“Men’s lib is a ridiculous idea” he gasped “Men must accept
their place in society and be… and be obed – “

CRACK!

“No hesitation, remember, Simon.  What do you think of the men’s lib movement?”