Servitor – Page 208 – Contemplating the divine

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

More captioned images of female domination. Obviously.

Captioned image of Mistress Vixen showingf her skills

I hope Peter appreciates the expertise. Look at that whip-work. Marvellous.

And it’s probably best to think of all that housework as roleplay too. Hell, she might even let you wear a little maid dress if you ask nicely.

Dominatrix squeezes both men into her cage

She’s actually talking to the man in the cage, you know, not to you.

Femdom nurse might have removed more than your tonsils

You can get compensation for that, I understand. Just fill out a form and they might give you anything up to £25. Worth a go. You could buy some panties with it.

If any German-speaking females want to correct my grammar, spelling or anything else, then of course they are welcome to do so – and propose any appropriate correction to help the lesson stick in my mind.

From the sublime

..and I won’t complete the quote.

‘Sublime’, to me, means ‘stuff you can’t even try to describe without sounding completely gormless’. For an example, have a look at the Anne Hathaway picture at the bottom of each page.

Anyway, on with the show.

Captioned dominatrix feeling a bit tired

It’s only fair. She gave you a really hard beating yesterday. And at the weekend too. She must be quite exhausted.

Captioned image of a really sweet loving wife

I wonder what she’s thinking of? Bet it’s something sexy.

He’s quite right, you know. Rebecca’s pretty scary.

Femdom caption making herself very clear

Look into her eyes. No, stop looking at the glass of cool, refreshing water and look into her eyes. Do you doubt her resolve?

Looking down here won’t help you now, you know. They know how to treat deviants like you at the OWK.

Fiction: At the third stroke

(As there has been discussion of ‘Daylight Saving Time’ on other blogs lately, I thought I would offer this little twiddle. Pedants might like to notice that it actually refers to the last equinox, of course, not this one. Spring forward, fall back and all that.)

Mistress Valerie strode out of Her dungeon carrying a cane, and knocked gently on the door of the next room. “Are You going to be ready to go soon?”

Her friend Sandra stuck a puzzled-looking head around the door. “We’re not going to leave for an hour yet, surely? It doesn’t start until eight.”

“But it’s nearly seven already” Mistress Valerie said.

“No it isn’t” Sandra replied. “It’s not even six o’clock yet.” She thought for a moment. “You do know the clocks went back last night, don’t you?”

“I…” Mistress Valerie began, then stopped. “Oh. No, I forgot.” She said. “So We’ve got plenty of time.”

“That’s right” Sandra replied cheerfully, closing the door again.

“And servitor wasn’t an hour late…” Mistress Valerie mused to Herself , looking down at the cane in Her hand. She swished it back and forth a few times, thoughtfully.

“Oh well”, She said, to no one in particular. “I don’t suppose it did him any long term harm. I’ve started so I might as well finish.”

And, cane at the ready, She strode back into the dungeon.

Sunday blessings

Capioned image of dominatrix putting both fingers in

I love the contrasting colouts in this, the different reds of her hair, lips and nails against the black. And the contrasting textures of softness and harshness. But mostly, Her.

Caption femdom wife says it is just too small

She looks quite determined, doesn’t she? I think she’s already decided how many orgasms she’s having before she’s finished with you, and it looks like there’s a way to go.

I don’t think she’ll be giving up on this until she’s found out. And then the actual punishment begins, of course.

In the event of an emergency, please rattle the door of your cage hopelessly and cry.

Full of grace

Isn’t she beautiful? The man at the back there is very unlucky to be positioned so as not to be able to see her. But I think he can feel her presence, don’t you?

Disparaging with faint praise.

If she loves tears, I expect she’ll be in for a treat later when she gets going.

Contemplating the divine goes into reruns

The reference is to a captioned image in this earlier post.

I could have just linked to the Lexi image. But I really love that one I did of the wife with the computer, so I wanted to give it a further airing.

Incidentally, I understand the image above is itself a trick. It’s not immediately obvious, but the slave is not really suspended, but lying on the ground. The athletic Ms Christine is hanging upside down, and the whole image is inverted. Amazing but true.

Ohh…no it isn’t. Sorry. Silly mood today. Look, here’s a picture of a naked woman, people seem to like those:

Man stakes everything to become lesbian lover, fails

Must be nice to get out of that nasty belt too. Lucky boy. Well, not really a boy. You know.

..and forgive not our trespasses

…but chastise us as we deserve. My own personal sinful trespass is scribbling rude thoughts across pictures of elegant dominant ladies. Or to spell it out for those dim search engines: captioned pictures of female domination. Here we go.

Dominatrix with whip considers mercy - rejects ir

A powerful-looking lady, from Cruella from long ago.

Very sexy lady says that youre just not big enough

When I see pictures of ladies this beautiful, I find it quite impossible to understand why any women are heterosexual. But it’s easy to understand why we men need to be kept under lock and key.

And the toilets are fitted with masturbation detectors, so don’t even think about it.

<><>

Another powerful looking lady (look at that strong right arm), in a very serious environment. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me I have done something exceptionally bad lately, and I need to be punished.

Dominatrix prefers you to keep silent with a ball gag

Something tells me I might have quite strong opinions about some of the things she wants to do. So a ball gag is definitely the best treatment.

Fiction: Crossed wires

“So this is your latest project?” Alice asked with interest, gazing at the nervous-looking man standing naked before them. “I don’t see anything unusual.”

“Turn around boy!” Serena barked.

The man slowly shuffled through a 180 degree turn and Serena pointed to a small scar on the back of his neck.

“That’s the only outward sign. Not very impressive, I know. But the real change is inside. Back against the wall and hands up to the shackles!”

The man unhappily turned back around, stepped back against the wall and raised his hands up to the rings fastened there.

Serena stepped forward and started hooking his steel cuffs onto the rings, securing his hands neatly in place.

“Oh please, Mistress…” he began to mumble, tears rising in his eyes.

Serena briskly hit him across the face and he fell silent.

“I’m sorry about that” she said, glancing at Alice. “There aren’t that many boys who’ve had the op and they haven’t all adjusted to their new lives yet, so they can get a bit impertinent. But I don’t want to gag him, or we’ll miss all the fun.”

She completed the arrangements by passing straps around his waist and knees, preventing any significant movement except at his extremeties. Then she stepped back with satisfaction.

“There” she said, indicating the man’s genitals with the tip of her riding crop. “That’s the area of interest.”

Alice looked down. It certainly was. The penis lay there, pink fleshy and untouched, hanging over a pair of balls that looked full and ready for action without being swollen. This was most unusual. She couldn’t remember ever having seen one of her friend’s slaves with such untouched organs before. Usually they were locked in steel devices, or increasingly these days kept on display in the glass cabinet in Serena’s bedroom, removed for safekeeping from their earlier attachment. At the very least, they were usually covered in burn or stretch marks as a result of her friend’s little experiments. In one memorable case, the slave’s penis and tongue had been swapped around (see previous Serena story here), while in another Serena had artfully induced the scrotal sac to grow to almost three feet in length, forcing the unfortunate slave to drag his testicles along the ground as he walked (she loved to put him in boots, blindfold him, spin him around and watch him tread on his own balls). But these genitals were pristine.

“Goodness, it’s hot in here” Serena murmured slyly and took off her top.

Alice looked with approval at her friend’s newly exposed body, the breasts cupped in a lacy bra. She felt stirrings of desire, both at the thought of completing Serena’s disrobing later and also at what was certain to be a most unpleasant experience that her friend had planned for the man sweating before them. She looked again at his penis and noted that it was swelling slightly. The man was grimacing, and trying desperately to look at the ceiling.

Serena giggled and reached forward. “Pretty little things” she said happily, and to Alice’s amazement she reached forward and gently stroked the top of the growing pink organ, running the tip of her finger from its base slowly down to the quivering head. This was extraordinary. Generally, penises that felt the touch of Serena’s fingers experienced nothing gentle, and indeed often the touch of her fingers was the second-last sensation that they ever felt.

What was still more amazing was the male’s reaction, though. As Serena stroked, he choked off a shriek of agony, bubbling up through his lips.

“He doesn’t seem to like it very much” Alice observed.

“Yes he does” her friend replied. “Look. He’s an excited little boy.” And indeed, the penis itself seemed to be enjoying the treatment. It had reached a horizontal position.

Serena licked her fingers, then flicked them in little tickling movements against the underside of the penis. The man howled almost as soon as she started, then choked off his shrieks as if trying desperately to master the pain. Serena waited until he seemed to be under control, his jaw firmly clenched and shuddering with the effort.

“Look at me” she said, quietly.

The man made an obvious effort to brace himself and directed his terrified, tear-filled eyes to her cool gaze. Serena smiled at him, and without looking down she curled her hand around the end of his penis and gave it a soft squeeze.

This seemed to be too much, and the man’s gaze instantly left hers as he threw back his head and screamed once again in agony.

Serena stepped back, leaving him panting in exhaustion. “Do you want a go?” she asked her friend with a grin.

Alice stepped forward uncertainly. It was a while since she’d touched a penis. In the early days of her marriage, of course, before the changes to their relationship, she had frequently had contact with David’s organ. Indeed, even after they had settled into more of an owner and slave dynamic, she had occasionally allowed release. But she’d gradually got out of the habit, and after she’d make clear to David that she would prefer not to be reminded (she had expressed herself quite forcefully and he seemed to have taken the point) she had almost forgotten that he had anything at all down there beneath his skirt. In fact, she decided, she really ought to do something about that. She made a mental note to ask Serena to bring her surgical kit the next time she came around.

Somewhat thrown by the incongruity, she reached forward and gently poked the swollen organ. The man grunted uncomfortably. Remembering some of the things David used to like, back in the days when he was allowed pleasure, she placed her finger and thumb lightly in a ring around the base and softly swayed it back and forth, letting the glans smack gently against the palm of her other hand. The penis jerked into rigidity and the man’s mouth opened in an involuntary roar of agony.

“Oh you’re so cruel!” Serena remarked playfully, watching her friend play with the straining penis. “Look how you’re hurting him. The poor thing.” And she leaned forward closer to the man’s sweating face, watching happily as he tried to control the screams and gasps of pain.

“But why is it hurting him?” Alice asked in puzzlement. “I mean, I’m not even…” and her voice broke off in pleasurable contemplation of the many, many things she could do if she were trying to hurt him.

“You are activating the nerves in his genitals.” Serena replied. Every time you stroke his penis, every time he feels a surge of excitement in his balls, tens of thousands of little nerve endings say ‘oh – yes, yes, yes!’ and they fire off signals of excitement to his brain.”

“Up his spinal cord” Alice murmured, remembering the little mark on the back of the man’s neck.

“Up his spinal cord” Serena nodded. “And the impulses go straight into the pleasure receptors in his brain, where he experiences a lovely sense of warmth, excitement and oncoming release.”

She laughed.

“Unless they get diverted on the way.”

Alice gazed at the man’s juddering head, trying to imagine the little electrical impulses arriving inside. “Diverted? I see. I suppose diverted to – “

“Every nerve in his genitals plugs straight into the part of his brain that deals with pain.” Serena remarked briskly. “Down there they fire off signals of pleasure, but he feels them as pain. When he’s not being stimulated, there’s a constant mild discomfort. But if we give him a little treat – “ and here she fondled the quivering member affectionately, making the man gasp in shock “ – he experiences it as pain.”

“Every pleasurable impulse is like a punishment” Alice mused, fascinated. “So when we stroke him, he experiences it as if we were kicking him or something.”

“Oh no, it’s much worse than that!” Serena replied sharply. “Before the operation, only a tiny fraction of those nerve endings down there were pain receptors. Now, in effect, they all are.”

Alice reached forward again and gave the penis a gentle squeeze. When the shrieks had died away into breathless sobbing she asked “What did that feel like, boy?”

“Like…like…oh you can’t imagine, Miss Alice” the wretched man replied.

“Of course I can’t you idiot. That’s what I want you to tell me!” Alice snapped, wondering for the millionth time why men found it so hard to obey simple commands.

“It’s…it’s…well it’s like being gripped by a red hot iron – but it’s ice cold as well, Miss.” he stuttered, desperately. “And spikes digging into the flesh all at the same time. Burning hot and freezing cold spikes. And being crushed – like clamps but over every square millimetre of the, of the…” and he broke down weeping.

Serena nodded wisely. “Heat receptors, cold receptors, pressure and rupture receptors – all leading straight into the pain centres”, she remarked. “He’s not just experiencing pain, he’s experiencing pain in every feeling and impulse that arrives.”

“So do his pain receptors send signals to pleasure centres?” Alice asked, wondering if he’d actually enjoy a good hard kick in the balls (she didn’t much like the thought of that).

Her friend shook her head firmly. “They still feed into the pain centre too. I didn’t swap them around, I spliced them. There’s nothing going into his pleasure centres from down there now.”

“Could you feed all his nerve endings from his entire body into the pain centres?” Alice asked excitedly.

Serena turned to look at her friend affectionately, thinking how much she loved her. “We think so much alike! Yes, I did try that. But I think the pain just overwhelmed them. As soon as they woke up after the anaesthetic, one quick shriek and they died.”

“Shame” Alice said.

“Yes” her friend agreed. “But I gave it a good go. I tried a dozen times at least and got the same result every time.”

“Still” Alice said happily. “This is pretty good.”

“Oh, we haven’t got to the best bit yet, have we boy?” Serena replied slyly, reaching forward and grasping the penis in her hand. She began slowly to squeeze rhythmically, gently moving her hand up and down.

The man choked off a scream by gritting his teeth. He was obviously trying to say something, but found it impossible to get the words out.

Serena laughed. “I expect he’s about to beg me to let him come. Aren’t you boy?”

Driven out of his wits (such as they were) with pain, well beyond any ability to appreciate sarcasm, the man’s head thrashed from side to side in a frantic ‘no’. But Serena giggled and simply continued the gentle squeezing and pumping motions.

“It’s his first time” she explained. “He’s been close to the edge, but I haven’t taken him over it yet. The survival rate isn’t great – one in three or so. Even when they do survive, they never really recover. I suppose the pain is just too much, and the brain just tries to disconnect itself from reality. The survivors are just vegetables. I use them for spare parts.”

She was varying her movements slightly now, occasionally jerking the penis with little tweaking movements, before returning to steady pumping at a gently increasing tempo, with a firm grip. The man was now howling desperately in pain and uncontrollable fear.

It had been a while since she had witnessed a male orgasm, Alice thought to herself with interest. She thought of her own orgasms. The overwhelming pleasure, the surge of excitement and relief that overwhelmed all other thoughts and feelings, all reality all experience submerged beneath the rush of pleasure. Imagine all that as pain, she thought as she gazed in wonder into the male’s terrified, pleading eyes.

Suddenly, she realised that she was close to climax herself. She took hold of Serena’s left hand, and pressed it firmly against herself. Her friend smiled in pleasure, and leant over to kiss her, both hands now stimulating her two companions to further heights of pleasure, and pain. Respectively.

As the two mouths locked together, two tongues urgently exploring one another, Alice felt the onrush of an uncontrollable orgasm, as the horrified yells of terror beside her told her that the man was heading in the same direction.

They came together, as Alice shrieked out – as so many times before – her love for her dear friend. But her words could not be heard, as in the captive male beside her a hundred thousand nerve endings proclaimed their joy, only to be felt as a hundred thousand agonies.

Give us this day our daily…

…captioned images of female dominance, obviously. What else did you come for?

Actually, it’s a little unfair using religious imagery because if you Google ‘contemplating the divine’ and similar, you get mostly religious sites. Anyone here looking for theological discussion and staying for more than 30 seconds is going to have to recite 999 Hail Marys as penance. And speaking of penance…

I womder what she's going to do with that whip

A wonderful Cruella photoshoot that I first saw as an impressionable teenager. The text was very heavy indeed as I recall, involving castration. Just look at that expression.

Femdom wife might allow release but lets not overdo it

Regular orgasm is supposed to be good for the health, so maybe she could fix on a three-month rota?

male maid scrubs the toilet probably with a wartm bottom

I admire the care and attention this male maid is giving to ‘his’ work. Possibly a warmed bottom involved?

Goddess Lexi and Mistress Sidonia. Now that’s a scary thought.

As in “Were I to make an error when trying to speak Czech, I would be kicked in the balls.” Or “If I weren’t such a stupid pig, I wouldn’t have to be left chained outside all night.” Conditional tense. Very useful for reflecting on consequences.

Devotional images

Isn’t it nice to be the focus of attention by not one but two lovely ladies?

Slovakian slavonian slovenian let's call the whole thing off

Slab psiček! (possibly)

femdom caption oh no please don't stamp on my face!

…and then thank her afterwards, of course.

I’ve alwsys assumed that’s a British-English phrase, but Kurt Vonnegut uses it (his critics can take a flying fuck at the mooooon!). Oh, sorry, aren’t you here to read about etymology?

Stocks and fair shares femdom caption oh you know the rest

Maybe one weekend, if she’s feeling kind, she’ll move it so it faces outwards? But she’s not known for feeling kind.

Fiction: the only thing worse than being locked in a chastity belt is…

“So what sort of belt are you using these days?” Amy enquired, glancing casually at the man waiting outside the café, rather weighed down with the shopping bags he was holding.

“CB6000? Tickleberry?”

“Oh, I don’t keep him in a belt any more.” Sabrina replied.

“Ooooh! Have you had him cut?” Amy asked with interest and some relish.

Her friend looked up at her.

“Certainly not. Where would I kick him if there wasn’t anything left down there?”

Amy was confused.

“But I thought you didn’t allow him to come? Ever?”

“I don’t” Sabrina replied. “It’s against my house rules and he knows it.”

She laughed, then took pity on her bemused friend.

“I’m just teasing you. I had him fitted with a detector. It’s a little chip that goes under his skin. It monitors what’s going on, and reports it.”

“Reports it where?” Amy asked.

“It’s a web-based application that I can access from anywhere” her friend replied. “Look.”

She pulled out her Blackberry, pressed a few keys, then passed it across the table. It displayed some numbers, along with a large green rectangle labelled “flaccid” and various links to other pages. Sabrina scrolled it down, and showed her friend the field that reported Last orgasm: 18^th January 2011, 10.54.

“I can access all of the history at any time” she said, showing Amy some scrolling sets of numbers.

“And I’ve got it set up so that if he does have an orgasm, I get a text message immediately.”

“And it updates in real time?” Amy asked, enviously.

“Sure” her friend replied. “BOY!”

The man started in shock, then scurried in past the amused looks from the other tables at his rapid response to the preremptory command.

“Sit down” Sabrina ordered, curtly, and with a worried expression on his face, he arranged the shopping bags on the floor and gingerly lowered himself into his seat.

“I’ve been telling Amy about our new approach to keeping your chastity” she said. “How there’s really nothing to stop you getting…excited any more. Nothing except the thought of my cane.”

She leaned over towards him, and gazed into his eyes.

“Nothing except that wicked cane…for a very…naughty…boy…” and her booted foot slowly began to caress his inner leg.

“Do you find it very frustrating?” Amy asked, her eyes wide and sympathetic. “Only – and here she leaned forwards and smiled sympathetically. “Only I find my man gets so very frustrated in his chastity belt. Especially when I ask him to help me get undressed….” She eased back her top, to expose a lacy bra strap on her shoulder. “….or to massage me with oil” she breathed.

“And you spank him too, don’t you?” Sabrina asked, innocently.

“Oh yes” Amy breathed heavily, her eyes widening. “Yes, I spank him vigorously! I get my hairbrush, and I put him across my thighs…” and she swivelled in her chair – “these thighs” – and she took hold of the man’s unresisting face, and directed attention down to where her thighs were visible between the top of her leather boots and the hem of her tight skirt.

Sabrina picked up the Blackberry and giggled. “See?” she said, holding it out to her friend.

The rectangle was now bright red and contained the words “Fully erect”. In fact, the technology wasn’t really necessary for that, as the swelling was very clearly visible in the trousered lap in front of them.

Sabrina gently laid her hand on top of the straining material. Amy noted with interest that several numbers on the Blackberry changed instantly, and a small exclamation mark began to flash.

Sabrina patted the mound gently and smiled.

“A very excited boy. Aren’t we? Right here.” She patted again.

“Yes, Mistress Sabrina” the unhappy man replied, hoarsely.

“Yes – very excited.” She patted the mound again. “But you won’t do anything about it, will you?”

“No Mistress Sabrina, it’s against the rules.”

“Whose rules?” Sabrina asked, sharply.

“Your rules, Mistress Sabrina.”

“And what happens to boys who break that particular rule? Hmmm?” She was holding her hand flat, palm down over the bulge now, which was pushing urgently against it.

“They get the cane, Mistress Sabrina.”

“How many do you give him?” Amy asked with interest.

Sabrina smiled and nodded at the man.

“Two extra each time, Miss Amy” he replied.

“So you…?” Amy started, in puzzlement.

“He started with six” Sabrina replied, in a matter of fact way, taking her hand away from the bulge, which quivered slightly. “And it goes up by two each time. He’s disobeyed me nine times since the belt came off, so now it’s 24 each time.”

Amy was impressed. She had seen Sabrina disciplining her men on a few occasions. 24 with a cane was no joke, and would probably leave the miscreant barely able to walk.

“And it’s going to continue to go up?” she asked.

Sabrina looked a little shocked. “Certainly not!” she replied, primly. “It’s going to stay at 24 because he’s never going to be disobedient again. That’s what you told me after the last beating, isn’t it boy?”

“Yes, Mistress Sabrina.”

“You finally learnt your lesson, didn’t you, when I gave you those 24?”

“Yes, Mistress Sabrina.”

Sabrina waited in silence, but something about her look conveyed menace.

“Err…thank you for teaching me such a valuable lesson, Mistress Sabrina!” he gasped, hurriedly.

Sabrina looked somewhat mollified.

“But if here were to have a little…slip” she remarked, knowingly. “Or maybe even an accident…then yes we would need to take an even firmer approach to the problem.”

“What if he has an involuntary emission – in the night for example?” Amy asked.

“Still beat him” Sabrina remarked casually. “He might be lying about it, and it’s better to be safe than sorry. Anyway, I think the cane should start to work on his unconscious mind too.”

She smiled at the man, who was obviously trying to think calming, unsexy thoughts – a difficult task in present company.

“But you worked it out, didn’t you? What would happen if you had…say…one slip per year. Just one little slip in every 365 days. In twenty years time, you’d be getting…?”

“64 each time, Mistress Sabrina” he replied, with an unhappy quaver in his voice.

“And over those twenty years, you’d have had…?”

“Nine hundred strokes, Mistress Sabrina.”

“Nine hundred strokes.” She replied with satisfaction. “So it’s worth exercising some self-control, isn’t it? Because if it’s – oooh, as much twice each year, then in 20 years time that will be…?

“One hundred and four strokes a time, and two thousand six hundred strokes over the whole time, Mistress Sabrina.” he breathed.

“That’s right” she replied with satisfaction. “So you keep it quiet down there. Shoo, now!”

And the unhappy looking man got up and – with some apparent difficulty – slowly walked back to his post outside the café.