Goldman Sachs reckons that by 2050, Chinese GDP will be twice that of the USA. Makes you think, eh? It makes me think of things like this:
Economic forecasting
Author: Servitor
No, not love, she said. Don’t you know that it’s different for girls?
Joe
So, with apologies to anyone who doesn’t share my Anne Hathaway obsession (I’ll run out of pictures or get stopped by her lawyers at some point, but not yet, please lord, not yet). On with the show.
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| Can’t or won’t. |
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| Don’t worry, you won’t be conscious for all that long. |
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| Well, granted you’ve spent much of your life and will probably spend most of your retirement in mind-numbingly tedious drudgery. But on the plus side, you’re really good at pleats. |
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| Curiously, though, he will be getting the pain and humiliation you might expect in such a scene. Just not quite in the way he was expecting. |
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| She’ll be giving you a bit of a scolding while you’re writhing in agony on the ground, too. Psychotic, but fair. |
Reasons to be cheerful
Part 3.
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| Ah, the divine Miss Hathaway. Think of her when you’re being pumped from both ends, and it won’t seem so bad. |
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| You could try disobeying, if it’s something really horrible that she wants. I mean, what’s the worst thing that could happen if you do? |
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| Miss Woods. She’s got plenty of time. And there are still another nine questions to go. |
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| Maybe she’ll let you explain afterwards, if you’re capable of coherent speech. |
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| Did you notice it’s Christmas? I expect she’ll enjoy unwrapping him in the morning. Or the afternoon., Whenever she gets round to it, anyway. |
I have an inferiority complex but it isn’t a very good one
Not a Woody Allen quote, remarkably, but Steven Wright.
On we go.
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| You have bought her an anniversary present, too, right? |
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| Many submissive men often feel quite uncomfortable when left by themselves. I can’t think why. |
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| Actually, although the “forced” is entirely accurate, “bi” is not, as it implies you get to have sex with women too. |
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| OK, it’s all a bit rushed. She’s a romantic traditionalist at heart, though. Believe me: you will be going down on your knees. |
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| Isn’t she beautiful? |
The Power and the Glory
For ever and ever. Awomen.
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| There’ll be plenty of things to discuss later, though. How very, very sorry you are, for example. |
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| The divine Miss Hathaway again. I’d like to write her a thank-you note for existing. |
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| Seems nice. Let’s hope this one doesn’t insist on your sleeping on the floor in the kitchen. Like the last two. |
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| And don’t forget to laugh at her joke, every time she makes it in front of a new client. Keep that smile on! |
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| I think Nurse Collins is the one on the right, but that’s just my opinion and it’s quite worthless. |
**Update. Well for some reason (probably technical incompetence) I can’t seem to comment on my own blog today, so I’ll take this opportunity to thank Ralph D for his comments. I’m glad you don’t mind my using a picture found on your site. It works the other way too, of course, so help yourself! We’re in agreement about Anne Hathaway too (and Marie Louise Parker… and what a good idea, I’ve got a few more pictures of her around here somewhere). I think it’s the eyes. You just fall in and are lost. Have you seen the Tim Burton film of Alice in Wonderland? If not, you must. Anne as an ethereal White Queen apparently innocent of all the world, but actually scheming and manipulative. Lovely. Sadly, it’s her sister the Red Queen who actually behaves like a dominatrix (“pig!”).
Captivating
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| Actually, the word ‘divine’ is of more recent origin in the English language than is commonly thought. It was originally coined specifically to describe Anne Hathaway, and used properly should only be employed in that context. Have a look in a big fat dictionary if you don’t believe me, or just look at the picture at the bottom of each page of this blog. |
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| You can go out to fetch croissants when they get up. If she gives you some money. |
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| I expect she’ll find a way of venting her frustration and getting over it. |
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| And to clean it you just run a cold shower over it for a few minutes. No need even to take it off. |
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| I think you’re about to find out. |
Dealing with feelings of guilt and shame
These ladies know how to do that.
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| Moral hazard? Isn’t that some kind of predicament bondage fetish? |
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| Just one of those misunderstandings about silly little things… |
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| Third time lucky. |
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| And do try not to cry all over the freshly pressed clothes this time. |
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| She’s just a trainee, but she’s hoping to become a fully-qualified interrogator. So she’s taking great pains to do the best job she can. Giving them too. |
Awesome
No, not “Oh, like, wow – that’s rilly ossom” but awesome in the sense of inspiring awe: “A mixed emotion of reverence, respect, dread, and wonder inspired by authority, genius, great beauty, sublimity, or might.”
Today’s word. Awesome. Today’s awesome pictures – here we go.
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| It’s not an allergy or anything, she just thinks they’re smelly and messy. Best kept outside. Actually, she prefers cats. |
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| Of course, the magnificent, unique and…well, just awesome, Hunteress. |
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| Hmmm…she can break the rules whenever she likes. On a whim. How does that make you feel? |
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| And she hadn’t even mentioned the body modification yet. |
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| Sometimes it’s best to just keep it basic: a good hard session of vanilla pain. |
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| Ah, his wild youth, when he was young, free and single. He once slept in until 8 o’clock you know. |
More new endings for old tales
The Prince held the glass slipper in one hand and with the other gently supported Cinderella’s foot as it slipped delicately inside. It was a perfect fit.
He looked up adoringly at the golden-haired vision of loveliness seated in the chair in front of him.
“I knew such a divine creature as you was not born to labour all day in rags” he breathed. “From this day forward you shall live in a palace, as is your right.”
Cinderella smiled and nodded gently with satisfaction. Behind her, there was a swirling in the air and her Fairy Godmother appeared.
The Prince hardly noticed, as his gaze was drawn back down to the glass slippers. The perfect crystal of which they were made concealed nothing of the feet inside. An elegant ankle was gently cradled by the rim of the shoe, within which Cinderella’s feet arched delicately down to where her toes lay gently clasped within the transparent material of the shoes. The toes wriggled slightly, and – drawn by an impulse he had never felt before – the Prince’s head slowly inclined forward as he bent down to kiss them.
“What are you doing?” he heard Cinderella enquire, sharply.
He looked up in some confusion.
“I…I’m kissing the dear feet of my bride to be” he replied, awed at the cold beauty of her face.
Cinderella laughed, and kicked him sharply in the chest.
“Bride? I’m not going to marry you, you idiot. Marry a man? Nasty, sweaty hairy things. Never.”
And she gazed affectionately up at her fairy godmother, who reached down and gently stroked her hair. She clasped the outstretched hand in hers, and brought it softly to her lips.
“But…but…don’t you want to live in a palace?” the Prince stammered in confusion.
“Of course I do” she replied, scornfully. “But not by marrying you. That wasn’t the deal at all – was it Fairy G? Not in this fairy tale.”
And the Fairy Godmother shook her head, laughing, then waved her wand thrice around and the room filled with purple light.
When the Prince’s eyes recovered, he was amazed at the transformation that he saw. Above him, in the chair was Cinderella but now dressed as a prince in a suit – his suit! – of jewelled finery. She stood up, admiring her clothing with satisfaction. He looked down at his own clothing in confusion. He was in rags, wearing nothing but a torn and faded dress, with an apron tied around it. A gentle draught blew through the room as a servant opened the door for Cinderella to leave, and he felt the cold running through him as it curled around and under his skirt, chilling the unprotected regions beneath.
Cinderella turned to look at him. “The cleaning materials are all in the cupboard below the stairs” she smiled. “You’ll find it easily enough – it’s where you sleep.”
She turned to one of her servants (his servants!). “I think I want to interview all of those young ladies we’ve been seeing, all over again. Have them brought to my bedchamber. Let’s say…two, no make it three of them each night.”
And with that, she swept out of the room and the Prince was left alone, kneeling on the floor. But he was not alone for long, as the door to the hall was flung open.
“What are you doing loafing around there!? IF WE’RE NOT MARRYING THE PRINCE, THAT AT THE VERY LEAST WE CAN LIVE IN A HOUSE THAT’S PROPERLY CLEANED, CAN’T WE? AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ABOUT OUR DINNER?”
The Prince looked up, to see the two rather statuesque ladies of the house who had earlier tried the slipper, standing before him. He opened his mouth to speak, but he found it had gone dry. He looked from one unsmiling sister to the other. Both were holding whips.
And Cinderella lived happily ever after. And so did the Prince, really, little pervert that he is.
The end.
Gyneolatry
An interesting word I found recently, that means pretty much what you’d expect it to mean really. And it’s very, very much what this blog is all about.
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| Mostly “love, honour and obey” covers it, but she has expanded the “obey” part, providing a bit more detail. Well – quite a lot more, actually. |
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| I’d tell you what the word was, but I’m nearly out of soap myself. |
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| Always an optimist, that Orwell. |
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| Not that it did Fred any good in the long run. |
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| Men can be so unreasonable. Alice accepted the compromise after only a few hours discussion. She’s not happy, but she’s prepared to accept it. |