Red for danger

Perhaps she put it somewhere special. More special, I mean.

The magnificent Mistress Tess. But you knew that, right?

What an embarassing misunderstanding. Still, no harm done.
Precious looks a little worried. She shouldn’t be – the lady in red, there, likes to talk tough but she never really harms her playmates. She’s more into the psychology of dominating them than pain or other physical activities, you see. Oh: and brutally torturing their husbands too, but then that’s also part of the psychological game, you see?
Much fairer that way, in that there’s less chance of your escaping justice.
It’s funny how ther girls who aren’t really into humiliation play can be so good at it. Some of the dates I went on as a teenager can make me cringe with remembered humiliation in a manner that a specialist to whom I’ve paid hundreds of pounds for the session could only dream of…
She’s right, of course. They both are.

Celebrating indifference

Try not to cry into the food as you’re preparing it; she’s trying to keep her salt intake down.
Oh, that’s kind of her.
As you can tell, she’s in a kind mood. Normally she’d make them fight, instead of the kangaroo-jumping thing.
Nothing like it to wake you up in the morning.
Some might say that all sexism offences are serious, but there needs to be some clemency and forgiveness in the system, so for the first ‘blonde joke’ offence, for example, the law mandates only a six-month term in a re-education camp with hard labour. The survival rate is pretty high, although obviously lower in facilities with more blonde guards.
Of course, the big number that brings everyone clapping to their feet is Time to cut you, my dear! towards the end of the second act.

New year, new armpits

I have occasionally featured material from this blog’s sweaty sister publication Armpit Fetishist Monthly. Now as you all know, AFM (as the cognos-scenty call it) has long ago abandoned its origins as a jazz mag for lonely perverts with a bizarre fetish for mainly shaven female armpits and has branched out into trenchant political analysis, social commentary and artistic ideas that set the cultural agenda, for lonely perverts with a bizarre fetish for mainly shaven female armpits.

But it has never forgotten its roots and this year I am delighted to bring you the girls from the AFM 2025 calendar!

Eternal glory to the heroines of the revolution!

Ages since I did one of these. Glimpses of informative public information posters from another world: a better, if occasionally just a tad authoritarian, world.

Look, boys, they gave you the option of doing this the easy way, OK? But you chose differently.

Indisputable truths

Don’t worry, you’re not doing too badly. The most important thing is to take her orders. Adverbs like ‘literally’, ‘immediately’, ‘subserviently’, ‘unquestioningly’ are important but next-level.
Men in strict chastity see many more sexy women on the streets… simple fact. It’s best to treat it as a bonus of the regime.
Another bonus: no need to worry about self-control when someone else is doing the controlling.
She’ll give you her hand in marriage and you’ll take it.
The first time I defied my SO’s orders, soon after we married, I was worried she’d be upset but in fact she enjoyed herself immensely over the next four or five hours.
She’s just read him a lovely bed-time story called “Spunk on my face!”

And apropos nothing very much, here’s a nice little bit of found femdom, which corresponds closely to a scenario I’ve featured once or twice here.

It’s beginning to look a lot like femdom

Goddess bless us, one and all!

Get that excited happy face ready! Nothing worse than handing someone a present you think they’ll be excited about and they’re just ‘meh’. Well, there actually are worse things at Christmas than that, believe me, especially after my mother-in-law’s had a bit too much to drink, but that kind of let down is pretty bad, is what I’m saying. And I’m sure you don’t want to disappoint the lovely lady.
To be honest, some of the party games the guys let me join in aren’t all that fun for me. ‘Pin the tail on the donkey’, for instance – I’m sure it’s not really supposed to be played like that.
Christmas is a time for giving – she understands that. And if she’s got some piggies left over who aren’t completely drained yet, why not share the joy?
It’s the most wonderful time of the year.
Just wait until everyone sees your fairy dance routine!
I hope any female readers will spare a thought for all those subs spending Christmas alone… chained up in the cellar, locked away in a punishment cupboard or just put into a burlap sack and tossed in the corner, forgotten and ignored. Hundreds of them, thousands maybe… uncomfortable and miserable. Isn’t that a lovely thought? What a shame it’s only once a year.
Some parents like to pretend the castration fairy isn’t real, but we know she is, don’t we readers?

It’s the best rule there is

Been a while since I did a post about Rule 18. Why? Oh, probably because that series isn’t really femdom and no one likes it. But I was thinking… do I actually care what my readers like? Do they deserve to see stuff they like? The answer to both questions has to be no, of course not. And you know you don’t deserve that, if you’re honest with yourselves, don’t you, hmm? That’s right. So this is what you get today.

For anyone confused, beyond the normal male mental fog, ‘Rule 18’ is from Servitor’s (rather presumptuous and impertinent) advice to a novice domme and it states “try to avoid sessions with clients who have really specific fetishes and can’t get off unless it is exactly right.”

Mostly just silly pictures, but some have captions. Oh – and at the end, some illustrations of why Rule 3 matters, too.

To comply with decency laws, the picture has been cropped to avoid showing what is holding up the central peg. Incidentally, in English croquet, unlike the American version, you don’t hold either of the pairs of balls down with your foot when you whack them with the mallet. Though that does sound fun.
“Of course it is! Gahhh – it’s ruined now!” (Rule 18, ma’am, rule 18…)
And this one too. He said green wellies, dammit. Green!
If they finish the piece and he doesn’t clap, they’ll beat the crap out of him, of course. Oh, and if he does he’ll collapse, they’ll fall off and then they’ll… well, I’m sure you can guess.
I hope she’s remembered to bring all the latex, this time.
Don’t ask. She just wants to get it over with.
Best to hold the session when the tide’s going out, I’ve heard.
Now that’s just obscene. Do people really…?
Howl!

Post-script: I promised you some Rule 3 illustrations too. Rule 3? Oh, yeah, sure: “You are not expected to have sex with your clients. Thank goodness.” Basically, just images of particularly unattractive malesubs*, especially in the presence of a gorgeous goddess.

Divine Mistress Heather, of course, kindly letting her sub land in water for the practice attempt before the filming starts.

* I suppose some people might object to my sneering at the appearance of people who are – after all – just male submissives like myself. Why should they be singled out to be degraded and humiliated, by my mocking them in this way? Isn’t it unfair? And the answer is yes, of course, it is: they really ought to be paying for this treatment, the cheap little bastards. But hey, it’s nearly Christmas, right? They can have this one as a freebie.

An Angel before you to keep you in the way

Definitely an angel. Angels in the bible did a lot of smiting, too.
Many mistress-slave agreements consist almost entirely of penalty clauses, actually.
It was actually Margot Robbie’s performance in this movie – in which she pushes a steel rod through this chap’s eye in the end of this scene, amusingly enough – which got her the gig in Barbie. But they changed the Barbie screenplay, retaining the ‘women’s world’ theme but giving it more ‘mainstream acceptability’ by removing the torture scenes and most references to castration. And they wonder why people say cinema’s lost its magic.
That seems a bit dismissive. My SO always lets me plead for a while.
I can take the beatings but sarcasm is a hard limit for me.
How excited, exactly?

That little chat

You know… that little chat. The one she’s been promising you all week. Don’t keep her waiting.

And don’t forget what happens to sissies who tell lies. Although I don’t imagine you will, after that last time.
Oooh – potential ally! Maybe you could start by explaining how oppressive and inappropriate disciplinary spankings are, see how she reacts, then develop the conversation from there.
Unlike many mothers-in-law she’s quite pleased with her daughter’s choice of husband and enjoys her visits.
Maybe they’ll have a ‘bring your sissy to work day’ at the silo.
Those slaveboys… they get up to such mischief. Good thing she’s there to keep an eye on him.
He is lucky. Look at all that effort she’s putting into their relationship.

The wonderful Lady Kenworthy, demonstrating the sound of one hand clapping.

Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the company of intelligent women.

More glimpses from a bygone, more civilised age.

Except obviously you won’t be buggered afterwards. Not with a real penis, anyway.
Of course, she won’t continue her career as a governess after marriage. That would be quite against the spirit of the times, which held that even professional women, once married, should focus all of their efforts on their husbands.
War is hell. So’s her strap-on, actually.
Striking at the root of the problem, so to speak.
Even young ladies of fashion had to develop practical skills in those days. The lady behind looks singularly uninterested, though… dreaming of marriage to a billionaire, perhaps.
He loves – and loves a lass above his station, by the look of him.
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