belt – Contemplating the divine

Never underestimate the power of male stupidity

It’s a force of nature. So are these ladies, fortunately.

Ah yes: trigonometry. That’s all about how much longer diagonal lines are than horizontal ones, isn’t it? And they’re a lot more painful too, if they overlay the earlier ones.

As the famous quote goes: “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of irritating subs who need to learn their place and not question their Goddess.” Or something like that.

I once told my SO I thought she ought to pay more attention to my opinions, but I stupidly chose a bad moment for it: apparently it’s rude to talk to someone when they’re sitting on the toilet. Fortunately, I don’t think she heard what I was trying to say.

Many men find corner time a frustrating waste of time, but I’m usually happy standing there: thinking of all the things she cares about that I’m not fucking up during those hours.

It’s OK to cry. Which is just as well… I don’t know how I’d cope with marriage if it wasn’t.

So did they. Until they didn’t. Anyway, line-writing *can* be part of a loving female-led relationship: I should know, I’ve written that out hundreds if not thousands of times now.

A woman is the only thing I am afraid of that I know will not hurt me

I think Abraham Lincoln said that. Which just goes to show that even the smartest guys can be really, really dumb when it comes to the unfairer sex, but there you go.

And here we go. Not an Abraham Lincoln-themed day, startlingly enough.

Men are stronger than women but chains are stronger than wrists – and steel or even plastic is stronger than a cock, so it’s all right.

Don’t blame her for being so clingy – or for the concern about your untimely death. When you think of what happened to her first two husbands, it’s hardly surprising, is it? The poor thing.

She takes a holistic approach to cleaning. It’s not just about cleaning the apartment; it’s also about cleaning up your lifeand tidying up your attitudes (and cleaning out your mouth too, if need be).

Don’t worry, it’s just a job to her. She leaves it behind every day, when she walks out of the Retributution Room and washes the blood off her rubber apron and lets the screams fade behind her. Oh – and she likes rom-coms. That’s OK with you, yeah? For some guys it’s a no-no.

Looks like another quiet evening in, then.

Much better to be the only slave in their cottage than to be one of any number of interchangeable males at the back and call of some city woman. Think of all the attention you’ll get! Plus all that healthy country air.

Securely married

Impressive she became so good at it, if she was a late developer.

She’s just trying to build trust.

Some restaurants just do that automatically, but I always think that doesn’t show enough respect for the owners. The lady might not want her gimp to stop being thirsty just yet. Admittedly, she can always just keep the mouth zipped, but it’s the principle of it.

It can be difficult. I often feel a bit let down when I’ve paid for a humiliation session and the domme doesn’t tell me anything I haven’t been told by almost every woman I’ve ever met. It’s not the dommes’ fault, poor things, I know they do their best.

She can be forgetful. Like that time she spent almost ten minutes trying to change the TV channel with his electric shock control. Good thing he was gagged or he’d have screamed the place down, because she was trying for Channel 84 – it has this rather good flower arranging competition; like Bake Off but for flowers. Sounds a bit dull but she likes it. She was ever so cross when she realised what a silly thing she’d done that caused her to miss the first ten minutes.

Inexorable romantics

You know, sometimes I think women use ‘You’re washing my hair that night’ as an excuse, when they don’t want to go out. A bit like “Sorry, I’m just not in the mood to unlock you this month, I’ve got a headache.”

The glamorous life of an OWK Lady. Tomorrow, she’ll be going out for a slow plod around the grounds atop a human pony. Thrilling stuff.

What a bit of luck that she decided to have a meathook fitted, when she moved in.

Don’t worry, she’s very experienced. She’ll know exactly what to do.

And remember it’s a ‘fee’, not ‘tribute’, OK? It’s still going to be a suitably large number, though.

So… do you remember my post a few weeks ago, suggesting that the divine Anya rocks a dominant, fetish fashion look slightly more often than one might expect? Well, of course, the trouble with making that sort of statement is that you just know she’s going to prove you wrong immediately by showing up to every event for the next six months or so in a succession of elegant but disappointingly vanilla outfits. Yeah, that’s definitely what should have happened, by the law of averages, reversion to the mean, all that.

Only to be expected, I’m afraid.

Except she didn’t.

See if, in this picture from Michelle Yeoh’s recent Oscar celebration, you can spot a subtle difference in style between Goddess Anya’s look at and that of… oh all the people there who aren’t Anya, if you can bring yourself to waste any time looking at them.

What’s that? You want to see more of her in the dress? Yes, I expect you would – there are some at this link, others around. You like that sort of thing, being a pervert, right? That’s OK, we’re all perverts here. But be warned, let’s keep those expectations realistic, yeah? We all know what ‘femdom in mainstream’ fashion shots are like. Sadly, even when a glamorous actress puts on some kind of fetishy outfit, she’s still just going to pout for the camera in vanilla style, right? I mean, sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not as if she’s going to be photographed in the kind of haughty dominatrix pose that you and I find exciting, right?

Right?

Oh.

Hmmm.

Who loves the sun?

I do! After a miserable rainy May, we now have bright sunshine chez elle (i.e. where I live) and I thought I’d do a sun-drenched special to celebrate summer’s balmy days. Admittedly, I myself haven’t yet seen the sun, as there are no windows in the part of the house where I live (not a problem, of course – after all, what would be the point, this far underground?). But she’s promised to break out the summer sweaters and the heavy rubber gimp suit, to take me out into the garden this weekend to where the treadmill awaits, bathed in sunshine. So that’ll be a nice change. I’ve also just booked a romantic stay for two at a beach resort for later in the summer, but I wont divulge the details as she hasn’t decided which boyfriend to take with her. They get so jealous – especially a certain old bull I won’t name! *

Anyway, here we are: summery captions.

I doubt that. I have actually become quite good at accurately judging women’s weight. But sometimes you have to tell them little white lies – bless them. The number of times I’ve had to control my breathing carefully to say ‘no, no – light as a feather!’ without gasping…

It’s great. Yeah. I’m getting quite good at never having any sexy thoughts at all, as long-term readers of this blog will know only too well.

Oh… don’t mind me.

She
likes long walks in the country, getting caught in the rain and keeping
up with the latest developments in applied metallurgy.

Actually, I brought a spare myself. I always do, just in case. I mean, imagine how awful it would be to run into Gal by chance and not have a leather belt or similar implement on you… a lifetime of regret would await.

* Regular readers shouldn’t worry. There’ll always be a place for Raoul in her heart – and in her vagina, mouth and anus, too of course.

Compelling ideas

Can’t hurt to try.

Raises the question: can you be ‘just good friends’ and have a relationship based on slavery and humiliation?

I now have eleven approved begging positions. Few of them seem to work, I have to admit.

‘At a stretch’… oh ha bloody ha.

This one? This one? I do have a name, you know. Or I certainly used to, anyway.

Back in harness

So, here we are. Back from my fabulous tour of the Greek islands. Well… I assume we toured the Greek islands. There aren’t actually any windows in the middle galley deck of a trireme, so I am not quite sure, but we definitely went from one place to another, sometimes quite fast. We had some lovely tour guides, who encouraged us along, while this big bald guy played a drum (somewhat repetitively in my view, but even the most sophisticated musical talent has to begin somewhere I suppose). These tour guides didn’t speak any English, but they managed to get their message across quite effectively.

I hope you all had a good time while I was gone. Back to normal, as from today.