blonde – Contemplating the divine

Quant à moi, peu dormi, vidé, brimé

C’est le 14 juillet, et nous célébrons les déesses républicaines françaises telles que Marianne et… euh…

Liberté, Egalité, Sororité!

Bon, je pense que ça suffit pour la langue française aujourd’hui.

Captions with a vaguely French connection, anyway.

Paris is famous for its stylish leather goods.

One from my ‘advice to a US sub visiting Europe‘ occasional series, obviously. The caption is deliberately misleading: the French insist on following their own local food customs, so you’ll probably find yourself swallowing butts from unfiltered Gauloises, rather then some mild ‘low tar’ cigarettes.

As the label might indicate to even the most male-brained reader, this is of course the magnificent, elegant and beautiful Ibicella, who can be found, worshipped and, ideally, donated to at the address shown. And here she is being adorable.

You might not learn many words in French, but you’ll be *really* good on everyday (and every hour, minute and second) politeness.

And do I really need to mention this is Mistress Eleise? Look, I like maple syrup as much as the next slave, but I can tell you: it is not Canada’s greatest export. I’ve tried both.

Her dungeon doesn’t actually have a view of the Tour Eiffel, you understand. It doesn’t have a view of anything.

There are actually plusieurs esclaves, but they are all much the same.

Or maybe they’re just trying to make things more interesting for the ladies.

P.S. Allez les Bleus! Mais aussi les lions anglais…

P.P.S. OK, so the Bleus didn’t really allez. Or not as much as the Spanish went ándale ándale ándale anyway. So to cheer up any depressed frenchmen – or heterosexual males of any sort, I imagine – here’s the lovely Ibicella, being patriotic.

Baby watch her eyes, you better watch her eyes

Anything you feel swelling up underneath you when you’re being spanked over Dave’s lap should be kept strictly as a secret between you and him, OK? It’s a guy thing: no need for her to know.

Fashion photographers can be so annoying. Just ask the ladies in this sweet little scene..

I mean, she’d never *actually* do it, right? You know that, right? ‘Course you do. So stop dithering and let her strap you down.

And your orgasms are even specialer, being so rare.

First goddess in my life, maybe…. I mean, I *liked* The Damned too, and The Undertones but… Ah, to be looked at, the way she looks at Kermit.

And here’s Captain Sensible performing ‘Wot’ on French TV, because pourquoi pas?

Men think of castration in such all-or-nothing terms, that’s the problem.

When you see someone putting on her Big Boots, you can be pretty sure that an Adventure is going to happen

There’s a theme today. See if you can guess what it is.

Looks like she’s come well prepared for the performance review. That’s so important.

Hmm… I mean, if food tastes strongly of leathery, sweaty boot, is it technically vegetarian? Probably best not to argue, but…

Actually, she won’t mind if he’s not a brave boy. She can be quite easygoing like that.

This is the lovely Mistress Vixen; you probably recognised her already from her very distinctive hair.

We fucked-up weirdos can be very annoying. Fortunately, it’s OK to take it out on us.

Gracious, devilish, mythical ladies

Some women are very hard to satisfy. Others impossible. It’s about 50/50 between the two, in my experience.

Don’t worry, she’ll look after you and provide for all your needs.

You may kiss the floor a respectful distance away from the bride.

Don’t be too disappointed if his humiliation ideas are a bit basic – he’s new to this. And male, so sophistication isn’t really to be expected.

She is nothing if not consistent. Except when she decides on a whim to be capricious.

He’s right about one thing: it *will* be an experience.

Well-behaved women seldom make history

More glimpses of bygone worlds: male inferiority is really nothing new. Should have been last week, but rocket went up.

Justice must be seen to be done – and preferably enjoyed.

She’s an idealist, always hoping for perfection.

Actually, it’s all worked out quite well, as she finds she gets more enjoyment from producing her own eunuchs than merely buying them in.

Just as well: he’s a very poor dancer but his swallowing skills are renowned across the county.

The winner of the tournament will receive his lady’s favour. As will all the other participants, to be honest, as she finds they tire easily.

She is firmly opposed to almost all forms of cruelty and her husband will simply have to reconcile himself to that.

Woman’s inhumanity to man

Which is obviously fine, humanity being properly reserved for humans not apes or maggots.

I’ve heard the trick is to think about other things, OK? The two weeks will fly by. Now hurry up with that lotion: she’s waiting.

And if you’re *not* actually her 4 o’clock pervert, just go on up anyway. She isn’t particular.

Realistic goals, firm boundaries, severe consequences. Secret of a happy marriage, right?

She’s right, they’re already starting to look ugly and horrible.

Particularly disappointing given the ants’ matriatrchal society. You’d think they’d at least have a nibble… ant cannot live on honey alone.

Even the grimmest, most unpleasant situations can benefit from a little joke, he always used to say.

Incidentally, my captions here often feature the wonderful Mistress Eleise (with whom I had the pleasure and pain in Paris of a session or three) objecting to blonde jokes. But that’s just my invention. Maybe she really likes them, collects them and treasures examples in which the blonde is being particularly dumb? If anyone visits Canada and if she’s still working, do try a few out and let us know how it goes.

Fairy tale romances

Yes, more scenes from stories of brave princesses rescuing – or not – helpless knights and suchlike. A ‘happy ending’ every time – without even the need to plead and beg for it.

They get porridge to eat, of course, and it’s always ‘just right’ too, despite being cold and lumpy.

Ah, the first electric shock of married life. I remember mine so well. It’s traditional for the husband then to ask his loving wife ‘How long do I have to wear this, darling?’ to which the correct response is of course a peal of delighted laughter.

You do get a say. Not the decisive say, not even an important one, but a say, anyway. Or a squeak, at least.

It’s not as easy a life as you might imagine – those pegs hurt just as much as they would if they were suspending a ‘normal’ male body, for instance.

The grateful populace of the kingdom later began a tradition of staging a re-enactment every year, to celebrate their beloved King’s heroic deed, although obviously, lacking centaurs, they had to use ordinary horses and stable-lads.

He may have found a comfortable place to live, but he remains vigilent. As he trots obediently at her heel, or chases madly after sticks, Sir Foofles is always alert for possible witches in the vicinity, but so far he has never found any. Perhaps they don’t exist? That would certainly explain it.

Well-managed relationships

Oh – a CtD post on a Thursday! Hmm, you say. Must be an extra, because Servitor is celebrating the blog’s fifteenth anniversary. And certainly not because silly Servitor messed up the dates in scheduling the posts and thought 29 January was a Friday and noticed too late to delete it, as Sam had already commented. No no no no no… So, yeah, an extra post, because Friday’s post ~~hurriedly recscheduled from later in February~~ will obviously come out as normal tomorrow.

They say the secret of a successful relationship is mutual respect. Which just goes to show how little ‘they’ know. She says the secret of a successful relationship is tyranny and fear and I really can’t disagree with her on that.