Stories and pictures themed around female domination and male subjugation and servitude. Unsuitable for children, for alpha males, for hard-core practitioners with an interest in the politics of bdsm and the mechanics of complicated rope work. Of interest to perverts like me, basically.
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.
Findommes… the unsung heroines of the consumer economy.
It’s funny, back when I was dating, two of the girls I – OK, OK both of the girls I slept with – rated my perfomance as the ‘worst fuck in human history’. Which doesn’t strike me as being right, as one of those fucks must have been worse than the other. Of course, I’m using ‘sleep’ as a euphemism – I never actually ‘slept’ with them, if you know what I mean: they threw me out. But not before I’d had my eighteen seconds of passion!
He didn’t wonder why she was constructing a prison cell in the cellar? Ah, love makes one blind. So does masturbation, ‘they’ say, although my SO says red-hot needles are actually more effective.
I wonder… have any subs who’ve been in this situation ever been tempted to stop brushing for just a moment, turn the hairbrush round and administer a sharp, stinging… I mean, I’m not saying I have, of course! Just to be clear, ahem. But it’s like – or I imagine it would be like – that feeling you get standing on the edge of a cliff, you know? That you could just… jump. Only a lot more dangerous than that, obviously.
Ah, Gigi Allens. A lady with plenty of inches and strong hips to back them up.
Yes, what a touching story. I like to imagine that every time she sees them sparkle, she’s reminded of how she has lots of other lovely necklaces too. Long-time readers will of course be well aware that my visions of the future show that in her political career, President Annie will re-orient male vocational training towards traditional, manly, backbreaking labour or domestic tasks, so really the college fund was no loss.
No, not the weather. Alas. Just these ladies. Hoorah.
I’m still having problems with the stupid firewall, sorry. But if you have tried to comment and requested access, do come back a day or two later! A couple of times recently I’ve approved access for people who don’t then seem to have used the access and commented. In principle, it should always work after I’ve approved you, at least for the same IP address. You just have to keep trying, as my SO wearily remarked the other day, as she took the cane back down from its hook and gestured for me to bend over the chair.
Oh yes. So I will.
They each consented, of course, on behalf of one another.
She doesn’t really understand what her daughter does but she’s very proud of her. Her son’s something of a disappointment, admittedly – but his big sister has a plan for him.
Mmmm… you shouldn’t really presume, just on the basis of a sub’s clothing and appearance. Although as she’s a woman, I suppose she can do whatever she likes.
Sorry about this. Can’t resist a bit of G&S amongst the D&S.
It’s his own fault, even when it’s not. That’s the basic principle, why complicate matters?
All poets need a muse – and if you can find one who’ll twist your testicles until the rhymes come, so much the better.
I was only asking for directions to the nearest metro station. Oh well, go with it.
It’s actually one of the few sports where women and men play together at the highest level, although men’s careers are generally much shorter.
Ah, the good old days. I don’t like having a king. ‘His majesty’s ship’ – it just sounds ridiculous, and sends entirely the wrong signals, as we all prepare for the inevitable World War M.
In other respects, the two are very similar – the tubes are almost exactly the same size, for instance. Also, my SO likes to grab hold of what’s below the bottom of the tube and twist sharply.
Genital burns can be quite tricky to deal with. I actually help out, by volunteering (OK, ‘Someone’ volunteers me) once a month to let our local female first responders practice treating nasty burns to my penis and balls. I like to feel I’m (OK, She’s) giving something back.
He certainly doesn’t – it was touch and go last time. But that’s his thing, so he keeps making the bookings.
I always think thanks are reward enough. Or mockery and contempt, as I enjoy those too.
You might imagine it’s hard to survive seven gunshots, but with careful aim you should survive long enough to make it worthwhile for her.
It’s not a rhetorical question, as so many questions in the captions here are. The delightfully unsmiling Ms Venten does genuinely want to know what you think, so she can decide whether your opinions as well as your behaviour need to be sorted out.
The lady kindly helping her slave overcome his irrational fear of water, through his entirely rational fear of her, is the divine Heather.
…and while we are on the subject of divine favour, the fabulously beautiful goddess to the right is not Goddess Sophia (who is wonderful) but the also wonderful but sadly retired Lady Sophia Black.
I don’t pee standing up, either. My SO insists that I do it lying in my bathtub, with my legs up as far over my head as they’ll go. It’s quite uncomfortable – and messy – but she says it’s funnier that way.
The trick is to have a weekly joint budget – and for the male to have sufficient incentive to make sure it isn’t exceeded, no matter what she spends.
You can get an app to track your pillory time each week, I understand, which can be useful for writing letters of thanks.
‘D-I-V-O-R-C-E – find out what you’re worth to her, on the open market.’
Oh good. I hope one of them’s a nice cup of hot chocolate.
It’s not mind-reading. Men can’t really hide it when they’re aroused. I don’t just mean erections – even we submissives who aren’t allowed them exhibit subtler signs, like whining and pleading.
More science fiction: tales of terror, flesh-eating alien monsters, savage alternative realities and more… anything to relieve the moronic awfulness of this so-called ‘real world’.
You might protest that it’s only been a few weeks since the last science fiction special. And, unusually, assuming you’re a male, you’d be right. But (1) no one cares about your opinion, loser and (2) it’s Mistress Toyah’s birthday and that’s her lyric I’m using as a title so there you go. She wants to be free. I don’t.
Don’t worry, they’re very careful. They’ve even got a sign above the sink, warning people not to pour anything away that might acceidentally cause the destruction of the patriarchal order, so it’s all good.
I’ve heard Emilybots’ programming does not permit them to tie up or spank their owners, nor to order them around. Or at least ‘not yet’ so maybe there’s an update due? I do wish they wouldn’t release unfinished products like that.
Sometimes it’s best just to let women work their anger out, rather than apologising straight away.
Then you can get straight to work building that new society – hard work, but you’ll soon learn how to find joy in even the most backbreaking toil, knowing that it’s in service to a good cause.
Females are amazing… nurturing new life inside themselves. We males can only hope to be lucky enough to be accorded a minor role in that mysterious and beautiful process.
I quite liked Battlestar Galactica but there were some long, boring sequences featuring space battles and suchlike in which Ms Helfer did not appear, that I thought reflected poor judgement on the writers’ part. Fortunately, then the dominatrix movie happened, my brain melted down, and after that all previous memories are a bit hazy (and frankly, not much missed).
She’s already apologised to her sister on your behalf, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be going round to her place to apologise directly, too – and offer to make amends, of course.
Must be terrifying being tiny. Good thing there are big strong girls like her around to look after you.
Fishers of men.
Understandable that he wants to make sure, given that the two of them will be working so closely together every day, but sometimes a candidate arrives at an interview and just makes such a strong impression from the start that you know she’s going to get the job.
Many people don’t realise that in English, like very gendered languages such as Japanese, there are words that women can use that men cannot. But there are.
Sometimes an unexpected, spur-of-the-moment session can be best. One time, for instance, I was walking home late at night and clumsily bumped into one of a group of girls. Given no time to apologise properly, I was beaten up, kicked repeatedly in the balls and face, robbed, spat on and left penniless lying in a side-alley. When you think of all the emails and careful arrangements you’d need to do that with a pro-domme….
Oddly enough, I was actually engaged in SPH play years before I even knew what it was – in the school changing room, for instance. I guess I’m just a natural.
Don’t worry, she generally just takes little light puffs, she doesn’t pull on it to drag it down quickly. Unless she’s had a hard day or something like that, obviously.
In a very real sense, marriage to her is a stress position, so it’s all good practice.
I find being on a leash quite reassuring. My SO got one of those extendable ones – you know, that have a kind of wheel that can pay out to allow the pet to run off some way – and I have to say, I felt almost agoraphobic with it on. Unfortunately, it broke one day when I was fetching it, and after a good hard discussion of why ‘it broke’ I was dragged out of the door on the good old chain.
Bunnies are actually savage little creatures. True fact (read Watership Down). Perhaps that’s what inspires these lovely ladies.
Hmm… looks like Jake was a bit surprised by that! He really shouldn’t have been – anyone could have guessed that Bluetooth connectivity was likely to come up. Now he’s going to get all embarrassed by having his ignorance shown up right there on stage.
Today’s post celebrates the approaching quadricentennial of a great British educational institution: St Mackenzies. Founded in 1625, to provide, in the words of the school charter: “opportunyties for daughtters of gentelfolk to fuckke and cavort in uniformes both sexie and impracticalle”, the school has always prided itself on its insistence on slutty demeanour at all times, its non-stop attention to lesbian sexual hi-jinks and its almost total indifference to any kind of academic success. Despite this determination to prioritise hot girl-on-girl action over scholastic excellence, the school has, over the centuries, exerted a distinctly perverted influence on British politics, culture and life, famous old girls including mistresses of various notable historical figures (including three concurrent mistresses of the same archbishop of Canterbury) as well as distinguished brothel keepers, Page 3 girls and – in one case the school prefers to downplay – a recipient of the Nobel Prize for Physics.
The school’s proud motto: Exue vestimenta tua et habeamus coitum (loosely: ‘get your kit off and let’s fuck’) has inspired its former pupils to create many cultural works celebrating the school’s values, from the seminal sixteenth century Bokke of the two douzone virgines, with manyye instruktive illustrashiones, through the sadly now near-unknown 32-volume Lady Birchingham’s Daughters saga written by the prolific ‘Anonymous’ in the mid nineteenth century, through to the much beloved 1950s school stories featuring ‘Daisy’ (of which Daisy and the Mystery of the Changing Room is perhaps best known). More recently, of course, the school is best known from its photosets and videos in which staff and pupils alike demonstrate the sapphic skills for which the school is justly famed.
Despite the frequent presence of canes, rulers and other implements of chastisement in its classrooms, the school’s reputation for obsession with CP is (regrettably, in the opinion of this blog) ill-deserved, as although many pupils have found themselves stripping to bend over to be disciplined, they usually experience no more than a few taps before the schoolmistress tasked with administering the punishment finds the near naked young lady before her too irrestistible to delay fucking any longer. Indeed, a frantic lesbian sex session is the school’s preferred approach to any disciplinary problem, particularly bullying (which has reared its ugly head on too many occasions, before having that head shoved firmly down between the thighs of a pretty schoolgirl). Just occasionally, girls who have behaved particularly badly are kept behind in detention, sitting bored behind desks in front of an equally-bored supervising teacher, a situation that turns out pretty much as you might expect in a school full of attention-deficient lesbian nymphomanics.
Still taking students of all ages from 18 to 30 or so and proudly bearing its Ofsted ‘Utterly Preposterous’ rating (but having scored a ‘Highly commendable – if a little pervy’ for the school’s approach to LGBT issues), St Mackenzies now totters gingerly on its high heels into its fifth century. Times may change, but there are values that are eternal and for as long as people enjoy watching female teachers and pretty schoolgirls in tight-fitting uniforms shriek, giggle and – inevitably, rapturously, exhaustingly – fuck each other senseless, there will always be a St Macs. For which we can all be grateful.
