Category: blondes

Frustrating femmes

Increasingly, I find ‘the prospect of an orgasm’ is all there is, along with the memories of them too, of course.  But my SO has other means of motivation, so that’s OK.
You might want to try to get used to it, just in case the witch doesn’t co-operate.  Good thing you’ve got someone to look after you, anyway.
She’s a very sympathetic person – just ask the boys – but even her sympathy has its limits.
On that principle, I ought to be a very good person by now, but oddly my SO doesn’t agree.
It’s funny how vanilla sex workers can be crueller than the dommes.  Without even knowing it, sometimes.

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.



Dressed to suppress

You should stop asking… makes you come across as kind-of obsessive, and needy, you know?  Just play it cool, say nothing and I expect she’ll make sure it happens when you really need it – and maybe even when you least expect it.

 



Looks good on her, but then she’s not attached to the wall by a chain clipped to her genitals, desperately gasping for short breaths.

Hah – actually the investment bank of which he is finance director has investments in several app developer start-ups.  So I expect he knows all about it. And if not, there’s nothing like a sequence of electric shocks to to the cock to help you learn something quickly, believe me.

 

 

They’re just redistributing the wealth. From each according to how much she wants from him, to each according to whatever the little fucker deserves.

 

 

 

Good thing she had a humiliation session booked later the day she discovered the putrefying remains. 

 

 

Blonde ambition

In trying to come up with that title, I was thinking of ‘Blonde justice’ and had a sneaking suspicion I’d used it before, so I searched and found… oh dear, four posts all called ‘Blonde justice’. Is the blog really so forgettable, even for me?  Maybe been going too long… but I’ve still got another 2772 captioned images unposted and I write more all the time, so I’m afraid we’re just going to have to carry on.

Anyway, blonde post.  Yes, of course Mistress Eleise is in it.  Did you really need to ask?

Obviously, it’s going to be very painful – it often is when a relationship ends – but don’t worry: one day she’ll look back on it and laugh.  Possibly even next Thursday, when you come home with that funny bruised face.

 

 

Why should he mind?  Why should she care if he does?

 

 

 

She’ll freely admit she’s a trophy wife.  First prize in the ‘deluded and regretful old fool’ category.

 

I hate hypothetical questions.  Strap me to the gurney and let me see the scalpels, then it will feel more like a real choice, that’s what I say.  Assuming I’m still allowed to choose.

 

If you keep it up long enough, even an obese 220-pound man can easily lose as much as…well, 220 pounds, eventually.  By weight, I mean. A lot more pounds sterling, obviously but who’s counting?

 

Told you.  She’s magnificent.  What an extraordinary honour and pleasure (and pain) it was for me to session with her a few times, in Paris some years ago.

 

 

In fact… shall we have another Mistress Eleise image?  I say we should and it is my blog, after all.

 

She’s laughing inside.



Severely

I suppose it’s polite to ask, but really she should just make herself at home.


 

He looks pretty trustworthy to me.  You’ll be fine.  Just think about something else for 20 minutes.

  

 
 

No, she’s not particular.  Well…she is, obviously.  Just not about that sort of thing.

 

See?  There’s always a solution if you just talk it out.  It’s like the time I finally told my SO I was finding our ‘lifestyle’ a bit difficult and in just a few minutes ‘talking it through’ we hit on the solution of shutting the fuck up and never complaining to her again.  So simple, in retrospect and it’s avoided so many problems since.

 

 

She’s definitely going to go down there and check he’s OK, though.  There’s just something she needs to do first, that’s all.

 

 

Mocking the weak

 Some scenes we’d like to see.


Reminds me of my very first date… the girl I was with kept on comparing my penis size with that of this other guy she knew.  Or maybe she’d never met him before… I don’t know actually.  He was a bit embarrassed about the whole situation, but she offered him a blow job so he went along with it.




Now you are an grown man and have put childish things behind you.   Haven’t you?



There are lots of things I’m better at than I am at sex.  In fact, almost an infinite number.




Oh I don’t know.  Seems to me to have done pretty well.  Anyway, you never know, they might get back together now they’ve found a modus vivandi.





Plenty of orgasms in that household. Does one more or less per month really make that much of a difference?


Her opinion matters

It does – like many other men, I discovered early on in married life how much pain can be caused by not listening carefully enough to my partner’s concerns.

 


 

Hmm.  It’s hardly surprising they don’t send her the best boys they have, if she keeps on breaking them.  But I don’t want to be the one to tell her that.


 

 

Unnecessary rudeness can leave such a nasty taste in the mouth.

 

 

Mistress wants her slave to put his clothes back on – quietly now! – tiptoe off to the dungeon door and silently fuck off.  There’s a good boy.

 

 

 

It’s good they’re all labelled because the faces usually get a bit messed up and hard to recognise, particularly those who were married when they arrived.

 

 

Try not to judge her too harshly.  He is very annoying.

 

 

 

 

 



Unrestrained elegance

A truly service-oriented submissive would have one ready, anticipating her needs.

 

 

 

They say Paris is the city of lovers.  Maybe she’ll have a several, while you’re there.

 

 

Don’t worry, the whip’s just for show.  Well… I mean, it’s mainly for the slaveboy, obviously.  But in this context, it’s mainly for show.

 

 

 

You’re very much at the bottom end of it, obviously, but part of the family nonetheless.

Skirts are much more convenient, as I can personally attest.


 

Agonising and ecstasising

Silly headline, sweet little song,* content is essentially unrelated.

 

 

It only gets sadder from here on in, Ma’am.  You don’t mind if I call you Ma’am, I hope?  Ma’am.

 

 

 

 

She can wait.  Hours, days, weeks.  Whatever it takes.  And you’re not going anywhere, obviously.

 

 

 

Maybe I’m just trying to demonstrate that I’m not one of those guys who just thinks about his penis the whole time, you know?

 

 

 

 

It’s cheaper than domme session rates, but only slightly – and much more intense.

 

 

 

 

Don’t ask her about the bad experience.  She’s been able to move on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* But not as sweet as the one from Butterflies.

Hers to keep

 

 

And of course there’s no rule that says you can’t use any twice.  Or even more often than that.


 

 

 

I expect Sasha will get the hang of it.  One excuse for a beating’s almost as good as another; it’s silly to get hung up on narrative consistency.  I never do – as readers of my stories will attest.

 

 

 

He’s probably thinking he’s not really up to moving like greased lightening, at his age.  But that’s the thing about femdom – you can always surprise yourself.

 

 

 

Subbie hear, subbie do.



Many submissive men get quite hung up on how wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, co-workers and so on will react to their fetish.  But the truth is, many of them just don’t care at all and haven’t the least interest in us.   I find it quite humiliating…. yum.