blondes – Page 4 – Contemplating the divine

Thankful for small cruelties

More and more companies are discovering the benefits of setting up dedicated disciplinary departments. Of course, any good manager knows that she should try to deal with performance issues in person whenever possible, but there’s only so many hours in the day.

There’s an honesty about femdom that’s sometimes lacking in other areas of professional sex work, I believe.

So we did.

I went to a financial advisor and explained to her how exciting I found financial domination and she said I should seek professional help. Which is exactly what I was doing… very confusing. So I explained that I wanted her to take all my money with no explanation and never give me anything in return – and it was her turn to look confused, because apparently that’s exactly what she does, as an independent financial advisor.

I get a bit fed up with being asked that. Why do professional ladies assume I’m into SPH? It’s the first question every doctor I’ve ever had has asked me, for instance.

The lovely Miss Zoe, of course. Another lady who has suffered the misfortune of having to put the actual real-life Servitor across her knee… but she has preserved her sanity intact. Apparently you can confess to her here. Be truthful, now.

Kindness costs nothing

… but structured, skillfully-applied cruelty can be quite expensive. Worth every penny, though.

Unlike many modern feminists, Clara actually quite enjoys explaining things to sexists.

…and if you’re not OK with it, she can work that into the scene too.

Reminds me of the time I had to unpack all of my luggage in front of two lady customs officers, once. Goodness, their contemptuous laughter still rings in my ears. It’s not that I had anything embarassing in the luggage, you understand. I just have this effect on women.

Thank goodness it’s nothing personal.

Oh, not again… you know, I think her watch might be a bit fast, actually.

And the wife she keeps the keys

She is so pleased to be a part of the arrangement. Warning: clip utterly unrelated to femdom and disappointingly safe for work.

She’s actually very kind – never uses the cattleprod more than she absolutely has to, you know?

Obviously, this is something we cannot condone nowadays. Asking female co-workers whether they have lock-picking skills is the very definition of workplace sexual harassment, I reckon.

You might not technically be gay but then you’re not really heterosexual in any meaningful sense either, are you? I mean: your hand’s not female.

How about what?

She’ll be able to tell when the power’s back on, because there’s a little green light that flashes above the circuit-breaker. That, and the agonized shrieks for mercy from upstairs.

Be cruel to thy neighbour

It does, actually. But it was never very good at it, anyway, so no loss really.

Scurry scurry scurry.

She can track your progress with the little chip thing they insert under your skin. If she can be bothered.

Damn… she’s right. Eight years I’ve been writing this blog and… oh well.

Thank goodness everyone’s safe. Everyone who matters, anyway.

Superior judgement

She didn’t ask what Tony thought of it, of course. He’d have just the same opinion as Jane, anyway.

Don’t worry, if you haven’t brought one she’s probably got something you’ll be able to use to become really sorry.

They had to lift the ban on cruel and unusual punishments, of course.

They seem very nice, don’t they?

Behind the scenes, the Avengers movies are a lot more femdom than they seem. I’ll just mention that Iron Man is not the only one who wears a rigid metal shell, and leave it at that, I think.

Annhilatrices

You know the ‘trix’ ending is almost the only example I can think of where femdom culture ‘dominates’ the mainstream. In principle, one can speak of an editrix, adminstratrix or investigatrix, but it’s only going to conjure up an image of a lady in leather with a whip. As most things do for me, to be honest, but I’m talking about normal people.

Incidentally, is a female alligator an alligatrix?

Incineratrix

This particular incineratrix is the wonderful Goddess Sophia, who has occasionally been unlucky enough to have raw untreated Servitor spilling out across her dungeon floor, but she always managed to get it under control before too long. A powerful and creative lady.

She’s trying to transform the harsh, uncaring image of the findomme business. Although not too much, obviously, or what would be the point of it?

The ball gag is an essential element in this style of play, to make sure the little horrors don’t go crawling in where they’re not wanted. And to prevent him screaming out his safeword, which ironically enough in this case is ‘arachnophobia’. What’s that you’re asking? ‘What about his nostrils’? Well, don’t be silly – that would block his breathing passages, wouldn’t it? Honestly, how many times must I remind everyone: safety first! That’s rules 1, 2 and 3 in BDSM, yeah? That’s why she’s using the non-poisonous kind, too, see?

Seems a bit soft-hearted to me. I mean, 6/7 of his bottom won’t be beaten at all, most days. I thought she’d take a harder line, to be honest.

Of course, if anyone really hates it, she doesn’t just let them suffer in silence. Quite the contrary, actually.

Feet first

It’s got to turn out my way one of these times…


Hmm… looks like she’s finished all of that bottle of water.

If it were being totally candid, it might suggest that it would occasionally appreciate being whipped just a little less hard, but fortunately it has the sense to keep its moronic opinions to itself.

I don’t see how the marriage can be regarded as consummated unless she has had sex too. Hmm… do you suppose that bell-boy is still around? He seemed nice.

I think he’ll be cleaning her tank again.

Born to be Wilde

Today’s theme is gardens and gardening for reasons that should be obvious.

I’ve always fantasised about my Mistress lending me out to a vanilla friend, but it’s actually less exciting than you might think. One of her old school friends offered to try it, but almost as soon as I arrived and got changed into my perky little maid’s outfit, somehow I knew it wasn’t going to work. I did the housework for a bit but I think we both felt uncomfortable and so after a couple of hours he phoned for Mistress to come and pick me up again.

Scurry scurry scurry.

There are more dandelions. Many more.

He’s at peace, now.

If she does roquet you – that is, hits one of your balls with hers – then she gets to ‘croquet’ – and there are two ways of doing it. The American rule is that she puts her foot down, firmly holding the ball immobile, before tapping it with her mallet. But in Britain, she just places her ball next to yours and thwacks as hard as she can. It’s all in the angles, you see. Anyway, both methods are a lot of fun.

Captivating ladies

Actually, unlike many men with small penises, I don’t obsess about it and feel inadequate and ashamed about its size. My feelings of inadequacy and shame are much more broadly-based than that.

It’s just to redress the balance. Men are no good at empathy. Not like women: my SO always knows when I’m hurting badly, no matter how much I try to conceal it.

It’s much shorter than my punishment song – which has seventeen verses. Even though I’ve never considered myself a good singer, my SO usually enjoys it so much she ‘asks’ for an encore. Sometimes two.

Lucky bastard – he’s going to be experiencing his top sexual fantasy for the rest of his life.

The gentlemen in the picture likes to claim he is ‘very experienced in BDSM’ but actually, he’s about to discover there’s a lot more to it than he had ever imagined.

120 minutes a slave

…followed by a slightly stilted conversation while putting my clothes back on, a quick hug, a kiss of her hand, then back out and switch on the mobile to find out what craziness has been going on at work while I’ve been in session.

You can get upgraded to business class. The container’s only slightly bigger (though you do feel the difference after a long flight, I find) but you get meaty chunks from a proper tin of food instead of those dry pellets.

Nurses have seen it all, of course, but many women find it quite offensive when a man visibly develops an erection in their presence. My SO certainly does, and has been helping keep that side of my personality under tight control.

Sometimes you can tell even without looking at them. And sometimes you just beat them anyway, on the off-chance. It’s all good.

On my very first date, I actually had a premature orgasm – which was very embarassing. You see, I was wearing light-coloured trousers, so when she opened the door and said hello, I exploded in a very visible dark stain. Fortunately, that was the last bad thing that happened on that date, although I did almost get caught on the nose by the door as it slammed shut again.

What do we want? Justice!