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.
Many people think that any deals thrashed out in the context of a long-term femdom relationship will inherently be unfair to the male, but it’s just not true. Every time my SO and I have come to an agreement about something, the deal has always involved my getting something I value: an imminent prospect of the cessation of pain, for example. That’s usually a lot more important to me than whatever it is I have to give up in exchange. So it’s a win-win, really.
The wonderful, magnificient Eleise de Lacy, of course, and the delightful Miss Woods who has not had to suffer the unpleasantness of Servitor’s proximity.
…and an extra one with an absurdly long caption, why not:
A special ‘Pervworld’ post – that’s an occasional series in which I put up captioned images that fall well below the already laughably low bar for plausibility that this blog applies, then try to justify it as being in some way knowing and ironic. See what I did there? It’s like when TV shows get to objectify women, but it’s OK because they’re really just subverting the genre.
And this intro itself is ironically mocking my own ironic use of cheesy fetish tropes to, to… OK maybe I’m over-thinking things. Not a common problem among males like myself, I’ll admit. Hmm? What’s that you say? ‘Shut up and get the fuck on with it, Servitor you annoying little prick’? Sure, happy to.
And a ‘special’. When I saw the site name on these images, I just felt that they had to feature in Pervworld. Get ready to salute the brave girls of the Special Feet Force…
New occasional theme that’ll be included in regular posts from time to time, but I thought I’d introduce it in a themed post. Brutal, non-consensual – if you don’t like those things… well, you’re probably reading the wrong blog to begin with, quite frankly.
The ladies of my ever-unpopular Downton Domination series may appear to live lives of idle luxury. But it would be a grave error to mistake requiescence for acquiescence, as I’m sure you’ll agree as soon as you’ve looked up what it means. When Hitler and his gang of thugs made that mistake in 1939, these lionesses answered their country’s call. Spunk, not funk, was the order of the day. They did their bit and this blog is proud to remember Downton Domination’s finest hours.
Not forgetting our gallant and indefatigable allies, of course. What? No, not the bloody yanks you damn fool!
Don’t proceed past this point if you’re offended by implicit sexual imagery.
Some women won’t even let men know they’re upset. I’m glad she’s being so forthright.
I think she’d be good at humiliation play, don’t you? She could build on her knowledge of real clients who want real sex – and draw a few sharp comparisons.
It’s a natural gift. That and practice. And a lot of Gaviscon, if I’m honest with myself.
Actually, this reminds me of yet another depressing contrast between fantasy and reality I encountered in one of the very first times I sessioned with a domme, having been too nervous to do so, for many years. (NB: don’t be like this guy! Contact a domme! It’ll be lovely; she’ll be lovely!). With the wonderful lady, now retired, who stars as ‘Mistress Valerie’ in my early stories. ANY-way, so back then she smoked (then she gave up – clever, strong Mistress). So I did the human ashtray thing – wow, yeah, ash flicked into my mouth! Oh the humiliation! And then she gave me a near-finished cigarette butt to eat, and eager Servitor chewed and swallowed and… and… spent the remaining hour of that two hour session, with stomach churning, heart racing from the nicotine and generally feeling like he would soooo rather be somewhere else. Oh well. Did it once. Thank you, Mistress.
Rather like other much-maligned minorities, lesbians who happen to have jobs that involve castrating men often lean into the stereotype by embracing the otherwise offensive phrase. One of Jennifer’s co-workers likes to wear a badge saying “Warning: castrating lesbian”. It breaks the ice at parties and she does get served very quickly in bars. But she also has to explain to women who are annoyed with their husbands or boyfriends that she can only do it within the legal framework… unless they’re really cute wives and and girlfriends, in which case she’s been known to make an exception.
No, I just wanted to spend a few more seconds staring into those eyes…
Contradicting the statement over there about the realism or otherwise of the material presented on this blog, just for once we are keeping it real with some accurate depictions of pro-domme sessions, rather than the fantasy this blog usually purveys.
So clutch your crumpled envelope full of banknotes tightly in your sweaty hand, turn off geolocator on your phone (but keep the phone itself on until the last second so you can nervously glance at the time as you hang around the nearby streets trying neither to be early nor late), try to look casual as you march up to the door, not meeting the eyes of any passers-by… and enjoy. Or don’t. Whatever.
Go on – she finally allowed your longstanding request to go around dressed only in a little lacy bra and panties, so what have you got to complain about?
If you’re a maledom, I really encourage to try out a proper, heavy femdom session some time. Who knows, you might like it – although I hope you won’t.
Hard thinking can be difficult at times… what was the question again?
Trust is important in a relationship but obedience is more important still, especially if you’re wearing a shock collar.
Obviously, as I’ve put up a caption about putting a plastic bag over someone’s head, it’s important to emphasise: please don’t try this at home. That’s not safe. Do it somewhere far from home, where there’s nothing that might reveal your identity or connect you to the victim – oh, and always wear gloves to avoid leaving anything for the police forensic analysis.
‘Squeakity’ indeed! I’d like to point out that I’m actually speaking perfectly normally, just in a very high pitch and with a lot of hysterical shrieking and pleading.
My SO found out once that I’d taken out a book on lock-picking. She over-reacted completely – as usual! – and after a long and sometimes difficult evening ‘discussing’ it, I had to take it back the very next day. The librarian was quite pleased: she said there was a long waiting list for it. All men.
I’ve occasionally wondered what I’d do with all the money, if I won the lottery. I suppose if it ever actually happened, she’d tell me soon enough, though.
It’s perfectly normal. Don’t worry about a thing: you have a long life ahead of you.
She always finds it quite upsetting when this happens. She’s actually a very nice person – I don’t know why she stays with him.