Brutal honesty

They do say honesty is the basis of every successful romantic relationship – but brutality has its place too.


Don’t worry – she has lots of equipment and techniques to help manage the pain.




They do say small ones have more pain receptors per square millimetre, which is actually quite a turn-on for a lot of ladies.



He’s the foundation of the building just behind her, by coincidence.




Time for the evil – sorry, what?  I can’t say that word!



OK, well if the other two are totally straight I guess they won’t need licking clean, for a change, so that’s a bonus.











Harsh words

Freud once said a cigar is sometimes just a cigar.  Similarly, bath brushes can be used for scrubbing backs, hairbrushes for brushing hair, anal hooks for, erm… well, anyway, the point is: not everything’s BDSM, all the time, you know?  Sadly.


 

 

Don’t worry – the course of justice is not being perverted.  His Lordship was probably going to cut the trial short anyway, as he has so much homework to do.

 

 

 

You might as well consent: it’s going to happen anyway, so why not make it all nice and legal?  Well… it probably won’t be ‘nice’ as such, but you know what I mean.

 

 

 

 

Acting the part here, entirely out of character, is the wonderful Miss Amy Hunter, who once spent a couple of hours giving Servitor a very hard time with a tawse, then made it all all right again with a lovely hug.

 

 


Can’t be too careful.  The nice thing about having spares, is that she doesn’t have to go easy.


 


Well-ordered

 

You’ll find her arguments compelling, I guarantee it.

 

 

 

 

 

I know that some subs who are subject to strict speech rules rather resent them, but personally I really can’t complain.

 

 

 

 

That Clause 17(b) is a tricky one, particularly as it is written in an obscure regional dialect of Czech.  But it’s very useful.

 

 

 


And if you want something to take your mind off the pain, try letting yourself be overwhelmed by the frustration of a lifetime in chastity.  See – it’s a kind of virtuous circle.




Or higher.  Whatever.

 

Slavish desires

 

Don’t worry too much about it: I’ve often noticed the women in my life using ‘if’ when they really mean ‘when’.  ‘If’ I decide to punish you… if I bring a guy home… if you fuck this up again… and so on.

 

 

They should be more charitable towards her, even if she does have some odd ideas.  After all, she’s a grieving widow, the poor thing.

 

 

It was maybe considering a little pleading whimper, but it won’t even try, now.

 

 

Medical researchers have made huge strides in pain management in recent years, as her husband will soon discover.



Abandoned gimps seem to be everywhere these days, it’s a modern plague.  Fortunately, very few people care.

 

And I’ll be (your sharp intake of breath)

 Mistress Lennox, of course… and that beardy bloke called Dave.


‘Ideas’ in the same sense that Pinterest sends me emails suggesting I check out ‘ideas’ about boots, corsets or traditional girls’ school uniforms.  And chickens, oddly enough.


Those vanilla passengers can be rather tiresome.  Fortunately one encounters fewer of them, these days.


I have a limited skill set, unfortunately.  And I’m rubbish at it.


Don’t worry – lots of bridegrooms feel a bit nervous on the big day.  None of the guests are likely to realise how well-founded your fears actually are.



It’s an arguable case, legally, or at least it would be were anyone in a position to argue about it.  Which they won’t be, obviously.



Loving unkindness


There used to be a big problem with this sort of play in an office environment: which washrooms to use, the ladies’ or the gents’?  But more and more workplaces are moving to unisex, thank goodness, which makes (heterosexual) toilet play a lot less likely to cause a stir.

 

 

 

Yeah, she’s a sweetie.  By the way – this picture is the last known image of Helmut Kleinwanger, a German businessman who disappeared on a solo hiking holiday in the Czech republic.  If anyone has any information about what happened to him, please post it on a femdom porn story blog.

 

 

 

According to Freud, many men suffer from castration anxiety.  I quite often do, to be honest, but so far it’s always turned out OK.   

 

This caption was of course inspired by the 1960s film The Pure Hell of St Trinian’s, in which the temporary headmistress Matilda Harker-Packer (replacing the jailed Miss Fritton), played by Irene Handl, states proudly that she is among the very few heads of educational establishments who can produce a certificate actually  proving her sanity.  And you thought I only watched St Trinian’s movies for the sexy sixth-formers in gymslips!





Just
run around for a bit to try to keep warm.  You’ll need the accumulated
body warmth, for when you’re in the pillory, later.  Especially during
the snowballing scene and the ice bucket challenge (I know, I know: ice
bucket challenges haven’t been a thing since 2019 but you just try
telling them that…).






He’ll have to learn to write backwards, which will be difficult.  Fortunately, they have some very effective teaching methods, for young males.


Tender moments

I am in their loyalty programme.  I get to pay more when I book flights, as I accumulate points they demand ever more expensive gifts and on board I am treated with extra contempt.

 

 

I expect you’ll want to evaluate this proposition quite carefully.  I mean, that’s a lot of money to lend someone you barely know, just on the strength of… on the strength of… sorry, what were we talking about?

 

 

 

I can multi-task!  I can flounce and simper, both at the same time. 

 

 

 

 

As story-writers say, don’t tell: show.

 

Oh, I don’t know.  There are advantages.  For one thing, it’s not one of those wildly unrealistic fetishes that’s completely divorced from real life.  For example, I am actually a lazy, worthless and sexually unattractive male, deserving the contempt the women I know barely bother to conceal.  So I can live the dream, so to speak.


 

Sexually implicit

 

She must have read my mind.

 

 

 

 

Someone once said that marriage is a negotiation – but I find that turns out mostly to be pleading too.


 

 

 

It’s not a protest song.  She’s just fine with things as they are.

 

 

 

 

You’re probably wondering what sort of tiles Chloe and she are looking for.  I’ll make sure to ask, if I see her, OK?

 

 


…and the session will be held in an under-heated prefab with a leaky roof.

Location location location

Some weeks ago, Paltego posted a picture of the lovely Miss Chambers, from a Cruella photoshoot, pictured against a rather bleak post-industrial Northern British landscape.  Something like this:

 

 

 

There being little point in debating the unquestionable beauty of Miss Chambers (especially her lovely nose) the comments rather degenerated into an exchange about femdom shoots in bleak, unromantic spots.

Never one to miss an opportunity to do something derivative and run with it until it is no longer remotely funny or sexy, I decided to look through my extensive photo collection, with a view to identifying the bleakest background I could find.  After realising that Cruella would win any such contest hands-down, I limited Mr Rogue-Hagen’s entries to give others a chance.  

Obviously, interior shots of prison-like or dungeon-like backgrounds don’t count as those are supposed to look like that, and in some cases have probably been quite expensively fitted out to look grim.*  Nor do I feature arty and moody black and white shots against ruins – the criterion today is that the lady has to be trying to look alluring against a thoroughly unhelpful background.

All from Europe, as far as I can tell, if you include Russia, which has its share of bleak post-industrial landscapes.  In the US, according to my photographic evidence, dommes don’t go out much but on the basis of the few photos I have of them outside, most of the surface area of the USA is covered with swimming pools.  I guess there just aren’t any bleak urban or postindustrial landscapes in America, huh?  What a nice place it must be.


Let’s start with some classic Cruella.  Cow-shed.


Or this – this I think is from the photoshoot ‘Cement Plant Cruelty’ or possibly ‘Enslaved and forced to quarry limestone’.

Lest anyone think I am taking the piss out of Cruella, I… well, I am, obviously, but affectionately I hope.  I love Cruella; it was almost the first ‘proper’ femdom material I encountered and my heart used to hit 150 beats per minute when I saw any of these pictures.  The material and stories were and are wonderful, and I encourage you to visit Mr Rogue-Hagen’s site, where he has just reposted one of the most viciously delightful stories his magazines ever featured, the tale of the lovely Melody, a girl as sweet as the pears she loves so much.


The Germans can do it too, although their photoshoots often have more stuff in them, as befits an economy specialising in exports of light manufactures. Here’s Planet Femdom, where they like their dommes tall.  And then put them in super-high heels, just to make sure. (But it doesn’t seem to exist any more…. am I getting old?)


Not sure of the location, but a bonus point for this next one, for the plastic sheeting providing a temporary roof.  I want to know if they put that in specially for the photoshoot: to make it nice.




Further afield, there’s ‘bleak’ and then there’s ‘Russian bleak’…



Still in Russia, I have no particular reason to think this is an unpleasant location, but the lady on the left seems to be huddled in a shawl, wishing the photoshoot to be over so she can go and have a nice hot chocolate and get warm again.  And her shoes are falling off, the poor thing.  So I just feel for her and the photo gets an honourable mention for that.  There’s a naked slave too, but he probably deserves to be cold, the little creep.

PS – I only just noticed they’re sharing the shawl.  Did you notice that?  See, they’re not so heartless.


Moving slightly further west, Mistress Maya Sin does fabulously creative photo-shoots.  She started in Gdansk, which obviously gives her an advantage in this contest as what is Gdansk famous for?  Yes, apart from being the place WW2 started?  That’s right: the shipyard.  So where else is a girl from Gdansk (or a domme from Danzig) to go?  Here’s Maya Sin in the birthplace of Solidarnosc.  Probably.


This next one could be an easy contender for the prize, in that wily Miss Sin has managed to take the photo inside some giant piece of industrial machinery!  But then she ruins the whole thing by not actually being in the shot, which is always a drawback in any photoshoot of a beautiful domme and strictly against the rules of this competition.

Since taking these pictures, Mistress Maya has abandoned all hope of winning this competition, by moving to Paris (stop press: or maybe Dubai?) where she has herself photographed walking around in latex against some of the most elegant scenery in Europe (and managing herself to look more elegant still).  So this may be the last Gdansk femdom photoshoot you’ll ever see.

 

 

The railway tracks would not in themselves be enough to qualify, but just look at those girders!  No, I said look at those – oh, never mind.

 

 

 

 

 

More heavy metal.  Unlike the Russian ladies earlier, this lovely nymph is in more danger of encountering too much heat than too little.  See the way she is carefully not allowing her latex leggings to come into contact with the sunlit metal?  That’s professionalism.

 



OK, now this is not a bleak post-industrial landscape as far as we can see.  But it might be a kebab van.  I reckon a kebab van qualifies.  Especially a kebab van missing wheels and headlights.


The next is not actually a femdom photoshoot, just a grab from the perviest thing ever to appear on a family TV programme at teatime: The worm that turned, in the 1970/80s comedy show The Two Ronnies.  My eternal thanks – on behalf of my 12 year-old self – to whatever BBC producer decided there was nothing at all wrong with this, as it was obviously just a lighthearted romp through a future female-supremacist England, featuring gestapo girls clad in military caps, tight latex tops and shorts and boots… oh, and men forced to cross-dress and ordered around or sexually molested by women.**  Y’know: for the kids!  Certainly for this kid, anyway.

But it features an electricity sub-station, so it’s in.


And finally… I think we have a winner.  It’s not anything in particular, it’s just… someone strapped naked to a concrete pole in a rather run-down post industrial town.  Who finds that sexy?  I do, actually, very – but who else, I mean?



Oh goodness me, I think that’s enough bleak landscapes, don’t you?  Shall we just stop all this nonsense and refresh the palate with a lovely picture of the lovely Miss Chambers, against a perfectly normal background?  Yes, I think we shall.




Did you enjoy that?  I did.  In fact, I enjoyed it so much I think I’ll have another.


There.  Such a pretty nose. That’s all for today.  Off you go now.





* And in others clearly haven’t, as the ‘forbidding grey stone blocks’ of the dungeon wall are obviously cheap cladding or even just wallpaper.  Maybe one day I’ll run a ‘least convincing dungeon’ post.

** No really. This isn’t one of those TV comedies where there’s, like, three seconds of a lady in boots snarling at the camera and that’s all the femdom.  Week after week, this comedy adventure serial in the middle of one of the country’s most popular prime-time family shows featured the squad of latex lovelies shown there marching around and oppressing males.  OK, they were usually outwitted by the male heroes in their frumpy dresses, but this was simply amazing.  Still is.