branding – Page 2 – Contemplating the divine

Ladies who leash

Seven days in already, so counting down the days from 21 that’s only 14 to go? Or 83 if it’s 90. Whatever.

Oh, I think – with all due respect – Madame Sarka is being unduly harsh on English, here. But then, she’s really good at being unduly harsh.

Actually, the taste depends a lot more on what it had to eat a few hours earlier.

Sometimes she fills the bag with ice, so as he’s sweating in the heat there, he gets some lovely cool drips of water. Usually, though, she doesn’t.

I’m not worried. Just terrified.

Imagine no possessions

It’s easy if you try – and find the right life-partner.

How do you like them apples?

Aww… that’s rather sweet. I hope he’ll be OK after she retires next monh.

I
can’t stand those macho men who boast about the size of their chastity
belts, can you? It’s not the size that matters anyway, it’s what you’re
not allowed to do with it.

Now isn’t that just typical? Something goes wrong and she just assumes it’s Roger’s fault! Maybe the guests got the date wrong, did she think of that? I expect Roger’ll have a few words to say to her, if he can still speak after the whipping. And if she removes the spreader gag, obviously.

Of course, if she’s fully paid up with a lump sum, then the longer he lives, the more it’ll cost the divorcee storage firm. Still, I’m sure they won’t allow thoughts of that to divert them from behaving professionally towards him at all times.

….and just forRalph D:

What She said

Damn… I’d already bought the ring. Oh well. I suppose the cock could take one more, but they’re going to jingle together when I walk.

You don’t know until you’ve tried it, do you?

Mmpphh mpphhhnnmm mmmphhh nng.


Well, they might not care and she might not care, but I care. Doesn’t that count for anything? Oh. OK, then.

Probably just as well that physical responses to stereotypically sexually submissive outfits don’t engender automatic castration. I mean, Tumblr’s business model would collapse, for a start.

PS: dedicated readers of this blog might enjoy this four minute movie. It’s not, like, explicit femdom or anything but I thought it was rather sweet. He’s a lucky guy – the husband, I mean. Well, Santa too, I guess.

Normal service

Right, after that little April interlude, this blog will return to its usual subject matter. Or ‘object matter’ when male submissives feature in the pics.

I don’t really ‘get’ maledom anyway, to be honest. I mean, I can just about see that it could be quite sexy to have an attractive woman all tied up, available for any sexual act of my choosing. I could iron one of her skirts, for example, or tidy her tights drawer even if what she really wanted was to be brought a cup of tea or have the garage cleared out. The thought of that kind of power’s quite a turn on. But what’s the point of my being turned on if if she’s completely helpless in the bondage – she can’t remove my chastity belt with her hands tied, can she? In any case, how can I decide what I want to do if she’s gagged and can’t tell me? See, I just think maledoms haven’t really thought it all through.

Oh well. Here are some things I do understand, dimly at least.

Ah, yes, the purest form of male submission: not even daring to irritate her with your presence. I find women really appreciate it when I do that.

Then, bruised and bloody, the winner gets to have a heavy BDSM session. Quite a day.

But you have to book. And until you’re a ‘regular’ you’ll need to pay a deposit in advance. No exceptions – sorry.

I’m sure she respects us really. It’s a kind of harsh femdom persona she puts on. She’s really good at it, don’t you think?

This is of course the lovely Gigi Allens, whose boots I am not fit to lick, and whose name I don’t even know how to pronounce. Hard g, soft? One of each?

The pre-marital agreement also refers to ‘objectionable conduct’ so don’t even think of arguing – that’s a red flag right there.

Hmm. Have I posted hat last one before? I have a system for this blog to avoid that, with ‘posted’ and ‘unposted’ folders (over 1000 captioned images presently in the latter, so this blog will be here for a while! Keep coming back.) Unlike the Tumblr site, where I just randomly post previously bloggered images, so there’s repetition from time to time (2700 now posted, though, so it doesn’t happen often! Keep going back – although there is nothing there that has not been here so I don’t really understand why people do). Still, the above looks awfully familiar. Oh well, have an extra one:

Oops. My bad.

Brand awareness

But how silly, darling! Is that why you haven’t wanted to play bondage games lately?

I told you at the time, didn’t I? I just wanted the branding irons in my initials as a symbol of your submission to me. I wasn’t planning actually to use them!

And I can see if you were thinking that already, that you might find it a bit worrying when I got those workmen in, to unblock the fire in our bedroom.

But I just thought it would be sexy sometimes to have a real fire going, you know? Just imagine the reflections of the flames on my shiny leather or latex, hmm?

And don’t the branding irons look awfully nice fixed to the wall above the fire, like that?

Really, though, I can’t believe you thought I might burn my initials into your flesh without consent! I mean, after all that fuss you made when I tried to play just a little with a lit cigarette against your skin? Do you remember? I’ve never heard such a noise! Imagine if I held a hot iron to your buttocks for a slow count of three. You’d scream the place down wouldn’t you? And we’d have the neighbours calling the police!

Well, unless you were really, really tightly gagged, obviously. Like with a couple of balled-up panties under that new muzzle gag I got you.

Or the inflatable gag, I suppose. That would be OK. And you’d need a harness, so you couldn’t struggle much, so the letter comes out nice and clearly.

But anyway, it doesn’t matter because I’m not going to do it, am I? So can you stop being so paranoid, and let your goddess wife start tying you up again, hmm?

Look – I’m wearing your favourite outfit. How about you let me tie you up tightly, just like I used to – OK? And do terrible, evil things to you.

Tell you what – I promise not to burn my initials deep into your quivering, naked flesh if you can get me to come three times!
Deal?

Joking! I’m joking… Good grief, darling. Try to keep a sense of proportion, OK?

Trustee

Ah, now that’s Servitor. Nasty perverted little piece of work, but
he’s a trustee now so he’s allowed outside.

You see, we had this competition among
inmates for ideas on how life here could become less pleasant. And Servitor came up with the daily branding.
Of course, we already knew that the inmates hate the branding iron, more than
anything else. But you can’t burn them
every day, they wouldn’t last their sentences.

So this clever little weasel came up with
the idea of strapping each inmate down every day. The guard stands behind the prisoner, and
grabs a red-hot iron, but she also grabs one that’s just slightly warm. Then another guard rolls two dice. If she
rolls two sixes, he gets the glowing brand, if she rolls anything else he gets
the cold one. But the movement is just
the same each time, so he won’t know until he feels it.

We do them in rows of 10 or so. According to this little worm, there’s a 25%
chance of at least one of them being burnt in each row. Every single day, back
they come, for their branding time.

Quite the clever little worm! But not a very lucky one are you,
prisoner? Show Sergeant Woods your arse!

See? Got three already. He probably goes around all day dreading
it. They all do. More than two years of his sentence to go… how many more double sixes, eh Servitor?

Every one of them richly, richly deserved.

The parts of the lovely (but firm!) guards in this short tale were played by Mistress Eleise de Lacey and Miss Woods. The part of the clever servitor was played with some difficulty by the real, stupid, Servitor.

Distorted view…see-through, baby blue

Oh, Arnold Lane. Pictures are mostly unrelated.

Yes…but…in the church?

Actually, on this blog it’s not amazing. It was practically a certainty.

Lots of men feel embarrassed about how they behave during castration. It’s a shame, because it’s not as if they’ll ever get another chance.

I wonder if it’ll feel different, being whipped as a married man….

Interestingly, the one time they tried vanilla sex, she accused him of being only halfway in when in fact he was fully committed. It’s obviously a thing with her.

Taking his name

Oh – there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, about
the wedding. You see, Alan and I have agreed that I’ll take his
surname, when I’m his wife. So your
brand will be wrong – I’ll be EMR, not EMW.
We’re going to have you have you branded again.

Yes, I know. If it’s
any consolation, I think it’s a bit unnecessary too. When I told Alan your branded initials would
be wrong, I was really just making a light-hearted comment. I didn’t think he’d insist on changing
them. But you know what he’s like.

Hmm?

Yes, that’s the problem.
I mean, you just can’t brand a R over a W.
It wouldn’t look right. I tried on paper, and it just always looked really forced. So we’ll
burn a blank over to erase your old one completely, and then have EMR freshly branded
underneath.

Sure – you’ll have a kind of blank rectangle burnt into your
skin. But that’s OK. Alan doesn’t mind. The main thing is you’ll have your new brand just under.

Oh stop crying.
You’re lucky you’re not getting EMR-W! That would be even more painful, wouldn’t it?
I’d suggested hyphenating our last names. But Alan’s a bit old fashioned. Doesn’t really believe in feminism. So, I’ll be EMR, and it’ll say that on my credit cards and my passport – and on your left buttock. Actually, I’m kind of glad he insisted. It makes me feel very secure, as if by carrying his name around with me I’m holding his hand. I know it’s not very feminist, but I’m just not a very feminist girl, really. Alan’s made me realise that. That’s one of the reasons I love him, actually.

What? No, of course we can’t do EMW-R! Alan got cross enough when I suggested hyphenating with his name first! He’s not going to have you branded with my initial first, is he? Honestly, you can be so insensitive sometimes!

You’re getting away lightly at the moment, anyway, you know. I’m just waiting for him to realise that all our property
belongs to both of us. If he
does, maybe he’ll want his initials on you too.
But he hasn’t said anything yet, so fingers crossed – OK? Just our little secret. I know it really hurts, so I don’t want you to have to face any more irons than absolutely necessary, OK?

Sure. I won’t say a thing.

Oh – and Alan left some shirts to be ironed – and he wants his shoes polished. Something else to get used to, I guess! It’s going to be strange for you, having a man to run around after as well as me. Strange for both of us – I’ll have to get used to not being the only one in charge. You know he’s already offered to spank you, if I’m too tired some time?

Smack addiction

I’ll admit it, I have one.

How can you resist those eyes? Go on – it’s only agony.

He’ll soon discover that she plans to satisfy his chastity fantasy in a rather literal way too. Well… when I say “soon”, I mean he’ll discover that over a period of several months.

Of course, she knows it’s all superstitutious nonsense really. But it’s better to be safe than sorry, don’t you think? You never know – there might be something in it.

So…just in time to spend the rest of the lesson being beaten for being late. Perfect timing, really.

But she does them a small kindness by blindfolding them first. It does give them just a few more seconds before they realise what’s about to happen, and start screaming hysterically in fear.

It’s all my fault

Nothing in particular. Just generally.

Come on now. That’s got to be a hard limit. Just look her straight in the eye and tell her you won’t let her.

Actually, fear and trust can go hand in hand to make the relationship fly. Like love and contempt.

Phew. Let’s hope Miss Chalmer is in a kind mood too.

You should be grateful to her for making the effort to control every single aspect of your life.

Aaah… Isn’t that nice. It makes me think of our honeymoon. Raoul was a real pig that whole time, too.