Category: brutality

Graceful brutality

 

 

Funny how many girls make that mistake.


 

 

Sounds like they’ve got some lost time to make up for.

 

 

I remember early in our relationship, my SO ordering me to bring her a whip for my impertinence.  I told her I didn’t think I had said anything impertinent that deserved a whipping and she laughed and said I just had.  It seemed a little unfair to me, but I didn’t want to argue about it and ruin the mood.

 

 

 

I’m afraid it won’t make you taller, though: that’s just one of those myths. I mean, maybe your spine will be longer by an inch or so at most, but since you won’t be able to walk with all the joints in your limbs dislocated, it won’t bring you any real benefits.  

 

Like many Hollywood stars, she keeps her private relationships carefully out of the media’s eye.

 

Indignity


Ah… furniture privileges.  I remember the first time my SO told me I wasn’t allowed on the furniture any more and I cheekily asked if that included the whipping bench. How we laughed… or we would have done if I’d dared say it out loud.




Elbow-length latex gloves should come with a safety warning, in my view.  And latex gloves that cover the full length of the arm are just unsafe, no matter what the ‘experts’ might tell us about the length of the lower intestine.




See all the little gold rings on their toes?  Aren’t they pretty?  They’ve got lots more gold rings, for you to wear, so maybe you’ll look just as pretty too.  But they’re not going on your toes, obviously.


If it’ll help, the soaking wet towel she is planning to ram down your throat will taste quite soapy.





You might think that spousal abuse is neither funny nor sexy.  My wife disagrees, though: she loves it, so who am I to argue?


Last of the thing?

I’ve done a few posts about the thing… The thing that’s been doing its thing all this year. Anyway, thank goodness female participation in STEM subjects has been going up, because there seem to have been anti-thing vaccines invented in record time… although, to be fair, the men involved deserve some credit too, I’m sure, as the scientists probably needed a regular supply of coffee at work, and supportive hubbies back home too.

So… this may well be my last post about the thing.  But we’ll see.  Maybe there’ll be another thing.  Whatever happens, I will be here, with a painfully contrived femdom take on the situation.

 

Lots of people are finding life very frustrating at the moment.  She understands that.


 

 

Some of her male patients have actually become clients, since, I understand.  It just goes to show, doesn’t it?  



He doesn’t need to self-isolate because they already did that for him.



My own domme is doing occasional sessions, despite being in tier 2.  When I arrive at her dungeon, I don’t see her straight away. I strip, then I have to coat myself all over in sanitising gel, insert a thick rubber dildo gag and then climb into a thick latex bondage bag before she’ll enter the room.  Then she sits about three metres away, reading a magazine, occasionally mocking me or prodding the bag with a long stick.  So… no different from a session in normal times.  I’m lucky.

 


Actually, the police already know where he lives, because he’s the Chief Inspector.


Blonde obedience

But I haven’t even asked yet!

 

Retractable steel blades?  Where’s the fun in that? I prefer her method.



 

Not really.  Sure: it would have been a turn-on.  But would that have made the beatings any easier to take?

 

 

 

It’s all in the wrist.

 

 

To be honest, I didn’t feel like I was running out of things to cry about before.  But I suppose she’s only trying to help.

 

 

Getting through it

 


How you doing there?  You OK? Breathe.  No, really, come on: normal breaths. You need not to hyperventilate.   And just relax on the bench there, let yourself go limp in the restraints. You’ve been pulling away at those straps almost since the start – bruised yourself almost as much as the whip did, I should think!  Well… not really. But you’ll certainly have bruises around those wrists after all that writhing around.

Wow… you lost it a few times during that
session, didn’t you?  I’m glad I had soundproofing
installed last summer – you were shrieking and begging so hard, someone would
have called the police on us, I reckon.

So! 
So… No-safeword
session – pretty brave!  Any
regrets?  I reckon you had quite a few,
at times there, didn’t you? But you must be getting an amazing endorphin rush,
now, right? I can only imagine…. I don’t think I could ever take that much pain.  But I hope it’s worth it for you.

You know, obviously I take consent
really seriously but this sort of no-holds-barred, no mercy, no-safeword
session has to be my favourite style of play. 
I’ve got very few clients who’ve ever dared but … to take someone to
their limit… and then just carry on. 
It’s an incredible rush: nothing like it.  I mean, there’s a lot of stuff written in BDSM porn about ‘breaking’ slaves but until you’ve had someone desperately stuggling against the straps like that, begging hysterically, promising you anything, anything at all to make the pain stop… and I just keep whipping, criss-crossing the welts, enjoying the way the screams and gasps cut off each frantic babbled plea to stop…  

Nothing like it.  Nothing in the world. It’s not sexual, for me, I’ll admit – it’s more like the greatest rollercoaster ride ever, you know?  I enjoy inflicting the pain, I enjoy the power even if I don’t get off on it, sexually.  It’s actually better than sex: I’ll say that. Yeah: better than sex.

Do you know what my favourite bit
is? See: I like to start talking to them as if the session’s over.  About how they feel, as if they’ve got
nothing more to worry about.  When in
fact I’m less than halfway through. It’s a bit cruel, I suppose.  But then, I’m a very cruel person, I suppose.  And as they’re all strapped down, with no safeword
there’s nothing they can do about it anyway. 
Except moan in fear, when they realise, obviously.

Yeah… just like that moan
there.  Dawning terror.  That’s the best rush of all.

My sweet lady

…. by George Harrison.  Pirate version, obviously. *   Extra bonus post today!  Me hearties!






It’s odd – when she takes the elderly gentlemen’s blood pressure and heart rate, the readings always come out higher than when one of the male nurses take them.  They use the same equipment so it can’t be anything to do with that… it’s just one of those little mysteries.



It’s a good thing she was there to step in.  Normally, when she’s off sick, L just leaves them a message to find a pair of sneakers and sort themselves out.



If we’re talking about bad influences, personally I happen to think that Karen is a bad influence on her… but no one listens to me.**


Others just think it’s rather fun… kind of a conversation piece.

Sometimes love needs a helping hand.










* Today being ‘International talk like a pirate day‘!  I celebrated this day once before by putting up an entire post of captioned femdom images of lovelies talking like pirates, with a lot of emphasis on being boarded through yer rear porthole, matey etc.  Forgetting of course that individual images get copied, tumblred, shared and generally distributed around the Internet without context.  An Internet that, not unreasonably, reacted by declaring these the worst captioned femdom images ever created.  So I won’t be doing that again… there’s ‘good’ humiliation and then there’s the other kind.  So, just the usual perfectly normal captions today.  Yo ho ho!

** I write captions all the time and select images from my vast archive*** when I put up a post.  Consequently, many of these images were captioned years ago.  For some reason, I frequently settled on ‘Karen’ as the name of an off-screen more vicious friend of whichever divine goddess is speaking.  Anyway, that was before Karen became ‘Karen’ OK?  Let’s hope that particular fad passes and let’s hope most fervently that it never, ever also catches ‘Janice’ in its memetic claws.****

*** No, really.  I have about 1600 unpublished ones right now.  That’s three years’ supply.   Ha!  They said he was running out of captioned images; they said he was running out of ideas…  They were half right.

****Or ‘Raoul’. 




Over-ruled


Regrettably, like most submissives I have spent much too much of my life under-ruled.


and a fur coat. From his remaining 20% of his income. Otherwise it wouldn’t count as a present, would it?




I actually find a caning can bring quite intense sexual pleasure. To be honest, that’s usually a relief because she pauses for a while when she comes.





Modern financial products developed specifically for findomme relationships are much more convenient – you can really feel in control of someone else’s finances, which can be very reassuring.



Sounds quite edgy… make sure you agree a safeword before she starts, yeah?




Perhaps she forgot to mention that before? It’s an important point of detail, obviously, but the most important aspects of the plan –  her not married any more, inheriting all your assets – those are actually the same regardless of the actual mechanics of the process.

Harsh sentences




 The ureasonable thing would be to tolerate disobedience, surely?

They might put on a lesbian show for you, if you’re lucky.
He gets to eat the grape first. Yum.









Dommes and their pets.  I visited a pro-domme once and I got a scary thrill when she asked if I could pick up a tin of catfood on the way.  But it just turned out to be for her cat!  Slaves get dogfood; it’s less fatty apparently although it has always seemed pretty fatty to me.  Anyway, I’m sure Fluffles gets a healthy diet.
Oooh – looks like someone’s going to try switch play!  He shouldn’t worry, though: she’s only planning to switch roles once.

Repent at leisure

My repentence, her leisure.

I often suffer from pain during my SO’s sexual activity.  Usually in the same room, but not always.  Her reaching orgasm sometimes brings relief from the pain – temporarily at any rate – I’m glad to say.
Visiting a domme can be a very spiritual experience.
Oh well.  No real harm done
 The lovely Divine Mistress Heather, who in real life I am sure always makes sure her slaves get exactly the voltage they need: neither more nor (most certainly) less.
See?  She’s not a vicious, unfeeling sadist at all.  She’s a considerate, empathetic sadist.  They’re the worst.
The one on the back’s quite long. I was told it describes in detail the ways I am blessed.


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