Category: brutality

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  I have about 1600 unpublished ones right now.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.


Boys will be toys

Maybe I’m just hungry… I expect she’d say that’s because she’s feeding me too often.
Lots of men find it quite hard to turn a woman on, sexually, but if you’re ever lucky enough to meet a real hard-core sadist, you’ll probably find that just doing whatever comes naturally pushes all her buttons in just the right way.
And she’s having sex for both of you now, so it’s quite a lot of work.




Nasty words can leave an unpleasant taste in the mouth.








Bob’s shortlisted for an Oscar, I understand, now.  If he wins, I wonder if he’ll put the credit where it is due in his acceptance speech?  Behind every successful man, they say…

Boss ladies

I understand in most modern social media platforms it’s just one of the standard tickboxes when you sign up.  Of course, you can always choose “Don’t like to say” or “It’s complicated!”

A really skilled domme can plant a billiard ball right up a slave’s anus from the far side of the table.



If it’s any consolation, the male warders are all very nice indeed, as long as the inmates are nice to them.






Love’s often not enough.






When they called the next day, she had a glass of wine and a vibrator ready. You know: just to help her cope with the trauma.

Painful conversations

Lots of men don’t realise that ‘mere’ words can cause pain.  There are words that I have spoken on occasion that have led to quite astonishing amounts of pain, sometimes almost immediately.


See: this is just the kind of thing I’m talking about. One minute you think you’re having a pleasant conversation, and…, I dunno, maybe there was something that upset her or something, but when you wake up you’re naked and gagged, upside down in a canvas sack bumping along a country road to goodness knows where…  I guess it’s a Mars/Venus thing.

When they next see Trevor, I expect they can ask him how the special effects wizards manage to make the torture and murder look so realistic.

Thank goodness all that’s behind me.

Poor thing.  I expect he has no idea how much pain she’s been going through, the heartless bastard.

Yeah ‘trodden’. It is a ridiculous language, actually. Perhaps Gal could give me a few Hebrew lessons.  I’m sure I’d be a very conscientious student.


Don’t worry her pretty little head about it

Because she really doesn’t care.  Just suffer in silence, unless she prefers you to suffer noisily.



In case any readers are thinking of trying this, removal of male sexual organs should only ever be carried out under the supervision of a trained medical professional, OK?  The shooting club from where the photo was taken always has a qualified paramedic on standby. So they can enjoy their sport, without any serious health risks.

Mmm….  You wanted a cruel and sexy findomme, right?

Anna’s always too soft on them. Look at all that puppy fat he’s put on too!  Soon sort that out.

It’s funny how many men say they want their wives to take charge but as soon as they get thrown out naked and without a penny, start whining about how that wasn’t what they wanted.
The girls at my school used to play skipping games. In fact, my first proper beating was with a skipping rope doubled over and soaked in water. Happy days. 


Carry on screaming

Not necessarily a British cultural reference, merely a description of what I do while my SO takes a couple of minutes’ break to make herself a cup of tea.


Still, for those of you in the know, it was one of the better ones.  “We’re the police – or layabouts”.  And of course Fenella Fielding.  I certainly don’t mind if she smokes.

And speaking of being British… I mean, this isn’t a political blog, you come here to get away from all that stuff, but…. but…  but… what the fuck?  Really!  Huh? I mean, what the fucking fuck?  Look at this mess!  How can anybody seriously think men should have the vote?


Rant over.  Let’s have something decent, sensible and sadistic…



Actually, I find binocular vision quite useful for ironing pleated skirts, but that’s not a huge part of my life – three, four hours a week tops – so I suppose she might as well go ahead.

What a scare!  Thank goodness you were there to call the ambulance, as soon as she collapsed.  You did have to move out of the corner without permission, though, so obviously that’ll have to be dealt with, when she’s back on her feet.  Still: she’s getting the best possible care, and you’re scrubbing out toilets, so everything’s OK.

I used to have a problem with premature ejaculation, but it’s under control now.  Matter of fact, last month I was even a few days late – she was on a business trip.

Don’t worry – they have separate fire drills when they practise evacuating the slaves.  Particularly between November and February.


Actually, I once went out with someone whose Mum had worked as a cleaner all her life.  When I finally plucked up the courage to tell her that I get my rocks off mincing around in a little maid dress pretending to be forced into humiliating cleaning tasks, she was a little offended at first.  But we talked it through – and when I said she could tie me to a bench and beat me, she decided she was OK to give it a go after all.  And do you know, she had a really good time? And there I thought she was pure vanilla!  I’ve never had a session partner be so… enthusiastic.  Even made me sign a little piece of paper promising not to have her arrested for assault, before letting me up and walking out of my life forever.   




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