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| Yes Ma’am. |
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| I’ve heard it’s better to give than to receive. |
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| Night night, Felicity |
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| It’s a good question. |
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| Or not bear it -your choice Hardly matters either way. |
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| Mistress Debbie to you. Scarier than she sounds, huh? |
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| I can feel it helping already. |
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| Well, it wasn’t specifically on his hard limits list, so I suppose it’s OK. |
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| It’s good to have occasional surprises in marriage. |
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| Maybe just for the company? |
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| And work slowly around the rest of your body. |
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| There’s something comforting about a collar. |
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| Yeah. He’ll have been fine. Probably. Anyway, that’s not really the point of the story, you know? |
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| Oh go on – try the chat-up line anyway, why not? |
…I don’t pretend to know what you want, but I offer love.
(trigger warning: vanilla link. For no obvious reason, I’ve always thought of the song as rather D/S… but I think that of many things).
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| Don’t worry if you’re still confused. Things will be made clear. |
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| And you prefer not being gay too, don’t you, so it sounds like you and Master Mark are very compatible! |
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| Get another one, of course. There’s plenty. Hello! Ma’am? Over here! |
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| I offer love… this is one of the most Significant of the Others in my life. Lady Sophia Black is simply wonderful. |
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| I love the way a recent article in the Guardian about science fiction on British TV just *happened* to use an image from this episode featuring whip-wielding dominatrices to exemplify the series Space 1999. |
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| That’s only fair, because you’re not in fact safe. |
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| Aww… look at that little pout. Isn’t she sweet when she’s cross? Better do what the little woman says, hmmm? Just to humour her, you know. You can assert yourself later, I expect. |
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| If you want a picture of the future, imagine a sweaty trainer stamping on a human face — forever*. |
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| I do. |
*Test time! What is the slightly garbled literary reference? Hmm? Anyone? You! You at the back – hands out of your pockets, boy! – what’s the answer?
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| Don’t worry. If you lack the self-discipline to stay away from the ciggies, I am sure she can find alternative, external sources of discipline. She’s got willpower enough for both of you. |
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| Hmm… Do you think they’re going to live happily ever after? |
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| Well, it’s probably someone’s kink. A pink kink. |
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| That’s a relief. I was beginning to think something was wrong with me. |
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| Scamper back to little wife’s apron strings or stay talking to Ms Ratajkowski? Oh what a horrible choice. Dammit, I thought submission was all about giving up responsibility for difficult choices. |
Irony: Iron more than 100 items of clothing in one day.
Bad maids get paddled: Admit to a fault that leads to a paddling.
Bad maids get caned: Admit to a fault that leads to a caning.
Those who wait: complete chores with three hours to spare and spend the remainder of the day in the corner.
Her wish is my command: bring Mistress something she wanted before being commanded to do so.
Friend or enema: complete all daily chores while holding in three quarts.
Silence is bronze: no speech except in response to a direct question for a week.
Silence is silver: no speech except in response to a direct question for a month.
Silence is golden: no speech except in response to a direct question for a year.
Spit-roast: take one of Mistress’s boyfriends at each end.
My special place: spend 8 hours standing in the corner without looking around.
Weekend place: spend 24 hours standing in the corner without looking around.
Shameful duty: appear in full maid’s costume in front of someone from your ‘previous life’.
Shameful discipline: be punished in front of someone from your ‘
previous life’.
Rain man: learn every telephone number in Mistress’s contacts.
Begging for it: request a stroke-for-stroke repetition of a caning immediately after it finishes.
Happy Hubby: Have a perky smile on your face every time Mistress sees you, for a week.
Rash decision: wear the same pair of diapers and plastic pants for three days in a row, without a change.
Bad scrubber: Clean the kitchen floor to Mistress’s satisfaction without once getting up off your knees.
Better scrubber: Clean the kitchen floor to Mistress’s satisfaction with hands tied back, and the brush between your teeth.
Good scrubber: Clean the kitchen floor to Mistress’s satisfaction using your hair as the brush.
Recycler: eat nothing but Mistress’s leftovers for a week.
Know what’s best for you: request a caning for no reason.
Cum-bucket: hold a boyfriend’s semen in your mouth all night without swallowing or spitting.
Dog-tired drudge: Perform housework for 48 hours without a break.
Remorseful: write a letter of apology to every woman with whom you have ever had sex.
Making amends: clean the apartment or house of a former girlfriend in maid outfit.
Revenge is bitter: receive corporal punishment from a former girlfriend.
Party animal: be the only ashtray at one of Mistress’s cocktail parties.
Potty mouth: Don’t spill a drop.
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| He’s a lucky guy. |
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| Cruelty-free farming has its downsides. Still, I’m glad she found a solution. |
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| Oh dear. Another of those painful conversations. |
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| Actually, the story is rather simple. The post of office tampon boy was advertised, so he studied, and prepared and pulled every string he knew of to get it. But wouldn’t you? |
Ah– it’s Jenkins, isn’t it?
Oh don’t look so alarmed, boy. For once, you’re not here to be beaten. You are
here for careers advice, as you will shortly be leaving our school.
Now, as you know, Jenkins, we at Thrashington Hall believe strongly in the
old-fashioned school values.The eight years of misery and brutality you have so
reluctantly endured here did have a purpose.Our system of rote learning,
accompanied by twice-daily cold showers, strict masturbation control and
frequent brutal floggings, was expressly designed by our founder, Constance Thrashington, to build character – so you can venture
out into the adult world with a sound moral foundation and a solid and traditional educational background.
I hope you realise that this makes you very unusual among boys of your age? In the modern world, this sort of education is increasingly rare. When you leave these gates, you will be one of the very few young men more familiar with counting strokes of the cane than with differential calculus, capable of writing the same line for hours without a break, but not of writing anything of your own creation, more familiar with the tawse than you are with a computer mouse. There’s not many young men today that have the self-control needed to remain perfectly in position, while enduring a brutal flogging across their bare buttocks, and then the presence of mind politely to offer thanks for the agonies they have suffered. You have learned to respect your betters, to do as you are told and to fear retribution at all times.
Unfortunately, we’re beginning to realise this doesn’t really work, especially
in the modern world.
The eighteen year-old boys we turn out are quite incapable
of the sort of creative thought needed in modern business, lack any
self-confidence or independent drive and find it impossible to build relationships
with women.Your employment prospects are appalling – with luck, you’ll find
some minimum wage menial job that can provide you with enough money to eke out a miserable
existence in some squalid bed-sit. Many of our graduates become road-sweepers. Street begging is another popular career choice. Some of the more talented manage to secure jobs as burger-flippers, but unless you’re lucky enough to have an authoritarian female boss, you probably won’t be able to concentrate long enough to do a job as complicated as that.
I expect you’ll spend your evenings in sad,
lonely masturbation – your sexual urges are probably perverted and anyway, you
don’t know how to relate to women because you have only experienced them as
disciplinarians. Not much of a life – rather a shame really after enduring such brutal, sexless and miserable teenage years.
Sorry about that.
Anyway– dismissed! I’ll see you at the graduation ceremony tomorrow. Send in
Knightly, please.