Category: cane

Sustained abjection

She loses track.  Does it matter?



Oh dear, I hate to see women using their sexual wiles to swindle some poor chap.  Why not learn an honest trade like findomming and just take his money in exchange for the privilege of being openly mocked or simply ignored?  Then they’d be using their talents to contribute something to society, you know?

 

He must be very grateful.

 



Safety first – sure,everybody knows that’s rule number one in BDSM play, but what’s less often remarked is how important it can be in non-consensual revenge torture too.


People’s definitions of physical sexual intercourse vary.  I use my body to pleasure the lady in my life by writhing around in agony, screaming, occasionally losing minor body parts and so on.  Is that ‘sexual intercourse’, strictly speaking?  Does it really matter how we define the activity, as long as she enjoys it and no harm is caused to anyone who matters?


 

 

 

 

 

The truth will set you free

…so it’s lucky there isn’t much of that in this blog. 


One advantage of their lifestyle is that there won’t be any silly divorce arguments over who owns the property, as that was settled a long time ago.



I used to have a domme who was very into impulse purchases – she’d just see something in a shop and decide she had to have it, then and there.  All sorts of stuff – gadgets that didn’t really do anything useful, clothes she never even wore… if it had been her own money she was spending, it would have been rather worrying.


Men have little idea of the discomfort women go through, but it’s worth trying.

 

Ah… how sweet.  She still assumes her clients expect to be allowed to come.

 

 

 

As my SO likes to point out: if I were any good at being a responsible decision-maker, I wouldn’t have signed an agreement giving a sadist the right to do anything she likes to me. So it’s much better if she takes all the decisions.  And I can’t argue with that.

 

 

Oral displeasure

I think it’s only fair to point out that this young lady has actually signed a Mistress-Slave agreement ruling out any humiliating D/S play in public.  But not with you.  Go on – don’t keep her waiting.

 

 

 

Or she could put yet another hood over that one.  My SO loves to wrap me in layer after layer of latex hood and we play ‘find the air-hole’, which is a bit like ‘pass the parcel’ but with a strict time limit.

 

 

 

Your feelings do matter, obviously.  Just not to her.  Or Daniel.


 

 

It’ll be fine.  Dr Franley’s patients rarely complain.

 

Don’t get into one of those Mars/Venus misunderstandings by interpreting her words literally, OK?  I mean, she wants a present tomorrow too, obviously.


 

 

 

 

 

 

Little man, you’re crying

 She knows why you’re blue.


Thank goodness (and her) for that.



I’ve always thought it odd that I am both her object and her subject.



When she talks of the ‘place’ that’ll do it, just think of a gleaming, modern medical facility, OK?  Not a dirty garage filled with rusty tools.  It’ll be easier that way.


Thank goodness for the invention of electricity – it’s a great way to save labour, or induce it depending on who’s holding the zapper.





One day your luck might run out.


Play-related stress

 

Don’t worry, sissy, you won’t have to stay there the whole day.  Just most of the day.

 

 

Oh dear, I can never think of what to wish for in these situations…  I suppose there’s always ‘world peace’.

 

 

 

Whoosh!



Her rod and staff… that’s the rod, you’re going to be be her staff.


I’m sure it’ll be a memorable honeymoon – but then, aren’t all honeymoons memorable, albeit in different ways?

 

More femdom stuff that’s out there and not much remarked upon: this talented chap (I’m assuming ‘chap’) draws things that are rather lovely if you’re into giantess fetish and possibly even if you are not.  He also reposts some vintage stuff which is reminiscent of the elegant and delightful Gibson Girls.

And the Government shall be upon her shoulders

Sir Reginald Horner

Knelt in the corner

Worried about his career.

He feared he’d be late

For the Budget debate

But his Nanny was keeping him here.

In the House, with disdain

He’d rise up, to explain

That an increase in Health Service pay

While undoubtedly right,

Was not on, in the light

Of the fiscal position today.

Nanny Strict, with her feet up

Read, over her tea cup

Her paper: the politics page.

She was thinking of days

Lost in memory’s haze

 As a staff-nurse, on minimum wage.

 

So she picked up her tawse

To prepare for a course

In arithmetic: “Stretch out your arm!”

“Take a nurse’s base pay (thwack!)

Then take taxes away (thwack!)

And you’re left with a hot stinging palm!”

“Here’s another quick sum

Take one fat fleshy bum

Add twelve strokes from a long rattan cane

Then if feeling contrition

You can check your addition

And add up the budget again.”

 

All the MPs were stunned

By Sir Reggie’s new fund

To pay nurses twice what they now earn.

Then he winced as he sat

And they wondered at that

What had led to this sudden U-turn?

“I just felt nurses’ pain”

He explained, in the rain

Interviewed, by the TV and press.

“This award, you might call

It… a ‘tribute’, that’s all

I could not sit at ease giving less!”

The rest is just history:

Whatever the mystery

That changed his decision back then.

All the experts agree

 That this speech was the key

To his new house in Downing St: ten.

 

As PM he has access

To experts on taxes,

Defence, Home and Foreign Affairs.

But he likes to defer

For the last word, to… ‘her’:

To his ‘Special Adviser’ upstairs.

Now every decision’s

Thrashed out with precision:

The smack of firm government’s here.

Yet bad luck for the Right

(Who should cherish the sight):

It’s the Nanny State that they so fear.

 


 

Hers to keep

 

 

And of course there’s no rule that says you can’t use any twice.  Or even more often than that.


 

 

 

I expect Sasha will get the hang of it.  One excuse for a beating’s almost as good as another; it’s silly to get hung up on narrative consistency.  I never do – as readers of my stories will attest.

 

 

 

He’s probably thinking he’s not really up to moving like greased lightening, at his age.  But that’s the thing about femdom – you can always surprise yourself.

 

 

 

Subbie hear, subbie do.



Many submissive men get quite hung up on how wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, co-workers and so on will react to their fetish.  But the truth is, many of them just don’t care at all and haven’t the least interest in us.   I find it quite humiliating…. yum.

 

Simply frightful!

More tales of female domination from a more elegant era.


 

Oh dear, how very tiresome.




And when you’re competent at the basics, perhaps you could try your hand at felching?  I’ve heard it’s simply divine.




Mind you, they say being married is an education in itself.



Erm… yes, I actually think I do.  Very much.


One must simply find amusement where one can, when spending time in the colonies.  Of course, it’s important not to let standards slip – but I doubt Kitty has.



The love that dare not speak

 … without permission.


Perhaps you could write her a nice thank-you note while you’re wearing it.



No, they didn’t mention Rodney. I hope I don’t have to pay extra for him.



Just a soft little harmless thing.



When visting a French domme, once, I confused ‘quatorze’ (14) with ‘quarante’ (40).  The difference is actually very easy to remember, when the 26 ‘extras’ are laid on with full force.




She believes in having honest relationships with her clients.  Most dommes do. It must be awful for vanilla sex workers, having to pretend to like their clients and to enjoy their nasty desires.