Category: caption

She looked like something special

 …the kind who’d understand.


Perhaps she’ll bring you a treat.




Where there’s a will – and strong pelvic muscles, restraints and plenty of lube – there’s a way.


Some valuable soft skills there, to complement the hard skill set many of the senior staff already have.



If men’s libbers feel oppressed, they’ve got no one to blame but themselves.




Raoul has a gay friend!  Sign of the times.  Maybe he’s moving on from those ridiculous old-fashioned attitudes.


Indifferent ways of loving

Oh well, at least she’s finally taking an interest.


 

 

 

‘Getting annoyed’ is something the OWK ladies are quite spectacularly good at.  I understand it’s listed on the application form for the job.


 

 

 

That’s reassuring.

 

 


Oh dear, what a terrible tragedy.  The poor thing.  She’d only just started to get over the previous one.


Let’s hope they don’t go too far.  These things can easily get out of hand.


 

Blonde justice

And if she gets what she wants, you might get what you want.  Or you might not.

 

 

 

 

Erm… oh, I’ve got one!  “What do you say to a blonde disciplinarian with a tawse when you’re strapped across her ugly whipping bench vaulting horse?  Nothing: you just scream and cry out hysterically in between gasps for breath!”  Well… she finds it funny.  Mildly amusing, anyway.

 

 

 

She doesn’t want to, and yet…

 

 

 

 

Don’t worry – she’s very imaginative, so it’s only going to be on the rarest occasions that you’ll have to fall back on the boring old trope of male ejaculation.

 



I’d expected this was going to lead to an uncomfortable conversation but it seems she’s decided to skip the conversation part.



 

Brutal realism

Contradicting the statement over there about the realism or otherwise of the material presented on this blog, just for once we are keeping it real with some accurate depictions of pro-domme sessions, rather than the fantasy this blog usually purveys.  

So clutch your crumpled envelope full of banknotes tightly in your sweaty hand, turn off geolocator on your phone (but keep the phone itself on until the last second so you can nervously glance at the time as you hang around the nearby streets trying neither to be early nor late), try to look casual as you march up to the door, not meeting the eyes of any passers-by… and enjoy.  Or don’t.  Whatever. 














Her object all sublime

And they say romance is dead.

 

 

 

Remarkably, it’s still valid in the UK even after Brexit, as that Convention is not an EU instrument – indeed it predates it, having come into existence in 1953. Not particularly amusing, sexy or femdommy but actually true (see – you get a lot of useful information from this blog, as well as useless nonsense).  You might wonder, therefore, whether she actually has any legal justification to ban the invocation of the Convention in session – but I advise you to take that up with her.

 

 

They have a standard service charge of 175% for pay-piggies.  But you should tip, too.

 

Many men’s misconceptions about lesbian sex actually have a biological basis: specifically, their brains are too small to understand it.



 


It’s good that she gets a chance to practice in a safe environment, where it really doesn’t matter if anything goes wrong.

 

 

 

Extra one that I’ll push out there while it’s still a bit topical:

 

Love and abjection

You might want to try noble, stoic silence?  No?  Oh, OK: frantic pitiful grovelling it is, then.

 

 

Don’t worry, it’s only until next Christmas, then she has other plans for her little porky-boy.

 

 

 

I imagine you’re expecting a joke here about being ‘tossed off’ but I won’t because (a) it would be weak, unfunny and in very poor taste and (b) I’ve done it several times before.

 

 

Her paces, obviously.  Moron.  Do you expect her to change the way she walks just to accommodate you?

 

Personally I’d rather they were in those cute Young Communist Pioneer outfits.  But my opinion doesn’t matter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.


Correct me if I’m wrong…

 … or if I’m right, for that matter.

Another year, more of the same.  Here we go.

Three and a half men, then.



Some people have complicated femdom fantasies.  Others just have simple femdom realities.



Here – have you heard this one?  Why did the blonde in charge of the Sexist Detention Centre press the red button in her office?  To give all the inmates a series of agonising electric shocks!  OK, you might not think it funny but, believe me, she does.



She’s not really a believer in unisex fashion, you see.




Don’t get her wrong – she’s prepared to accept there’s plenty of room for improvement in the relationship.  Just not in anything she does.