Category: caption

Brutal loving care

Silly, really, to get rid of stock that’s hardly even damaged, but that’s their policy.

Often, when smokers give up, they undertake some symbolic act of renunciation: crushing the cigarette pack beneath their shoes, for example, or just throwing it onto a fire.  Something like that might be worth trying too, to make clear all that nonsense is in your past, now.

Not sure about the colour swatches, though. I think the traditional dark grey is still best.
I expect they just didn’t get the original joke.  Try explaining it more slowly.


And they say porn doesn’t really cause any harm…


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.

May the Lady make us truly thankful

‘Squeakity’ indeed!  I’d like to point out that I’m actually speaking perfectly normally, just in a very high pitch and with a lot of hysterical shrieking and pleading.

My SO found out once that I’d taken out a book on lock-picking.  She over-reacted completely – as usual! – and after a long and sometimes difficult evening ‘discussing’ it, I had to take it back the very next day.  The librarian was quite pleased: she said there was a long waiting list for it.  All men.

I’ve occasionally wondered what I’d do with all the money, if I won the lottery. I suppose if it ever actually happened, she’d tell me soon enough, though.

It’s perfectly normal. Don’t worry about a thing: you have a long life ahead of you.
She always finds it quite upsetting when this happens.  She’s actually a very nice person – I don’t know why she stays with him.




Her whip, her rules




She could well be right.  Early on in our relationship, my SO visited a therapist who told her to try dealing with her feelings frustration by beating the living daylights out of me.   Worked.

You get health benefits too – mostly regular exercise and a healthy diet.

I guess we’re both disappointed about the whole situation.
That’s a museum ship, by the way: HMS Belfast.  Worth a visit, if you’re in London, but the guns obviously can’t fire any more and all the seamen left a long time ago. 
 The lovely Mistress Sidonia, of course. Oddly enough, I understand she began her career as a submissive, but she has amply paid back the male sex in the years since.

My own car just stays locked in the garage all the time, these days. I don’t know why I bother to keep it, really.


When you’re spoken to

… it’s just bliss.


It’s always my favourite reason!







Gabriel’s pretty smart, for a boy.  You could even imagine him ending up as one of those high-end executive secretaries.  Unless some girl just comes along and sweeps him off his feet.

In a rare instance of the comics taking ideas from the fandom, I’ve heard that Marvel’s next superhero is called ‘Laundryboy’.



She’s a generous tipper.  If you put out.

I once suggested to my SO that I might be better at blow jobs if I’d ever experienced one. She just laughed and asked whether I’d be better at ironing shirts if I’d ever been ironed.  So we tried that instead. She’s very practical like that.


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.


Professional services

… this week, the blog presents a slightly more realistic take than usual, on some of the activities we so much enjoy.

Actually, this doesn’t much happen to me.  Not during cage time.  What does happen is that I am about to be tied across the whipping bench, with much menace and sense of danger… and I ask for a quick bathroom break before we start. ‘Fine’… she sighs, tapping the crop in irritation and off I toddle. Perhaps I should stick to adult baby play… there the whole situation is already in-scene and conveniently portable.
Shameful clothing?  How awful!  Oh no… no… please don’t do that, Br’er Zoe!
The first 30 seconds are the best, I find…
…but sometimes we don’t get there at all.

This is the truly, maddeningly wonderful Goddess Serena, of course. So where’s Alice, you might ask?  Oh, she’s here.

 


Yes.  Please.

 

Domestic tyranny…

… domestic bliss.

They say old age can be like a second childhood.

My SO and I tried something like that but it turned out my boss was gay!  Quite an embarassing situation, as you can imagine, but he saw the funny side and actually since then, our working relationship has been closer than ever.
We are.



OK.  But always with dignity, yeah?



I think’darling’ must have misread the signals.  I don’t have that problem any more, because we only ever go out with my genitals wired up to the electrics. Of course, I don’t get heavy shocks in public but a few little reminders – or an instruction to go off to find a bathroom cubicle for a good zapping – keep me nicely in line. In fact, she’s considering learning morse code.


The radical alternative

I don’t know why this always happens but no sooner had I put up the latest post detailing the loving matriarchal embrace of President Hathaway’s administration, than another pile of posters that seem to indicate a very different political future awaiting us appeared in my imaginary time machine.  

Is it a warning?  A promise?  







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