Category: castration

Cries of pain are music for her banquet

A quote, or nearly so, from George Eliot, who shamefully had to pretend to be a man to get published.  What an embarassment that must be, for a woman.  Do you suppose she had to make spelling mistakes, miss deadlines and generally dumb down in correspondence with her publisher, just to appear authetically male?

Still, the quotation is rather a lovely image, isn’t it?  Here are some more.

Her impotence treatment works every time – it’s a remarkable medical breakthrough, actually.
She seems nice. What a shame you’re nothing special.  Better luck in Somalia.

She’s such a sweet person, wouldn’t hurt a fly in real life.  Still: she’ll flog him bloody and then piss on the wounds, because that’s the kind of professional she is. Then go and have dinner with Dave and maybe a cuddle before bed.




Castration manga is actually a great way to interest girls in comic books, because it’s using the medium to speak to issues that concern them as women, you know?  Also: it’s just a lot of fun, obviously.

He was quite fat when they started training him.  Still some way off the target weight of zero that they are aiming for, but he’ll get there.  In fact, he’s going to lose a whole bunch of weight all in one go next Thursday: they just haven’t told him yet.




Fair maidens, faint hearts




I find it’s always easier to tell the truth. The aftermath is sometimes extremely difficult.

I have my pride.  At least, I did. Hang on…it’s got to be here somewhere.

By a curious coincidence, I got the cattle prod for ‘last night’ the very second day of my marriage.
I get quite excited about this sort of thing.
I heard Jason was having an operation so I sent flowers and my best wishes for a full recovery.  Well, you never know, he might.









Heaven-sent

… and very nice too*




All the ways I could be a better husband?  Wow.  I think I’m going to need two days locked in the stocks, at least.



What a lot of fuss, about a routine operation.  You’d think I was the first person whose tonsils she’d removed.  I… hang on… didn’t I have my tonsils out when I was a teenager? 
Oh, don’t worry: I’ll keep looking. I might cry a little, if that’s OK.

She insists on her tea being just the way she likes it. Also the ironing, bed corners, washing up, bookshelves, underwear drawer, bath, breakfast, ornaments, cushions, carpets, gin & tonic, shoes, lawn, floor tiles, nail polish, ….
The splendidly-named Miss Hunter, on whose wall I would love to end up as a trophy.







Many dommes find the things we submissives do disgusting.  That’s why they so enjoy hitting us.





* but if anyone happens to be able to locate the scene in the British sitcom Game On (rather a lovely ‘situation’: sad male failures share flat with goddess) in which Samantha Janus rushes around putting her make-up on to this song, I’d be most grateful.

Subjectivity

Noun: the state of being a subject.  That used to be me but now I’m more objective.


No great loss, right?
Somehow it still feels like I’m on the leash, even when I’m not.  Strange, that.
I rolled a six this month!  But apparently “rules are made to be broken”!  Not her usual attitude to rules, I have to say… but that’s women for you.  Bless ’em.
She’s already being the best wife she can. That’s why you’re wearing the shock collar.








My brain hurts.  Sorry: I think I’m just too male today to understand this one. Something about a hash?  Is she talking about breakfast?

Girls don’t make passes

… at boys with slapped arses.




I had to post this, because it’s something I have personally experienced and I think it is precisely the sort of abusive behaviour that comes from negative stereotyping of male submissives.  What – just because I’m sexually submissive, some random stranger expected me to give her money, to go shopping with her, pay for everything, carry the stuff home, wash her car, cook and serve a meal for her and her boyfriend and then fuck off? If I hadn’t had her socks stuffed in my mouth the whole time, I’d have told her a thing or two about mutual respect in BDSM!











She’s still technically employed as a housemaid, but on a substantially higher pay scale.







Nor would I, willingly.









Character development is important in snip-lit.  Women want depth and emotional complexity in the characters they read about.  They don’t just want to read accounts of guys screaming in pain and terror as the cheesewire tightens… they want to know something of the inner pain they’re experiencing too.









Even an ordinary hotel room will normally have coat-hangers, kettles, maybe even a sewing set with needles.  Oh – and if there isn’t a steam iron, you can send for one.  You can have lots of fun in even the most vanilla environments.
The lovely Lucy Mistress Sidonia,  there, of course.

He might as well have buttons and bows

Mistress Kate, of course. I was reminded of her the other day, when a delightful domme made me dance and mime to Wuthering Heights.  I fear I wasn’t very good at it and she mocked me mercilessly… some people can be so cruel.





If he’s lucky, he’s going to be a shower head.  But he’s not been enormously lucky so far in his life, alas.
That reminds me of a date I went on once, actually.  It was a pub quiz and our team came last but oddly it was only right at the end that my date told everyone she was the first and second prize.  So I had to hang around for an hour or so, while the winning and runner-up teams collected their prizes.  Then she said she was tired and just wanted to go home, so I walked with her.  I thought I might be in with a chance but she said she never kisses on a first date, so that was that. Still: I didn’t get kneed in the balls, shat on or made to suck off any gay friends, so all in all I count the evening as a success.  The second date didn’t go so well, unfortunately.

Lots of men make this mistake: she’s asked you about your day so she wanted to be asked about hers, right?  Right?  And now you have chores and you don’t have permission to speak, so it’s too late.  You unfeeling brute.


If they’re quick they can catch happy hour. And then there’s a cabaret, but obviously they won’t have time to stay for that.
I’ve always had a weird phobia about Scrabble, ever since this girl I knew at school followed through on her threat to make me “eat my words”.  The little tiles weren’t so bad on the way in, but even with rounded corners you can certainly feel the sharp edges when they come out again. I was bullied quite severely when I was at school – did I ever mention that?  And afterwards, too, of course – but at school it was free of charge.




I am not a doormat

OK: that’s not strictly accurate: obviously I am a doormat. But I’m not just a doormat, you know?  I am also a foot-rest, a cup-holder, a draft excluder, a bookshelf end and a rather amusing vase for flowers.  Although no more than three of those things simultaneously.

It’s odd how sometimes the most sadistic individuals so often realise later that they weren’t cruel enough.  My SO has this problem all the time: you’d think she’d learn and stop being so lenient.

So… does that mean next week it’s my turn again?  No?  Oh.

There seems to be quite a lot of shared understanding in that room. Obviously some great teaching techniques being applied.

Lion?  Lover-boy?  Lady-killer?  Liposome?  Leprechuan?

Perhaps they could somehow transplant the ones from the real rapist?  After a fair trial and conviction, obviously.  Oh – he already lost them in the police station?  That’s unlucky.  Funny how often that happens… you’d think the police would take more care.




Goodwill to all women

It’s that very special time of year.  The holly and the ivy… both actually almost as unpleasant-tasting as all the pine needles I have to eat off the floor, but it’s a tradition and I can’t argue with that.


Nothing particularly Christmassy about today’s captions, though – just the usual rubbish.


I’m going to have a go at writing some snip-lit some day.  They say write what you know.


When we engage in medical roleply, my SO likes to use actual medicines.  She gets a friend who works in a hospital to give her stuff that they’re throwing out because it’s near its expiry date.  Says it makes it more realistic.  I don’t suppose there’s any harm in it.

My wife came multiple times on our wedding night, I’m told.



 

She read somewhere that husbands and wives should always agree on financial decisions, so she wanted to make sure he was OK with it first.






The video basically just consists of cut-scenes.  (Sorry, sometimes I can’t help myself)












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.