castration – Page 12 – Contemplating the divine

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.

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?

Inspiring contempt

It probably wasn’t intentional – just one of those things, you know? No point making a big deal of it.

Don’t worry, she said ‘yes’ the second time around. And then she charged for her presence at the marriage ceremony at session rates – rather a sweet touch, don’t you think?

Yes, that should help take your mind off it. I think she’d like a back-rub too, if you don’t mind.

Many new husbands find it difficult at first, now they have to discuss things with someone else instead of just deciding for themselves. But it’s actually part of the joy of marriage. My SO, for example, prefers that I discuss with her before taking important decisions such as speaking, getting up from my knees or leaving her presence and – to be honest – I can hardly imagine how I managed before.

No problem – I’ve got both on speed-dial.

And the wife she keeps the keys

She is so pleased to be a part of the arrangement. Warning: clip utterly unrelated to femdom and disappointingly safe for work.

She’s actually very kind – never uses the cattleprod more than she absolutely has to, you know?

Obviously, this is something we cannot condone nowadays. Asking female co-workers whether they have lock-picking skills is the very definition of workplace sexual harassment, I reckon.

You might not technically be gay but then you’re not really heterosexual in any meaningful sense either, are you? I mean: your hand’s not female.

How about what?

She’ll be able to tell when the power’s back on, because there’s a little green light that flashes above the circuit-breaker. That, and the agonized shrieks for mercy from upstairs.