Stories and pictures themed around female domination and male subjugation and servitude. Unsuitable for children, for alpha males, for hard-core practitioners with an interest in the politics of bdsm and the mechanics of complicated rope work. Of interest to perverts like me, basically.
… you know how you bear the galling sneer of contumelious greatness.
Robert Burns said that. And how right he was, despite being a man. “Contumelious” was new to me: it means an “insulting display of contempt in words or actions; contemptuous or humiliating treatment.” How weird at my age to learn a new word for something I have adored for so long.
The next time I email a domme requesting a session I must remember to ask for ‘contumelious’ treatment. I’m sure she’d be impressed and give me exactly the treatment I need.
Don’t worry – I’m sure she doesn’t mean you.*
That must be very reassuring.
Ah, now I’m afraid I can’t go along with this. Consent is the alpha and omega in a BDSM relationship – never forget that. A few times early in my relationship I withheld consent when my SO was about to punish me and she got bloody furious, believe me. I won’t be making that mistake again.
She missed a trick, there: should have translated it into millimetres. Then it’s quite an impressive number: almost into double figures.
Tsk… no one’s even bothered to clean them. How can she stand putting them on her feet?
What men’s libbers don’t seem to realise is that in being so annoying, they’re reinforcing precisely the stereotypes about male behaviour they get so upset about. But then, if they weren’t so stupid, they probably wouldn’t be libbers in the first place, would they? I think most of them just need to be taken firmly in hand.
* No really. You’re quite different; so you can appreciate this kind of caption ironically, rather than feeling insulted. Anyway, you only read the blog for the jokes, right?
No, seriously, you won’t. That clip is not some kind of happy S&M consensual game, nor are the terrified victims saved at the last minute from the evil torturers (don’t you hate it when that happens in mainstream movies?). It is possibly the most unpleasant, brutal mainstream clip I have ever seen. Very nasty stuff.
I mean, who could possibly enjoy that sort of thing? You’d have to be a truly sick weirdo to get any kind of sexual pleasure from that. Simply horrible, it is. Vile.
Mmmm.
Anyway, on we go!
Some poor sod’s going to have to clean that up, you know.
‘Non-lethal’ is how I like my femdom play.
Yes, let’s hope Ellie doesn’t take it out on them. She’d got a terrible temper, you know.
The people have spoken… the ones wanking online, anyway, and that’s good enough for her.
Thank goodness none of that applies to any of us, eh readers? Imagine the (fully justified) self-loathing you’d have to feel to get off on something like this.
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.
I am in their loyalty programme. I get to pay more when I book flights, as I accumulate points they demand ever more expensive gifts and on board I am treated with extra contempt.
I expect you’ll want to evaluate this proposition quite carefully. I mean, that’s a lot of money to lend someone you barely know, just on the strength of… on the strength of… sorry, what were we talking about?
I can multi-task! I can flounce and simper, both at the same time.
As story-writers say, don’t tell: show.
Oh, I don’t know. There are advantages. For one thing, it’s not one of those wildly unrealistic fetishes that’s completely divorced from real life. For example, I am actually a lazy, worthless and sexually unattractive male, deserving the contempt the women I know barely bother to conceal. So I can live the dream, so to speak.
Music only a little related. But don’t you just love the way Mistress Lennox’s voice sort of… swoops in at the start? I do. And I tried to find a version with a video, and I found this and she looks lovely, but someone’s ringing a bell, playing an electric organ and generally messing up that opening.
Sigh. First world problems…
More things follow:
I had this wonderful puppy play session in the park, the other day. She did that thing of making me balance a twig on my nose in sitting position? And then she backed slowly away saying ‘stay… stayyyy’. It’s actually quite hard to stay still for long like that, so after only seven hours, I sneezed and the twig fell off. If I ever see her again, I’ll have to tell her and be punished. Exciting thought!
Oh, just a plain vanilla ball-crusher, then? OK, sorry. Just go ahead.
I still remember the first time she called me a ‘lazy little bastard’…
It’s actually not quite true to say she doesn’t care. She enjoys making you cry. But she’s trying to spare your feelings, the dear thing.
A lot of people don’t like the way St*rb*cks barristas ask for your name, now. But I have a lot of fun with it. When it’s a young goddess, like this one, I get to be called “maggot” and “small-dick loser” for a fraction of the cost of even online humiliatrices, let alone a live session. I don’t do it when it’s a man of course – except this one time, when they changed after taking my order and this 20 year-old guy called me “cumfaced pervert”? That was kind of edgy, for me.
Not after having written them all out two hundred times, no.
This is Goddess Sophia, yet another lovely lady who has has the extreme misfortune to step into the puddle of slime that is Servitor in person and have to scrape him off the soles of her shoes.
It’s best to mark your possessions – or better yet, tag them with an RFID chip.
I wouldn’t have got myself into this mess, if playing cards made some kind of sense. Queens are lower than kings and aces?? How is anyone supposed to remember that?
