There was a time

when they used to say...

Yes, it’s another 1980s/90s -ish-themed post. Those heady days of big hair, big music and big phones. What’s that? yes, I’m well aware I’ve ‘done’ the big hair / big phone joke before. But this is a nostalgic post, it’s supposed to hark back. Oh, and it’s mostly very British. I hear they had the 1980s in other countries, but it doesn’t sound half as good. We had ladies with whips on The Tube and Space 1999 too…

Anyway, this is not another issue of Empress Magazine (but one is even now being lovingly pasted up using photographic paper and wax and will soon be linotyped into existence and rushed out in vans to newsagents worldwide to be handed out to furtive punters in plain paper bags). No, this is just captions relating to another time. That’s what it is. Here they are.

Probably not a good idea to lick up too much latex shiner, then act as a live ashtray, though. Foom! But quite funny for any watching dommes.
For some reason, in the UK this sort of image is known as a ‘glamour shot’.
OK, technically this one isn’t very British. This is, remarkably enough, Tina Fey in a muppet movie. More kids’ films should feature attractive ladies dressed as guards from totalitarian regimes, in my view.
It’s a good look for him. The screaming, I mean. The moustache is meh.
It was all a very coy way of talking about that ‘very special time of the month’. Or ‘special time every three months’ or year, whatever your chastity regime requires.
Yeah… we expected a future with jet-pack travel, bases on Mars and cities beneath the oceans. Instead, what did we get? A near endless supply of femdom porn, free and available to be furtively consumed in the comfort of our own homes. Thank goodness for that.

With huge apologies throughout to Cruella. Still going! Pay Andy a visit.

Pain points

These ladies like to emphasise them.

Probably best to clear two hours, there’s no point in rushing these discussions.
Oh well, if it’s complicated probably best not to inquire further. Anyway, you’re paying for this time. Let’s play!

For the avoidance of doubt, I am sure that in real life Goddess Lady Skotia plays safely and delightfully, so the widow’s fascinator (such a lovely word) is just part of the outfit. And she does look very fetching in it.

“I am her Highness’ gimp at Kew, pray tell me Sir, whose gimp are you?”
It’s Mike I feel sorry for. She might not be bothered where her shots end up but he has to run to fetch the bolts back. A fully cocked crossbow fires them at several hundred miles per hour, so they go a long way if nothing gets in the way to slow them down.

Miss Chambers from Cruella a long time ago… such a pretty nose.

That’s a bit unfair. I frequently get quite close to girls who are having real sex, sometimes under the very bed where it’s happening.
Winners focus on winning. Losers focus on winners.

The 1980s called back

Cast your minds back, British readers over a certain age, to a time when dominatrices advertised on little cards in phone boxes rather than OnlyFans, when femdom images were to be found only on furtive trips to specialised shops in Soho and when those same images came wrapped not in endless entreaties to subscribe to one or other specialised service but in plain paper bags, usually a pastel shade rather than brown, for some reason.

Yes, I am talking about last July, 2023, when this blog featured a post called ‘The 1980s called‘, devoted in part to rhapsodising about the magazines of Servitor’s mis-spent youth and in part to a rip-off of homage to those magazines, in the form of a ‘letters’ section written in his mis-spent late adulthood.

I warned you then this might become a series and so it has. OK, I recognise that the number of this blog’s readers who ever came across such magazines can probably be counted on the fingers of the one hand that is not presently in your trousers. But I don’t care: this blog has never sought the easy route of popularity, and it has been consistently successful in avoiding it.

So, let me first feature a couple more covers from the real thing, the Vixen and Mistress magazines.

So, so lovely…

These are from the web page of the helpful guy at Swish Publications. He’s scanned them all and is happy to sell them to you for a remarkably modest price (fewer £s than the originals cost way back then) so why you are still here reading my shabby imitation I have no idea. And I must also mention in a kind of Wayne’s World ‘we’re not worthy’ manner that the creator of the slightly later generation of femdom mag that was Cruella and Goddess is still going strong too, at https://cruella.com. Go on, Andy, Mr Rogue-Hagen, scan the old stuff and sell them as pdf mags… you won’t regret it. And we’d love to see ‘Victoria’ and co again.

Right…

As before, the below are entirely made-up letters to an entirely made-up magazine called Empress, together with some modern photos made to look a bit like a 1980s magazine scan. Why? Oh, who knows. But with the world in such a terrible state, I guess we all just have to do what we can.

Empress Vol 3, Issue 2. Letters to The Editrix

Most sublime Goddess-Lady Lucia

The article entitled A dog’s life for Steven in the June 1986 edition of your wonderful magazine reminded me of something your readers might enjoy hearing about. My wife is firmly in charge in our marriage: in all important respects I am no more than her slave. I long since learnt that any failures on my part – let alone attempts at asserting my independence – will be met with swift and painful corrective measures.

Just over a year ago, my wife came back from the shops with a small package. It turned out she had been to the pet shop and bought what I understand is called a ‘shock collar’ for dogs. It looked like a regular thin leather dog collar, with a kind of plastic box attached to it, from the inside edge of which protruded two rounded metal studs. It came without batteries (why don’t manufacturers simply include them?), so I was sent out to the newsagent – it took one of those little 9 volt rectangular ones, and I bought one and a spare.

With battery installed, it was fastened around my neck and my wife fiddled a bit with the remote control that came with it and suddenly I had a horrible feeling that made me gasp. It’s hard to describe, Goddess-Lady Lucia, even though I have since experienced it hundreds of times. It is not a hot, searing kind of pain on the skin of the neck… in an odd way it’s not really pain at all, it’s a kind of wrench right inside one’s body. As I said, it’s not exactly pain but the sense that someone has reached inside your chest and tugged at everything inside there at the same time is deeply unpleasant. Of course, I begged and whined to be released – and she did take it off, but this turned out just to be to drill an extra hole through the leather collar, to fit a small padlock. And on it went again.

I now wear it whenever I am in the house, and quite often outside. I have never particularly liked roll-neck pullovers but now I have several of them because they are just what is needed to cover it up. We don’t play at my being her dog, you understand – it is just another way or punishing me for my faults and reminding me of my place whenever she deems that necessary. I am responsible for ensuring that it always has a working battery and that there is always a spare battery in the house.

As I am not a dog, of course, I can touch it with my fingers. So I soon realised that a small piece of paper, slid carefully down between my neck and the prongs, could insulate me from any shocks. I tried that once – just once. I jumped and squawked, whenever I saw her pressing the button, but of course sooner or later she gave it a press when I was not looking. The paper was found, the husband was caned mercilessly, every one of the shocks I had so deceitfully avoided (or her estimation of that total) were applied in triplicate and believe me I have never dared repeat the attempt.

I now give generously whenever I pass one of those collection boxes for the RSPCA. I have never been much of a dog lover, but I can definitely say they have my full sympathy!

In collared submission

Mrs Henshaw’s husband.

Well, Mrs Henshaw sounds like a lady after my own heart! I strongly disapprove of these devices being used to hurt our four-legged friends, so I hope that every one of the vile devices is bought up by wives to put to the excellent use you describe. There is, after all, no Society (Royal or other) for the prevention of cruelty to husbands and nor should there be! G-L L.

Most Superior Goddess-Lady Lucia

Your publication is simply wonderful, easily the best of its kind on the market. I particularly like the school-themed stories, as my own fantasies typically involve my sitting with head bowed at a plain wooden school desk, often frantically scribbling punishment lines, while a stern lady teacher taps her cane thoughtfully against her palm, planning the next phase of my detention.

Goddess-Lady Lucia, you are so beautiful and commanding and wise. I would love to spend my evenings in pointless drudgery, writing punishment lines at your command. If I could write lines in your honour, Goddess-Lady Lucia, what should I write and how many would you require me to do?

Yours in scholastic supplication

Dayboy

How ridiculous you men all are! Fine – why not? Take an edition of Empress, roll two dice to pick a page, then close your eyes and point at a sentence. If it’s less than fifteen words, close your eyes and point again until you find one. Then write it out for me, oh… shall we say a million times? Don’t write again until that’s done. If you manage to finish before you die, you can send the completed library-full to the address for letters – or better yet, don’t. If you die first, just make sure your will makes clear I do NOT want to see the stupid things. G-L L.

Most Superior Goddess-Lady Lucia

I have been an avid reader of your wonderful magazine since the first issue, having always fantasised about being under the command of a beatiful young lady like yourself. Recently, I got married to a sweet but very inexperienced girl and after a few weeks I plucked up the courage to ask her for a spanking. She looked shocked and confused and said she wanted to talk to her Mum about it.

Although embarassed she’d be talking to her Mum (a lady I’d always suspected did not approve of me – any more than I did of her), it was perhaps not that unreasonable, as she was so inexperienced in matters sexual. I was just relieved she hadn’t immediately said no, or laughed or something like that.  But a few days later, I came home and she announced she was ready to give it a go. Delighted, I took off my trousers but then to my horror she shouted ‘Mum!’ and my mother-in-law came into the room, put me firmly across her ample lap and whalloped the bejasus out of me! My God, she had a firm hand – and a bloody strong right arm, too. When she finally let me up, my face was red and wet with tears and my buttocks were black and blue – I could hardly walk! Needless to say, my cock had shrivelled to almost nothing, it was the most unsexy experience of my life.

I thought maybe that would be that, she’d leave and I could talk to my lovely young wife and explain that this was not what I had in mind. But the old harridan had come to stay with us! The next day, after a night on the couch, I found myself alone with my wife and tried to speak about it but… ‘Mum!’. And you can guess what happened then.

Since then, they have found my stash of Empress magazines and I fear that has given them ideas. I do the housework in a little apron, I clean shoes with my tongue and handwash underwear – some very large and horribly stained underwear too – and they have bought a cane. All of my fantasies have come true – and I hate every moment. But the worst horror was to be threatened with ‘facesitting’ after my ‘Mother Superior’ read the story titled Lydia’s living cushion in one of the recent issues. I don’t think I’d survive – she must weigh 200 lbs at least!

Please, please Goddess-Lady Lucia, help me. You understand this is a sex fetish. Can you help me explain to my lovely young wife and her evil old cow of a mother that I just want an occasional sexy spanking, not to be the slave of some brutal old tyrant?  I was thinking maybe an article about how to balance sex fantasies with reality?  Obviously, please don’t print this letter.

Yours in supplication

Desperate Dan

Ha ha ha!  My favourite letter of the month… oh I hope it is true.  And if the lady you describe as an ‘evil old cow’ is reading this then I hope she both takes note of how you described her and also reads carefully through the story titled ‘The queue for the Ladies”, because I think the scenario described there is another that you would probably enjoy less in reality than in fantasy. But I’ve tried it and it’s perfectly practical: all she’ll need is a plastic funnel and a suitably contemptuous attitude. Ladies of a certain age often need to pee quite frequently, so having someone ready (if not truly willing) wherever she is, at a moment’s notice, would be a great comfort. Try eating asparagus first too, my dear, to give him an even more revolting time!  G-L. L.

Dear Goddess-Lady Lucia

I have noticed that many of the stories in your magazine feature lesbians. The beautiful girls who seem to indulge in this practice are often accompanied by pasty-fleshed, unattractive middle-aged males. Do you think perhaps they might take more of an interest in men if they had more impressive specimens to play with? I myself am fit, young and particularly well-endowed and I would be happy to teach any of these girls about the joys of being on the business end of a real man’s tool.

Rifleman James

I assume this is a joke. You certainly are, small-bore Jimmy. I myself am bisexual as although I prefer to date women (the conversation, sex, hygiene and manners are all infinitely better), I do love the male penis. I have a special box full of small braided whips, clamps, spiked wheels and rough sandpaper and will happily spend an hour or two playing with a firmly secured fine male appendage, to get into the mood before sinking into the arms of my blonde beloved later. Your own penis sounds so lovely, I think I would probably want to keep it. In a box by the bed. Now go and wank off to a different magazine, as this one is obviously too difficult for you to understand. G-L L.

Esteemed Lady Lucia

I so admire the ladies in the stories in this magazine. I myself was ‘introduced’ to female domination as fantasy play by the man who become my husband and then, soon after our wedding, it was my turn to introduce him to what a real disciplinary relationship can be like. This came as quite a shock for him… I think he had expected me to prance around in leather and occasionally gently tap his bottom with the end of a riding whip, the silly thing. Needless to say, as soon as I had grasped the basic concept and with the help of lesser magazines than yours, I decided that a cane was my preferred instrument. Although ‘bondage’ hadn’t featured in his fantasies, I also soon discovered that a good caning could only be administered if his wrists and ankles were secured. And the combination of a firmly secured man and a cane wielded with determination and entirely without mercy has provided me with a thoroughly satisfactory domestic arrangement ever since.

He said the funniest thing the other day, while strapped down over an armchair in our sitting room, awaiting the second dozen of a twenty-four stroke caning. Amidst all the tears and pleading, he blurted out “You don’t know how much it hurts!”. And of course, he’s entirely right. I have never allowed anyone to hit me with a vicious implement like that and I never will. Why on earth would I? In this world, there are those who cane and there are those who are caned – and I have no doubt which side of that divide I prefer to be on! It is truly better to give than receive, as my dear mother used to say. Don’t you agree, Lady Lucia?

A generous wife

No doubt you make sure that your husband appreciates the gifts you so generously bestow on him. As for the great divide, I quite agree about which side it is best to be on. I know there are some females who prefer the submissive role, but I have never felt the slightest desire to experiment with that! Unlike you, though, I have tried out the cane – I once asked a dear lady friend to give me just one stroke on the thigh, just to see what it was like. Bloody murder it was – and I am sure she did not lay it on hard. It almost made me sympathise the next time I had to dish out a proper caning to one of my slaves. Almost, but not quite. My own mother used to say ‘Life’s not fair’ and it has been a delight for me, discovering just how unfair it can be made to be. G-L. L.

To Our Lady Lucia of the Boots

Oh, Mistress Lucia, what a delight to see so many pictures of you in lace-up boots in the March edition of your perfect magazine. I found myself consumed with jealousy at the sight of your two office slaves, permitted to lick the divine leather after their well-deserved thrashings.

My fantasy is to be nothing but a boot cleaner. Chained in a steel compartment, I wait for a passing lady to deposit a pair in the chute leading down to my box. I get to work, first carefully unlacing them, then licking all the mud off, before commencing the brushing and polishing and relacing the boots. A suitably dirty pair will take anything up to 12 hours. I place the cleaned boots on my back and lean forward into a floor-level pillory that automatically snaps into place. This displays a sign outside my box that the boots are ready and some time later that day or the day after, the front of the box will be lifted up, the lady customer will pick up and inspect her boots, award me a rating out of ten and administer any additional strokes of the handy crop she deems appropriate. Every few days the overseers come around and thrash us, at a rate of ten strokes for each rating short of a perfect ten we have received for each pair of boots serviced.

Goddess-Lady Lucia I know of course that my fantasy is unrealisable but while there are booted and demanding Ladies like yourself out there, the dream remains alive.

Bootcleaner #23

Well, #23, your fantasy, while ridiculous, is amusing enough and shows a proper appreciation of your place in this world. Licking boots, however, is a privilege not a valuable service: the tongue applied to a truly muddy boot will merely smear the mess around and excessive saliva does the leather no good. I insist instead on vigorous brushwork – but I do make the slave eat up the pile of dirt left on the newspaper when it is done. The boots you saw being licked are a special pair I wear when a slave deserves the reward of using his tongue – and I make sure he knows full well that the leather is impregnated with the saliva of many males before him. Yet still they beg for the privilege – what absurd and easily-enslaved creatures you all are! G-L. L.

Goddess-Lady Lucia is presently overseeing the production of the next issue of Empress, which will feature:

  • The continuing Trials of Steven: released from the Training Centre back into Ms Judy’s care, Steven learns that he is now just one of a stable of slaves who must compete for her favour!
  • Re-educating the chauvinist. Malcolm mocks a women’s lib demonstration and is taught the error of his ways.
  • Office Politics Part 2: the typists’ revolt continues.
  • Return of the Gymslip Gumshoes. Our schoolgirl detectives are back, this time investigating a series of underwear thefts.
  • Nursing a Grudge: with his legs and arms in plaster, Ian can do nothing when the ward nurses decide to give him a series of enemas.
  • .And of course Empress Editorial, Readers’ Letters and the ‘winners’ of Goddess-Lady Lucia’s Stupidest Slave Haircut competition.

Male creatures are instructed to ensure they have sufficient funds to buy it, then give the rest of their money anonymously to a woman.

 

And thank her afterwards

Nothing wrong with a bit of good old-fashioned pain, without all that fetishy nonsense, as my SO likes to say.
My VR settings show all women as fully clothed – even naked ones. Apparently that’s better for me.
Many girls find the sight of a penis and balls revolting – risible, even. But clip on a couple of heavy duty electrodes and most will see the erotic potential.
Actually ejaculating will be another €400 on top of that, by the way, so make sure you’ve got enough. Money, I mean, not semen: you’ve got far too much of that and need to keep it to yourself.
It’s a job with a lot of prospects – most of them quite demeaning and unpleasant.

The lovely ‘Victoria’ from Cruella, of course, with whom (in magazine form) I spent rather more time than was good for me back around 1989 or so.

Something weird with her stuff? The very idea!

Supreme beings

It’s good that she can laugh about it.
With the actions, sissy, with all the actions.
Ah, those glamorous Cruella photoshoots. Goosepimples never looked so sexy.
Our society today is going to look so primitive to future historians and their slaveboys.
You know, if she’d only used that hockey stick a bit more on Mr Musk, maybe things would be better in today’s world.
Make it realistic by refusing to do anything unless she hits you repeatedly with a stick.

Whipping posts

Also, she finds the whole idea of ‘going easy’ a bit uncomfortable.  Dommes have their hard limits too, you know.
And there’s so much space for them too.
An EU delegation once visited to check that the OWK itself conformed to the relevant safety standards. I understand the ladies achieved a perfect score, in not conforming to a single one, but it is hard to say for sure as neither the report nor the delegation were ever released.
As my SO likes to point out: she is being merciful.  A fact for which I am truly grateful.
Dommes can be a bit highly-strung. It’s probably the uncomfortable clothing.

 This is the magnificently magnificent Gigi Allens.  Who also makes vanilla porn movies – which is a sad waste of a powerful talent, but at least shows us what we are all missing and always shall.

Ideas above my station

 

Scurry scurry scurry…



In practice a lot of the psychological elements flow fairly naturally from the pain and from the dread of it,


Coding’s a valuable skill in today’s economy but getting the coffee that helps keep the coding girls focused is vital too.  Not as well paid – obviously, as a traditional male occupation – but there’s more to life than money and the satisfaction of a menial job done adequately cannot really be priced.  Plus, a really good coffee boy might have a shot at a tampon boy position, should one become available.  Better than sitting in front of a computer staring at boring old code, amirite?





So brave she bought a weekly pass enabling her to see any show she pleases.  But watching Mark will be special for her, obviously.






This picture in welts was just chance but some dommes take pride in their artistic skill with the whip.  My SO likes to do Mondrians on me, for instance.  I don’t mind the lines, it’s the areas of uniform flat colour that really sting.

A happy Cruella shoot, of course, with all three participants enjoying the balmy British summer.


Resolute women

They always make sure that their New Year resolutions are kept.


It’s odd, because generally she prefers to be asked for her approval for everything I do.


Now this one’s just putting on a show of indifference to suit the ‘callous uncaring domme’ persona.  Inside, she’s a swirling mess of worry that licking up cow shit might make you horribly ill, but she is concealing it – true professional that she is.



She does teasing and denial play too.  That’s when you pay her and fuck off, frustrated and lonely.  It’s only very subtly different from the findomme variant, to be honest.



Happiest day of your life, boy.  Remember that.



Looks like she has stuff lying around the house she doesn’t need or want any more.  Many people do, at this time of year.  Best to just take the bold decision to throw it out, rather than leave it cluttering the place up.  She won’t regret it.





Derogatory remarks

Did everyone get what they  wanted for Christmas? I hope so. I didn’t, not really. But apparently I got what I needed and what I deserved, which I’m given to understand is actually better for me. So that’s nice.


I wonder what she’s talking about. The usual  explanatory notes didn’t come with this one, I’m afraid.



I remember – very soon after I started seeing the lady who became my SO – very nervously broaching the subject of whether she might be prepared to try incorporating a little light spanking play into our bedroom routines. But she wasn’t really up for it. She said she preferred to stick with the bullwhip, shock baton and testicle clamps so I just pretended I’d been joking and I dropped the whole subject. I’ve often wondered how my life might have been different, had she said she’d try it… but it’s no use wishing for what might have been, is it?


Well… sex is important in her work, just as crime is important in a policewoman’s.



It’s going better than she’d dared to hope and she hasn’t even reached the gravel yet.



Oh dear… she’s not exactly trying to make you feel special, is she? But then, you’re not.



Punitive pleasures

She’s right, of course.

 

 

She puts a lot of effort into giving feedback and making sure the overall messages of the review are clear. So you’ll get a lot out of it. She appreciates obsequious upward feedback too.

I expect Cruella’s employees get plenty of feedback.  As do unpaid employees or random passing gawkers at their photoshoots, I imagine.

 

Another lady with an interest in giving clear feedback. Shame Harold won’t have much chance to learn from it for next time.



I asked my domme once how she managed to switch from non-stop verbal humiliation and contempt to chatting in a friendly way at the end of the session. She just smiled and said she’s a good actress, but she’d probably run out of ideas if it went for more than five minutes or so.  Which I didn’t really understand because we’d had a two hour session but it was time for me to go, so I never got the chance to ask.



Hmm… Looks like you’re not going  to get a chance to impress her with that dazzling wit.  Or anyone.  Oh well, win some lose some.  You did win some, right?  I mean, at some point in your life?


 

 

 

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