Don’t make her tell you twice

Attentive ‘readers’ might have noticed that the ladies in my caption are often portrayed complaining about being made to do things to the implicit male sub: beat him, deny him sexual relief, castrate him, torture him to death… whatever little domestic chore is required.  Some might find this a little odd,as you’d think in such a relationship, the decision-making would rest with them, as representatives of the superior sex.  So possibly they’re being a little unfair – which is one of the many, many reasons to adore them.


Here’s a lady who is already on her second attempt to persuade you to pay some attention to her feelings, for a change, the poor thing.  If you manage to avoid making her tell you three times – and you do a really good job – maybe she’ll forget all about it.  Or maybe she won’t.



Yes, must be awful.  If only someone would do something.  Oh well.



These days it’s still basically summer in October, so plenty of time.




His counterpart who traveled to our universe is trying to deal with being a subbie with a Nobel prize.  They don’t give them out for housework, so he’s finding it a bit difficult.


Win some, lose some.  Lube up.

Rigorously unfair

Yes, just imagine.  Still, no harm done to anyone who matters on this occasion, thank goodness.

 

 

 

Maybe if you wipe around the rim it won’t look so bad and Cathie won’t be cross… oh, who am I kidding?

 

 

You already ‘dared’ when you turned up for the session.  Now for a few truths.

 

 


 

I’m afraid she’s just willfully denying reality, there.  Phish Food is much better.

 

 

 

 

 

Or spoken, known about or even defined.  Don’t worry, you’ll soon get the hang of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Punishing workloads

…but these ladies always manage to deliver.


It’s a win-win for her, which is just as well because she really hates losing.



Don’t worry about whether you’ll be able to satisfy her. That’s one of the nice things about being a pain toy: she does all the work and you just have to go with the flow.  Let Joy be unconfined.



Necessary suffering, obviously, is something she can fully support.


This is, of course, Miss Chambers, possessor of the finest, most elegant nose in femdom, and to be found (nostalgically) on the Cruella web site.

My own SO, I am glad to say, does not approve of whipping for minor, trivial faults.  I have yet to discover a fault she considers to be minor and trivial, but when I do I am sure that will come as a great relief.




Hmm…  Think think think.  I expect she’ll remember eventually, as long as she’s not distracted by something more important.




Loving tyranny

But if we’re going to have a talk then surely I shouldn’t be wearing a gag?  I don’t think she’s thought this through.


 

After the war, those that survived the mission never spoke about what they went through.  They did their duty, that’s all anyone needs to know.

 

 

 

My SO is almost like a human lie detector. When I know I’ve done something wrong and she questions me about it, my heart starts racing and I go into a cold sweat.

 


My SO loves acting out teasing and denial fantasies.  Admittedly, we’ve only tried it once but it’s going very, very well.


 

It’s her book club choice, so the house’ll be full of her friends eager to discuss it, at the weekend.  Better get the drinks and nibbles in.


Domestic goddesses

 

She didn’t actually write all of the lyrics herself of course, but she suggested the basic themes.

 

 

 

Don’t feel bad about the waste of electricity, though: no electricity used by a woman to shock a man is ever truly wasted.

 


 


And if you don’t like the red colour, the marks come in purple and black too as long as you go long enough.

The goddess on the left is the lovely Miss Zoe.  The one on the right is not.


She was a spectacularly naughty schoolgirl, I’ve heard.



 

Well, my arm’s not tired either, so why shouldn’t I?  Honestly, women say the strangest – ah, no, let me go, please Ma’am, don’t!

 

 

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.


I stand to be corrected

… or I bend over, or I just wriggle slightly in the bonds, making little mmphing pleading sounds.

There are no ‘behavioural problems’, only behavioural opportunities, my SO always says.  And I agree with her.


What many men who dabble in men’s lib don’t get is how profoundly offensive it is to women, to suggest that the sexes are equal.  I mean, how do you think she’d feel, to be told she’s no better than…  well… you?

Hypothermia play!  Mmmm….

Actually, I’m more of a leg man.  So, with a bit of luck…. oh dear.

Customs change – what was acceptable in times gone by is profoundly offensive nowadays.  I went to a stage show the other night which featured an on-stage spanking and I just cringed. I wasn’t even in the front row either – how come I always get picked?


Subination and dommission





Time to put those bra-fastening skills to work!  You trained for years for this – don’t mess it up.







My SO likes card tricks. There’s this one she does where I pick a card and I get the number of strokes of the strap equal to the number on the card.  Then she picks a card and I get the number of strokes of the cane shown on the card.  Then it’s my pick again, and so on. It’s not such a great trick, but she always finds it amusing.











I find the gentle touch of the electrodes somehow quite reassuring and comforting.  It’s like – I don’t have to worry about making my own decisions, you know?  Plus, every second they’re not making me scream in pain is a bonus, so they make you appreciate the moment.












Big break, Pansykins!  Do this right, you might be promoted to skivvy.









Ah… they’re going to play at being sailors.


Try to see it Her way

…only time will tell if She is right or you are wrong.

Not do a good job at ‘good vigorous vanilla sex’?  Little chance of that, I can assure you!  Prepare for the best eleven seconds of your life, baby!




She later sold the house… said it contained too many memories.

If this blog is still going in three years, I guess this isn’t really going to work.

Looks like everyone’s having a slow, lazy afternoon.

She actually found it quite traumatic to watch, as she did the three she watched later on in the holiday.  But she bought the souvenir DVD anyway.

Speaking of holiday – I’m going off on one, fnarr fnarr.  So, usual CtD summer: with slightly faded but unused old captions published on a daily basis with minimal fuss.  Watch this space… but don’t forget to refresh your screen, or it’ll be a long dull summer for you.



Little man you’ve had a busy day

… so it’s time for a spanking, then all tucked up for an early night with hands secured in your special mittens.  Don’t worry about wifey – she’ll find something to amuse herself with.

You’ll probably also find that you prefer not to watch sport on TV and you love going to bed early.  In fact, you’re going to discover a lot of things about the real you.  Isn’t that nice? 



I used to worry that women would discover I’m really rubbish in bed.  But so far, as luck would have it, the situation just hasn’t arisen, so that’s OK.







There are probably a few things bothering him just at the moment.  And there’ll be a few more, quite soon afterwards, I expect.


It’s nice they can sing while they’re working.  I mean, having to end another human’s life, it’s a serious and depressing business, isn’t it?  Good for them – keeping their spirits up like that.


Ah.. now that takes me back.  I remember the very first face-slap of my married life.  It was about – oooh, seven seconds after the last face-slap of my unmarried life, as I recall. 




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