Category: dominant wife

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.


Thankful for small cruelties


More and more companies are discovering the benefits of setting up dedicated disciplinary departments.  Of course, any good manager knows that she should try to deal with performance issues in person whenever possible, but there’s only so many hours in the day.
There’s an honesty about femdom that’s sometimes lacking in other areas of professional sex work, I believe.

So we did.

I went to a financial advisor and explained to her how exciting I found financial domination and she said I should seek professional help.  Which is exactly what I was doing… very confusing.  So I explained that I wanted her to take all my money with no explanation and never give me anything in return – and it was her turn to look confused, because apparently that’s exactly what she does, as an independent financial advisor.


I get a bit fed up with being asked that.  Why do professional ladies assume I’m into SPH?  It’s the first question every doctor I’ve ever had has asked me, for instance.


The lovely Miss Zoe, of course.  Another lady who has suffered the misfortune of having to put the actual real-life Servitor across her knee… but she has preserved her sanity intact.  Apparently you can confess to her here.  Be truthful, now.

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.

Back to reality

… well, the loose approximation of it represented by this blog, anyway.


The holiday, since you ask, was fantastic.  It was in one of those picture-perfect resorts, you know, with the palm trees coming down to the powdery sand sloping down to a turquoise lagoon.  But not at all crowded – it’s a private beach belonging to the hotel and at the prices I was paying, I can tell you, there’d just better be some serious privacy!  And the hotel was as spectacular as the price implied: the rooms, the food, the pool… made a lot of new friends too, apparently.


What do you mean, ‘how do I know’?  She sent me a postcard, of course.  I mean, I didn’t actually see it until after my release because the kennels don’t allow postal deliveries, but I expect she didn’t know that and it was a very kind thought.  She was having so much fun, she hadn’t even put enough postage on it, the silly thing!  Had to come out of my pocket money.  I’d been saving for.. well, I mustn’t complain.

Another year, another… maybe 550 or so captioned images? It hardly bears thinking about, does it?  Better get on…


Stick-fetching is one of those things that sensible husbands quickly learn is not really up for discussion.
You know, I think she might be about to confess her life-long fantasy of making love to a short, slightly overweight guy wearing a frilly french maid outfit.  Give her time.
It’s a shame they can’t both win.
Damn.  That was going well.

It’s awful wearing a chastity belt on a beach – sands gets in, apparently. Not that I’d know.  Sensible concrete floors, that’s what we had in the kennels.  Fresh straw on Thursdays.


To wear that ball and chain

It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy.

She has.  Twice already just this week, actually.














Can’t disagree with that.

He’s actually going to be hotter here at home than she is on the beach, oddly enough.
She volunteered for the sexual crimes squad. Said she wanted to give something back.








Yeah… yeah.  Just pretend.  It’s fine.  Go with it.

Not now, John

I’d forgotten this had femdommy bits – mildly suggestive only, I guess, and with that very special 80s pop video fuzziness, but I actually find that nostalgically erotic.*

Anyway, on with the 21st-century nonsense.






I always find a good beating really brings an apology home. And a bad beating, still more so.

It would be very odd to be the sort of guy who visits a sex worker who doesn’t tell him off and treat him with contempt and disdain.  A bit limiting, I’ve always thought.

Might be time for that safeword, actually.  Now what was it.  Pretty sure it wasn’t ‘mmph’, sadly for him.

She hates ironing, loves whipping.  That’s why this happening.

There’s a splendid phrase in British english “Face like a slapped arse”.  I think that’s one problem I don’t have – I have a face like a slapped face and an arse like a slapped arse.  When I’ve been lucky.





*I once caught the first 1 minute of “The Dominatrix sleeps tonight” on a BBC 2 pop programme, when I was, I dunno, sixteen or something. Oh. My. God. Then they stopped playing it.  Noooooo!!!  For years afterwards, every time I watched a music programme, or a bit of MTV when visiting somewhere (we didn’t have it), there was a little glow of hope I might see it again, or see more of it.  Never did until the Internet came along and then I was more jaded, of course.

As specks of dust we’re universal

I love this song. It’s got nothing at all to do with femdom, except in the sense that obviously no male could ever write something so great (unless inspired by a muse, I suppose).  So: SFW warning if you click the link, yeah?


Right. On with the poppycock.





Or don’t be brave. To be honest, Trudy doesn’t really mind either way.
Always a bit dull listening to someone describing their dream, isn’t it?  Still: better humour her.  Don’t want to be whipped.

I wish she didn’t have to as well.  So why does she?
After a session with a domme I’d been seeing for a while, I asked what she really thought of me, but she just laughed and told me to fuck off and book a humiliation session.  I guess she must have mis-heard.
She’s not really looking to discuss this, by the way. She’s just sharing how she feels – it’s a Mars/Venus thing, yeah guys?  Just go with it.


As she pleases




I’m sure she won’t mind.  Cindy’s very easy-going.






You say bukkake, I say bukkaka.




Self-locking nipple clamps.  What’s not to like?
Don’t worry. There’ll be things for you to eat too.  Just a bit later.


 

Do you suppose you can catch an STD from licking a domme’s boots, if some other guy came on them in an earlier session?  Perhaps medical professionals should carry out some experiments on that.


Freddie’s back

If you like Contemplating the Divine* then you will certainly have loved Freddie’s Tales.**  You, therefore, like me, will have been devasted when Freddie’s Tales disappeared from one day to the next. Also like me, therefore***, you will be absolutely delighted that Freddie is back, with a new blog and no doubt just raring to produce more of  those fabulous Beetle books.

So get yourself over to Freddie’s new blog. I – hey come back!  I didn’t mean now.  Read the captions below first, moron.  That’s what you came here for, right?  Men… I dunno.



My SO and I have been experimenting with pre-signed suicide notes.  It’s a kind of next-level thing, you know?  Edgy, I know, but it works for us.








I think I can give her 110%.
Sounds like you are actually going to be discussing it… at length.  But not until you’re safely married.
Consent seems to be a theme of this post.  That’s because it’s so important.  My SO always insists that I consent to everything she does to me.
 
Thank goodness they no longer hunt foxes.  That was so cruel.





*  And if you don’t like Contemplating the Divine what the fuck are you doing here? Are you some kind of weird masochist or something?  Freak.

**  Except the Femsub bits, obviously.  One day, I hope young Freddie will meet a lady who will set him right about the suitability of that sort of material.


*** Writing this, I realise how uncannily similar we are, you and I.  We laugh at the same things, cry together – we should get a drink some time, yeah?