Take me, I’m yours

Because dreams are made of this.


And if she isn’t free, your daughter’s got lots of other friends who could step in.

Did you have something better to do? No?  Well then.

That half a day’s going to drag a bit.  I hate not really having anything to do, you know?

Those two extra legs make all the diference.  Insects don’t usually have such big fangs too.
Could be a career breakthrough here.  Make yourself valuable to stars like Gigi Allens and who knows where you might go?


I beg to differ

But I’m never allowed to, so I don’t really know why I bother.


On we go …

At first, she used to follow the approach of other dommes; in trying to put first-time clients at their ease.  Reassure them that nothing too bad would happen, you know?  But then she decided one day it was just too dishonest.

Relationships can take many different forms.  You’d be surprised how many stable partnerships are based on a solid foundation of contempt and abuse.  Works for me.

Maybe you could ask about the oral sex later.  Still worth a try, surely?

Actually,
in my opinion, equality between the sexes is a very bad idea.  But I’m
posting this caption anyway, in the spirit of recognising that my
opinion is of no importance whatsoever.

 

Like I said, relationships can take many forms.  ‘Husband’, ‘lover’, ‘piss-slave to lesbian couple’ – they’re all just different words for the same thing, fundamentally, don’t you agree?


Domesticated bliss

Actually: confession time. I, servitor, am not actually into femdom at all. It’s all a cruel punishment perpetrated upon me by an evil woman who forces me to spend hours each week scouring the internet for pictures of ladies in leather boots, or holding canes – which don’t excite me at all! – and write silly captions on them. Oh, the torment.

Well, these things matter, y’know?  Sure, Kurt’s main priority right now is to spend the night fucking your wife like a piledriver.  But in the morning, he’s going to want a nice fresh pair of briefs to pull over his aching cock, amiright?

My SO, a few of her friends and I played this game with a tattoo pen once.  Goodness, we laughed!  Some of us.

Would it be to make a banana smoothie?

Cultural norms can vary a lot, even within the same country. At the office where I work, for example, I’m allowed on the furniture and to drink water without asking permission.


Owner-controlled

It’s good to live in a comunity united around a shared interest.

Her feelings matter, remember.  A lot.

 

I’d reach for ‘Polite dissenting opinion No 1’ but ‘we’ decided to remove it from the approved list.


It’s a good idea to wear a lot of pink, to avoid being mistaken for a feral male. Ferals hate wearing pink – especially frilly lacy things.




Aww… sweet.  My own SO asked me how I’d like her to remember me and I suggested an alarm on her phone, every month when it’s time to change the straw. It’s working out pretty well.


I stand, corrected

Every Sunday from 2pm to 4pm, and usually once or twice during the week as well.

It’s a shame, but if Beth’s not prepared to put in the effort of whipping him to get the house the way it should be, she just has to go.
Of course, she can do it herself.  But it’s good to have a really thorough going-over by a  professional every so often too, don’t you think?

And even if you weren’t thinking it then, you certainly thought it when she mentioned it, didn’t you?  So – no excuses.

They say the first four hours are the worst.  They’re wrong.


Dommes.  Not always easy to please. But then, that’s not why we visit them.


How I loved you, How I cried…..

And I still do both, I’m very glad to say.





Of course, you can still try negotiating your way out of this if you ask nicely.  I mean, it only took her an hour to get all that ready.  She won’t mind.
 The lovely Mistress Mina Thorne, of course.  You knew that already, right?  Course you did – you read Femdom Resource.

And then it’ll be the turn of the next one, and so on for the rest of the evening.

Sounds like she’s looking after him very well.

Men rarely think these things through.  Some of us are lucky enough to have plenty of time to think things through, free from any distractions except the sight of the corner of the room and the feeling of a sore bottom.

It’s not the crime; it’s the cover-up. And it’s not the paddle or the strap; it’s the cane.


I was so upset that I cried

… all the way to the chip shop 

(trigger warning: video is unrelated to the subject matter of this blog, although I suppose those with a really really strong cuckoldry and insult fetish might just about find something in it).

 

And she’ll hold on to that very special key, just to make specially sure.

It’s true, actually.  There’s nothing that drives away mild discomfort quite like agony.
A bit foolish, really.  She could easily claim pro-domme rates for acting as his slavemistress and then where would he be?
I eventually got round to asking my wife whether my performance in bed was OK or not.  I was a bit worried, but actually she was very nice about it.  Said it was so long ago she’d completely forgotten after all these years and why would it matter to anyone anyway?  I was so relieved.

Silly wasting money on a bus when it’s only eight miles anyway. Think how good you’d feel putting the bus fare into the fur coat fund instead.  Every little helps.






4300 kPa

The pressure exerted by a woman walking in high heels. so it seems. That’s a lot of Pascals.  4.3 million Pascals, I suppose.  Makes you think, eh?  And that’s assuming she’s not actually jumping up and down.


I read that on the Physics Website, which (drawing I suspect on Cutnell, John D., & Kenneth W. Johnson. Physics. 4th ed. New York: Wiley, 1998. 338) explains it this way:

equation

This is approximately 40 atmospheric pressures. Now you realize the full potential
of the high heel.
For comparison’s sake, would you rather your hand be pummeled by a herd of elephants
or a group of angry women wearing high heels?

Sorry, what was that?


Would you rather your hand be pummeled by a herd of elephants
or a group of angry women wearing high heels? 

Mmmmm… sounds like you don’t read this blog very often, Mr Physics Website.

Anyway, it all seems very instructive. I won’t link to the website as I don’t think they’d particularly appreciate this source of traffic (yes, dear readers, that’s right: I am ashamed of you).   On with what we do on this website, now.






It’s not actually the days wearing the collar that will hurt you, in any case.  It’s all the things you said and did during those days when you weren’t wearing it.




Looks like you’re about to get a feel for Russian culture.

Interestingly, a recent survey found that many women with husbands in chastity actually start wearing sexy clothes more often than before.  Women, eh? Always missing the point.  Bless ’em.

Anyway, he’s got another ear. So it’s not like the time when she – oh, well,, that’s another story.

Kafkaesque, no?


Marriage guidance

Honesty is so important in a mariage. I told my wife on our wedding night that I wanted her to be completely honest and open, if my performance in bed wasn’t satisfying her, and the very next day she told the hotel staff and a couple of guys we met in a bar all about it.  And since then, she’s told all her friends, all my friends, my co-workers and quite a lot of random strangers.  So much better for these things to be out in the open, don’t you think?


Oh… that Sonia.  Oh dear.







We can’t always get what we want. She can, but we can’t.









I guess you could always renegotiate if it isn’t working out for one or other of you.


She’s got a lot of pain for Doug to work through.




You’ve got me pretty deep baby

I can’t figure out your watery love

She can help you deal with feelings of guilt, too.


I’ve never seen the point of masturbation gloves, to be quite honest.  I mean why buy a special item of clothing that you’re almost never going to wear?

You could try to bluff your way out. Or grovel.  I think I’d go with grovel… but that’s just me.

Nice to have something to think about, to take your mind off how much it’s going to fucking hurt.

Always consensual. It’s rule number 1.  Well, in my relationship it’s actually rule number 286, but you know what I mean.