Ladies in red

Title says it all…

It’s a long staircase… plenty of room for more memories. Let’s hope these ones are happier, as she does seem awfully unlucky, the poor thing.
Waste not want not… you’ll be boiling that up with some dirty socks for your supper, later.
I think it’ll be a lot easier. Leaves you more time to concentrate on the things that matter.
If it makes her more comfortable, where’s the harm in it?
Sometimes it can be hard to get to the right answer, but it’s always easier when there’s a woman to tell you what it is.
In German, the verb is always at the end of a sentence which must make for tense conversations with disciplinarians.

Sentimental cruelty

She knows perfectly well you’re only doing it in the hope she’ll get the leash out and drag you along. Be careful what you wish for, that’s what I say.
Although some ladies playing it don’t seem to understand the ‘or’ concept.
Oh dear. These social events can be such a pain.
When I pay for a lesbian sex show I like it to be much more realistic. The girls are more sensibly-clad and at home in bed with one another and I am nowhere in the vicinity – usually not even in the same city. That’s how real lesbians do it. I’ve heard.
She provides the glove, you can provide the rest. Oh – and the permission, of course, she provided that too. And that’s the most important thing of all.
Oh those sex robots. I bought one of the latest ones that supposedly has ‘artificial intelligence’ that reacts appropriately to the situation, but when I turned it on it opened its eyes, took one look at me and shut down irreparably. I told a friend at work who just laughed and told me I shouldn’t always fall for the very latest technology – if I want a machine in my life I’m better off with an electric toaster. So I tried that and now I have second-degree burns in a very uncomfortable place. Dammit.

Come along, darling

Don’t dawdle.

Oooh… 50% of the way there! That’s closer than I’ve ever got.
It’s not as high-margin a business as you might expect, but fortunately some of her labour costs are very low indeed. Speaking of which, have you negotiated your salary yet? No? OK.
From the look of the sea, they’ve got ages… which is just as well, because Julie can be quite slow to get aroused, unless she can use her cattle prod.
Every poet should have a muse. This lucky lad has two.
And let’s not have any old-fashioned patriarchal nonsense about ‘earning’ it, OK? It’s not your salary, not now you’re married.
You might find it hard to imagine you’ll forget you’re wearing something as heavy and bulky as that, but believe me: once the nipple clamps go on and the scrotal ring is properly anchored to your ankle chain, you’ll hardly notice it.

Give me shudders in a whisper

Perhaps she should leave him out there for a while, to help him understand the mistake he made. A little cruel, perhaps, but as my SO says: sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. Not that she’s in favour of actually being kind, you understand, but she likes to cover all the bases.
I always try to be brave in session, as they say it’s only through failure that we really learn.
Actually, a well-trained python can provide an exciting twist to bondage play – or to a tight-lacing scene, for that matter.
I once bought a blow-up sex doll and it was actually a much more realistic experience than I’d expected – the shipping company delivered it to some other guy to fuck and charged me extra for the meal he had delivered.
Actually, there really ought to be a ‘k’ in electrode, as it’s from the greek ‘ἤλεκτρον’ meaning amber. I once dated a girl called Amber and as she was clamping the wires onto my genitals, I realised what an odd coincidence that was and was just about to point it out, when she flicked the switch and obviously then I was far too busy writhing, screaming and desperately pleading for mercy to say anything. Then she put it on a timer and went home. So it wasn’t, like, a serious relationship or anything but I think of her fondly.
She’s much misunderstood. And she so dislikes being misunderstood – just ask Gordon.

Apropos nothing whatsoever, I thought this was very lovely. She can definitely come to my funeral dressed like that! No, hang on, erm… someone else’s funeral that I’m at…. but not someone so close to me I’d be too sad to perve. Oh, heck it doesn’t even need to be a funeral at all.

Losergroup

GODDESS ONLINE

Hey there!  Welcome to Yvonne’s Losergroup’s weekly remote control session – you know, this is the only cam session I do each week where the guys mostly don’t want me to take my top off?  ‘Cos it hurts your little dicks when you try to get hard, right? Aww… poor little losers.

Oh-kay… let’s see, we have twelve logged-in losers right now. So… object443 told me he can’t make it this week, so he paid the fine and he’s not here, that’s OK, but that should still leave thirteen… so who’s missing…?

Right, dicklessjerk hasn’t logged on.  Sending him a punishment buzz… level 5.

And level 6…  Oh, hey there he is.  And you thanked Mistress in the chat, dickless, well done.  One more level 6, though, for being late.

You’re welcome, dickless.

Yay!  Full stable of thirteen losers, all with cocks wired up to the Internet and controlled from here. Hey, yvonnestoy, your device is on, like 30% charge?  That should get you through the call but recharge afterwards, or it’ll go into low charge punishment mode, yeah?  Here’s a level 5 buzz to remind you.

Yeah, you’re welcome yvonnestoy.  OK, losers.  So this week we have… four punishment buzzes to hand out.  Three eights and – wow- a nine! Wonder who’s getting that!  Well, I know of course.  OK, and one… wait for it… release!  Who’s going to be the lucky guy who gets the sexy wanking fun, huh? Just have to wait and see.

OK, so we’ll start with financial contributions. Nobody gave zero this week, but you already all guessed that, because I didn’t announce a level 10 this week.  But someone among you thirteen losers was less generous than the others, wasn’t he?  And Yvonne doesn’t like it when her boys are mean like that, does she?  So she gets to be mean back.

OK, so… level 8.  I’ll give you a clue… if you gave more than £200 this week, you can relax, for now.  OK.  But that still leaves five of you who didn’t!  Five mean guys!  But who was meanest and is going to be screaming in a moment, hmm?  I’m gonna give those five a little level 2 buzz, just so they know who they are, in case any of them forgot that they gave me less than a measly two hundred.  Hi guys.

Now for the level 8. And it’s…. ladysman!  Welcome to hell, ladysman.  I can see him screaming and writhing around there… yeah, not gonna lift my finger off the button yet, ladysman.  Take it all.  There it’s finished… ooh, no it hasn’t, I lied!  You gonna be less of a skinflint next week, ladysman?  I hope so.  OK, you’re done.

You’re welcome, ladysman.  OK, next two level 8s are both going to be for the poems you all wrote me.  Fuck, they were bad.  All of you deserve to spend the rest of the session just getting nothing but electric shocks for bad poetry, OK?  If any of you losers ever, ever have a chance for, like, an ordinary relationship – which you never, ever will because I’ve got you and because there just aren’t enough women that crazy – do not write her a love poem, OK, because you are seriously shit at it.  Each and every single one of you.

Oh – and another tip just in case you ever do get into a relationship with a woman: don’t let her lock electrodes onto your genitals that she can remotely activate whenever she pleases, either!  Oh – but you did, didn’t you?  ‘Cos you’re fucking losers.  Here’s a level 6 for everyone.  That’s not for the bad poetry, just for being losers.

OK and here’s a level seven for everyone’s bad poetry.  Wow… look at you all, pathetic. Like your poems. I mean it, I’m not doing the usual mean girl domme thing – even if this was a completely vanilla session, I would still say that every single one of those poems was painful to read. Maybe not quite as painful as getting electric shocks to the genitals – although I wouldn’t know, I’ve never tried it, amazingly enough because I’m not stupid enough to let anyone do that to me – but really, really bad.

Yeah, yeah, you’re all very welcome.  Not thanking me, slapface, yvonnestoy?  There a reason for that?  Not enough electricity for you maybe? Oh no, slapface, too late now. Try this.

That’s better.  You’re both welcome.

Right.  But two of the poems were worse than all the others. Tough bar to beat but they managed it. So, each of those two is going to type his poem into the chat and I’ll read it out – trying not to puke – and at the end of each line he’ll get a level 8, OK?

OK. So… all of you are horrible, terrible poets… but who was worst? Was it you, socksniffer? Yeah, you should look terrified. Because your poem was bad, socksniffer, really bad… but not as bad as…

irishmike’s!

That was a level 8, irishmike, just to remind you what it feels like. OK, start typing the poem in the chat.

Yvonne the goddess of my dreams – no, stop, I’m gonna zap you, remember. There we are.

You’re welcome. Just this once, you don’t need to thank me in the chat after the zap – just write the next line.

OK, She smiles so prettily at the screams. That actually doesn’t scan, irishmike, you’re lucky to be only getting level 8.

Her slaves devoted, far and near. Yeah, yeah. Scream, scumbag.

Her all obey, through love and fear. Hmm. Do I allow you losers to say you ‘love’ me? I thought we made a rule about that… lockedtinycock you look it up in the rulebook after the session and post it in on the LoserBoard. Anyway, only two lines to go, thank God.

Our minds and hearts she firmly locks. Zap. Zapzapzap. Don’t forget to breathe, irishmike.

And rules our cocks with painful shocks. She fucking does, irishmike, you said it. In astonishingly bad poetry. So now you’re feeling it.

OK, you’re done irishmike. But we’re going to have to change your name, I mean it’s much too ‘normal’ anyway. From now on you’re ‘shitpoet’, OK? I’ll sort it out in the system after the session.

Right… that was pretty bad, huh guys? The poetry, I mean. Probably the electric shocks too, but what did we think of the poetry?

Not a rhetorical question: answer. Level 4.

That’s right, it was. Oh – and you all thanked me for the shock too – you’re learning! Nothing like pain to teach a meathead how to behave.

So… who else wrote a poem as bad as that? I’ll give a clue: if you thought writing a limerick – a fucking limerick – was going to be good enough, then your cock and balls just might be about to get fried.

That’s right, pigface4, it’s you. Welcome to level 8.

You’re welcome. Now type this fucking limerick so we can all see what a total jerk you are.

The beautiful Mistress Yvonne. And that’s a zap.

Found one day that her money was gone I wish the rest of you guys could see pigface4 when I zap him, he sort of gets off the chair and jumps around. So funny… almost makes up for the poem. Not quite though.

But relief it came swift. Let’s try a little sequence of zaps. One two three four five. One two three four five.

With the generous gift. And this time a lonnnnng slowwww hold. Holding… holding… there.

C’mon pigface. Your hands can’t be shaking too much to type. I mean, if they are then obviously you won’t be able to complete Yvonne’s instructions, and what do we do to –

Oh, apparently you can still type. Yay.

From her pig-faced old sub-slave named Jon. Die, jon, die. Plenty of charge in your battery, so let’s really make some good use of it.

While pigface4 – whose real name is Jon, obviously, but don’t worry I won’t give away any more, this isn’t a blackmail gig – while Jon is gasping in agony, I’ll just explain that he gave easily the most money this week. Which was nice, pigface4, but trying to remind me of it with a fucking limerick – no don’t try typing an apology, pigface, just take the punishment, my finger’s not lifting up off this button until I’m done talking – was not only boorish (oh, that’s a bit funny, ‘boorish’, like a boar, right?) but disrespectful after I’d asked for a love, fucking poem. Fuck it, 5 seconds of level 9 to finish you off.

There.

You’re welcome, pigface Jon.

Oh… kay. Now, we come to the grand finale. Someone’s getting an orrrrrr-gasm! Who’s it going to be? And someone else is getting level 9! Who’s that going to be? So, this week I thought we might try something different…. First of all I’m going to remotely unlock the lucky lucky boy. Then when he starts jerking off, that’s when the level 9 shocks will start for the other, much more unlucky boy. Who I say is unlucky, but in fact deeply deserves what’s coming to him. I’ve set it up for a random sequence of level 9s – fast and slow – and it’ll go on until the semen’s all out. Or a bit longer if that’s too quick, we’ll see.

OK, so the lucky lucky boy is… is…

Hmmm. Who’s been without longest, hmm? Let’s have a look here. Ooh, herslave2, that’s been a while, hasn’t it? And irishmike – sorry ‘shitpoet’ – too. I’m not counting ‘dontpissyvonneoff’ because he’s obviously still working through his punishment year, so for him it’s been almost eight months.

Well, his poetry is shit but his financial gift was acceptable so it’s… pigface4! Sending the unlock command now, pigface, hope your cock still works after all that zapping. Keep your hands off it for now.

So the rest of you know you’re not squirting today. Aww… poor frustrated things! maybe next time, huh? Except you, obviously, dontpissyvonneoff. But there’s still something to look forward too: most of you won’t be on the floor screaming in level 9 agony, while pigface here fumbles away at his rancid sweaty cock… I can see it actually and it’s a hairy, nasty little thing. Getting a bit bigger, though, isn’t it pigface? Hey – wouldn’t it be funny if I was fooling you and you had to go and have an icebath and go straight back in and get the level 9 treatment?

Don’t worry… I was about to say I’m not that mean, but I am, aren’t I? So maybe I’ll do that some time. But not today. No, today I’ve already decided on someone else as our special, special victim and it’s not you, pigface.

In fact, rather than announce it, I think I’ll just let the shock announce itself and then explain why while pigface here wanks (Hands off, pigface! Level 7. You’re welcome). So in just a moment, basically, if you’re not experiencing level 9 pain, you’ll know it’s not you, OK!

Now!

Fooled you! I haven’t started yet! Oh you all looked so relieved! But you still each have a one in twelve chance… don’t imagine that just because you were one of the level 8s, you’re not in the frame for this. You are, because I’m nasty like that. Pigface isn’t obviously… can’t have a wank while being shocked. can you? I wouldn’t have thought so, maybe we should try it some time. No, the level 9 shocks start…

Now.

No – another false alarm. See, I want it to be unexpected so

Right, start wanking pigface, while I explain why crybaby is currently experiencing unbearable pain. You see, it’s getting almost to be a bit of a chore for me, thinking up all of these punishments. And you’re all so fucking scared of me, you’re frankly all a bunch of obedient little wimps who try to do everything right and it’s only the fact that you’re all a bunch of complete morons that really gives me a chance. Slowly, pigface, I don’t want you going off just yet. Well, anyone can tell you’re morons, right? No one with even half average intelligence would let someone do this to them. So, yeah, anyway, I thought who’s going to get tortured on the call today and it struck me – I can just pick any of you fuckers at random.

So, crybaby, if you can hear me through the screaming I can see you’re doing, and the blood pounding in your head, you didn’t do anything wrong. Matter of fact, I let my cat choose. I put all the list of names in front of her, and she put her paw on yours first. I think. I wasn’t checking too carefully. Anyway, doesn’t matter. The point is it was just capricious – that’s a good word, isn’t it? Capricious Yvonne. So that’s why you’re –

Oh! Well done pigface. Still working after all this time, is it? Now you have a sweaty, hairy cock that’s dribbling with come too. Makes a girl feel so special.

Yuk. Filthy beast. There it goes. Let’s just make sure it’s all out. Tug tug!

In case you’re wondering why you’re still getting electric shocks, crybaby, pigface’s cock is sort of hanging at halfmast and we’re just waiting to see if there’s any more to come out of – oh, there’s a little twitch and one more little droplet came out! Hope you enjoyed all that, pigface. And you too, crybaby. Let’s just switch off the sequence, won’t be a moment…

Oh, butterfingers, I pressed the wrong one! That’s level 10, isn’t it? Hang on. There.

Oh – disgusting! Are you vomiting? That is a repulsive sight, I’m switching off your camera. OK, you can have just a moment to crawl back to the keyboard, crybaby.

But I won’t wait forever.

You’re welcome.

OK, pigface you have ten minutes to clean up and get yourself locked away again. I’ve started the timer now – don’t try asking for more time if you’re too slow, as I won’t be online. It’s automatic.

And I’ve put next week’s instructions up in the shared Loserspace, OK? Normal week really. Level 7 to wake you up at 5.30 every morning and one hour online devotions. Two pieces of homework: 500 lines and a 2000-word essay on Yvonne’s eyebrows. Erm…new weight targets for those of you on a diet, obviously. Especially you, fatbastard, so I hope you’re not planning any dinners out, because anything other than a couple of pieces of lettuce will take you right over. Financial contribution counter’s reset to zero, there are two shopping trips to sponsor and a girls’ night out – and I’ve put some bills up for adoption too. Oh, and I’ve got a special shopping mission for each of you, too – an item of clothing, sort-of clothing anyway, that I want to see you all wearing on next week’s call. Who knows – you might even see someone else buying the same thing… you could have a little Yvonne’s losergroup bonding.

OK, losers. Quick level 8 double-tap to say goodbye.

You’re welcome. You’re all very welcome indeed.

GODDESS DISCONNECTED

The part of the lovely (but somewhat unpleasant) Yvonne in this little story was played by the no doubt equally lovely (but probably rather more pleasant) Ally Tate, who can be found online doing all sorts of things that male ‘readers’ of this blog really aren’t really allowed to watch. According to the various website identifiers in the screenshots above, she seems to do a lot of stuff involving sisters. Which sounds rather sweet, although does put in mind of the day my sister discovered that I’d damaged one of her dolls… a painful memory, although I expect the experience helped make me the man I am today.

Anyway, I’m sure Ally Tate is a very nice lady, so if you like nice ladies: go and watch her doing something unmentionable. If, instead you like vicious, brutal ladies more like Yvonne, just stick with this blog and you’ll be fine.

Written pleadings

 

It’s not really a choice, as she’ll probably find an excuse to do the bottle thing even after posting the photos.  And vice versa.  But he doesn’t know that, because males are very stupid creatures.

 

 

 

He’s lucky to have such an understanding Responsible Female; I hope he’ll have the sense not to push that luck too far.  Female supporters of men’s lib are a bit weird in my opinion, but even
most of them understandably draw the line at disobedience or answering
back.


Mistress has also learnt from experience that the way to get a really smart, polished pair of shoes or boots is not to have someone slobber over them while masturbating. 

 

She doesn’t really need the meter, given the screaming thing, but it’s nice to be sure and anyway, she has some plans to fill his mouth later.

 

 

 

She’s right.  Just remember that and you’ll be fine.

 

And an extra one, just a little bit o’politics.  Just what you’re looking for when you go surfing for femdom porn, right? 

 


Still, inept political commentary incomprehensible to non-Brits notwithstanding, any image containing Morrigan Hel and Goddess Sophia has got to be worth at least a few long, lingering, longing stares, right?

Sustained abjection

She loses track.  Does it matter?



Oh dear, I hate to see women using their sexual wiles to swindle some poor chap.  Why not learn an honest trade like findomming and just take his money in exchange for the privilege of being openly mocked or simply ignored?  Then they’d be using their talents to contribute something to society, you know?

 

He must be very grateful.

 



Safety first – sure,everybody knows that’s rule number one in BDSM play, but what’s less often remarked is how important it can be in non-consensual revenge torture too.


People’s definitions of physical sexual intercourse vary.  I use my body to pleasure the lady in my life by writhing around in agony, screaming, occasionally losing minor body parts and so on.  Is that ‘sexual intercourse’, strictly speaking?  Does it really matter how we define the activity, as long as she enjoys it and no harm is caused to anyone who matters?


 

 

 

 

 

Pictures of attractive young women saying vaguely threatening things

Just trying out a more literal approach to naming these posts.  I have to say, though, I reckon “Attractive young women saying vaguely threatening things” would make a great name for a band.


My muscles are relaxed.  The rest of me is suddenly feeling strangely tense.



Romantic moment ahead!  No spoilers, but let’s just say this turned out to be the turning point in their relationship.  This is when it became serious… really serious.


 

Don’t worry: she’ll make sure he drinks plenty of liquids too. 

 

 

 

Oh, OK.  Plenty of time then.  She’s not planning to turn it any further until after tea.

 

 

I don’t know about you but I just seem to be constantly charging appliances.  If it’s not the phone, it’s the shock collar, if it’s not the shock collar it’s the cattle prod.  I’m sure life was simpler in the old days.  Even on our wedding night… turned out I was supposed to have charged up her vibrator.  She wasn’t pleased, I can tell you.


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