Category: electrics

Uncivil partnerships

 

 

It’s a mere technicality.

 

 


 

A lot of men who are initially reluctant to wear shock collars end up thanking their wives for it, I understand, so there’s really no reason not to give it a go.

 

 

 

There’s nothing worse than calling your domme by the wrong name, is there?  Well… Obviously, there is something worse, which is what happens next when you do – but I’m sure you know what I mean.


More and more women carry tasers to ward off unwanted sexual advances.  Even a few years back, when I was dating, I’d estimate maybe 40% of them did.





 

Thank goodness.  Finally a chance to put my side of the story!


Girl talk

 Boy silent.  Nodding is permitted.


Has it really?  Goodness, it’s so easy to lose track of time.  It feels like it was only yesterday.



Forgive it magnanimously?  No?  Oh well.




Dommes undertaking electrical play should ensure that some thick non-conducting material is in constant contact with any electrodes.  Males work fine.





It’s not a very big tube but it’s just large enough.




Funny how failures to communicate always involve me misunderstanding her and never the other way around.  Of course, the fact that I’m rarely allowed to speak could be a contributing factor.



Whatever she likes, whenever she says

 

Honestly, imagining bothering her about a little thing like that.

 

 

Oh well…wouldn’t want to disappoint Suzie, would we? 

 



Obviously, you are allowed to have opinions, even as her husband, as long as they’re the right ones.


…unless she’d rather I made her a nice cup of tea?  No?  Sure?  OK, cattle prod it is, then.



Like most men in a female-led relationship, I learnt about pre-menstrual tension quite early on.  Also post-menstrual tetchiness and during-menstrual extreme violence.



Marital law

 

Just before he takes his real marriage vows.

 

 

 

Don’t worry: biting during sex play is considered vanilla these days, so no one at work is likely to bat an eye if you turn up with a few playful bite marks on your neck, slightly raggedy ears or a couple of missing fingers.  So just let her go with it.

 

 

 

My SO thinks electric shocks are funny too.  I’ve never really seen the humour in it myself, but maybe it’s one of those Mars/Venus things.

 

 

 

 

It’s always worth
buying things in bulk.  My friends at school bought me a lifetime’s
supply of condoms and I’m less than one third of the way through. 
Exactly one third, actually.

The decision-making in this marriage is shared.  Once she’s made a decision, she shares it with you.  Well… it’s best to know, isn’t it?



And a topical one for the Brits:



A study in scarlet

I don’t know what word that is and I don’t want to.  For some reason, it brings back painful memories.

I’ve often thought its odd how confident dommes often are about what we subs can take or not, given that they’ve usually never tried it on themselves.

 

  

Try not to make an ass of yourself.

 

I can be both.  And so much more.

 

That does sound fun.  I hope she doesn’t charge a fee for taking that half of my income off me, though.  But if she insists, obviously I won’t argue.

 Oh – and in the same theme of the colour red… it took me a while, Furcoat, but I got there eventually. 



 

Sweetly unreasonable

How very convenient.



 

 

‘Not tonight, I’ve got a headache’?  No?

 

 

 

Living a truly female-led life can involve lots of difficult choices, so it’s good there’s someone else there to make them.



Look at what?  Whatever is she talking about? Do you know?  I have no idea, none at all.

 

 

Pitiful, most likely.  I usually am.


 


Here’s a random and rather lovely thing, by the way.  Who needs boys, anyway?

#anne hathaway from these empty halls held our disease.


She’s right, you know

 She just is.




My
SO once told me that it was on our honeymoon that I gave her the best
sex she’s ever experienced.  Which is a bit of luck, really, as you
never know what you’re going to get when you’re in a foreign place and
you don’t know the escort agencies well.


It’s only fair: she took his electric razor, when they split up, I understand.



Got there eventually.  Well done.  Now let’s talk about ironing pleats.



Don’t worry: he won’t allow himself to be improperly influenced.  Properly influenced, yes, certainly, possibly even vigorously influenced.  But no more than that.




Women, eh?  Sometimes you’re supposed to scream in agony, sometimes you’re supposed to stay silent.  How are we supposed to know?  I mean, unless they use ball-gags and stuff.

Despotic love

I suppose I can wait to watch the cookery programme – I’ve become quite good at coping with deferred gratification.  Thank goodness it’s only Raoul this time, anyway.  Sometimes she invites all the guys round to watch a big game and I’m rushed off my feet fetching and carrying beers, snacks and condoms.  She must find it quite exhausting too. 

  

 

It’s funny how the simple act of having electrodes attached to your genitals can change your whole perspective on things.

 


I know she’s a busy woman, but I really think she could cane her own husband. And detention is a very special time in any relationship.



She works hard for her money (so he’d better treat her right).



But with dignity.  Always with dignity.

Fair mistreatment

 

How soon will she be back?  Oh… you know.  It’ll be forever and it’ll also be too soon, same as usual.

 


There’s actually another guy out there, but you’re unlikely to see him unless you start digging in the compost pile, and why would you do that?

 The lovely but, by the looks of things, retired Princess Neive. I wonder what she did with the boots?  I’d give them a loving home.



Poor thing. She seems very upset.  I hope this will make her feel better.


As her name is ‘Josephine’, maybe you’re better off sticking with ‘hamster’?  At least ‘hamster’ fits on one line.




Shocky!

Enthralled

What a lovely word.  I am her thrall.


Happiest day of your life!  And don’t you forget it, you ungrateful little bastard, or she’ll give you something to be unhappy about!

 

It’s not just convicted sexists, either.  Carry the donor card, help someone to look fabulous after your death.










I’ve never liked spiders. Bitter acrid flavour and the legs get stuck between your teeth.










Looks fun.  And they give you a little souvenir bag of sugar at the end of the month.  Give it to your domme, the next time you book a normal session and thank your lucky stars it’s just fantasy play.










He found her through a card she’d put up in the local telegraphy office.