feet – Contemplating the divine

Who would’ve cared at all

Not her.

She did say she wouldn’t do anything to embarass you – and she won’t. No need, when you’re embarassing yourself so effectively.

Seems very businesslike. But then it’s best not to personalise what is, after all, a purely impersonal business arrangement as far as she’s concerned.

If we’re honest, it doesn’t make a huge amount of difference whether he tries to be brave or not. But it’s nice of her to ask.

Lovely Mistress Mina. And lovely someone else, too.

It’s good she’s got you to help take her anger away.

Some subs find hypothetical questions like this difficult but they’re actually not as difficult as the non-hypothetical ones that have immediate practical relevance, I find.

She’s very concerned about his health, she’s even been reading up online about medical conditions that affect the elderly.

We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope

So true. Martin Luther King said that and if I’m honest (I’m not, in general – see the disclaimer to the side of the blog, there), he was probably talking about something other than femdom chastity regimes. But you never know.

You did bring the Travel Scrabble, right?

This is the lovely Little Caprice, most of whose oeuvre is unsuitable for viewing by the omega-males who read this blog (and I had to crop the image above to make it suitable) so don’t go googling her, OK?

One of the great joys of teaching is helping the pupils come to realise that they can achieve anything they set their minds to, if they are determined enough.

Don’t worry about being late, I’m sure they’ll be very understanding. Just get in there and do what you came to do.

I read somewhere that one of the many Femsuprem parties now contending for power intends to require all locksmiths to register their businesses and to log all requests for replacement keys in a central database. Seems a bit draconian, but then so, I suppose, are the plans to send sexists to prison camps staffed by whip-wielding guardresses in tight-fitting leather uniforms. And no one’s complaining about that…. no one who matters, anyway.

Of course, if she *does* actually want you to suffer, that might be counter-productive, but I suppose it’s worth a go.

He found life a bit difficult, after the OWK closed down, I heard. But he wouldn’t change a thing, if he had it all to do it again.

Thanks be to women

Aw… he’s going to be all bashful and get confused as he tries to stutter out his question, now. But she won’t mind: she’s nice.

My own employer set up a taskforce to evaluate some external dominatrix service providers – we trialled five of them, which was a bit exhausting for me, as the only male on the team. In the end, though, the choice was easy as the cheapest option surprisingly also turned out to be the most painful. It pays to shop around.

So, ermmm, what are you both up to these days? Apart from this, obviously.

A pair of wonderful French dominatrices there: on the right, the talented and beautiful Maîtresse Blanche who has had the dubioius pleasure of inserting various medical things into Servitor and peeing on me, while on the left I believe is la talentueuse et belle Maîtresse Euryale, who probably has much better facilities into which to relieve herself… but I hope some day may yet find a stinking load of raw, untreated Servitor piled up on her doorstep needing humane disposal.

It’s important not to boil them for too long or you can lose the flavour.

It’s nice to have a change of scene but you know what it’s like with holidays… 24 hours after you get home it’s as if you never left.

Give me the real thing any day. I believe Ms Cassie Hunter is on the shortlist to star in the new one: *50 Shades: Black and Blue.*

I sat down and wrote the best words I could write

Turn, turn again again.

Yes, another one of those turning points.

Nasty and inaccurate prophecies

After a while, though, most wives get a little bored with vanilla apologies and want to spice things up with ever more elaborate contrition scenarios. Still, it’s usually best to humour them, in my worthless opinion.

Remember: serious findommes will always work within a carefully-negotiated framework of consent, so it’s probably more fun to play with the frivolous ones who’ll just drain your finances without a second thought and gleefully leave you penniless and lovesick in the gutter with your life in ruins.

It’s certainly true that it’s less painful for your back than other things she can do – and probably will, when she returns home.

She’s started a collection. It’s good to have a hobby.

You might worry that they’d get into trouble with animal protection groups, but they checked with PETA and all the rest, and apparently they were fine with it, once the whole concept had been properly explained.

He’s often mistaken about things. Just the other day, he told her he really needed an orgasm, but it turned out he didn’t, not really, just as she’d predicted.

Uncomfortable fictions

Just pray she’s using the black rubber end, not the golden shiny ball – now that really hurts.

It can take a while, getting used to inlaws’ family traditions. Just go with it – the important thing is your forthcoming marriage, after all. That’s for life.

That’s why you don’t often see snip-lit set out as a separate category at bookshops, but someone once calculated that over 25% of new fiction sold to women features some kind of removal of male genitalia, so it’s a very important theme.

But her hippocratic oath is secure: she’s not harming him; it’s more in the nature of long-overdue radical treatment to improve matters. Anyway, it’s a debatable point wherther the Oath even applies to males – after all, doctors eliminate bacteria and viruses by the millions and men aren’t much different.

I am actually quite good at maths, and once managed to really irritate a domme who had set up a school scene based on arithmetic tests. Furtunately, it turns out that you can be tawsed and caned almost regardless of aptitude, so the session turned out well.

Anyway, she is a queen, so why not have a chair in which to be one? Honestly, journos get hung up on the silliest things.

And eating it too

A special ‘Pervworld’ post – that’s an occasional series in which I put up captioned images that fall well below the already laughably low bar for plausibility that this blog applies, then try to justify it as being in some way knowing and ironic. See what I did there? It’s like when TV shows get to objectify women, but it’s OK because they’re really just subverting the genre.

And this intro itself is ironically mocking my own ironic use of cheesy fetish tropes to, to… OK maybe I’m over-thinking things. Not a common problem among males like myself, I’ll admit. Hmm? What’s that you say? ‘Shut up and get the fuck on with it, Servitor you annoying little prick’? Sure, happy to.

And a ‘special’. When I saw the site name on these images, I just felt that they had to feature in Pervworld. Get ready to salute the brave girls of the Special Feet Force…

Suitable for a princess

Just another one of those captions that became so long it wasn’t really a caption any more so I’m calling it a story.

Your princess? Really, am I? Aww… that’s nice.

Maybe you’d like to hear your princess tell you a story, hmm? Don’t worry: you can keep doing that. Right between the toes: there’s a good boy.

Once upon the time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in far-off Milton Keynes. She was so beautiful and so talented that men from far and wide fell in love with her. Princes, knights, rich merchant bankers… even footslaves so ugly she had to make them wear latex masks, who loved to lick her sweaty toes. They all fell in love with her, but she really didn’t give a flying fuck, as long as they paid her and gave her presents on special occasions.

Like her birthday: that was the specialest occasion of all. The princess hated it if any of her ungrateful and moronic worshippers forgot her birthday. No – don’t stop doing the foot thing, slave. I’ve got something else planned in a moment, but you can keep doing that for now.

So, at the end of one birthday the princess made a little list of all the slaves who hadn’t fucking bothered to give her a present – who couldn’t even extend her the basic courtesy of an email or something. You know: to take, like, one minute out of their day to wish a happy birthday to the lady they claim is the light of their sad little fucked-up lives. And she decided that the next time each of those nasty little ingrates sessioned with her, she’d give them a really hard pain session, that went way beyond their ‘limits’. Like, for example, her pathetic little footslave who was ‘really not into pain, Mistress’: she decided she was going to clamp his nipples and bollocks with tight, tight clamps and attach heavy weights to them, then whip him raw. Maybe finish off with some electric shocks or ball-busting. Or both.

Of course, the princess realized, it would have to be consensual. But the self-centred bastards who’d forgotten her birthday would be given a choice: consent to the pain session the selfish little sods so richly deserved, or never see Mistress and her beautiful feet ever, ever, ever again. Either way, she thought, next birthday she’d have presents from all her slaves: any who didn’t consent would be living sad lonely lives without her and the remaining ones would be too fucking terrified to forget a second time, after the sheer hell she planned to deal out to them.

Now… I want you to help me write the end of the story, slave. Not the very end, that’s “And the princess lived happily ever after.” It’s the bit just before that. What do you think is going to happen?

No, you can stop licking my foot now – maybe that was for the last time, isn’t it exciting? – and I’ll go and get the bondage cross ready, while you have a think.

The part of the princess in this tale was played by the very lovely and delightful Tiffany Naylor, who does indeed hold court in the magical land of Milton Keynes*, where I once encountered her and very lovely and very delightful she was. Naturally, none of the actions of the fictional dominatrix depicted here should be attributed to the real Tiffany Naylor, although I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets cross if her regulars forget her birthday**, as that’s perfectly normal (and normally perfect) dominatrix behaviour.

* For Americans or other foreigners unfamiliar with this place, Milton Keynes is one of the most historic towns in England. You can easily spend several days there, just strolling around the medieval streets, drinking in the scenic beauty of the old town and swapping stories with its charming inhabitants. Wisely, the local authorities have avoided the excess tourism that has damaged the charm of some other historic English locations, like Stratford on Avon, by ensuring there is little to be found on the Internet about the rich history and architecture of this unspoilt gem, but those in the know regard it as being on the must-see list for any visitor seeking to explore England’s historic treasures.

** 3rd of August!