First footing

This is a British – mainly Scottish – custom, which might not be understood by readers from the rest of the world.  It refers to the first foot-worship session of the new year (or, in the rougher parts of Glasgow, the first ball-busting session of the new year).  

It is considered a great sign of good luck to first-foot a domme, having previously negotiated her complicated booking form and waited for several days wondering whether or not it would be appropriate to send a respectful reminder.  If granted an audience, and having sent the deposit at least a week before and a text confirming, on the day, the first-footer arrives precisely two minutes before the time of the appointment bringing gifts – sometimes Champagne, gifts of expensive lingerie or other stuff that she has identified on her wishlist (but not anything else) – and also, most crucially, an unsealed envelope stuffed with cash. 

Traditionally, the first-footer is greeted warmly by the domme, while stuttering in embarassment, and proceeds to a session in which she makes sure he gets at least some, but not all, of the rather random stuff he wrote about in his email or on her booking form. Foot massaging will take place in the last half hour or so, and she pretends he’s actually surprisingly good at it.  Then the session is brought to a close, in perfect time to finish on the dot, even though she did not look once at a clock. He gets dressed again, offers to help clean up and is politely declined, and makes stilted conversation for a bit, wondering why on earth he was so nervous when he arrived.  He then heads off into the night, thinking it a bit weird to be walking among vanilla people with his sore bottom, feeling edgy and decadent, and wondering what they would say if they knew.


So… yeah, OK, it’s not all that different from a regular foot-worship session, to be honest.  Unless I forgot to mention the haggis?


Anyway, new year same old… oh, I’ve even done that joke before.  Ninth year of the blog!  Bloody hell.  Don’t any of us have anything better to do?

Kinksters might occasionally be surprised by how ready vanilla folks might be to indulge them in their fetish.  I think it’s fair to say, for example, that every girl I’ve ever had a date with has totally been into the idea of chastity play and orgasm denial.  In fact, I don’t recall any of them permitting me any sort of sexual activity whatsoever.  Guess there’s more kink out there than we assume, huh?
She doesn’t get a lot of repeat business.  That’s why she has to charge so much.

It’s important to understand that it’s not gay to give another man a foot massage. Or a blow job. 
Wag wag wag wag wag…
You can do anything but don’t come on her brown suede boots.










The angel at my side…

…. she gives me good advice.

Actually, the idea that men can’t multi-task is a complete myth.  Men who think they can’t just need to meet a woman with the right attitude.  It’s just laziness.
Don’t worry… they don’t tug hard.  She does, but that’ll be the scrotal clip, not the nipple… so not so bad.

Life as a conversation piece.

Oh well. It’s better than coming back down to ‘discuss’ it while they’re still here.  I hate that.
Decisions, decisions.   Thank goodness I never have to make any.

Feet first


It’s got to turn out my way one of these times…

Hmm… looks like she’s finished all of that bottle of water.
If it were being totally candid, it might suggest that it would occasionally appreciate being whipped just a little less hard, but fortunately it has the sense to keep its moronic opinions to itself.
I don’t see how the marriage can be regarded as consummated unless she has had sex too.  Hmm…  do you suppose that bell-boy is still around?  He seemed nice.
I think he’ll be cleaning her tank again.


Tears before, during and after bedtime

It’s actually quite high in calories, but don’t worry about that because you’re unlikely to be able to keep much of it down.











Thank goodness for that.  I think you can just leave the case in her capable hands.








I dunno – I find shops vary in the degree to which they are kink-friendly. Once I was sent to find some gear for an adult baby session and for some reason the staff in the ‘early years’ shop got all weird about it when I started asking about how strong their leather reins sets were, and whether the cots could be fitted with padlocks. But then on another occasion, I had to buy a hairbrush and the shop assistant in the department store I went to was delighted to help me try every one of them out.  Said it was something she wished she could do to more customers.  So you never know.











Silly boys.  Reinforced seat trousers do little good when they’re around your ankles, anyway.









Male brains don’t multi-task. Mine barely tasks at all, to be honest.  Now then: I was writing a caption..?


Merciless heavens


But don’t forget your manners: introduce her to your workmates too, as otherwise they’ll feel awkward.




Don’t worry, she’ll give you something later to wash away the nasty taste.



Better than those guys who accidentally press the button when the camera’s pointing downward and take pictures of their dicks.

Never liked blindfolds or hoods… this is why.


Not too big, not too small.


My company was charming

Well, what am I supposed to do with the other 38 seconds, then?








Thank goodness she’s looking out for me.




Don’t try to argue or plead your way out of it – it’s one of those Mars/Venus things, you know?  She’s got some emotional issues that need to be worked out and until Gerald arrives, you’re the only one she can turn to.






In the femdom community, athlete’s foot is considered an STD.






You’ll notice she hasn’t put the surfboard on the fire yet. Another Mars/Venus moment, yeah?  Any ideas why ? Hmm?  No? Sigh…because she’s waiting to see if you’ll do it yourself without being specifically asked, you unfeeling brute. Obviously, this relationship is going to need a lot of work.


Doing it Her way

He doesn’t look very brave.
Actually, men in relationships always hate it when their partners throw out their stuff. I remember the day my SO sent all my clothes to the charity shop.  I cried for days at the time but She told me I’d thank Her for it eventually, and so of course I did.
Hmm. I wonder if I should ask him to pay some of the cost… this wasn’t cheap and he got all the fun.
He’s lucky. I have to fill a whole page with silver or gold stars to earn any kind of reward.
Yes, best to keep it vanilla at first.  And then you can move on to more adventurous play when you get to know each other a little better.


Shameful display!




20 minutes? Women, eh?  I can get there in 20 seconds, usually before I’ve even got my trousers off.

,,,and footboys are sworn to the code of secrecy.  Also, rarely if ever allowed to go out or communicate with anyone except Mistress.

They proved it scientifically, using double-blind tests. 125 blindfolded men were slapped across the face repeatedly, over a period of three years (while others received equivalent amounts of pain in other ways, as a control).  On average, memory retention increased by 2.3%, on a statistically significant basis. The effect wasn’t uniform, though. Some subjects benefitted a lot, but fully 17% of the men receiving the slapping treatment were unable to remember anything at all from their lives before the programme started.  There’s obviously a lot still to learn, but the Institute just received a €8 million grant, so research continues.

 

He likes her to be pristine for when he comes on her breasts. 

Just what I always say.  It’s all very well to say that men and women should be equal in status and respect, but naughty bottoms don’t spank themselves, do they, so there has to be some differentiation of roles in marriage.  That’s a nice-looking corner, just behind them, by the way, don’t you think?  I expect they make good use of that.


Cause you’re my lady, I’m your fool

… so beat me up before you go go

I occasionally have difficulty getting through passport control, admittedly.  But I always have a permit to travel signed by a responsible female, so it’s OK.
 The lovely Goddess Lexi on the right there.  And… another lovely goddess on the left  I’m sure one of you will tell me who that is, won’t you?


She’s so professional, it hurts. It hurts a lot.

Because reasons?  No? OK – I’ll get back to work.

And this goddess is Mistress Arella.  I knew that without even looking at the label, there.  Czech, you know. I wonder if it’s something in that country’s history…. invaded by Germans, Russians… and I’ve heard the frost is cru-el.

She must have another cummyshoe for goodness sake.  They sell them in pairs.  Why does it always have to be this one?






I personally think that a boy can do almost any job a woman can do. Just not as well and only under strict female supervision.

Put in place

So I’m just supposed to hang around until she’s ready to talk, eh? Tsk. Bloody typical.

Mmm… keys.

You can give upward feedback too.  From waaaay down there.

Hmm.  Quite a predicament!  Hope little wifey doesn’t smell the smoke!  You know what she’s like…
She really shouldn’t have to worry about damage to boys’ internal organs. After all, damage to their external organs is so much more fun.


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