Category: feet

There’s a two-legged animal running about

 … but if it’s kneeling down on one knee, I reckon things are probably OK.


It can be more complicated for them to find better quality ‘playmates’, as those are often reported as missing after a while.  Which isn’t a problem – she’s even had some minor celebrities who’ve disappeared into her playroom – but it’s an added complication.


With a bit of luck, maybe Pookie will get bored of having monthly orgasms after a while and stop trying so hard.  Then it’ll be your turn.  Just give it time.


Looks like you have an extra 45 minutes free!  Whatever will you do with it?  Ironing, dusting… the possibilities are almost endless (within the very limited range of things you’re permitted to do, obviously).  Later on, it looks like there’ll be quite a lot of chocolate stains to clean up, so best to get ahead on the regular chores.




She’s enjoying it in a non-sexual way… and if you’re as exhausted and sore as she implies, you’re probably hating it in a non-sexual way too.  So that’s very compatible.



She’s quite tender-hearted, so she’ll be upset when she comes back from her next trip to the forest but I expect Vanya 2 can cheer her up.







Mocking the weak

 Some scenes we’d like to see.


Reminds me of my very first date… the girl I was with kept on comparing my penis size with that of this other guy she knew.  Or maybe she’d never met him before… I don’t know actually.  He was a bit embarrassed about the whole situation, but she offered him a blow job so he went along with it.




Now you are an grown man and have put childish things behind you.   Haven’t you?



There are lots of things I’m better at than I am at sex.  In fact, almost an infinite number.




Oh I don’t know.  Seems to me to have done pretty well.  Anyway, you never know, they might get back together now they’ve found a modus vivandi.





Plenty of orgasms in that household. Does one more or less per month really make that much of a difference?


She’s also beautiful when she’s not angry

 … but it’s not quite as much fun.


You might find you get to like it.  Or you might not.  She doesn’t really care, so why should you?

Divine Mistress Heather and her divine feet and divine attitude.



When she says ‘using it’ she doesn’t mean… you know.  Not in public, that would be disgusting.  Anyway, it hasn’t been three months yet, has it?




She gets bored and loses track of time, poor thing.  I expect she’ll get better at it, eventually.




Sounds like she’s got a tough decision to take.  I hope it doesn’t keep her from having a good night’s sleep.



I expect you’ve been wondering how some glammed-up domme could simply walk into a police station, with a client in a pink latex dress, march straight past the officers on duty, put the client in a cell and walk out without anyone challenging her, right?  I certainly have been.  I guess we’ll never know.


A few bad men

Let’s hope she learns from this little conundrum.  An espresso machine prepared and ready to go just within button-pressing reach of a pilloried hand and she can have her aching, tearful, regretful husband and a freshly brewed cup, both at the same time. 




Most of the choices I face are no-brainers, which all the women who have ever known me would probably agree is just as well.

Princess Kali, there – lovely and an accomplished author too.



She could even theme your confession with the outfit by putting the lasso of truth around you. That would be a nice, gentle start to what is about to happen.


 

Let’s hope the greeting ritual she chooses is number 17.  I’m particularly good at that one.

 


 

Come on… you’ve got this.  Two pawns down is nothing – you started with ten of them, right?  Something like that.  Try moving one of the little horsey ones.

More in indifference than in anger

Actually, female spiders eat their mates in only a minority of spider species and you’re in luck – the one that bit her is not from one of them.  So I’m not even sure why she’s doing this, actually, but I’m sure if you point that fact out she’ll let you go.

 


Actually, the company medical plan does cover males but only for a few, specified surgical procedures.

 

 

 

Just go with it, see where it takes you.  She’s not going to rush anything, plenty of time.

 

You might develop a foot fetish, eventually.  And if you can develop a fetish for doing chores too you should have a very enjoyable marriage.  Oh – and findom, too.  Yeah, you definitely want to try to get into findom because there’s going to be a lot of that.
 
 
 

Irony… it’s like rain on your wedding day – which actually isn’t all that ironic, it’s just bloody uncomfortable, take it from me, especially when you’re chained up naked outside the church waiting for the bride.


 

Womanly vices

Sure she can.  Lucy doesn’t mind a few bruises on her toys – if anything, it can make them even more sensitive.


 

She finds it pretty annoying working for a male CEO, actually, which is why it’s so important that she can talk through her day and work off some of those frustrations when she gets home.

 

 

A bit more lube, maybe?

 

It’s as if your pain receptors are directly linked to the pleasure centres of her brain.  It’s great when a couple just ‘clicks’ like that.




He didn’t have the nerve to ask whether she allows her clients ‘happy endings’ but she does – specifically, she unties them and lets them limp away.


 

Dumb hearts get broken

 

I just hate feeling useless…

 

 

 

Actually, the little hole can be opened up wider.  But not for food.

 

 

Pookles is beginning to wonder whether he should put his foot down in this relationship. Or just throw himself on the floor and scream uncontrollably.

 

Don’t try to understand women’s sexuality.  It’s more complex and subtle than the male variety.

 

 

Maybe she’ll let you kiss her feet afterwards, before dragging yourself from her presence.

 

 

And a little bit of found femdom for you. This is the webcomic Fluffy Bunny, which seems to be quite old but I had not encountered before.  Mostly it’s a bit too cute for my tastes, but I did like this one:


 

 

 

 

Painfully accurate

Thank goodness for that. Generally, this blog disapproves of the use of painkillers on men – just seems wrong and counterproductive, somehow – but this could be an exception.




It’s for her book club. They’re meeting here this week, I think – you still OK to serve the snacks?



Just goes to show it’s not all about the money.



Oooh… romantic evening ahead!



Angghwagh Mughwough!



Tread softly, for you tread on my…

…actually, modesty forbids me from saying what she was treading on.  Let’s just say that she crushed my hopes and severely injured my pride.

 
That should take your mind off the pain from the ring she just put on you.
Has she ever considered just walking around the horse shit?  I mean, that would be so much more considerate, right?
Yet another example of a failure properly to consider Rule #18, here.
So much better to resolve these things without having to involve the insurance companies.  Paying and fucking off is actually one of my favourite femdom activities, so it’s even a bit of a turn on too!
Men in this day and age have to realise that there is nothing inherently humiliating about being financially dependent on a woman. The humiliation, if any, is all in the way it is done.






Shattered ever after


“My other daughter, Cinderella”, the merchant
gabbled, bowing low to the Prince and his party. A
haughty young blonde strode into the room, sat down in the armchair and
crossed her booted legs.  She stared with contempt at her father and step-sisters, huddled together against the back wall.  

“Well?” she demanded.  “Get on with your chores” and she watched them scurry from the room, stammering their apologies.


The Prince sank to his knees before her.  “May I?” he murmured, reaching out with a
trembling hand.  She nodded curtly and the Prince slowly
unzipped her boot with his right hand, cradling the heel in his left. A moist,
warm miasma emerged as the loosened boot was gently lifted free.

“Sorry about the smell.  Been on my feet all day”, Cinderella
explained.

“It’s, erm… it’s no problem at all.” gasped the
Prince.   “You know, Lord Chamberlain, I think we don’t even
need to try the slipper. 
This is obviously the right pair of… pair of feet.” and he moved closer,
his face hovering just above the damp, stockinged foot. 

“Oh yes.  Yes: these are the feet.”

“Are you sure, your Majesty?” the Chamberlain
replied.  “They look a little on the
large side to -”

“Well then the slipper must have shrunk!”
snapped the prince, not taking his eyes from the foot he held so gently.

“Shrunk, Sire?” the Chamberlain replied, one eyebrow
raised.  “The glass
slipper?”

The Prince turned on him in fury. 
“How dare you question your Prince! 
Arrest this man!  I shall decide
what to do with him later.”

“Perhaps a few years in the salt mines?” Cinderella suggested. “With hard labour? I’ve heard that can be quite
effective.”

The Prince looked up into her blue eyes in shock.  “That’s quite a harsh, erm… well, for a man in
his age and condition…
I think…” he tailed off, noting a distinct pout coming over the lovely features
above him.

“Quite right, my dear, of course.” he continued.  “As you wish.”

Her restored smile seemed
to light up the room.  “And we won’t be needing
that silly thing” she added, indicating the glass slipper with an elegant
finger.  The finger pointed towards a spot on the
floor, where the Prince placed it. 

Stand back”, she instructed.  And down
came Cinderella’s other, still-booted, foot shattering the slipper into ten
thousand iridescent shards.

“Oh dear” she smiled.  “So now I suppose whoever’s foot fits into that gets to be Queen?”, and the Prince raised the boot he was holding in shaking hands towards her gracefully-pointed toes.

And it was a perfect fit.