Category: femdom

Worshipful company

 

If it’s any consolation, she certainly does care about how well you do the chores.
 

 

There’s plenty of boys.
 
 
It’s amazing, what computers can do these days.

 

I asked a domme once for a session in which she would treat me with utter contempt the whole time. I waited for hours in the rain, and she didn’t turn up, even though I’d pre-paid by credit card. Do you think perhaps she misunderstood?
 

 

Don’t worry, if anyone sees you they’ll probably assume you’re a devout pilgrim doing penance as part of a religious observation. Which, in a sense, you are.

Feeling her pain

…it’s just something she likes me to do from time to time.

Strictly speaking, that’s probably against school rules.  I mean, it’s not as if the chalk’s her property, after all.
 

 

It’s up to you whether you sign of course – and feel free to take your time.  She can always do you after lunch, if you can hold out that long.  Not a problem.
 

 

Thank you.  Ahhh.
 

 

That sounds very fair.
 

 

Glad to be of service.  It’s the highlight of my month, actually.

Sometimes I get a funny pain

Please help me in my agony, dear Jane, dear Jane, dear Jane.

 

 

Actually, you only booked an hour and half. So that’s an extra half hour free!  Guess you won that one, huh?
 

 

Not at all.  As a matter of fact, I’m going to beg for it.
 

 

Ymmmnneh Mnnntrrrcch!
 
 
 
If you can’t choose, just take a few.  She’ll choose.  Or maybe she won’t.
 

 

I’m sure when Suzie comes, this whole silly misunderstanding will quickly be resolved.

A marriage of obedience


A problem shared… 
 

 

 
 

 

She’s just helping you put it in context.  Don’t forget to be grateful.
 

 

Worth it all for that one night of passion, though, huh?  Huh?
 
 

 

Best just to be passive and forget the aggression.

This is the lovely Gigi Allens from ClareSpanksMen and many other places.  More about her – mostly made up, but illustrated with lots of pictures – here.



Maybe.



Memories, memories, sweet memories

Yes, to bring in the new year, what better than to look back – with more recollections from the lovely ladies of the sadly now defunct Other World Kingdom. 

Well, completely made up stuff from the mind of servitor, anyway.  But I do have a general disclaimer over there to the right, if you care to look.  This blog does not make a fetish of realism.  Muddy boots, yes, sissy panties, certainly, but realism – not so much.

This is the second in a series of, well, two at the moment but you never know.  Here’s the first.

Ladies – over to you.

 

 

 

 

If you like this, you might like http://poorlydressedominatrixes.tumblr.com/  too.

If it isn’t hurting…

…then you’re wasting your money.

 

Actually, I think she just wants to see you get beaten up.

 

The rule is that only the lower brown stripe can still be visible, before the traffic stick treatment can be considered complete.
 
 
It’s good that she’s so broadminded.  I’ll get me coat…
 

 

It’s what your right arm’s for.


It’s amazing the things they can do with CGI special effects these days.  They can actually make it look as if flesh is being burnt off with a red-hot brand, you know.  But her method’s better.

Bah, humbug

Mistress Valerie stars in a Christmas Movie

We begin by meeting Edmund Scrooge, a brash,
charmless, sexist 30-something yuppie in charge of a team of female office
workers.  We see him throwing his weight
around, making sexist comments and denying them any time off at Christmas
(“Unless you want to come round and cook my turkey, girls!”). 
Off he goes, bragging loudly on his mobile
about (quite imaginary) sexual conquests at work, before going down the pub
with his equally obnoxious mates to try out cheesy chat-up lines on
uninterested women.  He returns
(unsuccessful, of course, and drunk) to his bachelor pad, watches a porn video
and has a wank, before crashing out on the couch.


But this Christmas is different.  The ghost of his old drinking partner Joseph
Marley appears in the bachelor pad in the middle of the night, and what a
change from when Scrooge knew him!  He
clanks as he moves; heavy steel chains connecting shackles around his wrists
to the heavy steel collar around his neck, and trailing down from a heavy belt
around his waist to steel shackles around his ankles.  As he shambles forward we see a chastity belt
clamped firmly on his genitals and above his well-striped buttocks we see a
tattoo reading “Property of Mistress Valerie. 
Not to be removed without 
permission.” 
Marley has learnt
from Mistress Valerie the errors of his male chauvinist past – and he is here
with an awful warning for Scrooge to mend his ways!  Three spirits will help him in this task.


We begin with Mistress Valerie of Christmas past.  We see Scrooge, as the adult he is today but
in his childhood clothes, opening his presents on Christmas morning.  He has many but is dissatisfied and complains,
as each gift fails to meet his expectations. 
But then his weary parents fade from view, and Governess Valerie
appears: to show him what might have been had his upbringing been
stricter.  Each present is wrapped again,
and the tawse applied to his hands each time. 
He unwraps each again in turn,, with appropriately polite cries of
delight – and rewrapping each again for a dose of the tawse if  Governess Valerie deems his response too
churlish.  So it goes through the
day.  He gets the strap for not eating up
his sprouts, his knuckles are repeatedly rapped for cheating at Monopoly and
eventually Governess Valerie has had enough and administers a vigorous caning
before the boy is sent to bed.  Back in
the present day …Scrooge wakes up howling on the couch, his hands feel his bottom
incredulously, and he makes his way painfully to work.
 
 


The next night, it is the turn of Mistress Valerie of
Christmas present.  Here we see Scrooge
in the only place he is fit to encounter a lady: tied to the cross in Mistress Valerie’s
dungeon.  She enters, a classic
dominatrix, dressed in PVC.  She
introduces him to all of the modern techniques of punishment: electro play,
bondage and suspension, nipple clamps and flogging.  He is forced to lick clean Her boots, is tied
to act as an ashtray and is fed dog food. 
His genitals are tied, clamped, whipped and then shocked repeatedly with
an insect zapper.  Finally, he is wired
up to Mistress Valerie’s motion-sensitive e-stim and flogged with a long
leather whip, the motion detector clamped firmly between his teeth.  …Back in the present day, Scrooge at work has
his head down, not making eye contact with any of his staff, and he
involuntarily cringes as his secretary leans over the printer and innocently
asks “Shall I switch it on?”

 
 

On the third night, we meet Mistress Valerie of Christmas
yet to come.  Scrooge is an old man now,
gaunt and tired.  We see him in an apron
and nothing else, doing dishes and other chores around a kitchen.  We see his buttocks, striped and ridged after
what must have been decades of punishment. 
From the steel chastity belt around his waist, hangs a slightly rusty
padlock.  A handbell tinkles and he
hurries as well as his old bones can carry him to the living room, where
Mistress Valerie, eternally youthful, indicates his duties with a languid
finger.  It is obvious that his servitude
has been so long and so repetitive that no words need any longer be
spoken.  Mistress Valerie’s friends are
around for Christmas day, and we see them opening presents and laughing.  Some slaves are present, young fit and
obviously happy to be fulfilling their fantasies.  But Scrooge moves around silently performing
his chores, his face blank.  He carries
out his chores efficiently, obviously well schooled in his tasks and is at no
stage acknowledged by any of the party. 
Finally Mistress Valerie beckons him over, says “50” and hands him a
whip, without looking up.  We see him
retreat to a bare room and, alone, begin to lash his buttocks.  Fade out.

We fade back in again to see Mistress Valerie of Christmas
yet to come alone, surrounded by post-Christmas mess.  She is on the phone and saying “Yes, I’m
going to need a new slave.  I had that
last one for thirty-two years, but I suppose nothing lasts for ever“, and the
camera pulls back to reveal a pile of stuffed rubbish bags outside the front
door waiting to be collected.  One is in
the shape of a kneeling human form…

Back in the present, Scrooge wakes up in a cold sweat.  We see him heading out the door in a frantic
rush, and stopping off at a little shop in Soho on his way in to work.  In the office, to the ladies’ puzzlement,
there are presents for all: each receives a pair of new shoes and an implement:
paddles, canes, straps and whips. 
Scrooge explains that he has seen the error of his ways, and begs them
for some ‘performance management’.  The
ladies tuck into mince pies and chat delightedly, as, one by one, they recall
their boss’s most unpleasant habits, and exact a much-needed revenge. 

The camera pulls back from this scene of
Christmas cheer, the giggles and howls fading out, and we see Mistress Valerie,
watching approvingly from afar, a smile on Her face and a whip in Her hand…

 

 

This is one of the very first femdom stories I ever wrote.  I started because the first domme I ever had the pleasure of visiting – a lovely lady, thinly disguised as Mistress Valerie in these early tales – commanded me to write first of all an account of my sessions and then (when that became tedious and repetitive) stories.  I think my writing style has changed… not necessarily for the better.  Anyway, an icy blast from the past, there so wrap up warm.
 
Oh – and here’s an unrelated photo, too.  And a Merry Christmas to one and all!
 
She knows if you’ve been bad or good…
 

These lovely boots exist to drive it round the twist

The call of nature must be obeyed.

 
 

 

She actually has very high standards for sorryness. You’ll see.
 

 

It’s her own recipe.
 
 
Hmmm… edgy blackmail play.  Got to love it.  No really, you do.
 

 

Love her, love her cane, I suppose.
 

 

She has her own way of dealing with problems.


Boys only want love if it’s torture

Regular “readers” will know that my musical tastes rarely extend beyond about 1988.  But I am prepared to make an exception for Mistress Swift.

On with the rest of it… femdom captions, dominatrices, chastity, all those words that get search engines so excited, you know?

Oh no, not again.
 

 

You could try calling her tomorrow.  “Hi!  It’s William from last night.  That’s right, the one with the small penis.  Listen, I was wondering…”
 

 

NO!  Not the comfy chair!
 

 

Well… I hope someone’s asked Andy if he’s OK sharing his cucky closet, that’s all.  Some men can be a bit funny about that sort of thing – it’s their own special place, you know?
 
 

 

…and then if that gets too much, the electric shocks will take your mind off the pain from the welts.