financial management – Contemplating the divine

Well-managed relationships

Oh – a CtD post on a Thursday! Hmm, you say. Must be an extra, because Servitor is celebrating the blog’s fifteenth anniversary. And certainly not because silly Servitor messed up the dates in scheduling the posts and thought 29 January was a Friday and noticed too late to delete it, as Sam had already commented. No no no no no… So, yeah, an extra post, because Friday’s post ~~hurriedly recscheduled from later in February~~ will obviously come out as normal tomorrow.

They say the secret of a successful relationship is mutual respect. Which just goes to show how little ‘they’ know. She says the secret of a successful relationship is tyranny and fear and I really can’t disagree with her on that.

Findommes… the unsung heroines of the consumer economy.

It’s funny, back when I was dating, two of the girls I – OK, OK *both* of the girls I slept with – rated my perfomance as the ‘worst fuck in human history’. Which doesn’t strike me as being right, as one of those fucks must have been worse than the other. Of course, I’m using ‘sleep’ as a euphemism – I never actually ‘slept’ with them, if you know what I mean: they threw me out. But not before I’d had my eighteen seconds of passion!

He didn’t wonder why she was constructing a prison cell in the cellar? Ah, love makes one blind. So does masturbation, ‘they’ say, although my SO says red-hot needles are actually more effective.

I wonder… have any subs who’ve been in this situation ever been tempted to stop brushing for just a moment, turn the hairbrush round and administer a sharp, stinging… I mean, I’m not saying I have, of course! Just to be clear, ahem. But it’s like – or I *imagine* it *would* be like – that feeling you get standing on the edge of a cliff, you know? That you could just… jump. Only a lot more dangerous than that, obviously.

Ah, Gigi Allens. A lady with plenty of inches and strong hips to back them up.

Yes, what a touching story. I like to imagine that every time she sees them sparkle, she’s reminded of how she has lots of other lovely necklaces too. Long-time readers will of course be well aware that my visions of the future show that in her political career, President Annie will re-orient male vocational training towards traditional, manly, backbreaking labour or domestic tasks, so really the college fund was no loss.

Success is not an option

All poets need a muse – and if you can find one who’ll twist your testicles until the rhymes come, so much the better.

I was only asking for directions to the nearest metro station. Oh well, go with it.

It’s actually one of the few sports where women and men play together at the highest level, although men’s careers are generally much shorter.

Ah, the good old days. I don’t *like* having a king. ‘His majesty’s ship’ – it just sounds ridiculous, and sends entirely the wrong signals, as we all prepare for the inevitable World War M.

And never brought to mind?

Another year dawns, full of hope and denial. Wishing all my male readers a humiliating and unpleasant year, in which your desires, dreams and fingertips are all crushed beneath an elegant boot.

No doubt, many of you printed off and proudly hung up last year’s CtD calendar, featuring the moist and pungent girls of our sister publication, Armpit Fetishist Monthly. Slightly pointlessly, because it didn’t actually have any dates on it, but no one ever said males were smart, right?

This year’s calendar is equally pointless, to match your pointless lives. It’s a chastity calendar, or chastendar as no one likes to say, in which the absence of any dates allows you all to avoid the misery of noticing that she has not circled one single day in red. Maybe one day she will? Anyway: another year… 365 days… more than thirty-one million seconds, I understand. Enjoy watching them tick by…

Denial and service

In contrast, I think you’ll agree you do need the heavy strap. Quite frequently.

Treasure doesn’t usually believe in animals being kept in cages. But she’s prepared to make an exception.

Most sex workers lost their livelihoods when the Femsuprem government banned males from possessing money, but dominatrices transitioned to the new female-led economy just fine.

This blog favours males leading unhappy abnormal lives, and the women who are prepared to make that happen for us.

Kitten likes cars, but when they get old and a bit worn you need new ones – like clothes and pay-pigs.

You have placed a lock around my heart

NB: still having some problems with the spam filter on comments. It has somehow become much stricter and while this blog generally celebrates extremes of strictness, this does seem to be overly restrictive (I can tell it’s not just that no one is speaking to me, because the small proportion of actual scummy spam that usually gets through has gone to zero). I have tried changing the settings and I might do more of that, but the most important thing if you are blocked is to request access, then try again about a day later, as your IP address should then be on the allow list.

There’s always a next month. Just try to remember that.

Actually, the boyfriend’s non-exclusive as Stumpy’s having much more success attracting sex partners than he ever had before he was mounted on a trolley – the sign encouraging punters to use him in any way they like probably helps.

Maybe she can do an in-kind exchange thing. He gives her a discount on the car and in return she takes his money and ignores him. If you have a valuable, marketable skill, you should use it wherever possible.

She’s bad with names. She forgot yours years ago.

She does occasionally feel mean, it’s true.

The lovely Maya Sin, who once made me memorise a French poem while tied hand and foot. She now appears to have retired so no link for you, perves!

Best sushi-eating scene in cinematic history is here.

A woman scorning

with hellish fury…

NB: I believe there are still some problems with the antivirus thing preventing people posting comments. Obviously the fault of a male somewhere and I hope he gets his comeuppance. If you request access, I will approve and then your IP address goes on an approved list and you should be OK.

Always a good idea to have a best man who’s a better man than you. And his jokes will be something to chuckle over, when you’re sweeping up the mess after he and your lovely bride have departed for the honeymoon.

Fortunately, it’s not a recurrent condition… unless you annoy them again, obviously.

What Mistress doesn’t know about can’t hurt, surely? Or can it?

You might say she has an electrifying effect on the men she meets. That would be a terrible mistake and you would bitterly regret saying it, but you *can* if you really want to.

I find making choices difficult. Fortunately, I am rarely presented with any, these days.

Kitten likes to focus on the important things in her life. You’re no longer among them.

Tears are not enough

Slam that door, slap my face.

That damn flicker. Better try to get it under control, now you’re married.

She likes locks. She likes the look of them, she likes the sound they make gently clinking inside your trousers when you’re out together…

I got lost once, Followed the wrong pair of heels… suddenly looked up and *gulp*! The lady was very nice, though and took me home, where she got talking to my SO and one thing led to another and… well, let’s just say I didn’t get my whipping for being lost until quite late the following morning!

Dommes say the funniest things. One beautiful lady once tied me to the bed and giggled sexily in my ear about how much she’d like to take my cock in her mouth and nibble it gently before taking firm hold with her hand and pumping… pumping… The silly thing must have forgotten she’d locked me in a tight chastity restrainer! But I didn’t say anything to embarass her.

In the event, she did turn up, about an hour late, with some of her friends, all wearing tight boob tubes and leather miniskirts. They got drunk and started shouting mocking abuse at all the sad little physics spods and speccy chemistry nerds sharing the stage, and made them hand over their medals, which they referred to as ‘lunch money’.

Finally, a quick note about comments here on this blog. The anti-spam thingy (to use a technical term) seems to have been a bit too cautious of late, with some commenters being blocked. Sorry about that. If you are, I think you can request approval. I do see those (might take a day or two) and I’ll always approve any that aren’t obvious spam marketers. I think once you’re on the approved list you’re fine forever but I’m not sure – the anti-spam stuff keeps having to change to stay ahead. I’d love to just switch it off, but I see the list of spammy comments it has blocked and believe me, there are hundreds every week so that’s not an option.