Category: financial management

Under control

You’re lucky she’s so tolerant of your failings.  Imagine life if she wasn’t…

 

 

 

It’s one of those marriages where they don’t need to keep reaffirming their commitment, but just show it every day in the way they behave towards one another.

 


Thank goodness for that.  He was considering whether he might have to ask at work for some proportion of his salary to be paid to him directly, instead of into his wife’s account, just for that month, but he was dreading that because it would seem so weird.

 

 

Good to know who’s in charge.  Don’t worry: your wife has agreed some hard limits and anyway, she has a safeword.

 

 

 

Sounds like a great set-up for a CFNCSMM scene: that’s ‘Clothed Female, Naked, Cold, Shivering and Miserable Male’.  Sadly, neither of them are into that. Not sexually, anyway.

Delightfully despotic

Better do as she says.  But with dignity, right?  Always with dignity.

 

 

 

For those of you objecting that getting an erection is a natural reaction to the situation, merely an expression of sexual desire, should realise that exactly the same argument applies to her giving you powerful electric shocks.

She needn’t hurry.  This isn’t going to be over any time soon.  Not ever, actually.

 

 

She’s not saying it’s a hard limit, mind.

 

 

 

Maybe since she broke her side of the bargain, you should ask for all the presents back? It’s only fair.  Admittedly, fairness has never really been big in this relationship.

 

Resolute women

They always make sure that their New Year resolutions are kept.


It’s odd, because generally she prefers to be asked for her approval for everything I do.


Now this one’s just putting on a show of indifference to suit the ‘callous uncaring domme’ persona.  Inside, she’s a swirling mess of worry that licking up cow shit might make you horribly ill, but she is concealing it – true professional that she is.



She does teasing and denial play too.  That’s when you pay her and fuck off, frustrated and lonely.  It’s only very subtly different from the findomme variant, to be honest.



Happiest day of your life, boy.  Remember that.



Looks like she has stuff lying around the house she doesn’t need or want any more.  Many people do, at this time of year.  Best to just take the bold decision to throw it out, rather than leave it cluttering the place up.  She won’t regret it.





Nonjudgemental cruelty

Hmmm… nothing springs to mind. Still, as long as the two of you are talking about it, that’s a good start.



There’s also a scheme now to get paid to feed power back into the grid, which might explain why so many dommes these days have started offering treadmill sessions.

 

 

 

All kinds of feelings can be communicated through dance: humiliation, shame, timidity… it’s a very expressive medium.

 

 

He won’t be able to afford to pay for any more domination sessions, poor chap, but maybe he’ll have had his fill of that sort of thing by then.



 


Fortunately it is a mistake that is easy to rectify.  Easy for the person doing the actual rectifying, anyway.

 

 

Slavish devotion

I don’t mind being ice cream coned in public – let’s face it, guys, we’ve all been there – but I do object to having to wait in the queue to buy her another one, with the cream oozing slowly through my hair and down my face. Especially as I know that second one’s only going into my trousers.  But my SO says it’s better that way.

 


Shoe fetishists have it easy.  So do humiliation freaks like me, actually: I mean, even the very worst, most cringe-making car-crash of a date can turn out to have been the best ever.

 

 

 

I suppose they could go and put the kettle on, then bring him out a nice hot steaming mug. Honestly, dommes can overcomplicate things some time.

These lovely ladies are at the English Mansion and the lady on the right there is Mistress Vixen, who also plays the piano rather sweetly.  ‘Behind the scenes footage of dommes not realising they were being filmed’ is an under-served fetish, possibly because it often ends in the destruction of valuable cameras (and less valuable cameramen).

 

 

It’s more difficult than it looks, you know.

 

 

She’s not easily impressed, to be honest. Especially by males who are inherently very unimpressive.


 

That’s your lot for today, I’m afraid!  You know the drill by now: five CtD captions, twice a week plus an occasional weekend ‘special’.  But fear not, for I bring tidings of discomfort of the most joyful kind: unto us is born a new blog.  Or, to put it less pretentiously, check out The Age of Femocracy by spicegrinder, a long-standing commentator on this blog.  It seems likely to feature brutal oppression, humiliation, pain and other fun stuff like that so do give it a go.

Sexual wealing

Interestingly (well… as near to being interesting as anything gets on this damp and flaccid excuse for a blog), the word ‘weal’ means both ‘a ridge or mark on flesh raised with a blow of a whip’ and ‘wealth or happiness’. Which to my mind – like the fact that ‘stroke’ means both a caress and the lash of a whip – just goes to show that there’ve been subbies around for as long as the English language has existed.  Chaucer’s ‘The Ffyndomme’s Tayle’ being a case in point, I suppose, or Shakespeare’s ‘Loves Labours Forced.’

Anyway.

Captions.


Interestingly, that rather racy outfit she’s wearing is modeled on that worn by Playboy’s Playmate of the Month from October 1842.

Attentive ‘readers’ will obviously have recognised the compassionate and sweet-tempered Cassie Hunter, the Hunteress.  You can tell she is feeling particularly merciful and forgiving, on this occasion, from the gentle smile on her lips. 

 

 

 

Honestly, if her sissy were a bit more familiar with orgasms himself he might have realised how totally inappropriate that request was.  Not that I’m excusing his selfish behaviour, you understand.

 

 

I’ve never really understood what ‘SPH play’ really consists of.  I mean, if we’re not doing ‘SPH play’ what’s she going to talk about – the weather?

 

 

 

Sometimes she puts a little extra in.  Other times she takes a little extra out.



What, all of them?


 

 

 

 



Everything she wants, any way she likes, right now

She was beside herself with worry, the poor thing. Nothing to worry about now… for her to worry about, I mean.


It
might add to it, if anything.  But it’s nice when it finishes – or when
the weals heal, a week or so later, depending on the severity.

 

 

 

In the event, she realised of course that she didn’t actually want a slave with a bashed in face and a pulped, deformed nose, snuffling around the whole time.  So both of them ended up having to leave.  Funny how some people just don’t think things through, isn’t it?  Still, no real harm done and I guess she learned something.

 

 

 

Oh dear, that wasn’t a very tactful thing to say.  She’s not an unkind person, you understand; it’s just never occurred to her not to despise you.

 

 

 

If Kitten can’t have nice things, why should you have nice things?

 

 

 

For those of you who might have sleepless nights worrying about Kitten not being as happy as she deserves to be, all the time, I am delighted to share the following picture:

 

Isn’t that lovely?  Doesn’t it make the world a better place?  You can think of it every time you pay off the monthly installments of the loan – ten years, wasn’t it?  Lots of time to think of Kitten’s happy smile.  And she decided to keep the black one, too, for when she’s just not in a red car mood.

Now… Kitten has some ideas for other things she’d like to have.  Get a notebook: you can make a list.

 

 

*** UPDATED***

Kitten saw this and would just like you to know that she has always liked yellow best of all the colours.  

 


Come on now, don’t be mean…


 

 

 

Girlish brutality

Speaking of which, I thought I’d just share with a little thing that happened to me yesterday – in real life, I mean, not ‘Servitor’ life.

So I was leaving Starbucks (in Paris) and there was this young woman coming in, so I held the door open for her and vaguely smiled as she went past, as you do.  And you know, she didn’t acknowledge me?  Not even a nod, just strode through, head held high, ignoring me as if I were merely part of the furniture.

I mean, can you believe some people?

I thought about that all day.  Wonderful!  What bliss it is to be alive, and all that.

Anyway, true story.  Now on with the stuff that isn’t.


Subsequently twice married to a billionaire, this one. Not bad, is it? The same billionaire twice, I mean, not two billionaires.  I don’t suppose he got the hockey stick treatment… but you never know, he might have done.




Don’t forget to include a little gift (or, better, a large one) in your thank-you email, so she’ll know you mean it.




Mistress is cleverer than you.  Do try to remember that, OK sweetie?  I know it’s not easy, remembering stuff.


 

 

He still screams of course – in fact, these days he often starts screaming before they even start, as he knows what’s coming.  But it’s lost that element of surprise, that’s all she’s saying. Time for a bit of a change.




The very idea!  He’s got a lot to learn.



Feminine ferocity

It’s important to think about her needs, not just your own selfish desire not to be in agony.


To be fair, many femdom activities seem unlikely to be compatible with evolutionary success.  Chastity, for one.


 

 

Oh good.  I wonder what it is.

 

 

She has testimonials from several hundred eternally unsatisfied clients to prove it.

 

 

 

I’ll go to the end of the line, then.

 

 

 

 

Forbidding ladies

Don’t worry.  One day you’ll no longer be a valuable asset.


 

 

You can still walk away.  For that to happen, you’ll need a degree of conscious control over your limbs, so you might need to wait a few moments.

 

 

 

Some might find it bizarre that he’s the one paying her, really, but we don’t, do we?

 

The extraordinarily wonderful Lady Sophia Black.  But no link to her web site, as she’s retired.  Like Paltego said a couple of weeks ago, you mustn’t  leave it too late – see what you miss out on?

I’m beginning to think she might be taking in laundry from her friends, to earn a little money on the side, the sly old thing.



 

Sorry, readers, I couldn’t resist.  Well… I could have.  But I didn’t.

 

 

Rather tediously, just a quick word about anonymity.  I’m getting more and more comments on the blog, which is absolutely brilliant, and I do try to reply to them all. Blogger provides an option for whether to allow anonymous comments and with some trepidation I switched it on some years back and I have not regretted it.  Almost all comments are fun and kind, I have very, very few trolls and the occasional marketing blurb that escapes the spam filters can easily be deleted (or left up if I think it funny).

So, all good.  But it’s getting harder to reply to all of the anonymous comments as specifically as I’d like.  You are of course welcome to be as anonymous as you want.  Our society is at present sadly unappreciative of males who need to be dressed in little maid outfits and have their naughty bottoms smacked until they squeal (actually, most if not all males need that, but the majority don’t know it yet).  However, if you could try to be just a little less anonymous, that would make the comments section more fun, I think.  Two options.  One: you can set up a Google account in a fake name.  I mean, I myself am not actually called ‘Servitor’ in real life, startlingly enough.  I have a completely separate Windows log-in for naughty stuff and that’s where Servitor lives, when he’s not chained up in the doghouse outside.  Two, if you’re uncomfortable with that you can still be officially ‘Anonymous’ but put some name at the bottom of your comments.  Misses Zoe and Holly do that, so do many others.  Even femsup can manage it, and he’s a worthless, incompetent worm, as I think he’d be the first to admit.  No offence, ‘sup.  

Or don’t.  Up to you.  I won’t delete purely anonymous comments and I’ll keep trying to reply to them.  So there are neither rewards nor consequences for good behaviour in this regard, as this blog is not under proper female supervision.  Just a suggestion.

Goodness, that was a lot of words with no wanking material involved. And there you are, sitting all ready with your trousers down around your ankles. Go on, then, have an extra captioned image of a lovely lady, as a reward for getting this far.

 

 

Quite right.  Back to those chores.