Category: gag

Reasonable orders are easy enough to obey

But unreasonable ones are so much sexier. Wouldn’t femdom be dull if our goddesses were reasonable? Today’s post celebrates the unfairer sex.

Don’t worry, she’ll be happy to whip you after your explanation too.
She knows you could go quickly even with your ankles chained to nipple clamps, if you really wanted to. And the spurs will help you want to.
She prefers to concentrate on the basic facts and not be distracted by irrelevancies – and it’s hard to think of anything that’s much more irrelevant to her than which male is which.
Actual quote from an actual session. Only what was being pointed to was an area of the dungeon containing various things, only one of which was actually meant. I got it eventually.
You need to rethink your priorities. Don’t worry: she’ll help you.

Lovely Lady Sophia Black. Don’t even ask – she’s retired.

Clever Kitten solved the problem and now the two of you can focus on what’s important.

That little chat

You know… that little chat. The one she’s been promising you all week. Don’t keep her waiting.

And don’t forget what happens to sissies who tell lies. Although I don’t imagine you will, after that last time.
Oooh – potential ally! Maybe you could start by explaining how oppressive and inappropriate disciplinary spankings are, see how she reacts, then develop the conversation from there.
Unlike many mothers-in-law she’s quite pleased with her daughter’s choice of husband and enjoys her visits.
Maybe they’ll have a ‘bring your sissy to work day’ at the silo.
Those slaveboys… they get up to such mischief. Good thing she’s there to keep an eye on him.
He is lucky. Look at all that effort she’s putting into their relationship.

The wonderful Lady Kenworthy, demonstrating the sound of one hand clapping.

Idol thoughts

Think of what a relief it must be, not to be in any danger of suffering one of those unwanted and embarassing erections during the shoot. It just helps keep things professional, as they should be (although not ‘professional’ in the sense she’s actually paying you, obviously).
Everyone laughed at me when I bet on him, but I think I could be making a lot of money here!
My SO says gags really suit me and I can’t argue with that.
I expect you never imagined a woman like that would ever take an interest in you, did you? But she is – very – and so are all her friends.
Of course, they vary it a bit. Today he had a nice big empty bowl of cereal for breakfast, nothing soup for lunch and he has a big juicy nothingburger to look forward to for dinner.
Some men think that women who dress provocatively are just asking for it – you can easily spot them, these days, as they’re the ones walking around in t-shirts reading “Please kick me in the balls.”

To err is male

 … to chastise, divine.

 

Well… at least until it stops stretching, obviously. Otherwise why go to all that trouble?

 

 

 

She’s smiling but she’s crying inside.  Don’t make this harder for her.

 


Thank goodness (and her) for that.


My SO generally prefers me to be silent – except when I’m strapped down onto the whipping bench, when she usually removes my gag. It’s her opportunity to hear how how I’m feeling.




Lots of older men seek to relive their youth, with attractive young women.  Looks like Timmy has hit the jackpot.






Docility

“the fact or quality of being easily handled, managed, or led; meek and unquestioning obedience or compliance”

 

 

Obviously.  Let’s hope Jennie’s getting better at it, now she’s onto her fourth try.


 

 

It’s one of those logical impossibilities – you know, like ‘a man saying “all men are lying, cheating bastards'”.  Male philosophers used to debate these things endlessly, but I understand they are kept busy with more important, practical tasks these days.

 

 

 

I don’t think he objects to being inside the couch, it’s more that he was expecting to be alone in there.

 

 

 

Mrs Elton’s a good neighbour, anyway – happy to pop round and help out whenever your wife needs a hand.

 

 

Topping from the bottom can take many forms – all equally objectionable.  When my SO plays with me, for instance, there’s often a very fine line between “pleading frantically for mercy through the screams”  – which she enjoys – and “expressing an opinion on when she should stop hitting me”, which she dislikes intensely.


This is the lovely Vinyl Queen, who is in the lucky position of never having experienced the unpleasantness that is Servitor in session and is relatively unlikely to move to Edinburgh, being based as she is in San Francisco.  Her other interest is gardening.

 

 

 

 

Tender moments

I am in their loyalty programme.  I get to pay more when I book flights, as I accumulate points they demand ever more expensive gifts and on board I am treated with extra contempt.

 

 

I expect you’ll want to evaluate this proposition quite carefully.  I mean, that’s a lot of money to lend someone you barely know, just on the strength of… on the strength of… sorry, what were we talking about?

 

 

 

I can multi-task!  I can flounce and simper, both at the same time. 

 

 

 

 

As story-writers say, don’t tell: show.

 

Oh, I don’t know.  There are advantages.  For one thing, it’s not one of those wildly unrealistic fetishes that’s completely divorced from real life.  For example, I am actually a lazy, worthless and sexually unattractive male, deserving the contempt the women I know barely bother to conceal.  So I can live the dream, so to speak.


 

Ghastly perversions

 

She finds she meets interesting people when she walks you in the park.  And tedious but enslaveable ones too.


 

 

She’s a very spiritual person, as you can tell.

I don’t know what the bad things were in my brain that the doctor removed but there must have been a lot of them, because it’s very empty now.  Thank goodness I have a loving wife to remember things for me.

 

The taste of ‘shut the fuck up’ will always be associated for me with the sharp, painful feeling of ‘because I say so’.

 

 

Or he won’t.  Whatever.


Hurtful thoughts

I think writing lines is a ridiculous and pointless, tedious activity and there are few things I hate doing more than writing lines for hours at her command.  I told her that just the other day.  500 times, in fact.

I did an interview once. Check it out if you want to find out about the real Servitor, behind the leather mask.  Don’t read it if the thought of knowing the real Servitor makes you nauseous.
Ooh – looks like there might be a consciousness-raising session coming on!

There wasn’t much to begin with.
I often have ‘plenty to complain about’.  Regretably, I’m not allowed so it all goes to waste.


Back in harness

So, here we are.  Back from my fabulous tour of the Greek islands.  Well… I assume we toured the Greek islands. There aren’t actually any windows in the middle galley deck of a trireme, so I am not quite sure, but we definitely went from one place to another, sometimes quite fast.  We had some lovely tour guides, who encouraged us along, while this big bald guy played a drum (somewhat repetitively in my view, but even the most sophisticated musical talent has to begin somewhere I suppose).  These tour guides didn’t speak any English, but they managed to get their message across quite effectively.


I hope you all had a good time while I was gone.  Back to normal, as from today. 




I quite liked this one.  Why should safewords only work in one direction?







If I got the chance, that is.

I hope she realises that we submissives need to stick together.
There are many words that sound like bitch.  Very few that sound like cattle prod. Or feel like one.

 

Indeed we don’t.  Not after the last time.




Suffering fools

Gladly or otherwise.









I never want to be more than two paces behind… for the rest of my life.







I hate having to disturb her when she’s working.  But I can’t just take money from her purse without permission, so…







Tony gets steak and chips… not fair, I say.  But then he does have a night of vigorous sexual activity ahead of him, so I suppose he needs the calories.







Sometimes they get a babysitter, but if they’re not going out until 7.30 or so, it’s easier just to put Paul to bed half an hour early.  I mean it’s not like anything can go wrong, with his mittens fastened to the sides of the cucky-drawer.







Aparently, a lot of condemned prisoners have women writing to them offering sex.  I don’t think that’s going to happen to him, though.
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