heels – Page 2 – Contemplating the divine

Romantically hers

What a nightmare. That happened to me once, but fortunately the lady I’d been following was very kind and really nice about it. I can’t say the same about my SO when I was finally handed back, but being kind and nice just isn’t her thing.

If it’s important, it’s worth discussing properly, right?

Here we go again.

The weird thing is, he had his tonsils out when he was a kid. Must have grown back, I suppose. Things sometimes do, you know.

Probably she’ll just be lying in bed later, trying to get to sleep, and it’ll just pop into her head, just like that. Or in the morning. Whatever.

Speaking of subjective opinions, I’d be interested in any thoughts on Blogger/Blogspot’s new policy of requiring sign-in for adult-themed blogs like this (I’ve personally always thought that it’s best described as childish and immature rather than adult, but there you go…). I hadn’t even noticed, as I’m permanently logged in, but a commenter on my mirror Tumblr site let me know.

You’re the wrong people to ask, really, because by definition you’re here so it hasn’t stopped you. But it seems from Internet chatter to have happened around the start of February and my traffic stats do seem to have dropped in half, overnight.

Hmm. It’s not too bad. Many people have Google IDs and some won’t even notice, like me. But it’s a shame if new people cannot get here from search engines and suchlike. I looked into alternative places to blog a few years back, when there was a threat to block adult blogs entirely, and I set up my Tumblr site but I cannot move fully there because (a) it doesn’t allow nakedness and although unlike many adult blogs, I rarely feature fully undressed ladies, this blog has never had a problem with images of males in the natural animal state in which the Goddess created them, their vulnerable flesh reddening under a whip or goose-pimpling as they engage in vigorous productive outdoor activity on a crisp winter morning in the snow. Sorry, where was I? Oh yes: (b) Tumblr is basically a clip or photo-sharing site. I need a blank sheet of paper to write stuff; I still occasionally write stories and so on. Tumblr is more like a social media ‘feed’ but this blog – like its author – is hopelessly stuck in the past and I want a web page people come to and ‘read’.

Any thoughts?

Savage sirens

It’s your own fault: what you get for abusing her kindheartedness.

Good thing they had the bat with them. They usually bring it along on their walks, though – just in case it might come in handy.

…and so on. Sounds like it might become rather repetitive. I hope you don’t get too bored.

Don’t worry about the forced tofu-eating. Tofu has a slightly disgusting texture, but it’s pretty nearly tasteless – just absorbs the flavour of whatever liquid it”s been soaking in, basically. So whatever Raoul chooses to… yeah, anyway, I’m sure it’ll be fine.

Oddly, though, the client she still calls ‘Mr Superglue’ became a regular, after he left hospital. Subs, eh? You think you know how weird they’re going to be but they’re always twice as weird again.

Oppressive domesticity

…it’s the best sort.

Some wives can be so possessive… probably best to humour her. Maybe she’ll get it out of her system some day.

Looks like she needs to make a choice. You’re her husband, that should count for something, surely?

Wouldn’t want it to be too easy.

After a busy day’s housework I once asked my SO what she’d do without me – I mean, I can’t imagine her doing the ironing or the washing up! “Get another one, just like last time”, apparently.

Well, I’m glad she had a proper massage. My own masseur seemed to have entirely the wrong idea about what I was after – left me feeling quite stiff and sore, to be honest.

Warning: immature content

Don’t proceed past this point if you’re offended by implicit sexual imagery.

Some women won’t even let men know they’re upset. I’m glad she’s being so forthright.

I think she’d be good at humiliation play, don’t you? She could build on her knowledge of real clients who want real sex – and draw a few sharp comparisons.

It’s a natural gift. That and practice. And a lot of Gaviscon, if I’m honest with myself.

Actually, this reminds me of yet another depressing contrast between fantasy and reality I encountered in one of the very first times I sessioned with a domme, having been too nervous to do so, for many years. (NB: don’t be like this guy! Contact a domme! It’ll be lovely; she’ll be lovely!). With the wonderful lady, now retired, who stars as ‘Mistress Valerie’ in my early stories. ANY-way, so back then she smoked (then she gave up – clever, strong Mistress). So I did the human ashtray thing – wow, yeah, ash flicked into my mouth! Oh the humiliation! And then she gave me a near-finished cigarette butt to eat, and eager Servitor chewed and swallowed and… and… spent the remaining hour of that two hour session, with stomach churning, heart racing from the nicotine and generally feeling like he would soooo rather be somewhere else. Oh well. Did it once. Thank you, Mistress.

Rather like other much-maligned minorities, lesbians who happen to have jobs that involve castrating men often lean into the stereotype by embracing the otherwise offensive phrase. One of Jennifer’s co-workers likes to wear a badge saying “Warning: castrating lesbian”. It breaks the ice at parties and she does get served very quickly in bars. But she also has to explain to women who are annoyed with their husbands or boyfriends that she can only do it within the legal framework… unless they’re really cute wives and and girlfriends, in which case she’s been known to make an exception.

No, I just wanted to spend a few more seconds staring into those eyes…

Malicious minds

Don’t you know I’m caught in a trap?

Any specific plans? Or just an early night… that would probably be best, actually, so you’re all ready in the morning.

But the diet doesn’t have to be healthy all the time, either. She likes to mix and match, so to speak. Femdom’s all about choices: having them, denying them, whatever.

The lovely, wise and occasionally delightfully cross Ella Kross.

Or even a bit longer if she needs it… it’s traditional for a bride to arrive a little late, keeping her anxious groom waiting at the altar.

Wherever she goes, but on all fours and two paces behind, I hope.

It makes my blood boil, seeing the divine Anne being disrespected. To be honest, it makes my blood boil just seeing the divine Anne, so we’re actually all the way into pulmonary embolism territory here.

Took my hand and so unkindly

…cut me down with words so cruel

Many men just don’t appreciate how painful high-heeled shoes can be.

There’s a place near me that does them ready-stomped. Very wide range of toppings too.

I hope her arm’s not getting tired, the poor thing. I think someone’s doing all the work in this relationship.

She has great influencing skills.

Yes, but apart from that…?

Misfortunate males

Oh dear, not again. You’d think she’d have learnt to be more careful by now.

My SO promised me, when she brought out my first little maid’s dress that if it ever became too humiliating, I could take it off. So far, apparently it never has – in fact, she generally thinks it’s not humiliating enough – so we’ve not really tested that, but it’s good to know. Safeguards are important.

Respect is very important in a marriage.

Young people in love can be so romantic… let’s hope he gets out of their way quickly.

This humble slave once assumed ‘supplication position #3’ to ask its revered and powerful Mistress whether She would gracefully consent to granting Her humble slave the precious gift of a high-protocol BDSM relationship, but she just told it to fuck off and stop being so irritating.

Romantic disdain

Women… sometimes they want you to scream hysterically, cry and beg for mercy, sometimes it’s just ‘annoying’. My SO gave me 24 hard strokes with the cane yesterday and when I started shrieking and pleading frantically (on or maybe just before stroke number two, if I recall correctly) she told me she was ‘just not in the mood’. I mean, at that point I was committed, you know? It’s a physical thing for us guys… can’t just switch it off.

The frightening – truly terrifying – thing about assisting with any kind of competitive sport in OWK is that one of the Ladies has to lose. They often don’t take it with good grace, you know.

Needless to say, inflicting this sort of public BDSM play on passing strangers is not OK. And even worse when it’s in front of members of your family, as here.

The customer is always right.

The gimp hoods are going on in the later, private ceremony. When you and flappy-ears take your real vows.

Brought to heel

Hmm? Oh. Sure.

I don’t see why she would be so sure of that. Just on this occasion he’s the expert, after all.

It’s hardly their fault – boys break so easily, just when it’s starting to get fun.

The worst of it is, she realised when he got home that one of the dresses was the wrong size and he had to go straight back to the shop to exchange it. Someone must have put it on the wrong hanger – people can be so thoughtless and selfish, sometimes, can’t they?