Category: housework

Oh, I hope there’ll be jellyfish

The servitor who uploads material to this blog will be on an undeserved holiday for the next few weeks.  Normally awful service will be maintained, through the magic of ‘scheduling’ and comments – especially abusive ones – remain as welcome as ever, but will not be responded to (so the grovelling apologies must wait).


The jellyfish thing? Oh yeah. This.

You know, I heard once that feeling sad and lonely is just your body’s way of telling you what an unpleasant person you are to be with?  Makes a lot of sense.

I’m slowly working my way into her affections, I reckon.

Mmmpphhh grtrrth.

Of course, they’ll need to use something else to achieve the burning sensation.  Hot coals, maybe? They’re very creative.

 

Hope there’s some beer for me.

Tales of shame and degradation

Kinky and socially useful at the same time!  What’s not to like?

Better be worth it… I need those fingers for my everyday sex life.

He did mind.  But she didn’t.

Oh well. Live and learn.

Don’t diss housework simulators.  After a hard day’s ironing, there’s nothing I like better than to relax with SimLaundry 3.  I’m about to earn the 10,000 pleated skirt achievement.


Well versed in etiquette

Fastidious and precise.

Maybe ask for a prescription for some painkillers?

Well, obviously not every month.  That would be silly.  But maybe occasionally..?

Shame clothing. I’ve never found I’ve needed it.

Who needs pocket money when your skirts don’t even have pockets?

Hmm.  It might be a while before the next blog posting.  And it might be a bit dull… (more so than usual, even).




Taking pains

She does and so, therefore, do I.

But not here. I just slap any old rubbish on a photo and stick it on the blog.

Damn.  Why is it always about penis size?  Honestly, sometimes it just seems like women are obsessed with it.
 

 

Urrgglll – nnnnh!
 

 

I’m glad I’m into humiliation.  Otherwise, I’d probably find a lot of my encounters with women quite unpleasant.
 

 

Well, that went well.
 
 

 

Goodness, sounds like she’s going to get quite cross.  That could help, actually.

Gynophilia/gynophobia

The love of women and the fear of women.  I have both conditions.

Hmmm… She’s merely disappointed, not repulsed. I’ll consider that as progress.

 

It’s a sacred bond – or a device for getting the housework done, depending on whether your finger’s on the button.

 

Don’t worry: he’s very professional.  You can be tied tightly naked over his trestle, and no matter how horny he’s feeling, you won’t have a thing to worry about. Well, except the savage beating you’re about to receive, obviously.

 

…and she does mean everywhere.
She’ll track them down. She’s very persistent. Anyway, can’t have feral males running about the place can we?

 

Back under the saddle

Ah well, summer holidays over and it’s back to the daily grind.  Which to be honest can leave you quite sore, especially when you then have to get up and go to work.  But who am I to argue?

I hope you enjoyed the archival clear-out over August.  But not that you enjoyed it so much you did anything you shouldn’t.

Back to normal.  More of the same, but written more recently.

Down you go.  You’ve got at least 10 hours before sunset.
 
 

 

Submissive man not actually very good at housework, in reality!  Who’d have thought?
 

 

It’s just her thing. Go with it.
 
 
 
 
She got you, babe.
 

 

Yes.  Anyway, it really doesn’t matter how big it is, if you’re not allowed to do anything with it.
 

At this moment, you mean everything

You in that dress
My thoughts I confess
Verge on dirty
Oh, come on Eileen..pleeease.

 
 

 

It’s good to be fit. You get to be flogged further, before collapsing.
 

 

Oh, OK.  And I suppose my opinion counts for nothing, here?
 
 
Good thing you have an ironing fetish!  You don’t?  Oh. Oh well.
 
 
Shall I compare thee to a… errrr… purple cucumber?  Thou art more knobbly and thy veins pulse with lust…
 

 

One of my virtual girlfriends is programmed to find out about the others, and ridicule me. 

Actually, that’s not true. I can’t keep a virtual girlfriend for long.  They always reject me.  So unkind…

 

Leashed to a frenzy



It’s nearly time for your next session anyway.  Might as well just stay.



 
 

 

She loves him really.
 
 

 

Won’t be saying that again.  Or anything else, I imagine.
 
 

 

Poor thing.  Still another 20 minutes of the session to go.  Her hand must be so sore.
 
 

 

I wonder what she does with them all? It’s only a small apartment.

Back on track

Well, the consensus seems to be that Google has backed down, so here we go again.

Have a double-length post to make up for it. Oh – and for the next three weeks or so there will be an additional caption each day on the Tumblr site, that will not appear here (because my filing system is too disorganised to find the right ones, if I delete the Tumblr queue).

****ing Google. 

Don’t worry.  You don’t have to do anything she doesn’t want you to do. In fact, you mustn’t.
 

 

Who says men are useless, eh?
 

 

I expect you’ll manage well enough without.
 

 

It’s bound to be a bit painful at first.  But you’ll get used to it.
 

 

I’ve always had this ability to make women laugh. I think I was born with it.
 

 

When he left school, he wanted to work in IT. And he does – he usually stops by that department just before lunch
 

 

I think we’ve all been there.  Just the other day a market research company rang up and asked if I was interested in taking part in a survey about web use. So I said sure, but after about five or six questions about my browsing habits, they just rang off without any warning!  Bizarre, huh? I mean why did they ask if they don’t want to know the answers?
 

 

Something to look forward to.
 

 

That’s good of her.
 
 
Another thing to tick off her bucket list. 
 



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.