First footing

This is a British – mainly Scottish – custom, which might not be understood by readers from the rest of the world.  It refers to the first foot-worship session of the new year (or, in the rougher parts of Glasgow, the first ball-busting session of the new year).  

It is considered a great sign of good luck to first-foot a domme, having previously negotiated her complicated booking form and waited for several days wondering whether or not it would be appropriate to send a respectful reminder.  If granted an audience, and having sent the deposit at least a week before and a text confirming, on the day, the first-footer arrives precisely two minutes before the time of the appointment bringing gifts – sometimes Champagne, gifts of expensive lingerie or other stuff that she has identified on her wishlist (but not anything else) – and also, most crucially, an unsealed envelope stuffed with cash. 

Traditionally, the first-footer is greeted warmly by the domme, while stuttering in embarassment, and proceeds to a session in which she makes sure he gets at least some, but not all, of the rather random stuff he wrote about in his email or on her booking form. Foot massaging will take place in the last half hour or so, and she pretends he’s actually surprisingly good at it.  Then the session is brought to a close, in perfect time to finish on the dot, even though she did not look once at a clock. He gets dressed again, offers to help clean up and is politely declined, and makes stilted conversation for a bit, wondering why on earth he was so nervous when he arrived.  He then heads off into the night, thinking it a bit weird to be walking among vanilla people with his sore bottom, feeling edgy and decadent, and wondering what they would say if they knew.


So… yeah, OK, it’s not all that different from a regular foot-worship session, to be honest.  Unless I forgot to mention the haggis?


Anyway, new year same old… oh, I’ve even done that joke before.  Ninth year of the blog!  Bloody hell.  Don’t any of us have anything better to do?

Kinksters might occasionally be surprised by how ready vanilla folks might be to indulge them in their fetish.  I think it’s fair to say, for example, that every girl I’ve ever had a date with has totally been into the idea of chastity play and orgasm denial.  In fact, I don’t recall any of them permitting me any sort of sexual activity whatsoever.  Guess there’s more kink out there than we assume, huh?
She doesn’t get a lot of repeat business.  That’s why she has to charge so much.

It’s important to understand that it’s not gay to give another man a foot massage. Or a blow job. 
Wag wag wag wag wag…
You can do anything but don’t come on her brown suede boots.










Her whip, her rules




She could well be right.  Early on in our relationship, my SO visited a therapist who told her to try dealing with her feelings frustration by beating the living daylights out of me.   Worked.

You get health benefits too – mostly regular exercise and a healthy diet.

I guess we’re both disappointed about the whole situation.
That’s a museum ship, by the way: HMS Belfast.  Worth a visit, if you’re in London, but the guns obviously can’t fire any more and all the seamen left a long time ago. 
 The lovely Mistress Sidonia, of course. Oddly enough, I understand she began her career as a submissive, but she has amply paid back the male sex in the years since.

My own car just stays locked in the garage all the time, these days. I don’t know why I bother to keep it, really.


Thankful for small cruelties


More and more companies are discovering the benefits of setting up dedicated disciplinary departments.  Of course, any good manager knows that she should try to deal with performance issues in person whenever possible, but there’s only so many hours in the day.
There’s an honesty about femdom that’s sometimes lacking in other areas of professional sex work, I believe.

So we did.

I went to a financial advisor and explained to her how exciting I found financial domination and she said I should seek professional help.  Which is exactly what I was doing… very confusing.  So I explained that I wanted her to take all my money with no explanation and never give me anything in return – and it was her turn to look confused, because apparently that’s exactly what she does, as an independent financial advisor.


I get a bit fed up with being asked that.  Why do professional ladies assume I’m into SPH?  It’s the first question every doctor I’ve ever had has asked me, for instance.


The lovely Miss Zoe, of course.  Another lady who has suffered the misfortune of having to put the actual real-life Servitor across her knee… but she has preserved her sanity intact.  Apparently you can confess to her here.  Be truthful, now.

Kindness costs nothing

… but structured, skillfully-applied cruelty can be quite expensive.  Worth every penny, though.


Unlike many modern feminists, Clara actually quite enjoys explaining things to sexists.

…and if you’re not OK with it, she can work that into the scene too.
Reminds me of the time I had to unpack all of my luggage in front of two lady customs officers, once.  Goodness, their contemptuous laughter still rings in my ears. It’s not that I had anything embarassing in the luggage, you understand.  I just have this effect on women.

Thank goodness it’s nothing personal.


Oh, not again… you know, I think her watch might be a bit fast, actually.






Speaking with authority



Once when I was in hospital I tried out the ‘just a little prick with a needle’ joke* on one of the nurses. But she just looked confused and said “But I’m the one with the needle.” I did feel a fool.









BDSM’s odd like that. Subs are actually much more interested in exactly how the implement feels than the dommes.  My SO seems to grab any old thing at random sometimes when she wants to hit me – I actually feel that shows a lack of respect, which is lovely, obviously.

Starting with this.

Makes it all worthwhile.

It’s rather an exciting art form, not least because it needs weekly refreshing.


* “I know you are, but what are you going to do with it?”.


As specks of dust we’re universal

I love this song. It’s got nothing at all to do with femdom, except in the sense that obviously no male could ever write something so great (unless inspired by a muse, I suppose).  So: SFW warning if you click the link, yeah?


Right. On with the poppycock.





Or don’t be brave. To be honest, Trudy doesn’t really mind either way.
Always a bit dull listening to someone describing their dream, isn’t it?  Still: better humour her.  Don’t want to be whipped.

I wish she didn’t have to as well.  So why does she?
After a session with a domme I’d been seeing for a while, I asked what she really thought of me, but she just laughed and told me to fuck off and book a humiliation session.  I guess she must have mis-heard.
She’s not really looking to discuss this, by the way. She’s just sharing how she feels – it’s a Mars/Venus thing, yeah guys?  Just go with it.


As she pleases




I’m sure she won’t mind.  Cindy’s very easy-going.






You say bukkake, I say bukkaka.




Self-locking nipple clamps.  What’s not to like?
Don’t worry. There’ll be things for you to eat too.  Just a bit later.


 

Do you suppose you can catch an STD from licking a domme’s boots, if some other guy came on them in an earlier session?  Perhaps medical professionals should carry out some experiments on that.


The angel at my side…

…. she gives me good advice.

Actually, the idea that men can’t multi-task is a complete myth.  Men who think they can’t just need to meet a woman with the right attitude.  It’s just laziness.
Don’t worry… they don’t tug hard.  She does, but that’ll be the scrotal clip, not the nipple… so not so bad.

Life as a conversation piece.

Oh well. It’s better than coming back down to ‘discuss’ it while they’re still here.  I hate that.
Decisions, decisions.   Thank goodness I never have to make any.

The truth hurts

…but I have found that lying hurts even more.

I suppose it can’t hurt to try.






Don’t worry – it’s not the end of the discussion.  There’ll be plenty of time for more apologies.



Actually, I had a bad experience just like this one.  I thought I’d met the dominant woman of my dreams, but actually all she wanted was unpaid labour in her garden and it never really developed beyond that to a proper FLR, so after seventeen years I gave up on it.  She still calls occasionally… and of course I don’t mind popping round for a few hours or days when she does, but I think we both realise the spark was never there.


They originally had proper school lessons but there’s not really much point teaching anything to boys who are only going to leave the school in a hearse, so most schoolwork consists of writing lines.
Not a problem I’ve ever had, I’ll admit.


Tears before, during and after bedtime

It’s actually quite high in calories, but don’t worry about that because you’re unlikely to be able to keep much of it down.











Thank goodness for that.  I think you can just leave the case in her capable hands.








I dunno – I find shops vary in the degree to which they are kink-friendly. Once I was sent to find some gear for an adult baby session and for some reason the staff in the ‘early years’ shop got all weird about it when I started asking about how strong their leather reins sets were, and whether the cots could be fitted with padlocks. But then on another occasion, I had to buy a hairbrush and the shop assistant in the department store I went to was delighted to help me try every one of them out.  Said it was something she wished she could do to more customers.  So you never know.











Silly boys.  Reinforced seat trousers do little good when they’re around your ankles, anyway.









Male brains don’t multi-task. Mine barely tasks at all, to be honest.  Now then: I was writing a caption..?