Stories and pictures themed around female domination and male subjugation and servitude. Unsuitable for children, for alpha males, for hard-core practitioners with an interest in the politics of bdsm and the mechanics of complicated rope work. Of interest to perverts like me, basically.
Unusually for me, a themed post. See if you can guess the theme.
All images taken from the public spaces of “The British Institution”, or tumblrs, not from behind the paywall to my knowledge.
Well worth a visit – once you’re in, you’ll find you can’t leave. Not for five years anyway, even with good behaviour.
http://www.thebritishinstitution.com
Do worms actually have eyes? Or a point of view? I know I’m not allowed one of those, not about anything that matters.
Ah well, on we go.
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| Oh well. Never mind. |
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| Oooh! Maybe Steve’s going to get a blowjob too? How exciting. |
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| I can imagine being very polite. But I expect she’s right. She usually is. |
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| Well, that’s very kind. She’ll stop being kind soon, don’t worry. |
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| Must be awful. Don’t you think? |
All I want is a boy somewhere
Far away from the city square
Tied down across a chair –
Aow, wouldn’t it be loverly?
Lots of choc’lates for me to eat,
Whip in hand for his own hot treat.
Thrashed arse, he’ll beg at feet
Aow, wouldn’t it be loverly?
Aow, so loverly…
Standin’ abso-bloomin’-lutely still.
Scared to move, so the pail don’t spill;
His pleading, high and shrill,
Aow, wouldn’t it be loverly?
Someone restin’ across my knee,
Warm an’ tender as ‘e can be.
Who’s scared to death of me,
Aow, wouldn’t it be loverly?
Loverly!
Loverly.
Loverly!
Loverly….
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| Those eyes. I could just drown in those eyes, couldn’t you? |
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| Huh. Brad! It’s been ‘Brad this’ and ‘Brad that’ ever since he arrived. Frankly, I am seriously considering giving him notice. It’s not as if we need a pool boy anyway, not having a pool. |
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| It’s funny to think, really, that you’re just about the only man she encounters most days who isn’t begging at her feet for mercy! You probably help her keep a sense of perspective – and that’s very important, for someone with a job they really love. |
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| Damn… I was really looking forward to November. |
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| Actually, most chastity belts are massively over-engineered. What might feel like irresistible pressure really hardly puts it under strain at all. I mean, steel’s pretty tough. So don’t worry, OK? |
That man came round – the one we met in the market the other
day. He’s called Reshad.
Anyway, he just came to the door, so I invited him in for
coffee. I thought it was a bit creepy at
first – you know, maybe he was interested in me. But he’s not.
Not at all. Do you know what?
He’s interested in you!
No, really. He said
you have a perfect rose-bud mouth, if you can imagine!
Anyway, of course I laughed and said you were spoken
for. And do you know what? He offered me money! I was laughing, and saying ‘no, no’ – you
know, making a joke of it. But I think
he was serious. Apparently, slavery is
legal in his country and he has a place way out in the desert where he keeps
all these men. Well, as slaves! Isn’t that just the weirdest thing! He was offering $350,000 by the end. Imagine!
That would pay off all our loans in one go. Actually, it would leave us $165,000 over, even if we paid off everything. He must be really rich.
Anyway, he was very persistent. Wouldn’t take no for an answer! So I said I’d think about it – just to get
him to go away, you know. And he straightaway said he’d
come back this evening with his two brothers and a van. And he said he’d have the
money in cash – now what was it he said in that funny accent of his?
Oh yes – he said “not that $350,000 peanuts bullshit! But proper money.” I don’t suppose he will, though.
He must be so rich.
Imagine being able to pay $350,000 just like that! Or even more!
I mean obviously you’re worth a lot more than $350,000! Oh – I don’t mean I’d ever be tempted! I mean, really! Even for that much money. Or even more.
Anyway, it’s barbarous, keeping people as slaves. I shudder to think about what they’d have to
do to you to make you use your little rose-bud mouth on them! You’re not at all like that, are you?
No, I didn’t think so.
Well, I expect he was probably just joking anyway.
Don’t forget to drink up your milk, darling! I got it specially for you. Drink up every last drop. Down it goes! That’s right.
Oh hi! You’re Paul, right? From IT? I’m Jane. I guess I’m the “boss” in this part of the company! Oh, but just call me Jane – we’re very informal around here!
Look – we’re really grateful that you’ve come to help us out, OK? I mean I know you’re all so busy down there, with that…computer stuff. Fixing things… brilliant!
But we’ve got such an important meeting tomorrow – really important clients, right? – and I saw you give that presentation in Head Office last month and I just knew you’d be perfect for it! So I asked Karen, and –
Which one? Do you give a lot of presentations? Oh! Well, you have to send me invites to them. I only saw the one – but you were great. It was the one about computers. Something about a… network, was it? It was brilliant, anyway! And I just thought – that’s what we need for next Wednesday! The clients will love it. And Wednesday’s tomorrow now… and here you are! Brilliant!
Hmmm? Yes, yes that topic would be fine. Computers…networks…all that. They’re very interested in that stuff. They’ve got lots of computers. I mean, it’s a bank so they’re bound to, aren’t they?
Oh! One little thing. Silly really. Erm… you were wearing these, mmmm, white trousers? Not quite sure what sort…I’d recognise them again if I see them. They were…quite tight. Really tight actually! Anyway, I thought that was very effective. Really helped to…well, the audience could see you very clearly. I certainly could. Do you think you could, erm…wear them tomorrow? Hmm? That be OK?
No…not quite sure what brand they were. Do you have a lot of pairs of tight white trousers? Oh. Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Tell you what – bring all three pairs in tomorrow morning and we’ll see which works best, OK? Great! We can have a little fashion show! Right here.
Slides? What do you mean, slides? Oh PowerPoint slides! Yes, definitely. Got to have slides. PowerPoint’s brilliant, isn’t it? And then we can darken the rest of the room, so it’s like you’re just there in a spotlight…all in white.
No, I know. Not all in white. But the trousers are.
Oh…there was a little thing you did. At one point you dropped all your notes, and you sort of bent over and picked them up for a bit? And you looked kind of humiliated and embarassed as you did it? That was quite effective too, I thought. Really got the audience’s attention. Put them at ease… An accident? Was it really? Oh. Well, you know if you were to do it ‘by accident’ tomorrow, I’m sure the client would like it. Possibly several times.
Great. Well, I think we’re all set, then. The client arrives at about 4pm, and we’ll go straight into the meeting. No you don’t have to be there for that bit – that’s the serious business of the day. Then we’ll talk to her a bit about the joint venture (you don’t need to worry about all that – boring old financy things!) then when that’s all agreed we’ll have your presentation at the end of the afternoon! Deal all done, down go the lights, onto the stage goes Paul and it’s all about…internet protocols for the rest of the afternoon! Great!
Oh, is ‘internet protocols’ different from ‘networks’? OK, well either really. Gosh aren’t you clever – knowing about both!
Anyway, I expect we’ll all go off for a drink or something afterwards. You should come along. She’d like that.
Brilliant. Look – tell Karen I owe her one for this, all right?
Oh wow. You really call her “Miss Oldfield”? Oh, that is cute! Look – forget what I said about calling me Jane, OK? You can just call me Miss Summers tomorrow, OK? In front of the client. I’d like that. I’d really like that! Or…you could call me “Boss”.
Go on – just for me. Say “OK, boss!”
Brilliant!
Scenes from Servitor’s so-called life part 2 (of rather too many).
I guess it won’t surprise regular readers of this blog to learn that I was bullied at school. It was rather traumatic actually, still something I can’t really face properly when I look back upon it. There was this gang of older girls at break-time, and they’d take my lunch money, and beat me up, and pull my trousers down and spank me… and all sorts of frankly quite sexual humiliations. Then one day they refused to take the lunch money any more, so it all had to stop. They never told me why, never told me what had changed. A heartbreaking moment.
SNIFF!
OK, on with the therapy.
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| You’d think that having biology teacher as their test subject would have helped, but he never made one useful suggestion the whole time. Just cried, and pleaded – that sort of thing. Very disappointing. |
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| They later got married! True story. |
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| Oooo! Do you think they’re planning some sort of surprise for him? What fun! |
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| I used to find these big decisions really difficult, so it’s great not being allowed to take them any more. |
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| A new femdom fetish meme: dommes feeling humiliated. Really, you don’t want to stand too close to one. |
A favourite line… She presents a gardening programme on BBC nowadays. Strange but true.
OK, now more of this:
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| She has a great sense of humour, Mdame Sarka. I’ve commented ont his before, I think. |
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| Actually, Brad’ll be spanking you anyway, as part of the performance. But there’s time enough to find that out later, when you’re in your cute little outfit. |
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| Edward certainly is, after all. |
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| The stigmata help you contemplate the divine. |
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| Of copurse, it’s not quite at the same time. I think the castration’s first. So if you really hate it – don’t worry. A bit later on, maybe you’ll be losing those bits of your brain that hold the memories. |
It’s not as much fun as it sounds.
And nor is this, but I’m incorrigible… despite knowing quite a few ladies for whom correction is a career.
Why don’t I just shut up and get on with it, you ask?
Oh. OK.
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| OK, so she shouldn’t have done that. But then he shouldn’t have got cross, should he? I mean, really. |
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| Good thing you were there to help out. |
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| What’s the problem? He still paid, didn’t he? |
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| Too much self-loathing there for you? Oh, you’re really not going to like the one below, then. |
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| I did warn you. Loser. |
A silly humiliation story, written to amuse my Significant Other. Names have been changed to protect…well, me.
Servitor
looked straight back into her eyes as he handed her the money.
The
girl froze in the act of taking his money, carefully transferred it to the till
and turned her whole body to face the next customer, without a word.
Servitor
grabbed the coffee and almost ran from the coffee shop in horror, feeling the
shocked and amused stares drilling into the back of his neck, his down-turned
face burning with humiliation. He walked
rapidly down the street, slowing to a normal pace only when he was almost half
a mile away from the scene of the catastrophe.
What
had he said? How was that possible? He felt sick and shaky. If he were still a drinker, he told himself,
this would be a double vodka moment. As
it was, he gratefully saw a Boots Chemists sign ahead and went in to buy some
aspirin.
“Do
you have a Boots advantage card?” the middle-aged lady at the check-out asked
him.
“No.”
he heard himself say, with growing horror.
“But I do like to take advantage of my little cock by wanking until it’s
sore.”
This
time he didn’t even pick up his purchase: as soon as the words were out of Servitor’s
mouth, he was pushing past the stunned customers and heading straight for the
door.
Out
on the street, Servitor panicked.
Loyalty card? As he thought that,
the words “sweaty little cock” jumped into his brain. Loyalty card. (‘tiny prick’). Something about those words, about saying
loy-…the L word. Or anything like it,
remembering the Boots experience.
(“Frequent flyer”? “Frequently wank myself silly”). He mustn’t even think it.
Where
could he shop? He had to go places where
they didn’t have a loya- a – a programme for rewarding customers. There was a corner shop just ahead, and
steeling his nerves, he went in and bought bread and a few tins of food. He marched up to the counter, heart thumping.
“Four-fifty”,
the man behind the counter said, not looking at him. Servitor held out a fiver with shaking hands
and clenched his teeth tight shut. The
shopkeeper pulled at the note, and looked up in confusion as Servitor’s fingers
held it tight.
He
walked out in triumph. No mention
of…rebate programmes…and no problem.
Well, he wouldn’t starve.
The
cab pulled up outside his house and the driver drew the little window
back. “Do you need a receipt mate?” he
called cheerily.
***
In a different town, in a different county, Mistress Valerie was tidying her toy cupboard. She picked up a box, rifled inside it and
frowned.
Ms
Sandra leaned round the door. “Me?” She
replied, innocently. “Why would I do
that?”
