Category: humiliation

Ladylike behaviour

A caption from the days before teleworking, of course.  These days busy executives can do a full working day and tawse their husbands as often as needed, all without even leaving the house.



Obviously, men are allowed in the toilets to clean them – but that’s a privilege reserved for the best-behaved and longest-serving residents.




If they put that finding together with the body profile they deduced from the outsized maid outfit also found in your house, they just might get a clear picture of what happened.  Science is great, isn’t it?  Just ask Serena and Alice.

Some people who are generally quite dim can turn out to be brilliant at maths.  Just like some of us with quite high IQs can often be fucking useless stupid morons – or as often as I can afford to pay people to tell me I am, anyway.




He must have very good genes.  Shame there’s no question of them being passed on to the next generation.






True love’s first slap

Yes, it’s Valentine’s Day, a day when humiliation freaks worldwide will rush down to the letterbox in the morning, to revel deliciously in the proof that once again, not a single one of the three billion females in the world has the slightest romantic interest in any of us.

Actually, I did once receive a Valentine card, from this girl I really fancied at school and didn’t have the courage to tell of my feelings for her, but it turned out it she had sent it to the wrong address and it was intended for someone else.  Goodness, how everyone laughed and laughed when that little mix-up was revealed in class, after I got down on my knees to confess my long-standing love for her.  I hope she wasn’t too humiliated by her error being exposed so publicly, poor thing.

I do have a couple of Valentine-themed captions, as it happens, but not a
full set of five, so I thought I’d… what’s that, readers?  You say you don’t
give a flying fuck whether I creatively theme the blog or not?  That you
just want to masturbate to images of pretty ladies saying humiliating
or vaguely menacing things, so why don’t I shut the fuck up and get on
with it?

Oh.  OK then.

 

You could cavil at the poor quality of the photo, but this is Mistress Ardenne so even a blurry photo is more beautiful than 99.999999999999% of things on the planet.  Long retired, I’m sure, so don’t even ask, OK?

 

 

Wow. No time for second thoughts – let’s tie the knot!
 
 

My SO says the same: apparently it’s ‘easier’ to leave me locked up.  Personally, I’ve never had any real difficulties masturbating (except when my penis is locked in a tube, or I’m in tight bondage or agonising pain, that is) so I don’t really see why that should be but I don’t doubt she’s right.  For one thing ‘doubting she’s right’ is #255 on the list of forbidden activities, just 243 places below masturbation itself.




Selecting honesty level two would have got you “Oh… it’s all right, I suppose. A bit below average but I’ve seen worse.”




Funny how it still feels just like that very first date you went on together.  Some relationships are like that, but it’s very rare.




Delightfully despotic

Better do as she says.  But with dignity, right?  Always with dignity.

 

 

 

For those of you objecting that getting an erection is a natural reaction to the situation, merely an expression of sexual desire, should realise that exactly the same argument applies to her giving you powerful electric shocks.

She needn’t hurry.  This isn’t going to be over any time soon.  Not ever, actually.

 

 

She’s not saying it’s a hard limit, mind.

 

 

 

Maybe since she broke her side of the bargain, you should ask for all the presents back? It’s only fair.  Admittedly, fairness has never really been big in this relationship.

 

Compulsive behaviour

She has a different – but very effective – approach to ensuring that the tasks you undertake are carried out properly.

 This is of course Cassie Hunter, the Hunteress or (for simplicity): ‘Ma’am’.

 

I think she shouldn’t be so diplomatic – sometimes it’s best to get honest, direct feedback.

 

 

She doesn’t usually accept ‘submissive little weirdo’ clients, but sometimes it’s a pleasant change not to have to pretend to like them.

 

 

 

Of course, even with a genetic explanation it’s still your fault. 

 

Percy looks like he might need to soak for ten minutes or so in the icy water of the pond in the garden, before he’ll be small enough to fit into his winter quarters.


 And this is Lady Annabelle whom I suspect is retired, but if not, she is certainly one of the smiliest dommes around, with a very fine line in teasing and mocking.  If anyone can find a link to a site that’s her own, please feel free to share it.

 

 

 

De-toxifying masculinity

I suspect she’s already got the job on the basis of her proven leadership potential.

 

 

 

At least twelve years… and that’s subject to good behaviour.  Admittedly, almost every single inmate is on his very best behaviour every second of every day, from about day two or three onward…. but nonetheless, somehow very few of them manage to qualify for early release.  I suppose the wardens are just being careful, bless them… protecting the public.

 

 


Not sure permission to kneel was actually formally given, there, was it?  Hmmm.

 

It must be a lot of fun having an underground swimming pool – this rich couple I know had one constructed, and I’m not sure I’ve seen the husband since it was completed.  Apparently he spends all his time down there.


 

 

 

Oh, right.  Well, if Raoul has needs, obviously that’s different.  Sigh.

 

 

When life gives you lemons…

 …strap him down to a table, clip his eyelids open and squeeze the juice into them.

Too unpleasant for you?  Then you definitely will not want to watch this clip of women (as the title indicates) brutally torturing men to death. 

No, seriously, you won’t.  That clip is not some kind of happy S&M consensual game, nor are the terrified victims saved at the last minute from the evil torturers (don’t you hate it when that happens in mainstream movies?).  It is possibly the most unpleasant, brutal mainstream clip I have ever seen.  Very nasty stuff.

I mean, who could possibly enjoy that sort of thing?  You’d have to be a truly sick weirdo to get any kind of sexual pleasure from that. Simply horrible, it is.  Vile.

Mmmm.

Anyway, on we go!

 

Some poor sod’s going to have to clean that up, you know.


 

 

‘Non-lethal’ is how I like my femdom play.

 

 

Yes, let’s hope Ellie doesn’t take it out on them.  She’d got a terrible temper, you know.

 

 

 

The people have spoken… the ones wanking online, anyway, and that’s good enough for her.

 

 

 

 

Thank goodness none of that applies to any of us, eh readers?  Imagine the (fully justified) self-loathing you’d have to feel to get off on something like this.


Nonjudgemental cruelty

Hmmm… nothing springs to mind. Still, as long as the two of you are talking about it, that’s a good start.



There’s also a scheme now to get paid to feed power back into the grid, which might explain why so many dommes these days have started offering treadmill sessions.

 

 

 

All kinds of feelings can be communicated through dance: humiliation, shame, timidity… it’s a very expressive medium.

 

 

He won’t be able to afford to pay for any more domination sessions, poor chap, but maybe he’ll have had his fill of that sort of thing by then.



 


Fortunately it is a mistake that is easy to rectify.  Easy for the person doing the actual rectifying, anyway.

 

 

″‘You are fettered,’ said Scrooge, trembling. ‘Tell me why?’

Bah humbug.  Have some Christmas-themed captions and then that’s done for another year, thank goodness.


Oh well.  Time to pretend socks were the thing you wanted most of all in the world. Don’t you hate it when that happens?  All those little hints. Still, Angie’s right: you always need socks.




Oh dear: looks like the start of one of those Christmas rows. One advantage of the sort of relationship this blog celebrates, though, is that such unpleasantness is usually quickly and painfully resolved without upsetting anyone who matters.


Just give it a try.  She’s got this magnetic clicker thing to unlock it, somewhere. I tried one a few years back and I can honestly say it’s changed my life.




They try to get into the Christmas spirit at the Male Re-education Centres.  The joke they like to play on recently-castrated sex offenders with the ‘pass the parcel’ game is getting a little stale, these days, but at least they’re trying to keep things cheerful and festive, in otherwise grim surroundings.


Mistress Eleise with a cane.  And they say there’s no wonder or magic in the world any more.



Actually, Ian has got a present for you, of a sort. He hasn’t told her because she might try to stop him.  But that’ll just have to be a surprise.



…and an extra one.  Hey, why not – it’s Christmas!

Maybe time to try that 2000 piece jigsaw your aunt gave you – you know, to take your mind off things.



Oblivion is all you crave

Goodness me, I remember adoring (and by ‘adoring’, dear readers, I mean surreptitiously masturbating to) the Robert Palmer video of Addicted to Love from which that title is taken, when it first came out in 1985.  But generally when I trace my 80’s obsessions (= things I masturbated to) they are blurry messes*, much like my brain at the time.  But this has been digitally re-mistressed in HD remarkably well.  Worth a look.

Of course, as everyone likes to note, the models in the video were famously unconvincing as musicians. All of them lost the beat at various points (just look at their legs – no hardship that – around 1.25) and the second from the right never seems to have found it (and plays the guitar by tickling it), while the drummer acts as if her drums asked her not to leave any marks, before the session started.  Wikipedia says that a musician hired to teach them how to do it gave up after about an hour and left, and rumour has it (but I can’t see it) that if you look really closely you can see them mouthing “one-two-three-four… one-two-three-four…” as they do the moves.

But that’s the point!  It’s like my occasional captions featuring wildly ignorant or uninformed ladies acting out school scenes, thrashing their clients for providing what were actually the right answers**.  They can be totally incompetent but they are still infinitely superior goddesses to be worshiped absolutely.  They don’t need to earn that adoration in any way whatsoever.***

That’s my philosophy, anyway.  Maybe not up there with Socrates or Kant but it works for me.

Stop blithering and get on with the captioned images, you say?  Why of course.


Servitor top tip: any conversation featuring the words ‘scrotal clamps’ is bound to be a little uncomfortable.  Just go with it.

I hope the other one doesn’t get jealous.


Why experience a pointless and meaningless death when instead you can devote the – short and agonising – remainder of your life to making someone happy?

I’ve always been lucky that way.  From my very first date, actually.



He’s rather forgettable.  Sometimes that serves him in good stead, as being noticed too much can be painful.




* Oh God, The Dominatrix Sleeps Tonight.  So… about the first 30 seconds of that featured on some BBC music show when I was a teenager… and then stopped! AAAAH! And there was no Internet, dear children, and the only way you could see a music video was if some TV show chose to play it.  And I had never, ever seen any actual porn featuring an actual dominatrix, just that one glimpse (with heart thudding) of Valerie in that Pink Panther and… and… I watched music TV obsessively for years just in the hope that… and it never… oh, it was a different world, dear children, a different world.


** There’s a few of them.  This for instance – way back when! That earned me several comments helpfully pointing out that Sydney is not actually the… oh well.  Second in popularity only to the opposite theme, of dommes taking school sessions way too seriously and trying to impart actual knowledge.

 

*** The goddesses, according to Wikipedia , are “Julie Pankhurst (keyboard), Patty Kelly (guitar), Mak Gilchrist (bass guitar), Julia Bolino (guitar), and Kathy Davies (drums).”


**** As it is nearly Christmas, let’s have a little look at the parody in Love, Actually, too shall we? Yes, we’ll do that. And that is still lower video quality than the re-mistressed Palmer video!  But the goddesses are goddesses and that’s the main thing.

 

***** Yes, I know there’s no asterisk marks beyond three in the main text above.  But sometimes you start something and it’s hard to stop.


****** Readers based in (or prepared to undergo any amount of travel time to) the UK, who find the look of the goddesses in this video exciting, might be advised to approach (very respectfully indeed) a real-life Goddess, namely Serena.  She is extraordinarily wonderful and indeed used to be a model.

Slavish devotion

I don’t mind being ice cream coned in public – let’s face it, guys, we’ve all been there – but I do object to having to wait in the queue to buy her another one, with the cream oozing slowly through my hair and down my face. Especially as I know that second one’s only going into my trousers.  But my SO says it’s better that way.

 


Shoe fetishists have it easy.  So do humiliation freaks like me, actually: I mean, even the very worst, most cringe-making car-crash of a date can turn out to have been the best ever.

 

 

 

I suppose they could go and put the kettle on, then bring him out a nice hot steaming mug. Honestly, dommes can overcomplicate things some time.

These lovely ladies are at the English Mansion and the lady on the right there is Mistress Vixen, who also plays the piano rather sweetly.  ‘Behind the scenes footage of dommes not realising they were being filmed’ is an under-served fetish, possibly because it often ends in the destruction of valuable cameras (and less valuable cameramen).

 

 

It’s more difficult than it looks, you know.

 

 

She’s not easily impressed, to be honest. Especially by males who are inherently very unimpressive.


 

That’s your lot for today, I’m afraid!  You know the drill by now: five CtD captions, twice a week plus an occasional weekend ‘special’.  But fear not, for I bring tidings of discomfort of the most joyful kind: unto us is born a new blog.  Or, to put it less pretentiously, check out The Age of Femocracy by spicegrinder, a long-standing commentator on this blog.  It seems likely to feature brutal oppression, humiliation, pain and other fun stuff like that so do give it a go.