Category: humour(?)

Until morale improves


There is actually a technique for pushing a pole all the way through a man’s alimentary canal without causing internal injuries.  Sadly, she doesn’t know it.

I would explain, but Someone doesn’t allow me to speak to strangers.  Or, indeed, people we know.

Residents staying for longer get a food dispenser too.  But you’ll be OK without – it’s only ten days.
 This is the lovely, clever and witty Tiffany Naylor, yet another Lady who has had the misfortune to encounter Servitor in ‘person’.
I’m surprised he can afford to visit her, on a teacher’s salary.  Still, he gets his money’s worth.

I’ve actually set up my loozr account so it automatically sends a message to any woman who spends longer than five minutes within ten metres of me.  I don’t know what the message says, but on the very rare ocasions it’s been used, it seems to have been quite effective.


That would be funny…

… if it weren’t so sad.



Actually, there’s a perfectly simple explanation. Just tell her you’re a pervert.





You can get quite sweaty dressed up like that.  Hope the other guests have brought plenty of liquids.


Hee hee. Brad might think he’s her favourite lover, but she doesn’t put the spotty socks on for him, does she?  I know where her true affections lie.  Anyway, better get on with it, there’s ironing to do (yum!).
Very true. We each have our special skill. Mine is ‘incompetence’.
Blubbolow fllabbo ploh?


Future perfect

By popular demand*, more scenes from the 2020 election  campaign and the Hathaway administration’s first term.** 


These ones seem quite heavily to feature Megyn Kelly***. If you object to that****, perhaps you could direct me to other ladies whose image on TV has been captured in quite so many high quality screenshots.







* No, really, just for once.  Honestly, I write a blog full of pictures of sexy young women wearing not much, or kinky leather-clad vixens and what do you all clamour for?  More posts about politics!  You’re a bunch of very weird people, you know that, right?  But then, so am I.

** See those little underliney things?  Those show the words are actually links: to earlier posts in this series.  Apologies to female readers of this blog, who are obviously able to work that out for themselves. 

*** Who appears to have taken on a role as spokeswoman for the campaign while retaining her anchorwoman job. If you think that’s a conflict of interest then take it up with her, not me, OK?  But be polite.  Very polite.

**** No, I’m not expecting a great many objections either.  But you never know.

If it’s Friday, this must be Belgium

Regular readers will know that occasionally I depart from the fantasy theme of this blog to give practical, down-to-earth advice to subs on visiting dommes. See this, this or this, or even this for example.

But my stats tell me that this blog has readers from all over the world and especially the USA, so I was thinking it might be time for a post especially for the American subs.  No – I don’t mean one using particularly short and simple words.  I do that anyway, because I am well aware that many of this blog’s readers are male and I don’t think it’s fair to make it too difficult for them to follow, in the brief amount of computer time they’re allowed.  I mean a post that helps US visitors to Europe navigate the complex but fascinating cultural backwaters my tired old continent possesses. 

So here – in a bid to alienate the majority of my readership – is some advice to a US sub, visiting Europe. Have a nice day now, y’hear?


 

 

Out and about

Well, it’s a lovely spring holiday weekend here in Notrealland: the sun is out, the first flowers are blooming and so the muse just couldn’t summon up the energy to strike me today*.  So rather than toss off** some captions, I just got my trusty old Hasselblad out and wandered around the lovely Notrealshire town of Notrealingham, where I don’t really live, taking pictures of some of my favourite spots that don’t really exist.  

Sometimes even this blog doesn’t have to be about femdom porn, OK? Let’s just take a moment to savour the pleasures of humdrum day-to-day life.


The old village green, at what is now the town centre.***  A lovely spot.  I can sit there for hours at a time: sometimes looking around at the scenery, sometimes, you know, just staring at the inside of a leather hood.  It’s where I do my thinking.










From the historic to the ultra-modern. This place opened up about two years ago and it’s really transformed the way the ladies of the town oppress their men.  It’s got the latest equipment, underground storage – even a coffee bar to relax in while waiting for the shorter treatments to be completed (they collect and deliver for longer-stay procedures).  I think it’s a shame in some ways: we used to have three discipline parlours run by old-fashioned governesses on the High Street but so many ladies bring their men here to be beaten now that there’s only one parlour left and even they’re trying to go modern with perspex canes and whatnot.  Still, I suppose that’s progress for you.  And small businesses can adapt: they just have to find a niche. We have an artisanal shackles shop operating out of the old blacksmith’s, for example. They can even do on-body welding, which you won’t find at a swanky outfit like Elsa Summers!

Ah,
the male health clinic.  That’s Lisa and Debbie there: lovely girls.
They always had a dream of setting up their own clinic, even when they
were at school. I remember hiding behind the bins with the other boys
whenever we heard they wanted to play doctors and nurses. That’s them in
the picture on the wall behind them too, actually, with their dad. 
Well, their late dad I suppose I should say.  He died of complications
after some surgery went wrong. But you can’t let one little mistake put
you off, can you, so I’m glad to see they’ve stuck with their medical
vocation.  Bye Lisa, Debbie!  What’s that?  No, I don’t think I’ve
got an appointment next week…?  Oh, I see – my wife made it?  OK, I
expect she was going to tell me all about it in due course.  See you
next week, then.  Bye
Trying for an arty wide-angle shot here.  Signs outside the local newsagent.  I can’t help thinking the newspapers aren’t quite as interesting, now that men aren’t in charge any more.  We used to have wars, crime, stuff like that.  Still, I suppose I mustn’t complain.

And finishing off at our lovely municipal park, named in commemoration of a very lovely American lady.  Just the place to spend an Easter Sunday afternoon, so if you don’t mind I’ll leave you now and head off for the pony stables.  They have a bridleway that goes right around the lake, and there’s nothing better than clip-clopping along on a spring ride with your beloved: the wind in your hair, the smell of freshly-mown grass rising up from your nosebag and the flick-flick-flick of her whip against your buttocks. It’s been winter too long.  Don’t you agree?****


* Yes, I know I’ve made the ‘muse striking me’ joke several times before.  I like it, OK? 

** Yes, I know.  I like that one too.

*** Well, OK, if you want to quibble, that particular place does actually exist. 

**** What? Well, OK, unless you live in the Southern hemisphere I suppose. Do you have to be so pedantic all the time?  Just read the bloody blog, why can’t you?  I spent ages in Photoshop with most of these pictures and I don’t know why I bothered, as I know that you’ll hate them because there’s no pictures of women.  What do you want – porn?  (Don’t answer that).