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.
Another science fiction post! Yeah, it was going to be a historical images special but rocket go up! And Servitor likes that. So in honour of brave spacewoman Christina Koch and her three boys on Artemis II, we’ll do space again today. Plus, we’re still not doing World War M, because other kinds of rocket come back down again.
And in honour of everyone’s favourite component of the hive-mind, there are seven science fiction images, so that’s good, right? And as it’s Easter, we’ll have an extra extra one celebrating the day.
It’s a harsh, untamed planet but fortunately they’ve brought a lot of equipment along specifically designed for taming.
They considered sending King Charles up but it turned out that, by lucky chance, several minor princes and one princess in the Royal Family knew what the OWK was, so the misunderstanding was sorted out.
Recycling is important in space; anything not performing a useful function should always be repurposed or shredded down to its basic elements and added to ship’s stores.
I think if they’re dealing with male humans, relying on reduced brain function is a pretty safe bet. Anyway, Sarah seems nice.
Don’t worry about anything bad happening to those pets, by the way. The envoys arrived under diplomatic protection and interstallar law is clear their property cannot be harmed by the hosts – or if it is, it must be replaced with something of equal value.
In case you’re wondering why they can’t implant their larvae into human females, the little darlings are quite picky about what they like to eat when they hatch out, and there are certain yummy body parts that females just don’t have.
I feel a Spartacus moment coming on. Just give me some air, I’ll be fine.
Easter eggstra:
Serena and Alice have similar traditions but they prefer an old-fashioned crucifixion: the victim’s arms are properly outstretched and there’s no nonsense about using ropes or straps when there are perfectly good nails handy. Alice always loves it when the Easter decoration goes up on Good Friday, the dithering over which terrified male to choose; then the sounds of laughter, joyful hammering and less joyful screaming, then the screams take on a pitch of still greater urgency as the cross is hoisted up, before eventually subsiding to moans and sobs as the decoration hangs there all weekend, reminding her each time she glances up at it of the chocolate eggs to come on Sunday. Easter’s a very special time for them.
Which is obviously fine, humanity being properly reserved for humans not apes or maggots.
I’ve heard the trick is to think about other things, OK? The two weeks will fly by. Now hurry up with that lotion: she’s waiting.
And if you’re not actually her 4 o’clock pervert, just go on up anyway. She isn’t particular.
Realistic goals, firm boundaries, severe consequences. Secret of a happy marriage, right?
She’s right, they’re already starting to look ugly and horrible.
Particularly disappointing given the ants’ matriatrchal society. You’d think they’d at least have a nibble… ant cannot live on honey alone.
Even the grimmest, most unpleasant situations can benefit from a little joke, he always used to say.
Incidentally, my captions here often feature the wonderful Mistress Eleise (with whom I had the pleasure and pain in Paris of a session or three) objecting to blonde jokes. But that’s just my invention. Maybe she really likes them, collects them and treasures examples in which the blonde is being particularly dumb? If anyone visits Canada and if she’s still working, do try a few out and let us know how it goes.
The sort where you wake up in a cold sweat with your heart thumping.
Well, if it’s pitiful enough it should, shouldn’t it? That’s what ‘pitiful’ means. Perhaps you could mansplain that to her – it can only help.
I don’t think they’d be in much doubt anyway, but best to make sure.
They pride themselves on delivering the product unharmed. It’s not just for ethical reasons: several of their clients specifically say they want to receive it entirely free of bruises, cuts or burn marks and with all bodily parts still attached. And they are very client-focused.
I tried a sperm donation centre once but they didn’t even have a key – so what was I supposed to do? Fortunately, the nurses there saw the funny side.
You don’t want to eat the stripy yellow and red ones, by the way. OK, obviously you probably don’t actually want to eat any of them at all, but that’s not my point.
I’d much rather give her a coffee than my opinion.
Just to cite one possibility, at random, among so many.
The Honourable Dogbreath-Twattington takes his role very seriously and never reaches a decision without careful thought about the possible consequences of getting it wrong.
Some prefer candles and soft music but they’ve discovered through much experimentation that this is what works for them.
He’ll thank her for it eventually, you’ll see.
Oh, I hate playing the ‘guess what I stepped in’ game. Surprisingly enough, for instance, beetles and slugs taste very similar, despite actually coming from entirely separate phylla of the animal kingdom.
Oooh kerosene play! Quite edgy if you currently have quite a lot of body hair, I understand.
Never was, in any sense that ever mattered to anyone, to be honest.
Don’t worry: mere viewing of the photos on the Internet carries a much lighter penalty. If it’s a first offence, you should get away with just a day visit to the re-education centre.
I’m sure there are planty of more experienced readers of this blog who could help Miss Chambers out.
See? There was no reason to worry about telling her. Kitten understands completely and she’ll adapt to the new situation.
This way, Ma’am.
Of course, the good Governess will have to make up for it on a subsequent visit, but there’s no need to think about that now.
No sense in rushing these things. My SO always says that I can spend as long as I like – longer even – across the whipping bench, any time I feel like putting one of her orders off until later. It’s nice to have that kind of flexibility.
No cruelty involved.
The name hardly matters, anyway. Usually she’ll just announce what she wants done and you’ll be able to tell when it’s you who’s supposed to do it, just from the tone of her voice.
Her logic is irrefutable (and any attempt to refute it would be a long and painful process anyway).
These are of course the magnificent Goddess Sophia, on (and in) the right there, who has had the discomfort of having to scrape Servitor off the sole of her shoe several times over the years. And Ms Morrigan Hel, on the left, with whom I have not had the pleasure, although she did once walk past a cage I was in.
Presumably she’s about to try to lead Rosie away from evil, back towards the path of kindness and virtue.
Beta Boy has a small circulation but it has very low labour costs – indeed, many of the staff pay the proprietrix to work there – so it gets by.
This particular set of vows contains penalty clauses.
It’s nice to be special, isn’t it?
I think she’s coping very well.
The wonderful Lady Sophia Black. I don’t know what she’s doing now she’s retired from professional domination, but I’ll bet she’s amazingly good at that, too.
Men who aren’t meek and obedient have something wrong with their brains. Fortunately, it’s fixable.
Lots of men experience sudden, irrational fears the night before their wedding. Or rational fears, sometimes, too.
Feelings of inferiority are her therapeutic speciality.
Oh, poor thing. Maybe she should drive off to find a chemists’ shop to buy some antihistamine – it’s best to deal with these things early, before the bites become inflamed.
I’ve tried paying for the ‘realistic girlfriend experience’ a few times, but it’s really a waste of money. They often don’t turn up and even if they do, we usually go to a bar or something where they get off with someone else and leave without me.
‘Cos she’s her laaaydeee… and you’re their male.
Erm… that spanking went without a hitch…no. This painting’s a bit kitsch… Oh dear.
I’m sure you wouldn’t. Not really. Not really really really. Right?
I always find it so hard to remember my details in these circumstances: my name, date of birth… all of that, just flees my brain. Fortunately my password’s ‘Shoelicker’ so that’s easy.
If you think about it (and Kitten’s thought about it a lot) a pay piggie is just like an ideal sugar daddy, because Kitten gets more money to buy the things she wants, doesn’t have to have sex with anyone old and ugly and doesn’t even have to pretend to like you.
As often as she likes, obviously. Which is quite often.
Perhaps her mistress will come to see the advantages in having a male around. Maybe get one herself; I understand they’re very cheap to keep, they needn’t be irritating if they are permanently gagged and after all, she’s got a sub to make sure the nasty thing washes itself frequently.
It’s silly to complain about the taste: I mean, it’s not her fault the company that produces the shaving foam makes it so unpleasant, is it? Write them a letter if you’re so upset about it: I’m sure she’d buy you a stamp.
How could anyone be frightened of a sweet, harmless little creature like her?
It was a blonde joke, wasn’t it? ‘How many blonde nurses does it take to change an obnoxious man’s sexist attitudes’… was that it?
Seems a bit easier than the game of “Guess what implement’s next” that my SO likes to play with me strapped down over the whipping bench. I’m rubbish at it: I don’t think I’ve been right once in what must be over 20 tries, even though she gives me a choice between only two each time. No matter what I say, it’s always the other one. That’s odds of 2^20 against… over a million to one! Pretty unlucky… but as she likes to say, meeting her was such a lucky thing for me, I don’t deserve any more luck ever again, and of course I can’t argue with logic like that.
