Jane Austen – Contemplating the divine

Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the company of intelligent women.

More glimpses from a bygone, more civilised age.

Except obviously you won’t be buggered afterwards. Not with a real penis, anyway.

Of course, she won’t continue her career as a governess after marriage. That would be quite against the spirit of the times, which held that even professional women, once married, should focus all of their efforts on their husbands.

War is hell. So’s her strap-on, actually.

Striking at the root of the problem, so to speak.

Even young ladies of fashion had to develop practical skills in those days. The lady behind looks singularly uninterested, though… dreaming of marriage to a billionaire, perhaps.

He loves – and loves a lass above his station, by the look of him.

The sobs and tears of joy…

“… he had not foreseen rose with such force within him that his whole body shook and for a long time prevented him from speaking. Falling on his knees by her bed. He held his wife’s hand to his lips and kissed it, and her hand responded to his kisses with weak movement of her finger.”*

More femdom from a less gentle but more genteel age. I know this series won’t appeal to a lot of the male readers of this blog, as there isn’t a lot of female flesh on display and the captions have a lot of words, some of them quite long and difficult.** And if I cared what they think, I suppose I would do something about that.

Cousin Kitty looks forward all year to her visits.

I’ve often sessioned with dommes who start sentences with “Perhaps…” like this lady, when what they’re suggesting *might* happen always *does* happen. So I do wonder if they understand the meaning of the word. Next time I hear it in session, I might try explaining this is a word to be used in a conditional sentence expressing a remote prospect, so we should understand it to imply that what she’s suggesting is unlikely to occur. I’ll let you know how that goes.

Ah… the tale of Wanda and Severin. A classic romance – my SO fell in love with that book.

She dislikes indelicate subjects. She dislikes insubordinate subjects too, of course, and she’s the Queen, so there are consequences.

*It isn’t what we say or think that defines us, but what we do.****

* Not Austen, Tolstoy. But fortunately, I have a tag for that already.

** Pro-tip: try moving your lips quietly when you read. Women won’t mind if they see you doing it; they all know we males are morons. Counting on your fingers can help when there are hard maths sums to solve, too.

*** That one is Austen.

Since you’re all the way down here, reading the footnotes, you’ve obviously got nothing better to do with your time (still locked up, are we? awww, never mind…) so here’s a trivia question for you: what links caption 2 and caption 5 – and also (unintentionally on my part) the text but not the image in caption 6? Hmm?

Imperial leather

More captions from a bygone age. Several bygone ages. But all featuring enchanting unfairness from the fairer sex.

Curiously, as a result of these two ladies taking their roles slightly further than he had anticipated, the ‘genleman’ in question was late for a meeting of the British Cabinet at which a fateful decision was taken that, had he been able to attend, he would have counselled against and thus avoided the siege of Khartoum and all the unpleasantness that stemmed therefrom. But Luce and Eliza got paid and that’s the important thing.

Forgive her Father, but not just yet if you don’t mind.

Albert, of course, died tragically young – an outcome for which the young queen was in no way responsible. So please don’t ask her how he actually died, she prefers not to think of the night in question. Nor was it in any way connected to the form of penile implant that was subsequently named after her late consort. Historians are quite clear on that and to suggest otherwise is technically treason, even today. Interestingly, the practice of ‘queening’ may well have been named after Victoria, although the suggestion to rename it ‘queen-empressing’ after 1877 never really caught on.

I think Kitty might need to comfort her quite soon, as she seems quite affected by the sight, the poor delicate thing.

Not compensations every time, but certainly compensations.

It isn’t what we say or think that defines us, but what we do

You will, of course, have recognised the title from the divine Jane’s Sense and Sensibility and thus have girded your loins (or had someone else firmly gird them for you) for another chapter of this blog’s longest running theme: period femdom. Like period drama you see, only…

What? No, not that kind of ‘period’. Pervert.

Anyway, here come the hot chicks in empire-line dresses, bustles, cropped bodices and suchlike.

They needn’t worry. The spirit of Chrstian mercy burns fiercely in their Aunt’s breast and she would greatly prefer to see the lad thrashed – several times, ideally – and retained in her service.

In the last county fair, the whippiness and suppleness of the birches produced on her estate received high praise.

As Marx tells us, social relations will be revolutionised by technological and economic developments. Yes, industrialisation may regrettably make slavery obsolete, but it will bring in new possibilities too. Electric cattle prods, for instance: unknown in pre-industrial society but today it is hard to imagine married life without them.

I have made a careful study of the good Baron’s oeuvre and may yet publish a scholarly monograph on it. Sadly, some of the pages in my only copy of his greatest work have become stuck together, so publication will have to wait.

To Sally’s disappointment, he describes nothing of the lives of the women of this exotic tribe and how they manage, left to their own devices without men. She takes a keen interest in that kind of thing. Perhaps when or if he writes another letter, she’ll learn more.

Don’t imagine that in saying ‘I’m sure you received worse thrashings in school’, she is merely speculating. She takes a keen interest in boys’ education and is on the board of governors of three local charity schools, so she is very well acquainted with the topic.

Historical females

Once again, it’s time to look back on the more elegant femdom of times past. One of this blog’s earliest and least-popular series, continued here out of sheer stubbornness and an almost total lack of self-awareness: Jane Austen femdom. With a few anachronistic wobbles of a hundred years or so in either direction from the divine Jane’s own period.

Even in the prudish Victorian era*, brides-to-be were often passed practical guides to the secrets of married life, by their mothers or other older women. The good Baron’s was one of the most popular.

You’d think he’d be better at recognising birch by now. Oh well.

I do think the husband of the more experienced lady depicted here was most unlucky, after having spent years at one of the most selective boarding schools, to emerge without a taste either for being buggered or viciously flogged. He found adjustment to married life very trying, poor fellow.

Justice must be done, seen to be done and then later recalled in the Queen’s bedchamber.

The depressing thing is, he always remained hopeless at Latin grammar, despite the strenous efforts of a succession of governesses over many years.

As it turned out, the quality of her mercy came to be much appreciated by her subjects, not least because it was so rarely exercised. It’s good to be the Queen.

* Yes, I know Jane Austen was pre-Victorian. Do pay attention: as the paragraph at the start noted, the actual time period featured here varies. All posts set before 1910 or so** are labelled as ‘Jane Austen‘ (indeed, many are introduced as featuring ‘Hot chicks in empire-line dresses’ even when the hot chicks featured are in fact attired in the fashion of an entirely different era).

** Posts after 1910 (and before about 1960) being labelled ‘Downton Domination‘. But you knew that, right?

Screaming historically

…with apologies for the unusually awful pun in the title, even by the standards of this blog, we happily present more femdom captions from a time before those words even existed. But there are some timeless verities and female superiority is one such.

Hmm… maybe Karen Gillan was wrong.

A quick succession of busy nothings

More captioned images of ladies occasionally displaying daring glimpses of ankle, or elegantly-shaped necks. Yes, it’s more hot chicks in empire-line dresses. Just the sort of porn you come to the Internet looking for, right? Right?

It’s what you’re getting today, anyway. Lovelies in lingerie, leather and latex will reappear in future posts, don’t worry. Well… these ladies are presumably wearing lingerie too. Some kind of unmentionables, anyway. You just don’t get to see them.

A fondness for reading, properly directed, must be an education in itself

Another look back in time, to the more elegant and yet sweetly brutal femdom of yesteryear.

She had remarkably progressive attitudes for her time, as you can tell. Indeed, I believe she visited the former colony, by then a thriving republic, later in her life and has something of a claim to being the founder of ‘BBC fetishism’, now so very popular on the Internet.

Cecily has a lot to learn… as does George, but soon after this, the ladies engaged a very experienced governess to help with all that and never had to bother themselves about him again.

She’s beautiful when she’s vexed.

What a fine moral compass that young lady has! I’m sure it will stand her in good stead when she marries.

And one too large to fit as a caption, even one as wordy as those above.

My dearest Emilia

Of course, my first communication on my return from honeymoon can only be to my dearest school friend, so here you find me writing. Goodness, what an exciting time we had! So many tea dances, sonnet recitals and long country walks in the rain, it made my head quite spin.

And of course, marital bliss. Dear, dearest Emilia, I was reminded of the little games you and I used to play at school – do you recall, in the dorm, when the nuns had ceased patrolling for the night? Silly, girlish games, really, but I recall them with great affection. I was reminded for some reason of our little ‘tickling contests’ under the sheets. Do you recollect, my dear, your telling me that our little games were useful practice for romance with a man? All that kissing and petting and… other things? Well, my dear, the ‘real thing’ so to speak is a little similar in some respects but very different in others. It is quicker, for one thing. Much, much quicker. I had barely thought it started, when – done! Men are so much more efficient in these matters, it seems.

Also, nothing in my previous experience had prepared me for the important role that my shoes would play in ‘rousing’ Harold to the right state of enthusiasm. Nor the necessity of securing my husband
tightly to the bed with straps, to prevent harm to his delicate wife. All most ‘educational’. Perhaps these things are ‘old hat’ to you, my dear, living your glamorous life in London. Although I understand your social circle consists almost entirely of women. So perhaps not.

Would you care to visit some time, dear Emilia? Even a married woman must not forget her old school chums. Why, peculiarly enough, I have been thinking a lot of Lydia, lately: old ‘slipper’ herself, the terror of the dorms when she was a prefect. I happened to mention her to Harold for some reason or other and he seemed quite fascinated, so I had to recount all the details of how we suffered under her hand! And of course you and I would comfort each other afterwards, kissing all that poor bruised flesh better. However, I thought Harold would not be interested in that part of the tale, so did not bore him with it.

So, Emilia, dearest, do write back with the utmost haste to arrange some dates for a visit. Or simply arrive! We do not have much space to spare but I am confident we can squeeze you in! For three days of the week Harold inspects the farms in the North of the county, so it will just be the two of us – oh, and my young housemaid Agnes, of course.

We could even share a bed.

Mmmm…. Perhaps not.

We could even share a bed. It would be just like old times, my dearest Emilia, so do act without delay and I look forward impatiently to once
again holding you in my arms and

No.

holding you in my arms and conversing with my dearest, closest friend.

It brings me great joy to be presented to the world as ‘Mrs Melchett’ but to you, my dearest, I fondly hope always to be your beloved and

and… and… and… ah yes!

affectionate

Anne

All is vanity, nothing is fair

As no doubt the quote from a nineteenth century novel in the title will have forewarned you, Contemplating the Divine once again takes a step back to the gentler, but no less unkind, femdom of regency days*. It was one of the first themes ever to feature on the blog, and remains to this day one of the most thoroughly unpopular, with few if any readers ever having a good word to say about it. But then if I got off on compliments, I wouldn’t be a humiliation freak, now, would I?

Either that, or I’m too stupid to take a hint. Whatever… here come the hot chicks in empire-line dresses yet again.

* and before anyone rushes to comment that at least some of these scenes are clearly from the early Victorian period, I should point out that I am – of course – using ‘Regency’ to indicate a general focus on period drama and costumes, rather than strictly confining the topics to the years between 1811 and 1820. OK? Goodness, femdom porn sites like Bitches with Whips or StraponSquad don’t pay so much attention to these historical details, I’m sure, and I don’t suppose they get that kind of abuse.

One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other.

To celebrate Bastille Day, let’s have some more Regency femdom. The tumbrels and republican principles of the Revolution itself do not lend themselves well to the theme (although I always felt a vague kinship with the sans-culottes) but on the other side of the Channel, the natural order was maintained.

Of course, these are merely modern ‘takes’ on the period. Fashions in femdom at the time were rather different and would seem strange to us today. Humiliation play, for example, might involve acting out being introduced at a ball to a duchess and incorrectly addressing her as if she were a mere viscountess, or using the wrong fork for the fish and being gently and gigglingly admonished (or – worse – subjected to a sustained pretence by one’s dinner companions not to have noticed! Oh, the shame). A ‘forced bi’ scenario would typically end with some roleplaying the inevitable appearance before local magistrates, followed by branding or even transportation to Australia* for committing unnatural acts. And of course the gimp suits of the time were made of wool or coarse cloth -unthinkable today but they knew no better.

What’s that? You want me to shut the fuck up and just show you the pictures of hot chicks in empire-line dresses? Oh, OK then. Sorry.

* Generally regarded as a hard limit by most scene players today – and indeed very few dommes are even prepared to try it, although I understand Mistress Servalan of Sydney has ocasionally put on demonstrations at BDSM conventions.