Category: leash

A harsh Mistress

Another science fiction special. I have a lot of unpublished captions for SF themes… also a lot for the Jane Austen style historical ones (that’s next Sunday – sorry, I know you don’t get to see a lot of tit and bum in those, but you don’t make the rules, maggot). It’s almost as if I’m avoiding the present day, as being something depressing or alarming… can’t imagine why.

Anyway, several tales of a brighter, if crueller, tomorrow.

The robot-looking ones are feeling particularly foolish – or would be if they could – having discovered they are entirely superflous to the conquest and enslavement of humanity. Well… the less intelligent half of it, anyway; they were planning to leave the other half alone as too scary to mess with.
Wow… that’s a scary thought. Imagine having to find your own food, instead of having it spooned out into your bowl by a kind owner.
Being tied up in the lassoo or truth, he can’t really protest that he isn’t a pervert. By the way: apparently, the lasso doesn’t force you to speak… but if you say nothing, you’d remain tied up by Lynda Carter forever. How awful that would be… unimaginable.
One advantage of defaulting to severe humiliation femdom play is there’ll be no awkwardness when she needs to regurgitate that food.
When she discovers there’s no female actually in charge, the solution will be obvious to her. Thank goodness.
I’ve done quite a few of these, just click on the science fiction tag. The guy making these calls seems to have had a hand in making almost all of the most significant genre movies of the past fifty years – quite an achievement.

Bonny brutality

I don’t pee standing up, either. My SO insists that I do it lying in my bathtub, with my legs up as far over my head as they’ll go. It’s quite uncomfortable – and messy – but she says it’s funnier that way.
The trick is to have a weekly joint budget – and for the male to have sufficient incentive to make sure it isn’t exceeded, no matter what she spends.
You can get an app to track your pillory time each week, I understand, which can be useful for writing letters of thanks.
‘D-I-V-O-R-C-E – find out what you’re worth to her, on the open market.’
Oh good. I hope one of them’s a nice cup of hot chocolate.
It’s not mind-reading. Men can’t really hide it when they’re aroused. I don’t just mean erections – even we submissives who aren’t allowed them exhibit subtler signs, like whining and pleading.

She is your everything

… which is just as well, as you’re her nothing.

Oddly enough, I was actually engaged in SPH play years before I even knew what it was – in the school changing room, for instance. I guess I’m just a natural.
Don’t worry, she generally just takes little light puffs, she doesn’t pull on it to drag it down quickly. Unless she’s had a hard day or something like that, obviously.
In a very real sense, marriage to her is a stress position, so it’s all good practice.
I find being on a leash quite reassuring. My SO got one of those extendable ones – you know, that have a kind of wheel that can pay out to allow the pet to run off some way – and I have to say, I felt almost agoraphobic with it on. Unfortunately, it broke one day when I was fetching it, and after a good hard discussion of why ‘it broke’ I was dragged out of the door on the good old chain.

Bunnies are actually savage little creatures. True fact (read Watership Down). Perhaps that’s what inspires these lovely ladies.
Hmm… looks like Jake was a bit surprised by that! He really shouldn’t have been – anyone could have guessed that Bluetooth connectivity was likely to come up. Now he’s going to get all embarrassed by having his ignorance shown up right there on stage.

But you won’t cry, I know

Angry tears are too dear.

She likes it when you say please and thank you, but you need to get used to saying them quickly, because once she starts using alternating hands, it gets pretty fast.
Men need to take responsibility for their own behaviour. His body, his fault.
They say when you’re in a hole it’s best to stop digging… although my experience has always been that if I’m digging a hole I’d better damn well keep digging as fast as I can, until she tells me to stop.
Don’t get your hopes up, she rarely keeps the boys she collects when she’s out.
And if she does finally snap and put you on the leash, for goodness’ sake don’t make her drag you along. It’s not fair to expect her to do all the work in the relationship.
She doesn’t realise what a career boost a photo feature in AFM can provide. Take a look at some of the shots from the magazine I’ve featured here – A-listers, almost all of them.*

* Fans of AFM – yes, there are some, you’re not the weirdest reader of this blog, you know, not by a long chalk – can look forward to a great start to 2025. No spoilers, though.

Hypnotized by you if I should linger

I will listen hard to your tuition.

‘Hmmm’ as in ‘Mmmm…hmmm…’? Or as in ‘Hmmm!’ ?
I always switch my phone off before a session, And the location thing too. Once, visiting the delightful Mistress Servalan in Sydney, my own phone ran out of battery just before I was due to call her to tell her I was on the street outside and I had to call a dominatrix on my work phone. That was briefly stressful, but Mistress Servalan managed to bust my stress almost immediately.
C’mon, give her a break, for goodness’ sake.
C’mon: be a man. A very submissive, cringing kind of man, ideally.
She won’t use the shock collar on him either. Says it’s cruel.

The divine Miss Chambers, from Cruella. Oh that nose…

But don’t get too close. 1.5 to 2.5 metres, remember? And always behind her, which can be a problem if she turns around suddenly. A problem for you, I mean. She doesn’t mind.

Feminine guiles

She had to do something to keep herself amused. She’d already done today’s Wordle, after all.
She’s also his personal financial advisor – she’s recently encouraged him to move most of his ready cash into envelopes.
She’s lucky to have Sarah, otherwise she’d be a pushover for any chained-up male with a sob story.
Embarassingly, it was only at the top she realised she’d meant to throw something into the rubbish bin and had to lead you right down and then back up again, the silly forgetful thing.
It’s nice and quiet down there, hardly anyone ever visits. Don’t worry, though: there’s a food chute. Well… down there it’s a food chute. On the surface it’s a rubbish chute. Same difference.
Don’t worry, they always schedule some special ‘couple time’ when your wife has you just to herself.

Severely

I suppose it’s polite to ask, but really she should just make herself at home.


 

He looks pretty trustworthy to me.  You’ll be fine.  Just think about something else for 20 minutes.

  

 
 

No, she’s not particular.  Well…she is, obviously.  Just not about that sort of thing.

 

See?  There’s always a solution if you just talk it out.  It’s like the time I finally told my SO I was finding our ‘lifestyle’ a bit difficult and in just a few minutes ‘talking it through’ we hit on the solution of shutting the fuck up and never complaining to her again.  So simple, in retrospect and it’s avoided so many problems since.

 

 

She’s definitely going to go down there and check he’s OK, though.  There’s just something she needs to do first, that’s all.

 

 

Doing what she wants



‘Public humiliation’ is apparently one of the approved reasons for leaving the house in the present situation.  Thank goodness we can preserve the basics of civilisation, in these trying times.











Don’t worry. As soon as she’s stopped being angry with you, she’ll give femdom a go.  Possibly even before she’s stopped beig angry, actually.







Even the oubliette can be quite peaceful on a lovely summer evening… the sound of birdsong, the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Sometimes you can even smell the blooms in the nearby flowerbeds, but usually the stink of piss is too strong.



Maybe it’s yummy. I guess she’ll never know.

I must say, I can’t understand men who frequently visit prostitutes.  I just cannot take any pleasure in mixing sex with a cold, businesslike financial transaction, you know?  Much better to stick to financial domination.


Once upon a time…

She decided on “Whiney” in the end. It seemed appropriate.







My SO can do that.  Just a few swishes of her magic wand and the housework begins – all without her lifting a finger.











Ribbit












Actually, that’s not true.  There was a woodman – still is, actually, somewhere.  I expect she’s got her reasons for keeping him hidden.











Some day her Prince will come.  You’ll be in the cucky cupboard when he does, obviously.

…and they all… well, almost all of them, the ones that mattered anyway… lived happily ever after.

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