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Horsey horsey don’t you dare stop. |
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It’s odd, isn’t it? Some of us would bend over backwards to be in that situation. Forwards, too. |
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Try to be brave. Think of her feelings, after all. |
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I would. |
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Horsey horsey don’t you dare stop. |
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It’s odd, isn’t it? Some of us would bend over backwards to be in that situation. Forwards, too. |
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Try to be brave. Think of her feelings, after all. |
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I would. |
a mouth-soaping, a sound spanking and being sent to bed early without any supper. There’s usually very little pride left after that, I find.
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Mmmm…kinky! |
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Every girl should have a boyfriend collection. |
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It’s good for husbands and wives to talk about the family finances together like this. Exactly like this. |
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Welcome back. There have a been a few other changes too, but don’t worry, she’ll explain all about those in due course, when you’re wearing your shock collar. |
The call of nature must be obeyed.
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She actually has very high standards for sorryness. You’ll see. |
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It’s her own recipe. |
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Hmmm… edgy blackmail play. Got to love it. No really, you do. |
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Love her, love her cane, I suppose. |
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She has her own way of dealing with problems. |
Regular “readers” will know that my musical tastes rarely extend beyond about 1988. But I am prepared to make an exception for Mistress Swift.
On with the rest of it… femdom captions, dominatrices, chastity, all those words that get search engines so excited, you know?
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Oh no, not again. |
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You could try calling her tomorrow. “Hi! It’s William from last night. That’s right, the one with the small penis. Listen, I was wondering…” |
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NO! Not the comfy chair! |
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Well… I hope someone’s asked Andy if he’s OK sharing his cucky closet, that’s all. Some men can be a bit funny about that sort of thing – it’s their own special place, you know? |
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…and then if that gets too much, the electric shocks will take your mind off the pain from the welts. |
You know, I read somewhere that many men spend their whole lives in the closet. I think that’s horrible – a tragic waste. I’m glad to say that I’ve never been put in there for more than five hours at a stretch. Just lucky, I guess.
Shall we have some captioned images of female domination now? You up for that? Great.
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The first twenty years are the worst, I’ve heard. |
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Cruella, from many many years ago. But still one of the best photo sets ever. The accompanying story was even about castration, you know. Happy days, for the adolescent Servitor. |
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The problem is, these sorts of prejudice just seem to be inherent in the male sex. In fact, that’s one of the reasons she’ll be removing it. |
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She’s right, you know. Women are, you see. |
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Burble…gibber incoherently…sigh… |
… than you can with just a kind word.
These ladies know that.
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Disappointed? Well.. maybe a little. |
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He can continue to explore his interest in blow jobs too, I understand. |
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Enjoy. Only 25 seconds now… |
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Woof. |
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I’ll confess, I don’t often last the full twenty seconds. But she’s not one of those women who minds if her man comes very quickly. |
As most of you will know, the Other World Kingdom closed its doors some time ago. Like many submissives, I was completely captivated by the images and videos produced by this place, and I wish I had had the opportunity to go. Especially in the very early days, there was a freshness and originality to OWK. I still remember seeing the first full-page glossy ad for the place in a magazine (before the Internet – or at least before I had access, in 1992 or so). There were these stern ladies escorting prisoners with a real concentration-camp vibe. So different from the scenes shot in the British home counties, or the usual studios.
Anyway, through the extensive use of a media technique known in the trade as ‘making it up’, this blog managed to secure interviews with several of the OWK’s ladies just before it closed, reminiscing about the early days and their time at the OWK. The author would like to thank all of these ladies for donating their completely imaginary time, as well as for the advice they provided to him for self-improvement, during the course of the fantasised interviews.
We miss you, OWK.
Now, my dear prisoner, I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?
The bad news? Yes, I suppose that’s a good idea. Hear that first, to get it over with.
Well, the bad news is that the rest of your life is going to be spent down here, and it is going to be utterly miserable. Your hands will stay cuffed behind your back like that forever, and the hobble chain between your ankles isn’t going away either. You won’t be able to stand up, or even crawl, but you should be able slowly to wriggle around, like a maggot, to get across this cold stone floor. You can scream and shout if you like. No one will hear you. Not even me, and there’s no one else for miles around.
There’s more bad news too. In a moment I’ll be leaving, and I’m going to switch off the light and close the door. So it’ll be pitch dark down here – you’re now in the last few moments of light that you’ll ever experience.
That’s right – look at me. This is the last time you’ll ever see anything. Remember me.
More bad news, I’m afraid. You’re going to die down here. But not immediately. There’s plenty of water and I’ve left some piles of food around. Some of the food’s fresh, so if you can find it, as you inch around in the dark, I’d eat that first, as otherwise it’s going to start rotting. But there’s quite a lot of dry food that should be edible for a few months.
But then that’s it. One day, you’ll be painfully wriggling across the floor in the dark; sniffing and licking wherever you go to try to find more food, and there just won’t be any left. But of course, you’ll never be sure that you’ve found it all, so you’ll probably keep trying, as you get weaker, hopelessly dragging yourself back and forth trying everywhere in this pitch black cellar, until you starve to death – alone, in the dark, with no one to care.
So that’s the bad news.
The good news? Oh – erm, yes, now there was some good news. What was it? Goodness, it’s completely slipped my mind. Oh I don’t suppose it matters. Whatever it was, I’m sure it didn’t really concern you anyway.
Goodbye.
… than you can with just a harsh word. To misquote Al Capone.
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And perhaps not. It really doesn’t have any say in the matter anyway. |
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I wonder what’s in the box? |
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Very practical. |
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Anyway, it’s not really a problem if he does suffocate: she’ll still come. |
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She has my attention already. |
Servitor says: new widget! Try the new lucky dip feature, over to the right there.
… or raspberry ripple. I really hate raspberry ripple.
Goodness, I hope none of the dommes with whom I have the honour of serving from time to time read this blog and find out my little secret. They might force me to eat raspberry ripple ice cream in session. How awful that would be!
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‘We’ are indeed trying. Fortunately, only one of ‘us’ has to succeed, doesn’t she? |
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Lucky George. Sharp-eyed observers of more than one ‘scene’ might spot a reference here to an earlier post. |
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Boyfriends, eh? Always spoiling the fun! Why can’t she just do her own beating up? I’d go for that. I’d even pay. |