lesbians – Contemplating the divine

That little chat

You know… that little chat. The one she’s been promising you all week. Don’t keep her waiting.

And don’t forget what happens to sissies who tell lies. Although I don’t imagine you will, after that last time.

Oooh – potential ally! Maybe you could start by explaining how oppressive and inappropriate disciplinary spankings are, see how she reacts, then develop the conversation from there.

Unlike many mothers-in-law she’s quite pleased with her daughter’s choice of husband and enjoys her visits.

Maybe they’ll have a ‘bring your sissy to work day’ at the silo.

Those slaveboys… they get up to such mischief. Good thing she’s there to keep an eye on him.

He is lucky. Look at all that effort she’s putting into their relationship.

The wonderful Lady Kenworthy, demonstrating the sound of one hand clapping.

They can be such fun. Yes, we’re back in the wonderful world of St Mackenzies, that great British educational institution that understands the contribution a good carpet-munching, peach-bumping lesbian gangbang – or several – can make to a traditional education.

Any resemblance to the real StMacs is… well, somewhat unsurprising, seeing as that is where I got the pictures.

Unnecessary evil

It’s just for fun.

Many men in these circumstances make the mistale of starting with an apology – which is insulting and offensive to her, as it’s a way of trying to control her reaction, you know? It’s a Mars/Venus thing. Try just calmly acknowledging the facts of your behaviour, observe her reaction, then after that (or during it, even) apologise as profusely and abjectly as you feel the situation merits.

They choose a different male to participate every day – oh, and two on Saturdays, when there’s a matinee show for kids, of course.

So much simpler that way. There’s enough that’s complicated in this world: shoe buying shouldn’t have to be.

Don’t feel you have to be brave for her. She wouldn’t enjoy it as much if you were.

Despite what you might think from the picture, their order’s habit (clothing) is actually very mainstream. There was just a mix-up at the laundry, some of the clothing got mislaid, so they had to buy a few extra nun costumes, and as luck would have it, the only place still open was the local fetish shop. Obviously, they’ll be taking this up with the owners of the laundry, who might find themselves in need of rather a lot of penance.

Isn’t it sweet, how she’s not just thinking of her own pleasure?

The brutal reality

As the little disclaimer to the left there states, this blog makes no claim whatsoever to realism. Over the years, this has served me quite well as a catch-all excuse, when certain commenters – anonymous or otherwise – point out small inconsistencies, minor plot holes or blatant and wildly implausible attempts to ignore the physical laws of the Universe in one caption or another.

But just for a change (but not for the first time, or the second or even the third), we’re going to be focused on reality in today’s post: the truth about femdom. How it really is. Because that’s reality. Because. That. Happens.

Don’t worry, we’ll be rejoining the unreality-based community in the next post, on Tuesday.

One of my regular dommes agreed instantly, when I asked her for a gentle, slow-paced four-hour boot-worship session, but things got a little difficult when I turned up and she realised I’d hoped she’d be wearing the boots during the whole time.

As long as there’s something soft nearby to break her fall if she topples over, maybe?

Anyway, the bowl doesn’t have to go through the bars, does it, he can just stick his head out and… hmmm… Oh well. Ella can be Kross with me whenever she likes and it’s all good.

Cruella especially has perfected the photographic genre of ‘domme standing in stiletto heels on a hard surface surrounded by muddy countryside – with no clue how she got there or how she’s going to get away.’ It’s a minority interest, obviously.

More a comment on this blog’s approach to images of lesbian joy than the general reality.

Too right. I was watching *Penance and Repentance for the Naughty Nympho Nuns* yesterday evening and they got the words of the catechism completely wrong -spoiled the whole thing for me.

Alma mater

Today’s post celebrates the approaching quadricentennial of a great British educational institution: St Mackenzies. Founded in 1625, to provide, in the words of the school charter: “opportunyties for daughtters of gentelfolk to fuckke and cavort in uniformes both sexie and impracticalle”, the school has always prided itself on its insistence on slutty demeanour at all times, its non-stop attention to lesbian sexual hi-jinks and its almost total indifference to any kind of academic success. Despite this determination to prioritise hot girl-on-girl action over scholastic excellence, the school has, over the centuries, exerted a distinctly perverted influence on British politics, culture and life, famous old girls including mistresses of various notable historical figures (including three concurrent mistresses of the same archbishop of Canterbury) as well as distinguished brothel keepers, Page 3 girls and – in one case the school prefers to downplay – a recipient of the Nobel Prize for Physics.

The school’s proud motto: Exue vestimenta tua et habeamus coitum (loosely: ‘get your kit off and let’s fuck’) has inspired its former pupils to create many cultural works celebrating the school’s values, from the seminal sixteenth century Bokke of the two douzone virgines, with manyye instruktive illustrashiones, through the sadly now near-unknown 32-volume Lady Birchingham’s Daughters saga written by the prolific ‘Anonymous’ in the mid nineteenth century, through to the much beloved 1950s school stories featuring ‘Daisy’ (of which Daisy and the Mystery of the Changing Room is perhaps best known). More recently, of course, the school is best known from its photosets and videos in which staff and pupils alike demonstrate the sapphic skills for which the school is justly famed.

Despite the frequent presence of canes, rulers and other implements of chastisement in its classrooms, the school’s reputation for obsession with CP is (regrettably, in the opinion of this blog) ill-deserved, as although many pupils have found themselves stripping to bend over to be disciplined, they usually experience no more than a few taps before the schoolmistress tasked with administering the punishment finds the near naked young lady before her too irrestistible to delay fucking any longer. Indeed, a frantic lesbian sex session is the school’s preferred approach to any disciplinary problem, particularly bullying (which has reared its ugly head on too many occasions, before having that head shoved firmly down between the thighs of a pretty schoolgirl). Just occasionally, girls who have behaved particularly badly are kept behind in detention, sitting bored behind desks in front of an equally-bored supervising teacher, a situation that turns out pretty much as you might expect in a school full of attention-deficient lesbian nymphomanics.

Still taking students of all ages from 18 to 30 or so and proudly bearing its Ofsted ‘Utterly Preposterous’ rating (but having scored a ‘Highly commendable – if a little pervy’ for the school’s approach to LGBT issues), St Mackenzies now totters gingerly on its high heels into its fifth century. Times may change, but there are values that are eternal and for as long as people enjoy watching female teachers and pretty schoolgirls in tight-fitting uniforms shriek, giggle and – inevitably, rapturously, exhaustingly – fuck each other senseless, there will always be a St Macs. For which we can all be grateful.

https://stmackenzies.com/