Category: maid

If wishes were ponyboys

Once again, this blog takes a little break from its usual commitment to hard-core realism to present some fairy tales. Pretty Grimm, I know, but it’s all I’ve got today.

Don’t worry: if she smashes the door, he has alternative accommodation options. She bought a birdcage, before she had the doll’s house furniture idea.
Even tyrannical despots enjoy ‘bring your daughter to work day’.
Frustrate you? Oh, the poor chap. I wonder how long he’ll be left in that condition?
King Jorral’s queen interpreted the promise as meaning that she would continue to sleep in a queen’s bed, and she was absolutely right about that.
Now she’s learning witchcraft, she’s got some plans for Mr Granger, too.
It’s going to be quite odd for the people running heaven when, in about 970 years, the first post-Internet cohorts of mortals start to arrive. ‘Where are all the men?’, they might ask. Although obviously they’re not allowed actually to say the answer.

Or should I say, she once had me

It’s almost as if the designers of women’s loos knew…
I got caught up in the ‘you too’ movement – it just took one finger pointing languidly in my general direction, if I remember arright.
There’s actually relatively little outside work experience that can prepare a slave for the rigours of an OWK working stay, although I have heard that working for Amazon can help.
Not really. He was bending long before he finally broke.
Not quite sure what she means there. Housemaids’ and husbands’ roles are practically indentical anyway.
She was known for being a bully at school. I read an interview with a guy who was so traumatised by being mocked and humiliated by her in geography class that he abandoned the teaching profession entirely.

And she’s got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity the girl who marries you will need

More Downton Domination: captioned images of high society and lowered trousers, in the 1930s and a little bit beyond.

The title of course is a quote from one of those frightfully amusing tales by dear old Plum.

Boybreaking

I’m sure Annie would be glad of the help. Boys can be such a handful.
It’s usually something simple like that – if the motive unit’s not receiving enough pain, from one source or another, then it’s not surprising it runs slowly, especially if it’s one of these older ones.
She mainly does it for the social benefits – all the best people are into brutal canings, these days.
Hotel cleaners like them are used to having to deal with messy situations and inconsiderate clients. It must be quite frustrating… I wonder what they do to relax.
What Lexi suggests, it’s best to accept.
Curiously enough, she does have a step-dad as well, but her mother insists on being the only one allowed to hit him, much to Kitten’s annoyance.

“I wear the chain I forged in life,” replied the Ghost.

“I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.”

A typically uplifting sentence from Mr Dickens there. Actually, I have been developing my own version of his classic tale. Titled ‘A Findomme Carol’, it has a similar story arc but the heroine, Princess Screw-you, isn’t such a soft touch as Dickens’s Scrooge. Like his tale, though, it has a happy ending, celebrating the true meaning of Christmas, which as we all know is ‘getting’.

But for this year, ho ho ho, it’s just a few captions with a rather tenuous and even desperate link to the holiday season. Bah humbug.

…and as it’s Christmas, here’s a bonus image, from the series OWK Ladies remember…

Par des mains enchaînées

Oui, c’est le jour de la Bastille, la journée nationale en France! Hourra! Vive la domination féminine!

The day the we celebrate the core French values of liberty, equality and fraternity – all three of them contrary to much of the material published in this blog, it’s true, but stirring and inspiring nonethless. As a Brit, resident in France and stubbornly hanging on despite Brexit (stubbornness is in my nature, despite vigorous attempts by highly skilled ladies to break me of the habit permanently), I feel compelled to pay my respects to the glory that is France and the gifts that great nation has brought to the world in the only way I know how: publishing porn.

Celebrated this day here before, once.

So, a selection of captioned images with at least some tenuous connection to La Belle France. Mostly published before, so there will be a proper post with five new ones tomorrow. Would I let you down?

And, look, chaps, if you want me publish a similar celebration of the jolly old national day of celebration in Blighty, you’re going to have to wait until they dashed well invent one, aren’t you? I’m not celebrating the bally King’s birthday, official or otherwise. Trafalgar Day… that would work. Celebrate rum, sodomy and the lash… I’m afraid I don’t personally drink rum but two out of three ain’t bad. Perhaps if they ever put Penny in charge, hmm?

Maybe she intended to say it only once, but this is a reprint so she has now said it only once twice.

More in this vein here.

Oh, and there’s this for sissy types, or anyone who loves frou-frou skirts.

Venging angels

Like many guys, I walk around fully conscious of the big swinging padlock between my legs.

 

 

It’s actually a very environmentally-friendly way of disposing of old shoes.

 

 

 

Oh, all right then.  Let’s be daring, for a change.

 

 

It must be weird being vanilla – you do a sexy maid scene and hardly any floor actually gets scrubbed.  I’m not sure I could cope with that kind of unrealistic fantasy.

OWK’s safety record overall was only middling, but that average conceals an important disparity between male and female injuries, the latter being thankfully rare, the former equally thankfully daily.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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