Category: male maid

Her husband; her rules

It’s only fair, right?



She can certainly make you less happy in the days and years to come, should she choose to do so. Thoroughly miserable, in fact.  So in that sense, today is indeed the high point.

Sounds exciting!  Some sort of wet ‘n’ messy play, I imagine?

Yes, you really must stay to comfort her. It can’t have been easy for her, losing three husbands in a row like that.
 I don’t usually link to tumblrs but I will give a shout-out to Strict Widow, as I love the concept and I’m using it quite a lot for material!
Ah – a caption turning on the finer points of English grammar.  One for the Editor Domme, there.
 While we’re on the subject of tumblrs…  Just remember you’re apostrophe’s if you comment on her site, for gods sake, OK?
Dominant males quite often feature in this blog, actually.  You can’t always tell the difference between them and the subs, but believe me, when I post a picture of some male under female control, with hands secured and cock firmly locked away or absent, it’s often a male dom formerly known as “Master Roger” or some such.







…and here‘s an extra one, without words.  

Changing shifts







Oh hi George, that you?
Hmm? No, I wouldn’t say she’s in a particularly bad mood
today.  This is my own fault really –
stacked the towels in the wrong order again. 
You know how it is. Eighty minutes, eight strokes, then another eighty
minutes.  Could be worse.  I had quite a light shift, actually.  A few with the strap and a couple of sesssions of kneeling punishment.  Quite a relief after last time, I can tell you.
Nothing much to report. 
There’s some of her friend Julie’s laundry in, to be ready for
5.30.  And she wanted me to do the
kitchen, so the bathroom’s still to do, OK?
Oh by the way, we’re a bit short on washing up liquid, so
try and go easy on it, will you?  My
shift starts at 6am tomorrow, so I won’t have a chance to buy any more until
Thursday.  Wouldn’t want to earn any more
demerit points, not this close to the end of the month. And you know how she is about the washing up, especially when she’s having a party.
Oh – hasn’t she said?  Yes, this Saturday.  I expect she’ll tell you today, because we’re both going to be on duty, I think.  Trevor’s going to be setting up, then you and
I are doing maid service and clean up.  House inspection 9am Sunday, then we get the rest of the day off if it’s all satisfactory.  With two of us working overnight that should be all right.  It’s the Saturday evening I’m worried about, to tell the truth.  I
heard her mention that that vicious little cow Marianne’s going to be
there.  You remember?  The one who made us all dance with those
weights attached at New Year.  So we
might be in for rather a rough time, I’m afraid. Glad it’s not just going to be
me.
Ermm… listen, old boy. 
You couldn’t do me a favour and straighten my stocking tops could
you?  You’d be saving me four strokes at
least.  No need for her to know, eh?
Oh come on, George. 
I’d do the same for you, you know I would.
OK, well I understand. 
You’re probably right. She does always seem to find these things out,
doesn’t she? We’ll just forget I said anything.
You, ermm… you won’t tell her I asked you, will you? I mean, I know we’re supposed to tell her about any rule infractions, but… you know.  Honour among maids and all that.  Hmm?
George?
George, are you still there?

Giving until it hurts

I donate all my spare money to the retired dominatrices’ malevolent fund. It doesn’t make me feel any better about myself, but it saves all that time that I used to waste buying stuff, eating out or going on holiday.

I have a very active fantasy life, as you can tell. Sometimes it does go too far, though.  I mean, really…men’s lib??  Come on Servitor…let’s try to keep the blog reasonably grounded in reality.


Yes, I’ve never had any problem with female authority figures.  My difficulty arises when we have 19 year-old female interns around the office.  They’re just not used to giving orders or having someone else get their coffee.  But over the course of a six week internship, they usually get the idea.

To cut a long story short: she said so, he protested, she insisted, he tearfully agreed and now it’s one of their biggest sellers.  So he can afford to give her even more tribute.  Funny how things work out.

That doesn’t mean she would always give you a handjob, of course. 

…and why it will continue to happen.





Customer services


Yeah, this is FDproducts. What the fuck do you want?
What?  No, of course
we’re not going to exchange it. If it ripped when you tried to put it on, it’s
your own fault, isn’t it, you fucking moron? You were probably putting it on
wrong.

No, I do not want to hear how you put it on, you little
pervert.  My day’s going quite badly enough
without having to listen to a graphic description of some sweaty old balding guy trying to squeeze
himself into a latex French maid outfit.

What?  Consumer
rights? What fucking consumer rights?

Look, let’s get something straight, right?  You’re a submissive male, correct?
Right.  And what am I?  That’s right. I’m a woman.  And women are…

‘Goddesses’, yeah, OK. 
I was thinking of ‘the superior sex’ but that’ll do.  So does a sub talk to a goddess like that?

No he fucking does not – quite right.  So you can start speaking more respectfully,
you little shit.

Well yes, as a matter of fact I do think you should
apologise.  Down on your fucking knees!

And to show how sorry you are, I think we’ll have a
financial penalty.  Let’s see – what’s
the most expensive item on our web site… mahogany whipping bench with attachments.
Right – you’re buying three of those. 
Then maybe you can spend any money you have left paying someone to strap
you over one of them and beat the crap out of you.

Yes, we do take Amex.  But you have to ask very, very politely.

There’s something she forgot to say to you

Celebrate the conscious liberation of the female state!

The company has a very strict policy agaimst sexual harassment too.  So don’t worry about that. If you’re groped, or propositioned or demeaned in any way, you can complain to your boss, right then and there.

Hmm.  Looks like he’s going to be spending a lot of time bent over the the engine, today.

She might have her own list of course.
Nope.  No hangups there.  None whatsoever. I have five years of blog postings to prove it.

 

Female liberation. Quite the best sort.

She looked me up and down and really put me in my place

She said: “Nice legs, shame about your face.”


Been revisiting the music of my teenage years.  Although to be honest this one provides a rather more accurate picture of my dating experience. And this one is just timeless, as far as I’m concerned.

Actually, as a former investment banker he’d probably be better at handling the financial negotiations himself.  But they each have their own role in the business, I suppose.

I hate it when that happens.  But then I hate it when it doesn’t, too.  You know?

He used to be a client.  A lot of the stuff that’s lying around did.  Some of the leather coverings too, if we’re brutally honest about things.

Especially with her reading circle coming round to discuss it that very evening.

That’s good. Because when Madame Svetlana is displeased, very regrettable things happen.

Priorities


He paused.  There was
something about the way the crease folded that reminded him…now what was it?

… and then it all came flooding back.  His doctoral thesis on optimal protein
folding.  How after three years of study
he had had to admit defeat in trying to find a universal enzyme that could take
instruction from injected RNA.  Yet this
was it!  Yes!  If the outer sulphite chain just
folded back – right back, doing a quarter turn around and then running parallel in almost a
mirror image to the main sequence then… well, the possibilities were endless.
Any RNA chain could be processed straight through into an optimally folded protein sequence.  Tailored enzymes could repair nucleotides damaged by… well, anything.  Even old age could be curable with the right combination of instructions. And of course, it was the breakthrough cancer researchers had been seeking since the 1980s!

Excitedly, he began to imagine how he could put these
insights out there – a post on the Genzyme blog, for instance, to establish
priority as the originator of the idea, then a short paper in Enzyme Research.  Of course, he’d need some lab time to demonstrate the technique, but he was sure the biotech labs would be queuing up to –

Then he paused.  This
wasn’t getting the ironing done, and She’d said that it all had to be done
before Kurt arrived, so there would be time to do all of his laundry too.  And his socks and underpants had to be carefully hand-washed.

Plus, he admittedly mournfully to himself, the last time he
had tried mentioning anything about his doctoral studies, he’d been soundly
paddled for being ‘too clever for his own good’.  She didn’t approve of his having ideas above his station.  And his station was so low, he’d yet to encounter an idea that was not.

Perhaps it was better just to forget about it.  Anyway, it had been almost eight years since
he’d ben allowed to look at a book, or watch TV or access the Internet.  Probably cancer had been cured by now.  It wasn’t the sort of thing She’d have mentioned to him, after all.  They didn’t have conversations about that sort of thing.

It was all a matter of priorities, he told himself.  And with his bottom still extremely sore from
the consequences of that spilt milk yesterday, he knew where his priorities
lay.

Switching the iron to ‘steam’ he firmly smoothed away the
complex twisting shape that had appeared by chance before him, leaving just a
neat, straight crease.  Not too sharp.

Just the way She liked it.

Agony aunts

She’s got so much to give.
 
 
So much easier than a long drawn-out evening of silence.  Although, oddly, no quicker.
 
 

 

Boys can be so messy.  Especially during edge-play.
 
 

 

Poor Selina. I hope she’s feeling better.
 
 

 

Oh well… at least you don’t have to get down on your knees and apologise to him properly.

Taking pains

She does and so, therefore, do I.

But not here. I just slap any old rubbish on a photo and stick it on the blog.

Damn.  Why is it always about penis size?  Honestly, sometimes it just seems like women are obsessed with it.
 

 

Urrgglll – nnnnh!
 

 

I’m glad I’m into humiliation.  Otherwise, I’d probably find a lot of my encounters with women quite unpleasant.
 

 

Well, that went well.
 
 

 

Goodness, sounds like she’s going to get quite cross.  That could help, actually.