Category: male maid

Maids of dishonour



Just as long as I don’t have to do the thing with the blow-up flamingo again.

He’s lucky she’s in such a good mood. When she gets cross, things can get quite unpleasant.
The delightful and sweet-natured Mistress Sidonia of the English Mansion, of course. She has a wonderful blog, full of unusual and interesting stuff.  I’m sure you knew that already.
The editors get a lot of letters like that. They have to hide them from their own wives, of course.

He came to the Sanctuary hoping to act out his fantasies about brutal rape.  Which, in a way, he did.
They look like they have high standards don’t they?  Or maybe the surface was just very, very dustry. He’ll be hoovering the bath after this.

 Here’s an extra one.  Doesn’t feature any actual females, so doesn’t really count (the same principle should apply to elections and board meetings, in my humblest opinion):








Spousework

Very sensible of her to discuss it straight away, so they can sort whatever it is out and get on with their marriage.

I suppose it’s good that she’s finally getting more use out of them. Normally, she puts them on once a month at most and even then she only uses one finger and a thumb of the left glove.

Nothing humiliating there… move on.

Oh, Susan will blame him.  She needn’t worry about that. He should, though.

Mind what?  Why can’t the ladies featured on this blog just say what they mean?  It’s maddening, it really is.


I was so upset I cried

… all the way to the chip shop.


It might.
Let’s hope he doesn’t say anything embarrassing.
A male submisive who fantasises about domestic drudgery but actually doesn’t know the first thing about housework?  Wow – pretty crazy idea, huh?
The worst of it is, she doesn’t allow me nearly enough pocket money to even dream of saving up to pay for a session with her. So it’ll be bananas all the way.
She knows, having tested a few to destruction.


What She said



Damn… I’d already bought the ring. Oh well. I suppose the cock could take one more, but they’re going to jingle together when I walk.

You don’t know until you’ve tried it, do you?

Mmpphh mpphhhnnmm mmmphhh nng.

Well, they might not care and she might not care, but I care. Doesn’t that count for anything?  Oh.  OK, then.

Probably just as well that physical responses to stereotypically sexually submissive outfits don’t engender automatic castration. I mean, Tumblr’s business model would collapse, for a start.



PS: dedicated readers of this blog might enjoy this four minute movie.  It’s not, like, explicit femdom or anything but I thought it was rather sweet.  He’s a lucky guy – the husband, I mean. Well, Santa too, I guess.

Controlling personality syndrome

It’s not a ‘disorder’, thank goodness.

It’s a remarkable experience, actually wanting your penis to be smaller all of a sudden.

Should be a lot of fun.

It’s kind of her to help him like that.  Spreader gags can be so impersonal.


My pleasure.

Cometh the hour cometh the thithy


Marital law


I know how to satisfy my wife sexually.  I just have to hire some help to do it in practice.

Depends what you define as a problem.  There’s obviously going to be a lot of screaming, for a start, and – what’s that you say?  She doesn’t mind the screaming?  Oh, OK then.  No, I don’t think there’s going to be any kind of problem.

Of course, she doesn’t regard him as being on the same level as all her appliances.  She’s a lot closer to her vibrator, for a start.

You should keep the little teensie condoms around, though.  You might get lucky, after all!  How many have you got left?  Three?  Oh yes, that should be more than enough.  The honeymoon only lasts two weeks, after all.







Aunt Clarissa’s used to slightly looser men, of course. I mean, Uncle Arnold hasn’t spent a day without a butt-plug since the 1960s, I understand.

Sub title


 

On the other hand, until she’s actually checked the lingerie, she won’t know.  I mean, he might.

Safewords are a hard limit for my own domme.  She understands why some people like to use them in play, but it’s just not for her.  Or – therefore – for me, obviously.

Oohhh I ‘d say… three times…maybe three and a half times?  Oh – sorry – you mean in absolute terms?
Gotta take out those male supremacist religious maniacs.  We like female supremacist religious maniacs.  With a vigorous approach to rooting out sin.


I’ve heard employers like to see a broad range of skills on your CV (resumé, Americans, resumé), so this sounds like 10,000 hours well spent.


Impertinence

 

Well, that doesn’t seem very fair.  I mean, does Andrew have to ask my permission when he comes in and puts his big muddy boots up on my nice clean chairs?  I think not.

And for you.

Mmm… sissy maid play. Sheer erotic indulgence, every day from 6am right through to bedtime. Hope there’s gruel.
Actually he has a surprise for her.  You know those shoes she threw out into the dumpster and thought she’d never see again?  Well…







And when he pulls his frilly nylon panties right up tight

…He feels a dedicated follower of fashion

Oh yes he is (oh yes he is)

But you get bigger tips, so maybe it’s nearly even.

There!  Now who can still claim that men can’t take on front-line combat roles?
I’ve heard chlorinated water can be quite good for cuts and bleeding welts, so maybe if you ask nicely she’ll ask them to dip you in the pool when you’re done.


Yet oddly enough, he still gets it wrong. Men and housework… will they ever learn?

Sissy fights always end the same way, at least when wives are around to step in.

Masculinity is a treatable medical condition.

Look, I do understand the hypocrisy involved in my advancing political opinions, but can I just comment on this view going around that Trump’s election is in some way a consequence of ‘political correctness’?
Trump was elected merely because of a ridiculous quirk in the US electoral system, that might have made sense in the eighteenth century but has no relevance to the modern world: namely, that men are allowed to vote.  The country basically voted 54% to 42% for Clinton, before all those male votes were taken into account and it’s absurd this should have been allowed to distort the result.  Sure, it’s nice to let men feel they can take part, but to actually let them cast ballots unsupervised is just political correctness gone mad, and now we have to live with the consequences.
I mean, honestly, you wouldn’t let a man make decisions about the family finances, or how best to iron your blouse or what time he goes to bed, would you?  So why on earth would you let him have a say in choosing the President?

Doesn’t make sense to me.  But then, I am ‘chromosomally challenged‘* so what do I know?
(* and yes, I am using that politically correct phrase ironically. What’s wrong with just saying ‘a stupid boy‘ for goodness sake?  When did we stop calling things what they are?)
Thank goodness things round here are still sane and matriarchal. 


She seems to be controlling his masculinity problem nicely.
She loves her work.  You will too.



I think she’s recognising that his behaviour has been causing pain in their marriage – but not quite enough pain.







I wonder how the consultant goes about measuring her?





Secondary sexual characteristics – they’re even more annoying than the primary ones, sometimes.  Fortunately, a simple surgical procedure can deal with both at the same time.