Unequal sex

It’s the best sort…

I read somewhere that the medical advice on stress has changed. It used to be seen as something for middle aged and older men to avoid, but apparently recent research has shown that repeated stress and anxiety can make men better at all sorts of useful things, that more than compensate for any loss of life expectancy.
If he’s worried about it dripping randomly, she can always bring the candle down closer for a more accurate aim.
I admire Sylvia’s idealism, but isn’t it about time we all just admitted that men are just too stupid for most modern jobs? I mean, nothing personal guys, but we all know it’s true, right? They’re even inventing artificial intelligence now, before the males of the species have managed the natural kind, so really I don’t see the point in trying to catch up. There are lots of things men are better at than women – mostly involving manual drudgery – as long as they’re firmly supervised, so isn’t that enough? Why just set yourself up to fail?
Always difficult, playing with amateurs. Oh well, how bad can it be?
He also consented to several amendments to that agreement, after a few days of marriage. Funny how there’s always a few things you didn’t think of, isn’t it?

…and two extras, why not, both inspired by a recent post by the femdom blogger-in-chief, Paltego on Femdom Resource.

It may sound funny but he wasn’t supposed to

The band was the inspiration for the phrase “Sleeperbloke“, referring to
the disparity between the glamorous singer Wener and the other
frequently ignored members of the band (who tended to be far more
anonymous and stood at the back)”

Quite right too.  On we go.

Oh… the sort of ‘discussion’ in which my contribution is mainly limited to thanks, apologies and tearful pleading.  OK, I’m good at those.

Thank goodness Billy has a loving wife to look after him.

You need to make sure you shave closely every day.  But that’s not so much to ask, is it?

I’m sure she’ll want to hold full and frank discussions thoroughly exploring all of their demands, before thrashing out an agreement.

I’ve tried assuaging my residual Catholic guilt by seeking punishment from dominatrices but for me it just never really works, as I end up having even more sinful thoughts – it’s like a never ending cycle of lust, guilt, penance and shame.  I love it.

Oh… and an extra one.  Being for the benefit of Mr Allen.

Written submissions

There’s actually a funny story to how I came by that nickname.  Just ask anyone.

Lots of men find it hard to navigate the unwriten rules of modern office etiquette, which is why it can be so useful to receive feedback that is frank, immediate and eye-wateringly painful when the inevitable occasional slip-ups occur.

Another word Auntie Kate can teach you is ‘sadist’ but that’s for another day.
For the grand finale they invite members of the audience to step up and join them.

Myself, I’m not too choosy about clothing – I just wear whatever happens to be locked onto me that morning, you know?

He might as well have buttons and bows

Mistress Kate, of course. I was reminded of her the other day, when a delightful domme made me dance and mime to Wuthering Heights.  I fear I wasn’t very good at it and she mocked me mercilessly… some people can be so cruel.

If he’s lucky, he’s going to be a shower head.  But he’s not been enormously lucky so far in his life, alas.
That reminds me of a date I went on once, actually.  It was a pub quiz and our team came last but oddly it was only right at the end that my date told everyone she was the first and second prize.  So I had to hang around for an hour or so, while the winning and runner-up teams collected their prizes.  Then she said she was tired and just wanted to go home, so I walked with her.  I thought I might be in with a chance but she said she never kisses on a first date, so that was that. Still: I didn’t get kneed in the balls, shat on or made to suck off any gay friends, so all in all I count the evening as a success.  The second date didn’t go so well, unfortunately.

Lots of men make this mistake: she’s asked you about your day so she wanted to be asked about hers, right?  Right?  And now you have chores and you don’t have permission to speak, so it’s too late.  You unfeeling brute.

If they’re quick they can catch happy hour. And then there’s a cabaret, but obviously they won’t have time to stay for that.
I’ve always had a weird phobia about Scrabble, ever since this girl I knew at school followed through on her threat to make me “eat my words”.  The little tiles weren’t so bad on the way in, but even with rounded corners you can certainly feel the sharp edges when they come out again. I was bullied quite severely when I was at school – did I ever mention that?  And afterwards, too, of course – but at school it was free of charge.

Carry on screaming

Not necessarily a British cultural reference, merely a description of what I do while my SO takes a couple of minutes’ break to make herself a cup of tea.

Still, for those of you in the know, it was one of the better ones.  “We’re the police – or layabouts”.  And of course Fenella Fielding.  I certainly don’t mind if she smokes.

And speaking of being British… I mean, this isn’t a political blog, you come here to get away from all that stuff, but…. but…  but… what the fuck?  Really!  Huh? I mean, what the fucking fuck?  Look at this mess!  How can anybody seriously think men should have the vote?

Rant over.  Let’s have something decent, sensible and sadistic…

Actually, I find binocular vision quite useful for ironing pleated skirts, but that’s not a huge part of my life – three, four hours a week tops – so I suppose she might as well go ahead.

What a scare!  Thank goodness you were there to call the ambulance, as soon as she collapsed.  You did have to move out of the corner without permission, though, so obviously that’ll have to be dealt with, when she’s back on her feet.  Still: she’s getting the best possible care, and you’re scrubbing out toilets, so everything’s OK.

I used to have a problem with premature ejaculation, but it’s under control now.  Matter of fact, last month I was even a few days late – she was on a business trip.

Don’t worry – they have separate fire drills when they practise evacuating the slaves.  Particularly between November and February.

Actually, I once went out with someone whose Mum had worked as a cleaner all her life.  When I finally plucked up the courage to tell her that I get my rocks off mincing around in a little maid dress pretending to be forced into humiliating cleaning tasks, she was a little offended at first.  But we talked it through – and when I said she could tie me to a bench and beat me, she decided she was OK to give it a go after all.  And do you know, she had a really good time? And there I thought she was pure vanilla!  I’ve never had a session partner be so… enthusiastic.  Even made me sign a little piece of paper promising not to have her arrested for assault, before letting me up and walking out of my life forever.   

To wear that ball and chain

It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy.

She has.  Twice already just this week, actually.

Can’t disagree with that.

He’s actually going to be hotter here at home than she is on the beach, oddly enough.
She volunteered for the sexual crimes squad. Said she wanted to give something back.

Yeah… yeah.  Just pretend.  It’s fine.  Go with it.

Superior judgement

She didn’t ask what Tony thought of it, of course. He’d have just the same opinion as Jane, anyway.

Don’t worry, if you haven’t brought one she’s probably got something you’ll be able to use to become really sorry.
They had to lift the ban on cruel and unusual punishments, of course.

They seem very nice, don’t they?
Behind the scenes, the Avengers movies are a lot more femdom than they seem. I’ll just mention that Iron Man is not the only one who wears a rigid metal shell, and leave it at that, I think.

Kept men

(we don’t talk about the discarded ones).

Another 2% fantasise desperately about it not happening, or at least not so often and not quite so hard.
Featuring the lovely and no-nonsense Miss Cassie Hunter, the Hunteress.
Right.  It’s about time all this nonsense stopped – I’m going to put my foot down. In fact, I’m going to stamp my foot – hard.  Several times.  And I’m going to to have a proper tantrum.  That should show her she can’t treat me like this.
Their faces usually fall again when she goes on to inform them that she will therefore proceed to the next thrashing, for the next item on her list.
I once asked my SO if she could feminise me, but she just laughed and said she’d love to, but I don’t have the IQ to make a convincing woman.
She cares a lot.

By the way, not ‘found femdom’ in any meaningful way, but over the break I’ve been watching episodes of 90s British sitcom Game On and perving ever so slightly to the lovely Samantha Janus and especially her relationship with the character Martin.  I watched it occasionally at the time it was broadcast and it’s as weird and spectacularly depressing as ever, as the basic set-up is that Matt – a neurotic, agoraphobic narcissist – rents out rooms in his flat to Martin (a wimp) and Mandy (a goddess!).  Martin is a virgin desperate for sex, while Mandy is frustrated with her life and hates herself for sleeping with so many men.  But (da-dum), the only men she absolutely will not have sex with are the other two characters.  With Matt, she refuses and pushes him away but with Martin it obviously never even occurs to her to have sex with him. There’s a lovely scene in this episode (intended to be the first ever, although they varied the order of broadcast), in which her latest boxer boyfriend takes up her whole bed, so she snuggles up with Martin, who lies there with an erection the whole desperate night.  Here, starting 16.22.  Ahhh…

So, yeah, not in any way femdom.  Except that Samantha Janus is quite literally a goddess and I for one intend to found a religion in her honour.

She is notionally Samantha Womack these days, but I’ll be hunting down Mr so-called Womack and forcing the blasphemer to change his name to Janus, as is only right and proper, so don’t worry about that.

Hurtful thoughts

I think writing lines is a ridiculous and pointless, tedious activity and there are few things I hate doing more than writing lines for hours at her command.  I told her that just the other day.  500 times, in fact.

I did an interview once. Check it out if you want to find out about the real Servitor, behind the leather mask.  Don’t read it if the thought of knowing the real Servitor makes you nauseous.
Ooh – looks like there might be a consciousness-raising session coming on!

There wasn’t much to begin with.
I often have ‘plenty to complain about’.  Regretably, I’m not allowed so it all goes to waste.

Desperate househusbands

Oh dear… the guys are sure to laugh at me now.  I mean… ‘LUT’.  Doesn’t mean anything does it?  How ridiculous.

I’m told that masturbating to porn can seriously diminish the male libido over the long run as well, so you just keep on doing what you’re doing, ‘k?
Actually, only one of them is going to be kissing in a very special place. Just after this conversation, the Mistresses decided it would be one orgasm between them, not one each.  But no jealousy, sissies – play nice!
My SO is very good at dealing with feelings of guilt, too.
Edwardian femdom. There’s not enough of it about, in my opinion.

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