marriage – Contemplating the divine

Benevolent brutality

She’ll work around it. A relationship is founded on how the partners feel about one another; things like whips and canes and tawses are just the physical expressions of that.

He’s not actually naturally balding; she just prefers him that way as she says it tickles less when she’s watching TV.

Wow – sounds like you might have an important assignment on your very first day!

He doesn’t need to check his privilege because she’s checking it thoroughly on his behalf.

Classic Cruella, of course, featuring the stunning Lady Sonia and the lovely Lynda Leigh. And some bloke, probably with an ugly moustache, but who cares, eh?

You might as well blame yourself. After all, *she*‘s going to be blaming you and it’s not as if anyone else cares.

I think we know what’ll happen to Rob if he doesn’t make more of an effort. Rob doesn’t, but he’s more brawn than brains.

Nasty and inaccurate prophecies

After a while, though, most wives get a little bored with vanilla apologies and want to spice things up with ever more elaborate contrition scenarios. Still, it’s usually best to humour them, in my worthless opinion.

Remember: serious findommes will always work within a carefully-negotiated framework of consent, so it’s probably more fun to play with the frivolous ones who’ll just drain your finances without a second thought and gleefully leave you penniless and lovesick in the gutter with your life in ruins.

It’s certainly true that it’s less painful for your back than other things she can do – and probably will, when she returns home.

She’s started a collection. It’s good to have a hobby.

You might worry that they’d get into trouble with animal protection groups, but they checked with PETA and all the rest, and apparently they were fine with it, once the whole concept had been properly explained.

He’s often mistaken about things. Just the other day, he told her he really needed an orgasm, but it turned out he didn’t, not really, just as she’d predicted.

There’s nothing here that is real

..but I think we’ve long ago established that, no? Anyway, it’s just yet more 1980s pop, this time from Mistress Tracy (Tracy). Distressingly SFW, like so much in life.

She’s very embarassed, poor thing – but even the most experienced professionals can have an off day.

Fortunately, the experience is very memorable.

He’s hoping eventually she’ll come round. Women find that kind of persistence very romantic.

I don’t want anyone reading this to think I believe boys shouldn’t study science and stuff like that. They’ll be no good at it, but it can be enlightening for their female classmates to watch them being beaten as they fail repeatedly.

If you feel like arguing, maybe it’s time to start practising some of those all-important speech protocols, hmm?

Once again, it’s time to look back on the more elegant femdom of times past. One of this blog’s earliest and least-popular series, continued here out of sheer stubbornness and an almost total lack of self-awareness: Jane Austen femdom. With a few anachronistic wobbles of a hundred years or so in either direction from the divine Jane’s own period.

Even in the prudish Victorian era*, brides-to-be were often passed practical guides to the secrets of married life, by their mothers or other older women. The good Baron’s was one of the most popular.

You’d think he’d be better at recognising birch by now. Oh well.

I do think the husband of the more experienced lady depicted here was most unlucky, after having spent years at one of the most selective boarding schools, to emerge without a taste either for being buggered or viciously flogged. He found adjustment to married life very trying, poor fellow.

Justice must be done, seen to be done and then later recalled in the Queen’s bedchamber.

The depressing thing is, he always remained hopeless at Latin grammar, despite the strenous efforts of a succession of governesses over many years.

As it turned out, the quality of her mercy came to be much appreciated by her subjects, not least because it was so rarely exercised. It’s good to be the Queen.

* Yes, I know Jane Austen was pre-Victorian. Do pay attention: as the paragraph at the start noted, the actual time period featured here varies. All posts set before 1910 or so** are labelled as ‘Jane Austen‘ (indeed, many are introduced as featuring ‘Hot chicks in empire-line dresses’ even when the hot chicks featured are in fact attired in the fashion of an entirely different era).

** Posts after 1910 (and before about 1960) being labelled ‘Downton Domination‘. But you knew that, right?

Thirty years of hurt (but this time with Lionesses)

So, after all these years of being told that football’s just a silly game in which a bunch of moronic boys chase a ball around in a field and surely I’m not asking to be allowed to put the ironing off just to watch that nonsense, apparently it’s a remarkable display of female skill, grace and power. Who knew? Well, my SO did, obviously, and now I do because she’s told me and that’s that.

Personally I’m not so much interested in the football itself as ~~in the players’ muddy boots and sweaty sock~~s in the fact that we are now officially all allowed to cheer ourselves silly(er) for a team called ‘The Lionesses’. That I do like, rather a lot.

It’s coming home. Unless the Lionesses lose on Sunday, obviously, in which case it’s going somewhere else. [UPDATE: They did. It is.]

Anyway, back to the depressing porn.

He did start by getting down on one knee, but it wasn’t enough.

I find the most effective humiliation scenes are the unexpected ones – for instance, when you think you’re just going on a vanilla date, but the woman intuitively senses that you’re into humiliation, so mocks and belittles you in front of your friends, then slaps you and walks off laughing, leaving you to pay the bill. Yeah, that’s a good one. How do they know?

She has some lederhosen for you, seeing as you’ve expressed such an interest in leather.

See how Mistress Vixen is keeping a straight back, there? That’s very important: it’s so easy to develop back problems in later life if you don’t sit right. Very sensible.

I have posted this before, but ‘too few’ is always the number of times I have done that, so here’s the lovely Mistress Vixen playing the piano.

Yeah, you can relax now the ceremony’s over and just enjoy the honeymoon – and the rest of your life.

Fettered access

The control collar was going on sooner or later, anyway. Married life will all be done ‘the hard way’ so why not the wedding ceremony too?

Don’t worry, you’re not taking advantage of the situation. You have permission to pay her double, too.

Ooh – you’ll be the last one! I guess that makes you special. And they’ll probably try to make you last, too.

She’ll be OK. Everyone’s agreed there aren’t enough women in high-profile STEM jobs, nor enough men in menial and degrading positions.

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.

C e l e b r a t e d 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.

A good hard marriage

… that’s what most men need.

She’s getting mixed signals here. Fortunately, the ones she’s giving are entirely consistent.

Thank goodness for that.

My own SO avoids this problem by only fucking guys who despise me. Fortunately, that doesn’t restrict her freedom of action at all.

Honestly, given the choice between fucking her and fucking you, it’s hard to see how anyone could prefer not to play it straight. But some guys have weird sexual preferences. I’ve heard.