murder – Page 9 – Contemplating the divine

Service orientation

My SO’s always had the same rule. Sulky face = semen face. Simple, no argument.

Or breakfast, if you’re not hungry enough by tonight.

I’d end up paying a lot of guys for a lot of things, if that rule applied to me. It’s important to prioritise: to spend your money on the things that make her most happy.

Many people who get into porn movies just do it for a short time, but snuff movie stars, oddly enough, often spend the rest of their lives in the business.

My first girlfriend told me she was strongly opposed to corporal punishment of children. When I turned eighteen, I discovered she had strong views on the corporal punishment of adults, too.

Captivating ladies

Actually, unlike many men with small penises, I don’t obsess about it and feel inadequate and ashamed about its size. My feelings of inadequacy and shame are much more broadly-based than that.

It’s just to redress the balance. Men are no good at empathy. Not like women: my SO always knows when I’m hurting badly, no matter how much I try to conceal it.

It’s much shorter than my punishment song – which has seventeen verses. Even though I’ve never considered myself a good singer, my SO usually enjoys it so much she ‘asks’ for an encore. Sometimes two.

Lucky bastard – he’s going to be experiencing his top sexual fantasy for the rest of his life.

The gentlemen in the picture likes to claim he is ‘very experienced in BDSM’ but actually, he’s about to discover there’s a lot more to it than he had ever imagined.

Fail better

I do that. I’m really good at failing, actually.

A bit of a shame to call in sick – the girls at work recognised you and have something special planned, whenever you’re next in the office.

Marriage is always a learning experience. She’s just determined to make the learning experience a bit more structured, that’s all.

I’ve always tried to use humour to defuse tense situations. On my very first… time with a woman, if you know what I mean, I was very nervous indeed. Fortunately she burst out laughing as soon as I’d taken my clothes off, and she was still giggling when her taxi arrived ten minutes later. I’ve always been able to make women laugh: it’s a gift.

I suppose that must mean she has a basement too – they’re all the same, the houses on that row. I wonder what she keeps down there?

Funnily enough, it turns out Prop 677 wasn’t even necessary. Enough Californians worship Anne as a goddess for her to qualify for the religious exemption, so she didn’t have to pay taxes anyway. Still: it was a nice gesture.

Deeply indebted to her

…but she sometimes lets me off the monthly interest if I consent to one of the ‘special’ games she likes to play. It’s quite an incentive to keep the payments up, actually.

Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve heard you can see the sea from the bar they’re planning to spend the afternoon in, so I’m sure they’ll notice if the tide comes a bit further up than they were expecting.

Hmmm… it’s almost like they’re in a – what’s the word? Predicament.

What can it mean? I don’t know… I just work here.

Consent is very important in BDSM. My SO absolutely insists on it.

Ah well. Nearly got a freebie there. You know… I was playing SPH humiliation scenes years before I knew that was a thing. I just called it ‘dating’.

Lovingly brutal

My SO has some lovely heavy rubber gimp outfits she likes me to wear. But for some reason only in summer. This time of year I’m not allowed to wear them. Or indeed any clothing at all. (I don’t count anything made of metal as clothing).

On the other hand, he does have to pay for it. A sissy slave doesn’t, which is just as well as they’re rarely allowed much pocket money.

She’s Head of the family now that her mother has passed away, of course. I mean, her father’s still around, I think, but no one ever paid much attention to him anyway.

This is the magnificent Goddess Sophia, on whose dungeon floor I have occasionally had the honour to be an unsightly smudge.

I think it’s all a bit unfair, really. I mean the hunters have trucks, high-powered rifles and female brains.

I think she wants creative control. And the biggest trailer on the set, with a soundproofed playroom too, obviously.

What a piece of work is woman

Hmm… well, I’ll give it a go, I suppose. She needs to stop buying me so many books, though. I still haven’t finished The Joy of Ironing and I haven’t even started Getting to “Yes Ma’am”

Men can be stupid like that.

Not seeing a breathing tube… she needs to think about her safety standards. Burial play is a lot of fun, especialy on the beach where the tides give it that extra edge, but you need to play safe.

She likes simple things. That’s why she keeps you around.

I’m sure their scientists have a lot to teach us.

Misbehaving

I’m sure he’d like to count the days. Unfortunately, they keep the facility on a random sleep-eat-exercise-sleep cycle lasting anything from four to 48 hours, so he’ll have no idea how much time has passed. Which is just as well, because she’s not actually going to be back in six months: that’s just a little white lie to avoid hurting his feelings.

I had this idea because I’m going diving next week. But don’t worry – I’m not being fed to the sharks! It’s all very safe. My SO and I are going with these two lesbian friends of hers, one of whom is going to be my ‘dive buddy’. It’s her job to check my tank has enough air, as well as to ensure the proper amount of lead weights are securely attached around my belt, wrists, ankles and neck. So, yeah: perfectly safe.

It’s good to be a dog.

The pain from the spikes is all about her, too.

I made a similar point to my SO just the other day – wouldn’t it be better some time if I felt sorry of my own accord, instead of her having to make me feel sorry? But after quite a vigorous discussion, I realised what a bad idea it was.

The wrongs of man

Power drill play… not for everyone, obviously. Just for you.

Despite the harsh look of the place, it’s actually more an institution for rehabilitation and education, rather than punishment as such. Of course, it all hurts, but there’s a purpose to it, that’s all I’m saying.

I don’t see why funerals have to be sad. I want my own funeral to be a joyous occasion, and when I told my SO that, She laughed and said it almost certainly would be.

See – and you were complaining about her fucking other men! All square now, right?

More fun than a trireme: you get to jog along the road in the fresh air.

Drama. Queens.

Squeak!

I once asked my SO for a public humiliation session. So She made me start a blog in which I had to publish all my sick, dark and bleak fantasies from my miserable life. It’s going quite well.

You could try telling her that your ‘trophy’ is barely worth collecting.

They’re going to be discussing mens’ rights quite extensively, I understand.

Don’t worry – they’re not going to throw them all at your face. Pretty soon, they’ll move on to other parts of your body.

Slap me on the patio

I’ll take it now.

There must be lots of things you can do to take your mind off sex. Do some laundry maybe… or watch TV. The women’s tennis final is on, I understand. That should be exciting. Or beach volleyball. Anyway, it’s only for a few weeks, right?

My SO can be quite hard to please. I found it a bit dispiriting at first but then I learned about this technique for lowering the expectations you set yourself? So now I just aim for ‘Not totally furious with me’ and I hit that at least two days out of three, so that’s pretty good.

Unlike some human women, though, they won’t insist on going again while you’re still completely drained from the last time.

I took a personality test once. Apparently I don’t have one.

Don’t worry, she’s obviously not going to drain you to an empty husk all in one go. Look at that figure – she probably limits herself to a couple of pints of blood a day. You might even last a week.