Category: non-consensual BDSM oh my

Formidable femmes

Maybe she’s planning to put a little post-it note on the fridge or something.
They say that after a while you go numb and can’t feel the pain any more. But then she’s planning to winch you out and warm you up.
I suppose it’s a rather half-hearted approach to consent, but then their victim is a rather half-hearted approach to a human being.
Subs prefer blondes who don’t care what their subs prefer.
Oh, the poor thing. I hope she’s not badly hurt. Reminds me of the time I scuffed the toes of my SO’s new Dr Maarten boots quite badly, by bashing them repeatedly with my stomach. She wasn’t happy about it, I can tell you.
Women just aren’t as obsessive about these things as we men.

She wasn’t asking for permission

It’s the latest in an occasional series celebrating the thrill and beauty of non-consensual femdom. Do I need to explain that this is intended to be tongue-in-cheek? I probably do, because most of you are male and thus a bit dim, even when you’re not wanking. In reality, consent is obviously of utmost importance in our weird little corner of the Internet. Any male speaking, acting or holding back money without his domme’s active and conscious permission to do so, is doing femdom wrong.

We know that the Furies do not come uninvited

In fact, you usually have to pay them. After sending a polite introductory email, and confirming on the day.

You might have an opinion on the subject, but not one that’s different from hers, surely?
It’s good they provide an alternative activity for those slaves not up to the hard labour. My SO always allows me a second option if there’s anything I don’t want to do: I can take a beating and do it after that.
There’s bound to be some wear and tear on the agency’s stock. You know what girls are like.
If you haven’t tried wearing a shock collar, you should try it just once. If you decide you don’t like it, just tell her.
If you have any concerns about the course of treatment she’s proposing, do feel free to burst into tears and start pleading hysterically.
She’s accepting the award on his behalf because he’s… erm… well, he’s not able to be there in person, anyway. Although maybe some of him is, in her handbag, if the rumours are true.

A surprising facility for pain

Essentially the title is purely descriptive: we are back (after waking up woozily, dangling upside down, swaying around sickeningly as the abduction van tackles the winding country lanes) in the Facility. It’s a woman-owned, woman-run business that provides an ideal country break. Women can relax here, while men can get away from the stresses and cares of their everday lives to experience stresses and cares that are so, so much worse, for as long as their sponsors decide to keep them there.

Control the beast

You should care about her a lot more than she cares about you. But you probably do anyway, even without realising it.
It’s only about 40 minutes walk, in those high heels. And at her very reasonable tribute rates, that’s only a little more expensive than taking… oh, a helicopter, I suppose?
Don’t worry, they’ve all given their consent: in fact, they renew that consent in a lovely little ceremony every morning, just after the 5am work detail finishes.
Oooh – that’ll be your first discussion as a married couple! I wonder if it will feel different?
In the event, Treasure decided to keep the jar. It’s not that she wants to look at the disgusting thing, but she said she likes to know it’s there, you know? And I suppose it has sentimental value for you, too, so maybe she was thinking of that as well.
I hope the boys appreciate how pretty it is, this time, rather than just ripping it off.

Wait until she gets home

And if, when she does, she doesn’t come to open the cage, you can wait until she goes out again, too, and then start the whole thing all over again. It helps pass the time.

The occasional spanking can form part of a healthy and mutually-respectful relationship… as well as the sorts of relationships celebrated on this blog too, obviousy.
If it’s any consolation, she is actually wearing silk underwear.
She’s determined to make fetch happen.
It was this or the kennels and that can just be more trouble than it’s worth. All that fuss about how they generally only take dogs and cats… speciesism, that’s what it is.
She needs to develop techniques to relax, maybe take some of the tension away, especially if she’s going to be watching a lot of castrations. I expect going to lie down in the nurse’s room will help.
Apparently, the priest is planning to preach a sermon on practising thankfulness in marriage, which seems very apposite.

Strict Instructions

Sissies aren’t good at lying. Or thinking hard.
They don’t go in for gratuitous cruelty at OWK – professional work should be paid for.
Actually, she’s had this one for years, it’s just that she rarely brings it out.
It does apply, but it’s still a girl who consents, on his behalf. It’s just easier that way.
Actually, having a proper slave to whom she could do whatever she liked ended up making Janice a much nicer person, oddly enough. Maybe it helped her divert her anger and frustations away from her friends and co-workers, I dunno.
Of course, male users in Europe will have to click a box giving permission for the use of their information under GDPR rules, when signing up. Important that everyone’s rights are protected.

The bonds of love

It’s easy to wait patiently when you’re chained up. Or at least, it’s not different in any sense that really matters from waiting impatiently. Still… if there’s a biscuit going, I’m not saying no!
Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time for desperately remorseful apologies – they might even let you beg for forgiveness, if they’re in a generous mood.

Cruella, of course – even the Editrix herself (yes she was, who else do you imagine wrote the editorials?), Lady Victoria, on the right there. She inspired Goddess-Lady Lucia, you know.

Arguably, offering a plausible explanation is ‘impertinence’ in and of itself, but I’ve learnt not to argue.
Fortunately, your wife has a very high tolerance for observing pain, so I doubt the safeword will be needed. Still: safe, sane and consensual, right? Any BDSM play should incorporate at least two of those.
Not a good start to a lifetime of married bliss, is it? Still, I expect you’ll improve and she expects that too.
See – and you were worried you wouldn’t be respected in this relationship! They value your expertise in menial drudgery and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.

You know how you feel at the iron gripe of ruthless oppression…

… you know how you bear the galling sneer of contumelious greatness.

Robert Burns said that. And how right he was, despite being a man. “Contumelious” was new to me: it means an “insulting display of contempt in words or actions; contemptuous or humiliating treatment.” How weird at my age to learn a new word for something I have adored for so long.

The next time I email a domme requesting a session I must remember to ask for ‘contumelious’ treatment. I’m sure she’d be impressed and give me exactly the treatment I need.

Don’t worry – I’m sure she doesn’t mean you.*
That must be very reassuring.
Ah, now I’m afraid I can’t go along with this. Consent is the alpha and omega in a BDSM relationship – never forget that. A few times early in my relationship I withheld consent when my SO was about to punish me and she got bloody furious, believe me. I won’t be making that mistake again.
She missed a trick, there: should have translated it into millimetres. Then it’s quite an impressive number: almost into double figures.
Tsk… no one’s even bothered to clean them. How can she stand putting them on her feet?
What men’s libbers don’t seem to realise is that in being so annoying, they’re reinforcing precisely the stereotypes about male behaviour they get so upset about. But then, if they weren’t so stupid, they probably wouldn’t be libbers in the first place, would they? I think most of them just need to be taken firmly in hand.

* No really. You’re quite different; so you can appreciate this kind of caption ironically, rather than feeling insulted. Anyway, you only read the blog for the jokes, right?