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?

The Facility

New occasional theme that’ll be included in regular posts from time to time, but I thought I’d introduce it in a themed post. Brutal, non-consensual – if you don’t like those things… well, you’re probably reading the wrong blog to begin with, quite frankly.

Unreasonable demands

She’s embarrassed now… but don’t worry, she has coping techniques for that.

 

 

 

Now come on – man up.  Remember what you all discussed at the last encounter group?  No, no I don’t mean the bit about ironing pleats – about standing up to your wives?  Yeah?  Right then.  Hang on – where are you going?  You can’t stand up to her on your knees!  Oh for goodness’ sake…

 

 

My SO and I have a consensual relationship.  I didn’t want to but she insisted.


They’d starve to death, I expect.  I mean, more of them would than when the Ladies actually are there, anyway.

 

 

 

This photo is actually a rather sophisticated optical illusion.  Many men, seeing it for the first time, don’t notice the slice of pizza, the big red cup, the bottles of water or the coffee maker – even after staring at it for hours.  Something to do with how the brain processes images, I understand.


 

Attention Trump voters

Yes, you.  There must be some that read this blog. According to Google (admittedly part of the tech libtard conspiracy, so who can believe their numbers, right, I mean they’ve got like percentages and everything and who can understand that?) many “readers” of this blog come from the US of A.  Most of those “readers”, I’m willing to bet, are male or at least notionally so.  Submissive males probably tend more toward the other political party, as its policies place more emphasis on caring and nurturing and rather less on “grabbing ’em by the pussy” than the current Republican leadership.  Nonetheless, statistically speaking, at least a few of you are likely be planning to vote for Trump, even though compared to many pornographic blogs out there, this one does occasionally use long words so you probably find it quite hard to understand sometimes.

So: this particular post is addressed to you.  Hi there!  This is for your attention, as likely Trump voters (where the word ‘attention’ basically means ‘lookit’ and ‘voting’ is the thing where morons like you, for reasons that must have made sense some time to someone, have a say in choosing who runs the most powerful country on Earth.)

Anyway, I myself have no stake in the presidential election, partly because I don’t really believe in males voting, but mainly because I’m not American. Yes, all this time you’ve been looking at sexy pictures and failing to get most of the jokes on a blog written by a durn furrener.  And you can’t even chant ‘Send him home!’ because I already am.  Sorry.

So it’s none of my business.  As it happens, my own political views lead me to be somewhat reluctant to support a candidate who endorses a platform of “grab ’em by the
pussy”, whose every former colleague calls him an idiot and a crook, who has been selling the country’s interests out to brutal dictators and through incompetence has caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of his fellow citizens while suggesting they inject bleach as a cure but that’s just me.  People are entitled to
their own political views, no matter how moronic and deluded they
are.  
  

And I suppose it would be constitutionally improper for me to seek unduly to influence anyone’s vote. So, without in any way making a party political point, I’ll just note that IF the Harris/Biden ticket wins today (or is declared to win later, not on the night itself, which is a perfectly normal outcome in elections in lots of countries and no reason to abandon 250 years of democratic principles and anyway what the hell is the deal with the TV networks being the ones who ‘call’ who has won before the votes are counted?) this blog will reward the American people by celebrating “Take the nuclear launch authorisation codes away from the orange-skinned narcissistic science-denying buffoon week”, with three extra captioned images every day, for your amusement.

Three a day for a week, Trump voters. Think of that. How many’s that in total, you ask? Well.. let’s just say it’s more than you have fingers and toes… unless you’re from some particularly in-bred rural community.  ‘Nuclear’ means the same as ‘nukillah’, by the way, it’s just the libtard way of spelling and pronouncing it.

But we don’t get to celebrate “Take the nuclear launch authorisation codes away from the orange-skinned narcissistic science-denying buffoon week” if he ‘wins’ re-election, do we?  No we don’t.  Glad we had this little chat.

I’m just, y’know, putting it out there for people to decide, as someone likes to say.

Anyway, here’s the usual stuff.

 

I suspect it’s his fault: he’s not trying hard enough. Perhaps she could help him focus.

 

 

 

Tell me what? What is the point of captions that don’t go anywhere?  Now I’ll be getting more complaints from anonymous commentators.

Sounds like Annie’s been very reasonable.  Which is odd, as she isn’t usually like that, especially where men are concerned.

You are going to be seeing quite a lot more of this goddess with the innocent wide eyes, as I’ve just found a web site devoted to images of her and given many of them the good hard captioning they deserve.


Notice how the caption delicately makes sure it is understood that this image involves neither incest nor under-age sex.  As they always will – if you see a captioned image here and think ‘OK, so that must be his daughter, right?’ you’ve mis-understood and it isn’t.



But they do it for our sakes, bless ’em.



Scream queens

 
I quite often get scared in session, but I wouldn’t call any of that a ‘phobia’, as such.  Phobias are irrational fears.
 
 

 

Probably best if they never find out. They’re so sweet and innocent, long may they stay that way.
 
 
 
People like her contribute to the unfair stereotyping of the BDSM community.  You should say something – when you’ve got your breath back, obviously.
 
 
 
 
 
I don’t think it bothers her.
 
 
French capital punishment scenarios require some quite specialised equipment (although easy enough for any domme with slaves with carpentry skills).  Anyone wanting to try out American cap-pun play is going to need something to step up the voltage. Ordinary electricity’s not quite enough to kill, even in Europe.  I mean, it works eventually, but if the client’s only paid for a couple of hours, the domme’s at risk of the scenario not working out.

Not now, John

I’d forgotten this had femdommy bits – mildly suggestive only, I guess, and with that very special 80s pop video fuzziness, but I actually find that nostalgically erotic.*

Anyway, on with the 21st-century nonsense.






I always find a good beating really brings an apology home. And a bad beating, still more so.

It would be very odd to be the sort of guy who visits a sex worker who doesn’t tell him off and treat him with contempt and disdain.  A bit limiting, I’ve always thought.

Might be time for that safeword, actually.  Now what was it.  Pretty sure it wasn’t ‘mmph’, sadly for him.

She hates ironing, loves whipping.  That’s why this happening.

There’s a splendid phrase in British english “Face like a slapped arse”.  I think that’s one problem I don’t have – I have a face like a slapped face and an arse like a slapped arse.  When I’ve been lucky.





*I once caught the first 1 minute of “The Dominatrix sleeps tonight” on a BBC 2 pop programme, when I was, I dunno, sixteen or something. Oh. My. God. Then they stopped playing it.  Noooooo!!!  For years afterwards, every time I watched a music programme, or a bit of MTV when visiting somewhere (we didn’t have it), there was a little glow of hope I might see it again, or see more of it.  Never did until the Internet came along and then I was more jaded, of course.

Freddie’s back

If you like Contemplating the Divine* then you will certainly have loved Freddie’s Tales.**  You, therefore, like me, will have been devasted when Freddie’s Tales disappeared from one day to the next. Also like me, therefore***, you will be absolutely delighted that Freddie is back, with a new blog and no doubt just raring to produce more of  those fabulous Beetle books.

So get yourself over to Freddie’s new blog. I – hey come back!  I didn’t mean now.  Read the captions below first, moron.  That’s what you came here for, right?  Men… I dunno.



My SO and I have been experimenting with pre-signed suicide notes.  It’s a kind of next-level thing, you know?  Edgy, I know, but it works for us.








I think I can give her 110%.
Sounds like you are actually going to be discussing it… at length.  But not until you’re safely married.
Consent seems to be a theme of this post.  That’s because it’s so important.  My SO always insists that I consent to everything she does to me.
 
Thank goodness they no longer hunt foxes.  That was so cruel.





*  And if you don’t like Contemplating the Divine what the fuck are you doing here? Are you some kind of weird masochist or something?  Freak.

**  Except the Femsub bits, obviously.  One day, I hope young Freddie will meet a lady who will set him right about the suitability of that sort of material.


*** Writing this, I realise how uncannily similar we are, you and I.  We laugh at the same things, cry together – we should get a drink some time, yeah?

NC NSFW and NTBTS

… that last being ‘not to be taken seriously’.  Anyone actually thinking this blog is serious in any way should erm… well, should try and take themselves out of the gene pool to be honest.*

So, here is the second installment in Servitor’s completely non-sensical, non-serious series on non-consensual BDSM play.  Enjoy.



* Although in practice most of the males reading this blog are unlikely to
be contributing much to the next generation’s gene pool anyway.  I
mean, no offence, guys, but have you looked in a mirror?  Eugh – and that’s before you start explaining your sexual preferences to the partner who’s rapidly pulling on her clothes and thumbing for an Uber.  The only pool of genes you’re going to be contributing to is that dried up stain on the floor, just beneath your computer.  Sorry – but I’m only telling you this because I’m your friend, you know that, right?




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