Category: nurse

My sweet lady

…. by George Harrison.  Pirate version, obviously. *   Extra bonus post today!  Me hearties!






It’s odd – when she takes the elderly gentlemen’s blood pressure and heart rate, the readings always come out higher than when one of the male nurses take them.  They use the same equipment so it can’t be anything to do with that… it’s just one of those little mysteries.



It’s a good thing she was there to step in.  Normally, when she’s off sick, L just leaves them a message to find a pair of sneakers and sort themselves out.



If we’re talking about bad influences, personally I happen to think that Karen is a bad influence on her… but no one listens to me.**


Others just think it’s rather fun… kind of a conversation piece.

Sometimes love needs a helping hand.










* Today being ‘International talk like a pirate day‘!  I celebrated this day once before by putting up an entire post of captioned femdom images of lovelies talking like pirates, with a lot of emphasis on being boarded through yer rear porthole, matey etc.  Forgetting of course that individual images get copied, tumblred, shared and generally distributed around the Internet without context.  An Internet that, not unreasonably, reacted by declaring these the worst captioned femdom images ever created.  So I won’t be doing that again… there’s ‘good’ humiliation and then there’s the other kind.  So, just the usual perfectly normal captions today.  Yo ho ho!

** I write captions all the time and select images from my vast archive*** when I put up a post.  Consequently, many of these images were captioned years ago.  For some reason, I frequently settled on ‘Karen’ as the name of an off-screen more vicious friend of whichever divine goddess is speaking.  Anyway, that was before Karen became ‘Karen’ OK?  Let’s hope that particular fad passes and let’s hope most fervently that it never, ever also catches ‘Janice’ in its memetic claws.****

*** No, really.  I have about 1600 unpublished ones right now.  That’s three years’ supply.   Ha!  They said he was running out of captioned images; they said he was running out of ideas…  They were half right.

****Or ‘Raoul’. 




Painfully accurate

Thank goodness for that. Generally, this blog disapproves of the use of painkillers on men – just seems wrong and counterproductive, somehow – but this could be an exception.




It’s for her book club. They’re meeting here this week, I think – you still OK to serve the snacks?



Just goes to show it’s not all about the money.



Oooh… romantic evening ahead!



Angghwagh Mughwough!



A dose of unreality

Reality.  It’s a tricky concept, one I certainly often struggle with. I used to think that would hold me back in life, but it seems it’s not even a barrier to becoming President of the United States, so what do I know?

Anyway, moving on from feeble political point-scoring , I thought it might be nice for once to cast aside the usual rigorous attention to authenticity and gritty realism on which this blog has built its reputation.  No: let’s ditch that obsession with verisimilitude and instead present what might be the first in a new series* : glimpses of ‘Pervworld’ in which the world actually works the way it does in femdom fantasy.  

Could it be reality one day, you ask?**  Who knows?***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


* Or it might not. 
Not least because I am already running out of ideas.  Astute ‘readers’
will have noticed that #2 and #4 are basically the same. 

** No, obviously not.  Idiot.

*** See above: I do.   So do you, if you’re honest with yourself.  Do try to get a grip, hmm?

 

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.

Viral captions

So the thing is still out there, doing its thing.  A few more captioned images about the thing.


It seems like it’s been going forever, like the longest ever corner time but without the delicious sense of humiliation.  I suppose it will end eventually, and we creepy freaks can return to abnormality.  One day, perhaps people will even look back on this blog and laugh.  Unlikely, I’ll admit.


For those of you worried I might get ill and die: I have actually been practising social distancing and self isolation since before it was a thing.  Mainly at parties.  Plus, I’m told that to suffer a life-threatening condition, you have to have a life, so I think I’m fine.
























































The thing

You know – the thing that’s going on. That thing.  Here are some hurriedly thrown together captions about the thing.


You see, it’s just like I always say.  Everything is femdom.

Even the thing.




 





So… those are my captions about the thing. Now, as I’m just sitting around at home all day, these days, I’ll just get back to reading the Trip to Matilda’s story on Freddie’s blog. Which I am enjoying a lot, actually.  You might too, who knows? Only one way to find out, isn’t there?

Cries of pain are music for her banquet

A quote, or nearly so, from George Eliot, who shamefully had to pretend to be a man to get published.  What an embarassment that must be, for a woman.  Do you suppose she had to make spelling mistakes, miss deadlines and generally dumb down in correspondence with her publisher, just to appear authetically male?

Still, the quotation is rather a lovely image, isn’t it?  Here are some more.

Her impotence treatment works every time – it’s a remarkable medical breakthrough, actually.
She seems nice. What a shame you’re nothing special.  Better luck in Somalia.

She’s such a sweet person, wouldn’t hurt a fly in real life.  Still: she’ll flog him bloody and then piss on the wounds, because that’s the kind of professional she is. Then go and have dinner with Dave and maybe a cuddle before bed.




Castration manga is actually a great way to interest girls in comic books, because it’s using the medium to speak to issues that concern them as women, you know?  Also: it’s just a lot of fun, obviously.

He was quite fat when they started training him.  Still some way off the target weight of zero that they are aiming for, but he’ll get there.  In fact, he’s going to lose a whole bunch of weight all in one go next Thursday: they just haven’t told him yet.




Fair maidens, faint hearts




I find it’s always easier to tell the truth. The aftermath is sometimes extremely difficult.

I have my pride.  At least, I did. Hang on…it’s got to be here somewhere.

By a curious coincidence, I got the cattle prod for ‘last night’ the very second day of my marriage.
I get quite excited about this sort of thing.
I heard Jason was having an operation so I sent flowers and my best wishes for a full recovery.  Well, you never know, he might.









Heaven-sent

… and very nice too*




All the ways I could be a better husband?  Wow.  I think I’m going to need two days locked in the stocks, at least.



What a lot of fuss, about a routine operation.  You’d think I was the first person whose tonsils she’d removed.  I… hang on… didn’t I have my tonsils out when I was a teenager? 
Oh, don’t worry: I’ll keep looking. I might cry a little, if that’s OK.

She insists on her tea being just the way she likes it. Also the ironing, bed corners, washing up, bookshelves, underwear drawer, bath, breakfast, ornaments, cushions, carpets, gin & tonic, shoes, lawn, floor tiles, nail polish, ….
The splendidly-named Miss Hunter, on whose wall I would love to end up as a trophy.







Many dommes find the things we submissives do disgusting.  That’s why they so enjoy hitting us.





* but if anyone happens to be able to locate the scene in the British sitcom Game On (rather a lovely ‘situation’: sad male failures share flat with goddess) in which Samantha Janus rushes around putting her make-up on to this song, I’d be most grateful.

I am not a doormat

OK: that’s not strictly accurate: obviously I am a doormat. But I’m not just a doormat, you know?  I am also a foot-rest, a cup-holder, a draft excluder, a bookshelf end and a rather amusing vase for flowers.  Although no more than three of those things simultaneously.

It’s odd how sometimes the most sadistic individuals so often realise later that they weren’t cruel enough.  My SO has this problem all the time: you’d think she’d learn and stop being so lenient.

So… does that mean next week it’s my turn again?  No?  Oh.

There seems to be quite a lot of shared understanding in that room. Obviously some great teaching techniques being applied.

Lion?  Lover-boy?  Lady-killer?  Liposome?  Leprechuan?

Perhaps they could somehow transplant the ones from the real rapist?  After a fair trial and conviction, obviously.  Oh – he already lost them in the police station?  That’s unlucky.  Funny how often that happens… you’d think the police would take more care.