office – Contemplating the divine

Feminine guiles

She had to do something to keep herself amused. She’d already done today’s Wordle, after all.

She’s also his personal financial advisor – she’s recently encouraged him to move most of his ready cash into envelopes.

She’s lucky to have Sarah, otherwise she’d be a pushover for any chained-up male with a sob story.

Embarassingly, it was only at the top she realised she’d meant to throw something into the rubbish bin and had to lead you right down and then back up again, the silly forgetful thing.

It’s nice and quiet down there, hardly anyone ever visits. Don’t worry, though: there’s a food chute. Well… down there it’s a food chute. On the surface it’s a rubbish chute. Same difference.

Don’t worry, they always schedule some special ‘couple time’ when your wife has you just to herself.

Without discipline, there’s no life at all

Katharine Hepburn said that. And this [edit] is a picture of Audrey Hepburn, so the picture, like the Hepburns, is unrelated. Thanks to Downlow, low down in the comments for pointing this out. I’ll get me coat…

I’d have to say yes please. Ma’am.

“Readers” with an interest in Hollywood actresses may want to check the blog this coming Sunday. Just saying…

Don’t worry, it’s never too late to fill in any gaps in your schooling. I mean, I went to a school that didn’t have corporal punishment but look at me now.

Like many women, she’s discovered she doesn’t need high heels to come across as assetive and commanding.

I’m not sure she’s taking this seriously enough. She ought to have realised already that you *did* tell them how you felt about it, repeatedly, throughout the nine hours. Not quietly, true, but they were definitely told.

Silly Raoul. I hope he doesn’t feel too embarassed about his mistake, watching her play while busting out all over the place. Maybe she can find some way of cheering him up, in the breaks between sets.

Let the joy enter and fill your whole being.

And thank her afterwards

Nothing wrong with a bit of good old-fashioned pain, without all that fetishy nonsense, as my SO likes to say.

My VR settings show all women as fully clothed – even naked ones. Apparently that’s better for me.

Many girls find the sight of a penis and balls revolting – risible, even. But clip on a couple of heavy duty electrodes and most will see the erotic potential.

Actually ejaculating will be another €400 on top of that, by the way, so make sure you’ve got enough. Money, I mean, not semen: you’ve got far too much of that and need to keep it to yourself.

It’s a job with a lot of prospects – most of them quite demeaning and unpleasant.

The lovely ‘Victoria’ from Cruella, of course, with whom (in magazine form) I spent rather more time than was good for me back around 1989 or so.

Something weird with her stuff? The very idea!

Sordid scenes

Words can hurt… he’s upset now, because he didn’t say it in the hope of getting out of the whipping, but because he meant it and he loves her. Whips can hurt too, of course. Quite a lot.

See, if you can’t be bothered to remind her at the right time, why should she be bothered about it?

Just follow the sound of her voice… I live my life according to that principle even when I’m not blindfolded.

Many guys see nothing wrong in an appreciative stare at a sexy girl. And increasingly, many girls see nothing wrong in bundling those guys into burlap sacks and brutally torturing them in a windowless underground cell. So it’s all just about finding the right partner.

Whenever I read yet another article claiming that men aren’t doing so well in the modern IT-oriented office, I just think about all the guys reading this blog: still working the computer effectively with just one hand, *and* with trousers down around their ankles. Show me a woman who’d do that.

She learns a lot from the conversations with them. For instance, she has discovered that it is “a nice skateboard”. Sometimes the conversation even goes as far as “Uh, yeah. Really, really nice.”

Femdom Chat session

Oh hi, Mr Folkes. Yeah, I’ve drafted that report like you asked me. Sorry it took so long. I’ve tried to make it read like you wrote it yourself, like you asked.

Actually… well, if you’re interested, I thought I’d try something a bit hi tech, since no one else seemed to want to give the intern work. See, I realised there’s probably quite a lot of stuff out there that you’ve written, so one of these AI thingies ought to be able to write in your own style. Right? So I gave that ChatGPT thing a prompt about the report topic and ‘in the style of Mr Adrian Folkes’ and so on. But it came up with the weirdest stuff!

Look: here’s the bit about the new marketing initiative in Scotland:

Douglas fidgeted nervously as he stood in regulation shorts and cap outside Mrs Harcastle’s oak door. The quarterly sales figures were down by over 15%. Something would undoubtedly be said about that, he knew, and something would be done too. His heart sank as he contemplated that prospect. It was going to be hard, there was no point in pretending otherwise.

“Come!” he heard, and he tried to control the butterflies in his stomach as he turned the door handle. Mrs Hardcastle was standing there, the dreaded three-tailed tawse in one hand, his report in the other.

“So it seems middle-class ladies from Lothian in their fifties are particularly displeased with your performance, boy!” she sniffed, disapprovingly. “That most certainly includes me and I do not propose to leave the matter unremedied. Clearly, my previous efforts have not been sufficient and a more… vigorous approach is called for. Trousers down and bend over my desk.”

See what I mean? It’s… kind of about the Scottish marketing initiative but… weird.

Here’s another about the new office in Prague:

Madame Loreen leaned back, allowing the heels of her boots to scrape the pallid back of the quaking slave kneeling before her. The furniture in the new facility was barely adequate, she reflected, noting that the criss-crossed whip marks on her footstool’s buttocks suggested that her colleagues thought the same. Furthermore, the artwork that was supposed to decorate the walls had not yet arrived, so the Ladies had tried to brighten the place up by dangling slaves from steel manacles across most of the walls. At least the electricity was working, she thought, watching the slave on the wall before her jerk frantically, mewing into his gag, as the electrodes clamped to his nipples delivered random jolts of electricity.

Clearly, the contractor had failed in the tasks assigned to him. A special meeting had been arranged, at which all the Ladies would have a chance to express their displeasure with him. Her fingers curled reflexively around the handle of her bullwhip as she thought about that.

Yeah. It just produced something like that every time. Every item I tried: the GPT wrote up your monthly finance analysis as something about a princess and her ‘pay piggies’ for instance and it suggested replacing the contract cleaners with senior male managers dressed as little maids and spanking them until they met their targets. Oh, and the stuff about performance management was just brutal.

It’s weird isn’t it? Do you suppose there must be another Adrian Folkes out there, writing stuff like that? Only, I gave it your address and everything, so…

Anyway, looks like the technology has a long way to go, I ended up just writing the report myself. Old fashioned style. I’ll email it to you, shall I?

I hope you like it. I really made an effort… worked all night on it… I’ve got my internship review coming up, after all Mr Folkes. I’d love to work for this company… get a foot in the door of such a promising new business. I hope you’re going to make a submission to the review board.

I actually took the liberty of drafting one for you, using the GPT thing again. Funny: speaking of foot in the door, it’s mostly about feet, actually. My feet. And about you. Anyway, I don’t think it would be very suitable, but it might give you some ideas, if you’d like a copy?

Lap dogs to a slip of a girl

It’s funny: in a few weeks he’ll probably be complaining it’s too hot, staked out there on a lovely summer day with the honey and sweat running off his skin and the ants tickling his face.

I tried a self-help book once. Apparently my feelings of inadequacy aren’t real. Oh right – so what have I been paying all that tribute for, over the years, then? Silly book.

Good thing she decided not to wash her hair, as she hates saying no to people.

A survey of the male employees found 82% of them consider the new dress code unbearably humiliating. Management are working hard to think of something they can do to respond: 18% of males not feeling constantly mortified is simply unacceptable in a truly inclusive workplace.

Just don’t leave your used jodhpurs lying around.

First oppressions matter

It’s good to have a mid-morning energy boost, especially when you’ve got Class 6d at 11.15. They can be a bit challenging, I’ve heard.

Good to know she’s researched it so carefully. Anyway, would it matter so much? More than her need to be soaped matters? I don’t think so, and nor do you if you’re honest with yourself, right?

Actually, he might end up trying to mate with Elisa. Not his decision, after all.

Boys can do computer too. And I don’t just mean cleaning keyboards. And not just getting the coffee, although obviously with only one male in the team no one else is going to be doing that.

Fortunately, all your pain receptors still work.

Hear her roar

… and hear me squeak.

I’m not allowed to look my SO in the eye under any circumstances, so for that (and other) reasons this situation never arises for me.

Loving brutal domination… that hits the sweet spot (repeatedly, raising welts and leaving it throbbing and sore).

Hard to understand atheists who say there’s no such thing as a divine being, in a world on which Mistress Eleise walks among us.

I wouldn’t mind but it’s seven floors up and the male lift (‘elevator’, Americans but you knew that right?) has been out of action all week.

It’s odd how often I find myself begging my SO for mercy, when begging her for brutal and gleeful ferocity would be so much more likely to succeed.

It’s actually quite common for bridegrooms to feel a little nervous and apprehensive before ~~giving up their their body and eternal soul to the control of a callous and evil witch~~ the big day. Looks like she has ~~a potion that will rob you of any means of resistance~~ just the solution. I guess that’s ~~you damned to an eternity of suffering and torment~~ why you’re marrying her, right?

Ideas above my station

Scurry scurry scurry…

In practice a lot of the psychological elements flow fairly naturally from the pain and from the dread of it,

Coding’s a valuable skill in today’s economy but getting the coffee that helps keep the coding girls focused is vital too. Not as well paid – obviously, as a traditional male occupation – but there’s more to life than money and the satisfaction of a menial job done adequately cannot really be priced. Plus, a really good coffee boy might have a shot at a tampon boy position, should one become available. Better than sitting in front of a computer staring at boring old code, amirite?

So brave she bought a weekly pass enabling her to see any show she pleases. But watching Mark will be special for her, obviously.

This picture in welts was just chance but some dommes take pride in their artistic skill with the whip. My SO likes to do Mondrians on me, for instance. I don’t mind the lines, it’s the areas of uniform flat colour that really sting.

A happy Cruella shoot, of course, with all three participants enjoying the balmy British summer.

Punitive pleasures

She’s right, of course.

She puts a lot of effort into giving feedback and making sure the overall messages of the review are clear. So you’ll get a lot out of it. She appreciates obsequious upward feedback too.

I expect Cruella’s employees get plenty of feedback. As do unpaid employees or random passing gawkers at their photoshoots, I imagine.

Another lady with an interest in giving clear feedback. Shame Harold won’t have much chance to learn from it for next time.

I asked my domme once how she managed to switch from non-stop verbal humiliation and contempt to chatting in a friendly way at the end of the session. She just smiled and said she’s a good actress, but she’d probably run out of ideas if it went for more than five minutes or so. Which I didn’t really understand because we’d had a two hour session but it was time for me to go, so I never got the chance to ask.

Hmm… Looks like you’re not going to get a chance to impress her with that dazzling wit. Or anyone. Oh well, win some lose some. You did win some, right? I mean, at some point in your life?