Category: Other World Kingdom

Conscious incompetence

That’s me…with occasional periods of unconsciousness, when She plays a little too vigorously.

I
don’t know about you, but I’ve reached the point in my life where just
stuffing high-value notes into an envelope gives me an erection.




He gets up early and sings his little song.

The irony is, they then use ordinary gelding clippers to remove what remains of the burnt semi-dissolved flesh. So it’s all a bit pointless, really.  Will you tell her, or shall I?


Unaccompanied males can enter the country on their own passports, of course.  It’s just leaving that’s forbidden.
Best not to argue, though.


Alternative facts

I know you all yearn for a Goverment committeed to the smack of firm but loving matriarchal discipline but if we’ve learnt anything over the last year or two, it’s that in politics anything can happen and it doesn’t always turn out the way we might like.


As for those males commited to absurd old-fashioned notions like sexual equality and who might think that the future envisaged under President Hathaway is oppressive (to be honest, not many such males read this blog), they need to be aware that another world is certainly possible.  

I was going to say “your choice, guys”.  But of course, it won’t be.


 

I wanna

be her dog?


wagwagwag…


He’ll be paying rent to her as well.  The monthly rate is a very reasonable “everything”.






Mistress Akella, there, showing how patient dommes need to be at times.







Oh, I don’t suppose Janice would mind.  She’s very easygoing.  As long as you stay on the leash, you can pretty much do your own thing when she’s not around. It’s that kind of marriage.





In OWK, slaves aren’t judged on whether they fail or succeed.  Just on how badly they fail.









She seems nice. Remember, though: it is very unprofessional to get involved romantically with your clients.  So don’t even think about it.

Another world is possible

Quite a few of you seem to have liked my posts featuring sneak previews of the Femsuprem candidate’s successful election campaign in 2020.


I tried getting a few more through my handy fictitious time portal, but I’m afraid I must have done something truly male, because it started making horrible noises, turned sideways and then spat out an image and a pile of posters from a very different future indeed.  What can it all mean?


I suspect these particular female supremacists are not all that interested in elections.  Readers who prefer their femdom to be loving and maternal are advised to go and look at another blog for now.  

 

 

 

 






 





Mistress of arts

Women, eh? You can’t just straight-out discuss something, she has to set up the whole situation just right to ‘discuss it’. Oh well.  Better humour her.

That’s a very wide hole. Still, maybe there are some guys who need that.  Not jealous…

Phew.  That could have gone quite badly.  Remember the time you bought that fur coat in the wrong shade of silver?
I wonder if in the years to come, he’ll regret not having signed more forms?  After all, it’s not going to be easy to sign anything, when she’s done with him.
 This of course is the sweet and kindly Mistress Jo, of Cruella and British Institution fame.  She’s just a softie really.
That’s something we’ve seen a lot of this year – this contemptuous attitude to ‘experts’.  She could easily double the efficiency of the plant by not sitting on it, for example, but you just try telling her that…


The power of love

Make a one man weep, make another man sing.

NB – in my experience, however, you do need a credit card (or more often an envelope stuffed with cash) to ride this particular train.

And you don’t want to be sore, as well as a loser.

He’ll be given a chance to taste the same wine she’s drinking too, in due course.

Ah yes.  My fault.  Of course.

Oh, she should try being a bit more creative.  She’s in a chemist’s shop (trans: pharmacy) after all.  I’m sure there will be plenty of things they sell that taste really nasty. Anything labelled ‘Not to be taken internally’ is worth a go. 

He’s lucky she’s not displeased with him, isn’t he?


Oh, I hope there’ll be jellyfish

The servitor who uploads material to this blog will be on an undeserved holiday for the next few weeks.  Normally awful service will be maintained, through the magic of ‘scheduling’ and comments – especially abusive ones – remain as welcome as ever, but will not be responded to (so the grovelling apologies must wait).


The jellyfish thing? Oh yeah. This.

You know, I heard once that feeling sad and lonely is just your body’s way of telling you what an unpleasant person you are to be with?  Makes a lot of sense.

I’m slowly working my way into her affections, I reckon.

Mmmpphhh grtrrth.

Of course, they’ll need to use something else to achieve the burning sensation.  Hot coals, maybe? They’re very creative.

 

Hope there’s some beer for me.

You can wear the uniform and I could play along

And so it goes…

“…and if there’s war between the sexes then there’ll be no people left.  “
Actually, I’ve never believed that. Some of us would be traitorous quislings from the start, for one thing.

PS – she didn’t recognise him, actually.  Not her fault – they used to get a lot of men at OWK.  They all look the same after a while, I expect. 

 
 
The holiday starts here.
 
 
 
 

 

Some of us have high natural levels of this chemical in our bloodstreams already.  It’s produced in the spleen, I expect.  Mostly because I enjoy typing the word ‘spleen’, which is a rather underused organ in femdom porn, I’ve always felt.
 

 

 

 

It’s best not to let the cute ones off too lightly.
 
 
Nazi dominatrices!  Cute, huh?  A bit illegal in Germany, but hey – this is the blog that treats its readers with contempt, remember?

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