OWK – Page 4 – Contemplating the divine

Sexual wealing

Interestingly (well… as near to being interesting as anything gets on this damp and flaccid excuse for a blog), the word ‘weal’ means both ‘a ridge or mark on flesh raised with a blow of a whip’ and ‘wealth or happiness’. Which to my mind – like the fact that ‘stroke’ means both a caress and the lash of a whip – just goes to show that there’ve been subbies around for as long as the English language has existed. Chaucer’s ‘The Ffyndomme’s Tayle’ being a case in point, I suppose, or Shakespeare’s ‘Loves Labours Forced.’

Anyway.

Captions.

Interestingly, that rather racy outfit she’s wearing is modeled on that worn by Playboy’s Playmate of the Month from October 1842.

Attentive ‘readers’ will obviously have recognised the compassionate and sweet-tempered Cassie Hunter, the Hunteress. You can tell she is feeling particularly merciful and forgiving, on this occasion, from the gentle smile on her lips.

Honestly, if her sissy were a bit more familiar with orgasms himself he might have realised how totally inappropriate that request was. Not that I’m excusing his selfish behaviour, you understand.

I’ve never really understood what ‘SPH play’ really consists of. I mean, if we’re not doing ‘SPH play’ what’s she going to talk about – the weather?

Sometimes she puts a little extra in. Other times she takes a little extra out.

What, all of them?

Just the facts, Madame

A few more of these… it’s been a few years, I think.

Utopian visions

‘Utopia’ literally means ‘another place‘ but has come to be seen as meaning ‘an ideal society’. Interpret it how you like – the choice won’t be yours anyway.

Adding insults to injuries

Costs extra but it’s worth it, believe me.

Try making a list of all the things you know annoy her and run through them all. It might take a while, but you’ve got all day.

I’m good at being annoying. Less so at having orgasms, because I don’t have as many opportunities.

Many visitors to OWK think Czech classes are pointless because the ladies just scream at you and beat you up anyway. Which they do, obviously, but occasionally being able to plead piteously for mercy in Czech can result in slightly less pain. Very slightly. Sometimes. And if the Lady in question is not actually Slovak, obviously. But still…

You might find you get a bit irritable without coffee. Interestingly, that can turn out to be a learning experience too.

Maybe she’ll show you what she’s put down on Governess Hardcastle’s booking form. Or maybe she won’t and it’ll all be a surprise! Still, at least you can be confident there won’t be any little blonde findomme princesses or tarts in latex with big tits. Thank goodness.

Supremely confident

Thank goodness he’s around.

My SO can be quite inconsistent on this. If a tawse or cane she was hoping to use goes missing – or on one memorable occasion the batteries from her favourite cattle-prod – she instantly suspects me and we ‘have a little chat’ about it. But if a key isn’t where she’d expected it to be it’s ‘just one of those things’ and ‘is bound to turn up in a month or two’. Women. Eh?

As anyone deeply familiar with the OWK photographic record will testify: describing an OWK slave as ‘that one with the stupid moustache’ isn’t really specific enough. They might have to have a lot of slaves punched to be sure to get the right one. Still, no real harm done if so, I suppose.

Am I the only male sub whose first experience of toilet slavery was during the interval during a fully-booked theatrical performance? I suspect not.

…which is actually true of a lot of things, if you think about it. As I’m sure you have. Pervert.

Indifferent ways of loving

Oh well, at least she’s finally taking an interest.

‘Getting annoyed’ is something the OWK ladies are quite spectacularly good at. I understand it’s listed on the application form for the job.

That’s reassuring.

Oh dear, what a terrible tragedy. The poor thing. She’d only just started to get over the previous one.

Let’s hope they don’t go too far. These things can easily get out of hand.

Czeching accounts

Some newly arrived slaves fear that a night alone and abandoned in a cold prison cell will be hard to take – but they often find that, actually, when the Ladies arrive the next morning to take them out, they find themselves looking back fondly on the hours of merely being uncomfortable and cold, with a nice strong steel door between themselves and the rest of OWK.

Looks like he’s losing. They always do, oddly enough.

The local hospital is getting a bit fed up, to be honest. I mean, there’s pandemic on: they can’t keep dealing with minor fractures and burns, the whole time.

Of course, you’ll want something to wash it down with. They do have an expert sommelière but actually all of the ladies are ready and only too willing to whip out a funnel and provide some liquid refreshment to their own personal specification.

Some of the ladies love waking up to the cheerful singing of the ‘guests’ working beneath their windows. Others hate it and storm outside furiously, at the slightest sound, to dole out misery to anyone disturbing their precious sleep. But then at OWK, you have to take the rough with… well, you have to take the rough, anyway.

The very lazy OWKerpillar

In a cold prison cell, an OWK slave shivered on the floor.

One Sunday morning, the Ladies arrived slap! – out of his cell he went to be dressed as a very lazy caterpillar.

They started to give him orders.

On Monday, they made him crawl the length the corridor from one end of the Queen’s Castle to the other ten times, kicking him to help him along. But he was still lazy.

On Tuesday they beat him to make him wriggle to the top of the hill twenty times. But he was still lazy.

On Wednesday, they made him flop his way around the mud on the edge of the pond thirty times, pushing his head down into the mud beneath their boots each time he came past. But he was still lazy.

On Thursday, they held a contest in which he had to compete against other human caterpillars in races, boot-licking contests, testicle-tug-of-wars and ‘most pitiful begging’ competitions. The losers each got forty strokes of the cane. The winner also got forty strokes of the cane. But he was still lazy.

On Friday, they suspended him from a tree, with weights clipped to his nipples and genitals and swung him around and around with punches and kicks, until he had come up with fifty amusingly shameful names for a human caterpillar. But he was still lazy.

On Saturday, they just lost it. They strung him up by his ankles, whipped away what was left of his caterpillar costume with a cat o’nine tales then each took a bullwhip and went for him, flogging methodically up and down his body while he screamed for mercy, then they used a cattle prod on his genitals, kicked him in the face, pushed pins through his foreskin and scrotum, then dragged him back to his cell, pissed on him and left him there, weeping and moaning in pain. That evening, he regretted coming to OWK more than he had ever regretted anything in his life.

On Sunday, he lay alone, cold and hungry in his cell.

Now he remembered he wasn’t a human caterpillar but a successful businessman called Christoph. Outside, he had money, houses and cars – he dressed in fine clothes, not rags and tatters; he ate at Michelin-starred restaurants, rather than gulping slops off a concrete floor and no one hit him, put clamps on his flesh or trod on his face. He resolved to tell these crazy Czech Ladies he had had enough and he would rather cancel the second week of his ‘punishment stay’. They could keep the fucking money – he wanted out.

So later that day, when they came to open his cell, he looked up, smiled confidently, started to speak and…

They hit him in the face, shoved a ball-gag into his gaping mouth, pulled a leash tight around his bollocks and dragged him off to the Courtyard, to carry bricks from one side to the other in the rain.

He was a stupid, useless male object.

I thought we should finish with a happy picture: well done Madame Christine!

You know, I’ve often been struck

She’s actually communicating her feelings on several different levels here. It’s a Mars/Venus thing – you don’t have to understand but you could at least try to feel her pain.

If you argue it might go on longer – and wouldn’t that be just awful?

Some of us are already having the cry, thanks. Although oddly it’s the cuddle that usually brings them on in floods.

What to do, what to do… You might want to try playing safe. They won’t let you (and anyway, you’re not safe), but I expect you’ll want to try.

She’s being rather unfair here. She often is: if you want my honest opinion, she’s a vicious and vindictive person with serious anger management issues. Always was. Anyway – congratulations on your special day! I’m sure you’ll be very.. well, maybe you’ll both be… anyway, congratulations, yeah? You’re a lucky guy. We all think so.