Category: OWK

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.







Girls just wanna have fun

… but in many countries there are still some silly legal restrictions on how they do so.  Not on this blog.


I think they’re just not taking this lifesaving course seriously enough.



How does she know?



OWK has strict rules about that.  Strict rules about a lot of things, come to think of it – I mean, that’s kind of the point of the place.


She’s thought about it a lot.  Often after a luxurious bath, with soft music playing and a glass of wine to hand.



‘Cowering’ is an underrated form of sex play, I reckon.  I do a lot of it.



Painful recollections

Yes, to celebrate the most depressing public holiday the UK has – the end of what is often with atypical British overstatement referred to as ‘the summer’ – here are more reminiscences from a better-run although oddly misnamed ‘kingdom’.  

 More OWK ladies reminiscing about the good old days, in other words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tie me up and I’ll confess

 …a thousand ways that make you statuesque. (just more old music, nothing specifically femdom I’m afraid.  But it does feature Louise Wener and those lucky sleeperblokes, which is femdom enough for some).

 

 

Watch and learn – although it’s by no means certain you’ll ever get the chance to put it into practice.


 

 

Not often I feature maledom here, but I’m open-minded about it – I don’t mind maledoms, as long as they end up beaten, enslaved and crushed in body and spirit.

 

 

 

Whimper.




They are very concerned with fairness – and with unfairness too, obviously.




Well, as long as he’s cool about it I suppose you should be too.



 

 

People can be so cruel

 Thank goodness.

Some people think that the life of a submissive is to be a mindless automaton, obeying orders with at most a muttered ‘yes, Mistress’.  But actually, there’s a lot of thought involved, not to mention worrying and sheer naked terror at possible consequences of thoughtlessness.

 

 

Julia?  Oh… she can be a bit difficult, but, y’know: I can’t complain.

 

 

 

That’s all right – plenty of time to learn.

 

 

 

Inmates at the prison camp – especially those convicted of sexism and similar offences – might be surprised to learn there are rules forbidding excessively harsh treatment.  But there are – and the proof is in the surprisingly high survival rates which are well over 80% for all but the most annoying inmates.  Personally I don’t approve of that kind of mollycoddling, but no one cares about my opinion.

 

 

 

It’s always a bit embarrassing for professional educators to meet their students outside the classroom.  That goes double for male educators meeting young female students, especially if it’s a hot day and the students’ feet are sweaty.

Dungeon crawlers

 

Many subs don’t realise how much work a good domme will put into preparing for a session.  Here, the lovely Lady Jana went to all of the trouble of looking up the translation of an obscure English word – just to make sure his experience was exactly as he had specified – and all he could do afterwards was moan about it.  Well, I think it was that he was moaning about, anyway. 

Another ungrateful subbie.  Seems to be something of a theme today.  I mean, quite apart from the sexual gratification he is getting, the value of all that learning is quite literally incalculable.

 

 

 

Now this one at least appears to have the right attitude: asking nicely, saying please and thank you.  And he has his reward, see?

 

Don’t worry if you find it difficult at first: the game of ‘fetch’ might appear simple, but it has hidden complexities.  I’ve been playing it together with my SO almost every Sunday afternoon for years now, and I still often get it wrong – as she can readily confirm.


 

 

Which is odd, because from my own personal experience (again – and I don’t want to over-generalise, so let me emphasise this is just me): in my own relationship, ‘No’ is about the most reckless and unsafe word it is possible for me to say.

 

 

 

 

Remembrance of times past

The Other World Kingdom is mostly gone, at least in its original form, but its memory lives on.  And so do the memories of those fine ladies who worked there, which by a process of entirely fictional thought transferrence have ended up inside the mind of the author of this blog.  From where, after picking delicately around the piles of rancid porn and mounds of bad ideas that clutter that place up, they emerge to be shared here.

 

Or, to put it more simply: OWK ladies remember.  Again.