pain – Page 2 – Contemplating the divine

Cruelty is its own reward

…but you often still have to pay her for it.

I suppose there comes a point when, if she’s gradually cut away every piece of you that *isn’t* your genitals, there’s only the genitals left. But then isn’t that equivalent to castrating you? Interesting philosophical question, there, to help you while away the time as you dangle in mute agony.

She has a low boredom threshold, so best not to keep going on about it.

My pain tolerance level has increased slightly over the years but unfortunately so has my SO’s.

Sharp-eyed readers (or just those who spend a lot of time wanking on the Internet) will of course recognise the lovely Goddess Mina Thorne.

You’ll soon learn about what’s important to her and what isn’t.

When they talk later, I expect she’ll need to release a lot of that anger and he’ll need – will desperately need – to release other things.

Actually, in a sense he’s getting off lightly. He was sentenced to 35 years but he’ll actually only have done 34 years, 364 days and about 12 hours. Lucky bastard, I hope he appreciates it.

Emotional stupidity

In case you’re wondering why I am posting on a Thursday instead of the usual Friday, the answer is ‘rank incompetence – the idiot’s not even able to read a calendar properly, for goodness’ sake!’.

Nice clean shoes – good job! Now, let’s have that chat.

Thank goodness they reminded him – how embarassing it would have been to have had to admit he’d forgotten the anniversay again.

Surprisingly unsurprisingly “People for the Ethical Treatment of Paypigs” just isn’t a thing.

She seems nice. My SO taught me the right way to do laundry by just whipping me without explanation every time it wasn’t right. We got there, but it was a lot of work for her, poor thing.

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!

Animate objects

…who are also subjects.

Ooo… ‘the wrong sort of pain’. Never pleasant. My SO says the way to handle it is to accept there are no wrong sorts of pain, and I can’t argue with that.

Notice how she said ‘please’? See, you can be treated like dirt and still receive a modicum of respect. She says ‘Thank you, darling’ occasionally too, although that usually means ‘Shut up.’, particularly when said in public.

Actually, sleep scientists say that an early bedtime can be extremely beneficial for health. Oh yes, and I read somewhere as well that *spanking* scientists say… now where was that article?

It’s actually only marginally less comfortable than an economy seat on most airlines and arguably (if you’re of the sex permitted to argue) more so on Ryanair.

It’s odd, but when you’ve been locked in chastity for a month, it’s hard for a woman to do anything that *isn’t* breath-takingly erotic. Including refusing to unlock you, ironically enough.

Embarassing observations

The untruths hurt, sometimes.

Wise submissive husbands will keep a notebook, recording name, orgasm frequency, cock size and any remarks their wives made the next morning. Cuckoldry doesn’t have to be something merely done to you, you see – you can help her with it.

She can wait – as can he, actually, although he might feel right now as if he can’t.

If you get really good at the ‘guess the voltage’ game, a career as a circuit tester awaits.

If it goes into the mouth and down the throat, then it’s edible, right? And she always makes sure that it does.

You’ve already taken the most important vows, anyway.

Suitable for a princess

Just another one of those captions that became so long it wasn’t really a caption any more so I’m calling it a story.

Your princess? Really, am I? Aww… that’s nice.

Maybe you’d like to hear your princess tell you a story, hmm? Don’t worry: you can keep doing that. Right between the toes: there’s a good boy.

Once upon the time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in far-off Milton Keynes. She was so beautiful and so talented that men from far and wide fell in love with her. Princes, knights, rich merchant bankers… even footslaves so ugly she had to make them wear latex masks, who loved to lick her sweaty toes. They all fell in love with her, but she really didn’t give a flying fuck, as long as they paid her and gave her presents on special occasions.

Like her birthday: that was the specialest occasion of all. The princess hated it if any of her ungrateful and moronic worshippers forgot her birthday. No – don’t stop doing the foot thing, slave. I’ve got something else planned in a moment, but you can keep doing that for now.

So, at the end of one birthday the princess made a little list of all the slaves who hadn’t fucking bothered to give her a present – who couldn’t even extend her the basic courtesy of an email or something. You know: to take, like, one minute out of their day to wish a happy birthday to the lady they claim is the light of their sad little fucked-up lives. And she decided that the next time each of those nasty little ingrates sessioned with her, she’d give them a really hard pain session, that went way beyond their ‘limits’. Like, for example, her pathetic little footslave who was ‘really not into pain, Mistress’: she decided she was going to clamp his nipples and bollocks with tight, tight clamps and attach heavy weights to them, then whip him raw. Maybe finish off with some electric shocks or ball-busting. Or both.

Of course, the princess realized, it would have to be consensual. But the self-centred bastards who’d forgotten her birthday would be given a choice: consent to the pain session the selfish little sods so richly deserved, or never see Mistress and her beautiful feet ever, ever, ever again. Either way, she thought, next birthday she’d have presents from all her slaves: any who didn’t consent would be living sad lonely lives without her and the remaining ones would be too fucking terrified to forget a second time, after the sheer hell she planned to deal out to them.

Now… I want you to help me write the end of the story, slave. Not the very end, that’s “And the princess lived happily ever after.” It’s the bit just before that. What do you think is going to happen?

No, you can stop licking my foot now – maybe that was for the last time, isn’t it exciting? – and I’ll go and get the bondage cross ready, while you have a think.

The part of the princess in this tale was played by the very lovely and delightful Tiffany Naylor, who does indeed hold court in the magical land of Milton Keynes*, where I once encountered her and very lovely and very delightful she was. Naturally, none of the actions of the fictional dominatrix depicted here should be attributed to the real Tiffany Naylor, although I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets cross if her regulars forget her birthday**, as that’s perfectly normal (and normally perfect) dominatrix behaviour.

* For Americans or other foreigners unfamiliar with this place, Milton Keynes is one of the most historic towns in England. You can easily spend several days there, just strolling around the medieval streets, drinking in the scenic beauty of the old town and swapping stories with its charming inhabitants. Wisely, the local authorities have avoided the excess tourism that has damaged the charm of some other historic English locations, like Stratford on Avon, by ensuring there is little to be found on the Internet about the rich history and architecture of this unspoilt gem, but those in the know regard it as being on the must-see list for any visitor seeking to explore England’s historic treasures.

** 3rd of August!

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.

Category: pain