Category: pet

She knows, she just doesn’t care

Erm, right, thank you, Ma’am.. Miss… Ma’am. Yes… well, you see, it’s like this. I don’t – or at least, let me start another way, erm…well, I’ve been thinking, erm… in my own time, obviously, and, errr… well…
Salmon? What – real fresh salmon? Then how is she ever going to persude him to eat the tin of disgusting, gristly cat food with jelly I saw her get out? I’m not sure she’s thought this through.
What an astonishing plot arc. They’ll win prizes for originality for that, for sure.
Marie’s not really selfish. She was just enjoying herself so much she didn’t think about how much she was leaving for others to play with, that’s all. Don’t judge her harshly.
Don’t worry: these bouts are more about play-acting than real violence. Anyway, I expect the medics can sew it back on; I’m pretty sure she didn’t swallow.
Looks like a nice gentle start to the session… maybe you should try some brattish behaviour, to liven things up?

Girls just wanna have power

That’s not strictly true – she actually does care. That’s why she does it.
Let’s hope Mistress is feeling forgiving. It’s not been known to happen often but there’s always hope.
Sounds ideal.
Right now, he’s thinking having to cope with her passive-aggresive behaviour is actually worse than being whipped. He’s wrong, but we’ll let him discover that for himself, shall we?
She didn’t really suspect him of having an affair. She has more confidence in his fidelity to her than that – an unshakeable confidence, actually.

Just look in to those eyes and say the first thing that comes into your head. What’s the worst that could happen?

Sorry the blog’s been a bit Joyless lately, but that’s fixable.

Wait until she gets home

And if, when she does, she doesn’t come to open the cage, you can wait until she goes out again, too, and then start the whole thing all over again. It helps pass the time.

The occasional spanking can form part of a healthy and mutually-respectful relationship… as well as the sorts of relationships celebrated on this blog too, obviousy.
If it’s any consolation, she is actually wearing silk underwear.
She’s determined to make fetch happen.
It was this or the kennels and that can just be more trouble than it’s worth. All that fuss about how they generally only take dogs and cats… speciesism, that’s what it is.
She needs to develop techniques to relax, maybe take some of the tension away, especially if she’s going to be watching a lot of castrations. I expect going to lie down in the nurse’s room will help.
Apparently, the priest is planning to preach a sermon on practising thankfulness in marriage, which seems very apposite.

Torturous logic

She’s right, of course. Quite early in my marriage, I realised that what I naively thought of as ‘too much pain’ was, when viewed in proper perspective, ‘not enough pain’. It’s funny how wrong men can be about such things.
Speaking of Orgasm Day – guess what? Thursday’s mine! Yes, every February 29th, regular as clockwork, I get to have an orgasm. Unless my behaviour has been particularly bad, obviously, or if she’s too busy. She suggested the date herself – I’d wanted some time in June, but apparently this is much better.
This is one of the tasks you’ll be judged on, so do it right.
Nothing wrong with enjoying your job, I say.
What if I’m not ready? Hmm? What do you suppose she’ll – AAH!
I hadn’t realised she owned a big dog… I guess that’s why she has that big cage in the garden.

Whips and whims

Don’t forget your morning prayers too.
If love is there, honouring and obeying should come naturally. And if they don’t, I’m sure she can find an alternative means to encourage them.
He has… but here’s only so much misbehaviour you can get up to, muzzled and on a leash.
Don’t worry: she won’t whip you any more than necessary.
My SO finds it very upsetting when our cat catches a mouse and plays with it so cruelly. As she says, there’s a 50% chance the poor little thing is female.
It’s a future-proofed profession, because although technology obviously could automate the basic function of shit-carrying, it could never provide the same satisfaction forcing a male to do that provides to the onlooker.

Girlish ferocity

I just have resting silly grumpy-face.  When I don’t have resting screamy pleading-face, anyway.

 

 

It’s supposed to be quite effective in preventing premature baldness… or was that ‘laziness’?  All good, either way – just ask Helen.

 

Of course, she might do that even if he doesn’t make her.




And don’t forget to wag that cute little rubber dildo-tail.

 

 

 


 

I remember my first, fumbling attempts at sexual intercourse!  Embarrassingly bad, like most men I suppose.  I can laugh about it now, along with the guests whenever my SO tells the story, but at the time it was quite humiliating, especially with all those other guys there.  I suppose a second time needn’t be quite such a… a shall we say ‘cringe-inducing failure’ but as my SO likes to say, ‘why risk it?’

 

 

Kiss the boys and make them cry

Phwoah.
The ‘client’ in this picture was of course the remarkable, rather intimidating… OK, very intimidating, Mistress Cassie Hunter.




Yeah, I tried vanilla sex once.  Well, I tried to try it anyway… but she wasn’t having any of it.







There’s men would kill to be in his position. Perhaps one day she’ll let them.




No reason not to mix business with pleasure.







Ah.. voluntary consent.  It’s just non-negotiable. As George is finding out.


No means no

There’s been a lot of news lately about the need for men always to seek a woman’s consent before any sexual activity.  And I think that’s exactly right.  If she says no – that’s it.  You’ll just have to wait until next month.

 

Finally found something you’re good at!  Well done.
 

 

The selection process is quite rigorous.  Some don’t survive.  But there’s plenty of them, so that’s really not a problem.
 

 

Well, if being told off and humiliated by an attractive lady in a sharp business suit doesn’t take his mind off sexy things, I don’t know what will!
 

 

They’re more kind of… snaily, if you know what I mean.  You don’t?  Oh.  Well – kind of like a cockroach that’s been squished under a boot most of the day – and I expect you know how bad that tastes!
 
 
Awww… sweet.
 

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