Category: pet play

One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other.

To celebrate Bastille Day, let’s have some more Regency femdom. The tumbrels and republican principles of the Revolution itself do not lend themselves well to the theme (although I always felt a vague kinship with the sans-culottes) but on the other side of the Channel, the natural order was maintained.
 
Of course, these are merely modern ‘takes’ on the period. Fashions in femdom at the time were rather different and would seem strange to us today.  Humiliation play, for example, might involve acting out being introduced at a ball to a duchess and incorrectly addressing her as if she were a mere viscountess, or using the wrong fork for the fish and being gently and gigglingly admonished (or – worse – subjected to a sustained pretence by one’s dinner companions not to have noticed!  Oh, the shame).  A ‘forced bi’ scenario would typically end with some roleplaying the inevitable appearance before local magistrates, followed by branding or even transportation to Australia* for committing unnatural acts.  And of course the gimp suits of the time were made of wool or coarse cloth -unthinkable today but they knew no better.
 
What’s that?  You want me to shut the fuck up and just show you the pictures of hot chicks in empire-line dresses? Oh, OK then.  Sorry.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
* Generally regarded as a hard limit by most scene players today – and indeed very few dommes are even prepared to try it, although I understand Mistress Servalan of Sydney has ocasionally put on demonstrations at BDSM conventions.

Crawl space

Actually that’s not true – she takes the keenest interest in making your knees hurt and derives great pleasure from it.


I’m actually really good at fetching sticks.  On dates, I usually try to work the conversation around, so I can casually mention it.
I tried ‘coming out’ by telling some female co-workers about my true sexual nature and I have to say I didn’t get anything like this understanding reaction.  Actually, the entire experience was utterly humiliating and very painful.  So that was nice.

It’s odd – when the lady who’s now my SO and I first got together, she always (well… both times, anyway) complained that I came too soon. Nowadays, apparently I take too long and she never has time, even though I’m pretty sure I’m quicker than ever.  Women, eh?

“throne”?
The Divine Mistress Heather, of course. Divinity lessons have never been so intense.

Subjectivity

Noun: the state of being a subject.  That used to be me but now I’m more objective.


No great loss, right?
Somehow it still feels like I’m on the leash, even when I’m not.  Strange, that.
I rolled a six this month!  But apparently “rules are made to be broken”!  Not her usual attitude to rules, I have to say… but that’s women for you.  Bless ’em.
She’s already being the best wife she can. That’s why you’re wearing the shock collar.








My brain hurts.  Sorry: I think I’m just too male today to understand this one. Something about a hash?  Is she talking about breakfast?

There is no fire

Music only a little related. But don’t you just love the way Mistress Lennox’s voice sort of… swoops in at the start? I do. And I tried to find a version with a video, and I found this and she looks lovely, but someone’s ringing a bell, playing an electric organ and generally messing up that opening.


Sigh.  First world problems…

More things follow:

I had this wonderful puppy play session in the park, the other day.  She did that thing of making me balance a twig on my nose in sitting position?  And then she backed slowly away saying ‘stay… stayyyy’.  It’s actually quite hard to stay still for long like that, so after only seven hours, I sneezed and the twig fell off. If I ever see her again, I’ll have to tell her and be punished. Exciting thought!

 

Oh, just a plain vanilla ball-crusher, then? OK, sorry.  Just go ahead.



I still remember the first time she called me a ‘lazy little bastard’…
It’s actually not quite true to say she doesn’t care. She enjoys making you cry. But she’s trying to spare your feelings, the dear thing.





Yup. All about the rules.






Back to reality

… well, the loose approximation of it represented by this blog, anyway.


The holiday, since you ask, was fantastic.  It was in one of those picture-perfect resorts, you know, with the palm trees coming down to the powdery sand sloping down to a turquoise lagoon.  But not at all crowded – it’s a private beach belonging to the hotel and at the prices I was paying, I can tell you, there’d just better be some serious privacy!  And the hotel was as spectacular as the price implied: the rooms, the food, the pool… made a lot of new friends too, apparently.


What do you mean, ‘how do I know’?  She sent me a postcard, of course.  I mean, I didn’t actually see it until after my release because the kennels don’t allow postal deliveries, but I expect she didn’t know that and it was a very kind thought.  She was having so much fun, she hadn’t even put enough postage on it, the silly thing!  Had to come out of my pocket money.  I’d been saving for.. well, I mustn’t complain.

Another year, another… maybe 550 or so captioned images? It hardly bears thinking about, does it?  Better get on…


Stick-fetching is one of those things that sensible husbands quickly learn is not really up for discussion.
You know, I think she might be about to confess her life-long fantasy of making love to a short, slightly overweight guy wearing a frilly french maid outfit.  Give her time.
It’s a shame they can’t both win.
Damn.  That was going well.

It’s awful wearing a chastity belt on a beach – sands gets in, apparently. Not that I’d know.  Sensible concrete floors, that’s what we had in the kennels.  Fresh straw on Thursdays.


She’s my lady…

…I’m her boy.

No, just need a lamp-post to raise my leg against some time soon, that’s all. No rush.






A range of sizes  – but all boyfriend-sized, not you-sized, yeah?  Mike’s friends will be real guys.








Actually, it’s extremely good practice because they don’t usually bother to fill the pool with water.
How very kind of her.
She should make sure she gets his consent first, though. Or during – whatever’s easiest.


Once upon a time…

She decided on “Whiney” in the end. It seemed appropriate.







My SO can do that.  Just a few swishes of her magic wand and the housework begins – all without her lifting a finger.











Ribbit












Actually, that’s not true.  There was a woodman – still is, actually, somewhere.  I expect she’s got her reasons for keeping him hidden.











Some day her Prince will come.  You’ll be in the cucky cupboard when he does, obviously.

…and they all… well, almost all of them, the ones that mattered anyway… lived happily ever after.

Advertising Spot


Thanks for coming in – listen, we’re really excited about
this campaign and it would be great to have you on board!  I don’t know how much you’ve been told?  The client’s a major supplier of household
products and they’ve got this premium dog food product, yeah?

So: the spot opens in the… well, the ‘dungeon’, I guess, of
a dominatrix.  And she’s got a slave on
the floor in front of her –that’s you! – and we see her grab a can of generic
dog-food and pour it into a bowl in front of him.  Really nasty stuff – you know?  Slops into the bowl and glistens
unappealingly. Slave takes a sniff and retches, refuses, so she pushes his head
into the bowl with her boot and starts whipping him – and she whips him harder
and harder, until he’s eaten the whole thing. 
We see him taking mouthfuls and swallowing with disgust – that’s important.
Then we see him dressed, thanking her for the session and he goes outside and
is violently sick on the street. With me so far?

OK, then we see him arrive for his next session, and he’s
casting nervous glances at the shelf where she keeps her dog food as he hands
over the tribute, see?  But this time
when he’s naked at her feet, she grabs a can of the Product, and tips it into
his bowl. Lovely chunks this time, with translucent jelly just catching the
coloured dungeon lights – mmm.  Slave
sniffs nervously, looks surprised, starts eating it and then begins wolfing it
down, you know? Can’t get enough!  And we
finish with him in doggy-begging mode below the shelf, barking excitedly up at
another can of the Product, as his mistress stares at the empty bowl in puzzled
disappointment.

We were originally going to use actors and beef stew, but it
wouldn’t be legal to show someone eating stuff that isn’t actually the Product, you know? That would be false advertising. 
So… we asked around if anyone knew
anyone and Lucy in accounts  – she’s in accounts but she really wants to join the creative team – Lucy said she knows a findomme with piggie slaves who’ll do
anything she tells them and… well, here you are!

There’s be quite a lot of money in it. The client sells in
over 30 countries, and the packaging is different in most of them so we’ll have
to re-shoot. You have to eat it again each time, too – pesky advertising laws,
I’m afraid.  And the nasty competitor
product. We were a bit worried about the whip marks, but Sophie thought we
could just completely cover your back with them to begin with – like you’d
already had a good thrashing, yeah? – so there wouldn’t be continuity problems
with that. Of course, we won’t make you do more than seven or eight spots in
any one day.  But you get paid for each
you see – well, or rather your findomme does, I suppose.

So – you up for it? Obviously, you can only sign the
contract of your own free will, but if you need a day or two for someone to
force you to agree, we don’t have to sign today?
THE END
Epilogue
Actually, this was just the start.  Lucky old Spot (yeah, the slave’s called Spot…bit of a coincidence, I know) went on to star in a wildly popular campaign for a well-known brand of toilet cleaner.  Again, a frustrated domme finds that when she’s used the Product, her toilet no longer tastes foul, so she ends up having to take him out to lick a public urinal clean.  Last I heard, he was getting so many offers his findomme had decided he should resign from his day job and do it full time – pretty great, huh?
Uncharacteristic boasting
Incidentally, if you’re ‘reading’ this far (and you shouldn’t, it’s unhealthy to edge for too long – go on, get it out.  There.  That’s right. Phew  – isn’t that better?), you  might want to know that January 2019 was the most popular month in this blog’s history.  More than seventeen pageviews from at least four separate people… no, actually, I’m pretty sure it was more than seventeen… ah yes, that’s right, over 100,000, that’s it. The pageview count went over 100,000 in the month for the first time ever. It’s almost exactly eight years since the blog started: 7.5 million page-views, over 1000 comments. Goodness me, if this keeps up, how ever will I be able to maintain my self-image as a worthless loser? 
Thank you all – keep on coming.*
OK, so some of it is probably people not using Tumblr so much.  Still…
*  Yes, I know.  Sorry.  But after all those page-views you are used to it by now, right?

Ladies in red


Men’s libbers are actually firmly opposed to being spanked.  Most men are, actually.  But they always end up thankful for it.





I once paid a prostitute to have sex with me – booked with a credit card.  But when I opened the door to her, she looked me up and down, dug around in her purse, handed me the same amount in cash and walked off.  Which could actually be quite handy some time, if I’m ever somewhere with no ATMs.
Never try puppy play alongside an actual dog.  They’re better at it. Much the same goes for sex and real men.  Don’t even try – you’ll just look foolish.  And you wouldn’t want that.

 

Except that she’s started by using social media to advertise, so her first clients are precisely likely to be your friends.  And your close family members.

She’s sneaked a tub of lube into the bottom of your tuck box.  You know: to make the first few days a bit easier.  She’s kind like that.


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