pretty in pink – Page 4 – Contemplating the divine

Out with the old…

… in with the younger, sexier and less fucking annoying – as my SO likes to say.

This year She’s decided that my new year’s resolutions will remain Her own secret. Pretty exciting! She’s going to make a little note every time I break one of my resolutions, then deal with it all at the end of the year. That way I can’t sneakily avoid puishment by complying, She says. So that should be fun! Apparently, I’ve broken two of them already.

Anyway, with a slightly nervous twitch in case posting captioned images is one of the things I’ve resolved to cut out, here are the first captioned images of 2017! Just like all the previous ones, huh?

I think you should stand up for yourself. Who does Katie think she is, anyway? Go on – man up.

Male class can be quite uncomfortable, but it’s a lot better than it was in the early days of commercial aviation. You’re inside, for a start and that makes quite a difference.

You see? Now male class in the passenger section is a lot better than going airfreight as livestock, and – What’s that? Oh. Well, it’s even better than going as cargo on a container ship too, I expect. Bon voyage.

He’s probably fine. Men’s brains can go for long periods without oxygen without loss of any useful functions anyway.

Most wedding venues keep a spanking chair somewhere around – just ask the organisers.

Adult content warning

Persons proceeding past this point will encounter no genuinely adult content whatsoever, merely juvenile humour and sexual innuendo written by someone with the emotional intelligence of a teenager. You have been warned.

Let’s hope he enjoyed wishes 1 and 2.

Not very politically correct. Perhaps I need to be politically corrected.

Don’t worry, she’ll give him a 10% discount for all those extra hours.

These gender roles are essentially all social constructs anyway. Why should we have to conform to a role because of what sex we are? What if I choose not to do the housework, hmm? Well… I get tied across a chair and thrashed, obviously. But I could if I wanted to.. and didn’t mind the beating. That’s the point.

Self-harming is such a waste. When there are people out there who’d love to do it for you.

She looked me up and down and really put me in my place

She said: “Nice legs, shame about your face.”

Been revisiting the music of my teenage years. Although to be honest this one provides a rather more accurate picture of my dating experience. And this one is just timeless, as far as I’m concerned.

Actually, as a former investment banker he’d probably be better at handling the financial negotiations himself. But they each have their own role in the business, I suppose.

I hate it when that happens. But then I hate it when it doesn’t, too. You know?

He used to be a client. A lot of the stuff that’s lying around did. Some of the leather coverings too, if we’re brutally honest about things.

Especially with her reading circle coming round to discuss it that very evening.

That’s good. Because when Madame Svetlana is displeased, very regrettable things happen.

Boys only want love if it’s torture

Regular “readers” will know that my musical tastes rarely extend beyond about 1988. But I am prepared to make an exception for Mistress Swift.

On with the rest of it… femdom captions, dominatrices, chastity, all those words that get search engines so excited, you know?

Oh no, not again.

You could try calling her tomorrow. “Hi! It’s William from last night. That’s right, the one with the small penis. Listen, I was wondering…”

NO! Not the comfy chair!

Well… I hope someone’s asked Andy if he’s OK sharing his cucky closet, that’s all. Some men can be a bit funny about that sort of thing – it’s their own special place, you know?

…and then if that gets too much, the electric shocks will take your mind off the pain from the welts.

Blessed art thou amongst women

We’re all blessed to be amongst women, don’t you think? Usually, I have to pay for the privilege, but even so..

You know, that reminds me of a funny story. The first time I visited a domme in France, she asked if I
wanted to be “blessé”. So of
course I said “Oui, Maîtresse!” and I knelt down and waited for
divine benediction.

But, would you believe it, in French “blessé”
means wounded!

Goodness, how I laughed at my mistake afterwards, when the
bones in my jaw had been re-set.

Funny old world, isn’t it? And apparently in Estonian, the phrase “blow job” means “penectomy”. Strange but true. Could be all sorts of scope for amusing misunderstandings there, I imagine.

On we go.

Well… it’s not as if the chair’s that comfortable anyway. Me on the ring, her sitting on the chair…we’ll see who cracks first.

Anyone not realising that this is the divine Eleise de Lacy, or that Femme Fatale Films are absolutely superb… well, anyone like that probably isn’t reading this blog, actually.

I don’t normally credit Tumblrs, but this is from the “fuckyeahstewardesses” tumblr, which once you’re past the slightly, mmmm, crude name is actually rather tasteful and lovely. Unlike the red glove treatment, which isn’t either of those things.

Nothing to see here, let’s move on.

She’s going to be her own, er… ex-step-mother! How cool is that?

Planet Femdom. If statuesque German ladies are your thing (and even more so, if you’d like to be their thing), it’s the place you want to go right after this.

Ah yes. Hers isn’t quite as frilly. And, to be fair, it doesn’t say “punishment dress” on it either. Or have the little lacy cuffs at the back for wrists. And she can take it off herself. Still, nice to be a matching couple.