Category: prison

A surprising facility for pain

Essentially the title is purely descriptive: we are back (after waking up woozily, dangling upside down, swaying around sickeningly as the abduction van tackles the winding country lanes) in the Facility. It’s a woman-owned, woman-run business that provides an ideal country break. Women can relax here, while men can get away from the stresses and cares of their everday lives to experience stresses and cares that are so, so much worse, for as long as their sponsors decide to keep them there.

Look at all the foolishness

Pretty girl. (Warning: SFW).

Why not do both?
Don’t get too impatient while you’re waiting – she can take her time if she likes. It all adds to the delicious anticipation.
Goodness, seems like she’s prepared to give the whole ‘evil sadistic dominatrix’ thing a proper go. What luck!
I can honestly say I’ve never visited a sex worker. Or at least, if I have visited any, they weren’t doing sex work with me.
Oh well, no real harm do – I mean, it’s fine, right? Everyone makes the occasional mistake.
Believe me, you really do not want a one-star review on Slavr. That can get very, very bad.

Sexual inequality

Oh, those grabber machines… they can be such an exercise in frustration.
Their buy-one-get-one-free offers are pretty good, but they had to abandon their no-questions-asked policy on taking back damaged goods, as too many dommes were abusing it.
You’ve got to be careful with the wording of hard limit lists. For example, mine rules out blow torch play, but it turns out welding arcs are actually hotter! Oh well, live and learn.
It’s easy to tell them apart – his helmet reads ‘other gimp’.
It might all sound complicated but actually, it’s a lot easier to learn Czech than… well: refusing to learn Czech. You’ll see. Don’t worry about making grammatical and other mistakes at first: the ladies expect that; in fact they rather enjoy pointing out those little errors.
The trutch can be painful, but not usually quite as painful as lies.

Authoritative statements

I have a right to stand up for myself, don’t I? And to bend over for someone else if so ordered, too, of course.
Quite right only to use the low settings unless there’s some kind of silly refusal or sulkiness. It’s a solemn and dignified service, she doesn’t want it punctuated by shrieks of agony. Plenty of time for that tonight.
Whatever the service – haircut, tax return advice, torture, anything – it’s always reassuring to know you’re going to be in the hands of a professional.
Polite society in those days of course frowned upon explicit reference to certain natural bodily functions, so the phrase used when a man performed this service for a lady was ‘paying his respects to her’. Knowing that gives a whole new flavour to reading Austen.
Combining cage-play and pool-play can be a bit edgy but sometimes it can be just what a relationship needs, to help them both move on.
Actually, in long-term chastity play it can often be better if the keyholder does not wear sexy, fetishistic items during unlocking sessions. Takes a little longer to reach orgasm, you see, and – even a few extra seconds are precious. He hasn’t realised that yet but he’ll have plenty of time to think about it.

When she clicks her fingers

I can simultaneously be desperate, lazy and incompetent, can’t I? I thought women were in favour of multitasking.
I think her defeated male opponents are just sore losers.
Teachers love hearing from their former pupils, especially ones who have gone on to develop successful businesses or professional careers.
Try to enter the spirit of the thing by being horribly embarassed and hating every moment. Remember: they’re laughing at you not with you.

Image reminds me of my favourite ever search term, back when this blog was on blogger (you got to see search terms that led ‘readers’ there), which was “tutu humiliation -bishop -desmond”.

He was also going to report them for smoking in a public building, so they use him to dispose of the evidence.
I don’t see what’s crazy about that. I mean it’s a nice car, but…

It’s your own fault, darling.

So stop making excuses.

It must be terrible for Raoul, thinking about and wanting sex all the time and but having sometimes to spend entire days without it. No wonder he lashes out at you, the poor frustrated guy.
The smell can get pretty bad but it never reaches the guards’ quarters, so no one suffers who isn’t supposed to.
Don’t worry, they haven’t been tested on animals; the pharmaceutical company that makes them has a cruelty-free policy.
Many men who embark on a serious chastity relationship end up being quite surprised at how infrequently they really need an orgasm. I haven’t needed one for years now, apparently.
Guys: you shouldn’t be shy about telling your date what you like to do. I’m sure most women would vastly prefer to watch you sweatily wank on their boots than actually letting you touch them.
You might have safety concerns about such a woman being in a male institution – but don’t. Any male prisoners with whom she has to share a cell will be physically restrained before the door is slammed shut leaving her alone with them for the night, so she should be safe enough. Anyway, she seems cheerful enough at the prospect of it, the brave young thing.

On the outside

Just a little tale, slightly too long to fit as a caption.

Yes, of course, I knew we’d met before – never forget a face! And actually, I recognised that look of startled terror when you saw me arrive; I always get that when I run into a former inmate. But I was thrown by your not having anything branded onto your forehead… I suppose they removed it when your appeal was upheld and you were released, right? They did a good job, I can only just now see the faint scars now I know what to look for.

Well well. I do remember you. Prisoner R552… erm… R5526…?

817!  That’s right. You know, we guards were all pleased when you were found not guilty. You never really struck me as the rapist type. Still we all had to whip you and make you do all that hard labour naked and in chains, obviously, I mean: that’s the job. Nothing personal.

Err…a bit indelicate, maybe, but what, er, stage of your ‘re-education’ were you at when you were released?

Pre-op!  Right. Excellent. Sorry, but it did seem worth asking, as we’re on a blind date. Wouldn’t want to get all the way through and then find nothing to… you know. I am straight, after all, not like most of my colleagues. If that’s not too forward.

Elephant in the room… go on – tell me the worst thing I ever did to you? Let’s get it out there.

Did I really? Oh dear. And what shock level did we have to reach before you licked it all off my boots?

OK, that’s not too bad. They go up to 20, you know.  Very sensible of you not to try to hold out. Everyone always does lick it all up eventually. And swallow, obviously. Some think they can spit it out later but we don’t let them get away with that! It’s not a holiday camp, after all. But you know that.

Anyway, I’m sure the food here tastes a lot better. Shall we order?

But… as that was such a disappointingly short one (feels odd to be typing rather than hearing that phrase) there’ll be an extra post tomorrow, on a topical theme.

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