Category: prison

De-toxifying masculinity

I suspect she’s already got the job on the basis of her proven leadership potential.

 

 

 

At least twelve years… and that’s subject to good behaviour.  Admittedly, almost every single inmate is on his very best behaviour every second of every day, from about day two or three onward…. but nonetheless, somehow very few of them manage to qualify for early release.  I suppose the wardens are just being careful, bless them… protecting the public.

 

 


Not sure permission to kneel was actually formally given, there, was it?  Hmmm.

 

It must be a lot of fun having an underground swimming pool – this rich couple I know had one constructed, and I’m not sure I’ve seen the husband since it was completed.  Apparently he spends all his time down there.


 

 

 

Oh, right.  Well, if Raoul has needs, obviously that’s different.  Sigh.

 

 

Nonjudgemental cruelty

Hmmm… nothing springs to mind. Still, as long as the two of you are talking about it, that’s a good start.



There’s also a scheme now to get paid to feed power back into the grid, which might explain why so many dommes these days have started offering treadmill sessions.

 

 

 

All kinds of feelings can be communicated through dance: humiliation, shame, timidity… it’s a very expressive medium.

 

 

He won’t be able to afford to pay for any more domination sessions, poor chap, but maybe he’ll have had his fill of that sort of thing by then.



 


Fortunately it is a mistake that is easy to rectify.  Easy for the person doing the actual rectifying, anyway.

 

 

″‘You are fettered,’ said Scrooge, trembling. ‘Tell me why?’

Bah humbug.  Have some Christmas-themed captions and then that’s done for another year, thank goodness.


Oh well.  Time to pretend socks were the thing you wanted most of all in the world. Don’t you hate it when that happens?  All those little hints. Still, Angie’s right: you always need socks.




Oh dear: looks like the start of one of those Christmas rows. One advantage of the sort of relationship this blog celebrates, though, is that such unpleasantness is usually quickly and painfully resolved without upsetting anyone who matters.


Just give it a try.  She’s got this magnetic clicker thing to unlock it, somewhere. I tried one a few years back and I can honestly say it’s changed my life.




They try to get into the Christmas spirit at the Male Re-education Centres.  The joke they like to play on recently-castrated sex offenders with the ‘pass the parcel’ game is getting a little stale, these days, but at least they’re trying to keep things cheerful and festive, in otherwise grim surroundings.


Mistress Eleise with a cane.  And they say there’s no wonder or magic in the world any more.



Actually, Ian has got a present for you, of a sort. He hasn’t told her because she might try to stop him.  But that’ll just have to be a surprise.



…and an extra one.  Hey, why not – it’s Christmas!

Maybe time to try that 2000 piece jigsaw your aunt gave you – you know, to take your mind off things.



Superior sex

 She is it, and she also has it.


Perhaps you should discuss her salary expectations soon, as I think right now they are increasing rapidly.


She uses ‘cruelty free’ cosmetic products but I’m afraid that attitude extends only to animals. Non-human animals, I mean.


The system is open to abuse by women seeking to save money on nursing care for their elderly male relatives unfortunately. But a recent inquiry into the prevalence of false accusations of crminal sexism concluded (a) that it was not so very high and (b) that the old bastards probably deserved it anyway. So that’s all right.


Imagine putting her to so much trouble. And he calls himself submissive…


The lady visting OWK in this pastoral scene is Goddess Sophia, whose cages, canes and (most memorably) gloriously swishy rubber dress Servitor has had the honour to experience – and can thoroughly recommend to UK-based subs. She may or may not still be in business and is not the lady of the same name in Portsmouth, who I am sure is equally lovely.

I imagine Douglas knows many things they don’t… lots of secret little thoughts.







She’s also beautiful when she’s not angry

 … but it’s not quite as much fun.


You might find you get to like it.  Or you might not.  She doesn’t really care, so why should you?

Divine Mistress Heather and her divine feet and divine attitude.



When she says ‘using it’ she doesn’t mean… you know.  Not in public, that would be disgusting.  Anyway, it hasn’t been three months yet, has it?




She gets bored and loses track of time, poor thing.  I expect she’ll get better at it, eventually.




Sounds like she’s got a tough decision to take.  I hope it doesn’t keep her from having a good night’s sleep.



I expect you’ve been wondering how some glammed-up domme could simply walk into a police station, with a client in a pink latex dress, march straight past the officers on duty, put the client in a cell and walk out without anyone challenging her, right?  I certainly have been.  I guess we’ll never know.


Correct me if I’m wrong…

 … or if I’m right, for that matter.

Another year, more of the same.  Here we go.

Three and a half men, then.



Some people have complicated femdom fantasies.  Others just have simple femdom realities.



Here – have you heard this one?  Why did the blonde in charge of the Sexist Detention Centre press the red button in her office?  To give all the inmates a series of agonising electric shocks!  OK, you might not think it funny but, believe me, she does.



She’s not really a believer in unisex fashion, you see.




Don’t get her wrong – she’s prepared to accept there’s plenty of room for improvement in the relationship.  Just not in anything she does.



Czeching accounts

Some newly arrived slaves fear that a night alone and abandoned in a cold prison cell will be hard to take – but they often find that, actually, when the Ladies arrive the next morning to take them out, they find themselves looking back fondly on the hours of merely being uncomfortable and cold, with a nice strong steel door between themselves and the rest of OWK.

 

 

Looks like he’s losing.  They always do, oddly enough.

 

 

 

 

The local hospital is getting a bit fed up, to be honest.  I mean, there’s pandemic on: they can’t keep dealing with minor fractures and burns, the whole time.

 

Of course, you’ll want something to wash it down with.  They do have an expert sommelière but actually all of the ladies are ready and only too willing to whip out a funnel and provide some liquid refreshment to their own personal specification. 


 

 

 

 

 

Some of the ladies love waking up to the cheerful singing of the ‘guests’ working beneath their windows.  Others hate it and storm outside furiously, at the slightest sound, to dole out misery to anyone disturbing their precious sleep.  But then at OWK, you have to take the rough with… well, you have to take the rough, anyway.

 

 

 

 

People can be so cruel

 Thank goodness.

Some people think that the life of a submissive is to be a mindless automaton, obeying orders with at most a muttered ‘yes, Mistress’.  But actually, there’s a lot of thought involved, not to mention worrying and sheer naked terror at possible consequences of thoughtlessness.

 

 

Julia?  Oh… she can be a bit difficult, but, y’know: I can’t complain.

 

 

 

That’s all right – plenty of time to learn.

 

 

 

Inmates at the prison camp – especially those convicted of sexism and similar offences – might be surprised to learn there are rules forbidding excessively harsh treatment.  But there are – and the proof is in the surprisingly high survival rates which are well over 80% for all but the most annoying inmates.  Personally I don’t approve of that kind of mollycoddling, but no one cares about my opinion.

 

 

 

It’s always a bit embarrassing for professional educators to meet their students outside the classroom.  That goes double for male educators meeting young female students, especially if it’s a hot day and the students’ feet are sweaty.

Agonising and ecstasising

Silly headline, sweet little song,* content is essentially unrelated.

 

 

It only gets sadder from here on in, Ma’am.  You don’t mind if I call you Ma’am, I hope?  Ma’am.

 

 

 

 

She can wait.  Hours, days, weeks.  Whatever it takes.  And you’re not going anywhere, obviously.

 

 

 

Maybe I’m just trying to demonstrate that I’m not one of those guys who just thinks about his penis the whole time, you know?

 

 

 

 

It’s cheaper than domme session rates, but only slightly – and much more intense.

 

 

 

 

Don’t ask her about the bad experience.  She’s been able to move on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* But not as sweet as the one from Butterflies.

And now for something largely similar

Right… ten more years then.  The terrible teens begin here.  How terrible can they be?  Let’s find out, shall we?

 

 

He should be thankful.  Not for anything in  particular – just generally, all the time.

 

 

Regrettably, he won’t be perfect for long.  She breaks things.

 

 

 

It is a good one.  Here’s another: what do you do if you see a blonde undressing, through an open window?  Eight years hard labour!  Do you get it?  Maybe one day you will.

 

 

Look at the lovely lady on the right, there.  Rightly proud of her work.

 

 

 

‘Something plausibly similar to male genitalia’ is the best some of us can hope for.




Looks like all those caning fantasies are going to come true.




Bad Pookie.  Just imagine being close to thinking about disobeying her like that!  On second thoughts, don’t imagine it… she wouldn’t approve.



If there was anything she could do to make you feel better, she’d do it – you know that, right?



Anyway, maybe some of the other patrons would like to skip the queue too.


 

Ooh – the tips of her shoes look just like the inside of my chastity belt!  Maybe we could strike up a conversation, now I know we’ve something in common.




And, of course: