Stories and pictures themed around female domination and male subjugation and servitude. Unsuitable for children, for alpha males, for hard-core practitioners with an interest in the politics of bdsm and the mechanics of complicated rope work. Of interest to perverts like me, basically.
As the little disclaimer to the left there states, this blog makes no claim whatsoever to realism. Over the years, this has served me quite well as a catch-all excuse, when certain commenters – anonymous or otherwise – point out small inconsistencies, minor plot holes or blatant and wildly implausible attempts to ignore the physical laws of the Universe in one caption or another.
Don’t worry, we’ll be rejoining the unreality-based community in the next post, on Tuesday.
One of my regular dommes agreed instantly, when I asked her for a gentle, slow-paced four-hour boot-worship session, but things got a little difficult when I turned up and she realised I’d hoped she’d be wearing the boots during the whole time.
As long as there’s something soft nearby to break her fall if she topples over, maybe?
Anyway, the bowl doesn’t have to go through the bars, does it, he can just stick his head out and… hmmm… Oh well. Ella can be Kross with me whenever she likes and it’s all good.
Cruella especially has perfected the photographic genre of ‘domme standing in stiletto heels on a hard surface surrounded by muddy countryside – with no clue how she got there or how she’s going to get away.’ It’s a minority interest, obviously.
More a comment on this blog’s approach to images of lesbian joy than the general reality.
Too right. I was watching Penance and Repentance for the Naughty Nympho Nuns yesterday evening and they got the words of the catechism completely wrong -spoiled the whole thing for me.
Don’t worry: you won’t have to say much. Counting and thanking for the most part, maybe a few hundred words of apology and gratitude at the end.
Don’t you always feel uncomfortable, on the outskirts of a conversation like this? I do.
Of course it’s fair. Every ten weeks (subject to good behaviour, obvs)? That sounds like a non-stop sex party, as far as I’m concerned.
I’m told that the trick to buying a car in America (yes, it’s American – see, they put the steering wheel on the wrong side? Oh – and that blue jacket too…), is to negotiate on price and hold out for a good bargain. Just be aware, though, that that same tactic is absolutely catastrophic when approaching a findomme.
Thank goodness the only face we can see is the lovely one of Princess Kali.
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.
If you’re worried about whether you’ll be able to please her sexually – don’t be. You have plenty of pain receptors and a full set of vocal chords, and that’s all you’ll need.
Obviously, I visit sex workers, although I have to confess I’ve never really understood why the ladies I visit call themselves by that title.
Looks to me like they’re considering him quite seriously already. I think he’s got a good chance of getting through to the next stage: in-depth assessment.
She’s just looking for the right man. I’m sure when she does find him, she’ll keep him.
I expect he’ll be taking those opportunities; it would be so ungrateful not to.
This particular set of vows contains penalty clauses.
It’s nice to be special, isn’t it?
I think she’s coping very well.
The wonderful Lady Sophia Black. I don’t know what she’s doing now she’s retired from professional domination, but I’ll bet she’s amazingly good at that, too.
Men who aren’t meek and obedient have something wrong with their brains. Fortunately, it’s fixable.
She’ll work around it. A relationship is founded on how the partners feel about one another; things like whips and canes and tawses are just the physical expressions of that.
He’s not actually naturally balding; she just prefers him that way as she says it tickles less when she’s watching TV.
Wow – sounds like you might have an important assignment on your very first day!
He doesn’t need to check his privilege because she’s checking it thoroughly on his behalf.
Classic Cruella, of course, featuring the stunning Lady Sonia and the lovely Lynda Leigh.And some bloke, probably with an ugly moustache, but who cares, eh?
You might as well blame yourself. After all, she‘s going to be blaming you and it’s not as if anyone else cares.
I think we know what’ll happen to Rob if he doesn’t make more of an effort. Rob doesn’t, but he’s more brawn than brains.
That’s the nice thing about really painful experiences in session – you just have to react naturally.
The Collective believes that all property, including males, should belong to the group as a whole. All citizens are equal – and all slaves are equal too, I suppose.
Don’t you just hate waiting until she’s finished on the phone? There are all those moments when she seems to be saying goodbye, then it’s ‘oh – one more thing!’. I find it very frustrating.
You can play Jabba the Hut… some sort of sluglike vermin, anyway.
Don’t worry, the prep isn’t at all uncomfortable. Just a shave, which might tickle a bit, then securing your hands and ankles firmly to the trolley, which many men find to be quite cosy and reassuring.
Try not to pity her boyfriend too much, abject slave to his desires though he is: he doesn’t know any better, poor soul.
How reassuring.
Don’t worry: she’s not really going to change her name to Mrs Pencildick. As a matter of fact, her husband’s the one who’s going to be legally changing his surname. To hers, obviously, although she is considering making him change his first name officially to Pencildick, or some such, at the same time.
It’s the same algorithm that sends you all those dick enlargement emails. Oh… you thought they were just spam? No, they’re very carefully targetted. Most other guys don’t get them.
When setting up a session with a new domme I usually ask her to treat me with utter contempt and disdain and I have to say, my experience has been that they’re all startlingly good at it. Sometimes I don’t even ask and they still get it right… I guess experienced dommes develop a kind of sixth sense for what their clients are looking for.
He obviously survived to a ripe old age… imagine him keeping the book all those decades, turning the pages occasionally to reminisce over his days under Miss Rathbone’s loving tyranny, only for the book to be sold to a second-hand shop after his death. Still: looks like it’s found an appreciative home.
…and just a little bit of found femdom to finish (do hurry up and finish, won’t you? Your wife will be back soon and you don’t want her to find you like this). More divine Joy…. who has done this many, many times before and she totally, totally knows…
It’s good she’s got you to help take her anger away.
Some subs find hypothetical questions like this difficult but they’re actually not as difficult as the non-hypothetical ones that have immediate practical relevance, I find.
She’s very concerned about his health, she’s even been reading up online about medical conditions that affect the elderly.
More captions from a bygone age. Several bygone ages. But all featuring enchanting unfairness from the fairer sex.
One does.
Curiously, as a result of these two ladies taking their roles slightly further than he had anticipated, the ‘genleman’ in question was late for a meeting of the British Cabinet at which a fateful decision was taken that, had he been able to attend, he would have counselled against and thus avoided the siege of Khartoum and all the unpleasantness that stemmed therefrom. But Luce and Eliza got paid and that’s the important thing.
Forgive her Father, but not just yet if you don’t mind.
Albert, of course, died tragically young – an outcome for which the young queen was in no way responsible. So please don’t ask her how he actually died, she prefers not to think of the night in question. Nor was it in any way connected to the form of penile implant that was subsequently named after her late consort. Historians are quite clear on that and to suggest otherwise is technically treason, even today. Interestingly, the practice of ‘queening’ may well have been named after Victoria, although the suggestion to rename it ‘queen-empressing’ after 1877 never really caught on.
I think Kitty might need to comfort her quite soon, as she seems quite affected by the sight, the poor delicate thing.
Not compensations every time, but certainly compensations.
