Category: professional domination

Happy ever after?

No, not a fairy tale post. Just a post themed around that eternal topic of uncertainty when visiting a new domme: the happy ending, if any.

Actually, my very first domme – and I saw no other for about my first three years – never allowed them at all. Then the very next lady I visited pulled on a latex glove about fifteen minutes before the end of the session and surprised me mightily. My current regular domme seems to decide it’s going to happen about… oh, one time in four or so? So it’s a nice surprise if it happens but I have learnt not to count on it. Up to her, entirely and that’s how it should be.

Anyway, happy endings. We subs usually don’t deserve them but then the same is true of the very existence of the dommes we are privileged to visit, isn’t it?

…and of course the all-time classic

Unlikely stories

Longtime ‘readers’ will know that this blog takes particular care over the realism of the scenes it depicts. Specifically: nothing here is intended to be even remotely realistic; the blog aims for zero plausibility and I’m proud to say it usually comes pretty close.

Over the years, I’ve presented scenes from a totalitarian female supremacist future, I’ve traced the history of femdom back a few hundred years and I have written sweet lesbian love stories (not in itself unrealistic, but set against a backdrop of thrilling scientific breakthroughs, as well as savage torture scenes usually resulting in the violent death of almost every male character) in the Serena and Alice series.

But I’m confident I have never before put up a post that takes our beloved femdom scene quite as far away from what we normally think of as ‘reality’ than this. Be warned.

Dressed to suppress

You should stop asking… makes you come across as kind-of obsessive, and needy, you know?  Just play it cool, say nothing and I expect she’ll make sure it happens when you really need it – and maybe even when you least expect it.

 



Looks good on her, but then she’s not attached to the wall by a chain clipped to her genitals, desperately gasping for short breaths.

Hah – actually the investment bank of which he is finance director has investments in several app developer start-ups.  So I expect he knows all about it. And if not, there’s nothing like a sequence of electric shocks to to the cock to help you learn something quickly, believe me.

 

 

They’re just redistributing the wealth. From each according to how much she wants from him, to each according to whatever the little fucker deserves.

 

 

 

Good thing she had a humiliation session booked later the day she discovered the putrefying remains. 

 

 

Damned lies and sadistics

 

Guys need to be kept busy, preferably with female oversight, or their attention wanders. There’s no one right way to do it.  It could be anything from meticulous housework for that one special lady, through scrubbing the pavements as part of a community-run cleaning squad all the way to five years of hard labour in a male re-education camp. It’s all good.

 

 

 

If you can’t afford a lovely sound-proofed dungeon and you want to enjoy the screams, just have a word with your neighbours.  Most will be perfectly happy with the noise, as long as you talk to them about it.  And you might even find a common interest!

 The lovely Mistress Mina Thorne, of course, about to show off her CBT skills.  I’d like to link to her web site but I am not at all sure that this is actually her, as I read somewhere she is retired, sin which case I’m afraid your C and B will just have to be T-ed by someone else.  Unless she isn’t retired, in which case they won’t.  I expect someone will know?

 

 

 


So you couldn’t even save up a few weeks’ pocket money?  No wonder she prefers Harold – I mean, apart from all the other reasons, obviously.


My SO was absolutely furious when I came home once with a prescription for painkillers. She said she felt it devalued the hard work she was putting into our marriage. It was very unfeeling of me, and I have to say I did feel very uncomfortable as a result, for a long time afterwards.


 

 

 

In-laws can take some getting used to and there’s no harm in getting out of the occasional evening with a little white lie, especially if you spend that evening learning to be a better husband.


There’s a two-legged animal running about

 … but if it’s kneeling down on one knee, I reckon things are probably OK.


It can be more complicated for them to find better quality ‘playmates’, as those are often reported as missing after a while.  Which isn’t a problem – she’s even had some minor celebrities who’ve disappeared into her playroom – but it’s an added complication.


With a bit of luck, maybe Pookie will get bored of having monthly orgasms after a while and stop trying so hard.  Then it’ll be your turn.  Just give it time.


Looks like you have an extra 45 minutes free!  Whatever will you do with it?  Ironing, dusting… the possibilities are almost endless (within the very limited range of things you’re permitted to do, obviously).  Later on, it looks like there’ll be quite a lot of chocolate stains to clean up, so best to get ahead on the regular chores.




She’s enjoying it in a non-sexual way… and if you’re as exhausted and sore as she implies, you’re probably hating it in a non-sexual way too.  So that’s very compatible.



She’s quite tender-hearted, so she’ll be upset when she comes back from her next trip to the forest but I expect Vanya 2 can cheer her up.







United and flexible resolve

The ladies of my ever-unpopular Downton Domination series may appear to live lives of idle luxury.  But it would be a grave error to mistake requiescence for acquiescence, as I’m sure you’ll agree as soon as you’ve looked up what it means.  When Hitler and his gang of thugs made that mistake in 1939, these lionesses answered their country’s call.  Spunk, not funk, was the order of the day.  They did their bit and this blog is proud to remember Downton Domination’s finest hours.

 

 

Not forgetting our gallant and indefatigable allies, of course.  What?  No, not the bloody yanks you damn fool!

Rigorously unfair

Yes, just imagine.  Still, no harm done to anyone who matters on this occasion, thank goodness.

 

 

 

Maybe if you wipe around the rim it won’t look so bad and Cathie won’t be cross… oh, who am I kidding?

 

 

You already ‘dared’ when you turned up for the session.  Now for a few truths.

 

 


 

I’m afraid she’s just willfully denying reality, there.  Phish Food is much better.

 

 

 

 

 

Or spoken, known about or even defined.  Don’t worry, you’ll soon get the hang of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brutal realism

Contradicting the statement over there about the realism or otherwise of the material presented on this blog, just for once we are keeping it real with some accurate depictions of pro-domme sessions, rather than the fantasy this blog usually purveys.  

So clutch your crumpled envelope full of banknotes tightly in your sweaty hand, turn off geolocator on your phone (but keep the phone itself on until the last second so you can nervously glance at the time as you hang around the nearby streets trying neither to be early nor late), try to look casual as you march up to the door, not meeting the eyes of any passers-by… and enjoy.  Or don’t.  Whatever. 














Sustained abjection

Thank goodness for that.  Well… thank Mistress Magda, anyway.

 

 

Tom’s looking forward to their feedback.

 

 

 

Or a card game.  ‘Pairs’ springs to mind, for instance.

 

It’s good when people feel they can share about their private life with co-workers.



Don’t worry – he’s not as bad at it.  Just bad.


 

 

 

 

Shame game

Fine, but I’m not putting his condom on for him this time.  I have my pride.

 

 

Don’t worry – the guys might think you look silly at first, but I’m sure they’ll be impressed when you go into your dance routine.

 

 

 

 

For a while my orgasm day was 29 February, but ‘we’ decided to stop all that, as it was getting a bit repetitive and predictable.

 

 

 

Women and knots, eh?  Bless ’em.

Which is a bit unfair if you have a fetish for being humiliatingly searched by ladies in positions of authority.  Oh well, at least she’s not wearing her uniform, so there’s a chance.