Category: professional dominatrix

Compulsive behaviour

She has a different – but very effective – approach to ensuring that the tasks you undertake are carried out properly.

 This is of course Cassie Hunter, the Hunteress or (for simplicity): ‘Ma’am’.

 

I think she shouldn’t be so diplomatic – sometimes it’s best to get honest, direct feedback.

 

 

She doesn’t usually accept ‘submissive little weirdo’ clients, but sometimes it’s a pleasant change not to have to pretend to like them.

 

 

 

Of course, even with a genetic explanation it’s still your fault. 

 

Percy looks like he might need to soak for ten minutes or so in the icy water of the pond in the garden, before he’ll be small enough to fit into his winter quarters.


 And this is Lady Annabelle whom I suspect is retired, but if not, she is certainly one of the smiliest dommes around, with a very fine line in teasing and mocking.  If anyone can find a link to a site that’s her own, please feel free to share it.

 

 

 

Out of my mind, I am held by the power of you, love

…why do you have to be a ball-breaker?  Is it a lesson that I never knew?

 

She’s being much too pernickety. If he’d consented to being tied up and gagged then he can be assumed to have consented to what’s to come, can’t he? No matter what she has in mind. And if the tying and gagging was non-consensual… well, then the principle’s already been breached, right?  Might as well carry on and let her do her thing.

 

 


One last disappointment for her, in a marriage which, to be honest, has not turned out to be everything she’d hoped for.  Still, it looks like she’s taken a bold decision to put her own needs first and make a fresh start, so that’s good.



It’s not the activities she’s horrified by, it’s the price list.  I mean, for something that literally anyone can do, without any training.


Ah well, you wanted a heavy pain session, right? Why else forget Mistress’s birthday?

Some things do actually try to happen.  But none of it leads to anything, so it’s really all the same.


Slavish devotion

I don’t mind being ice cream coned in public – let’s face it, guys, we’ve all been there – but I do object to having to wait in the queue to buy her another one, with the cream oozing slowly through my hair and down my face. Especially as I know that second one’s only going into my trousers.  But my SO says it’s better that way.

 


Shoe fetishists have it easy.  So do humiliation freaks like me, actually: I mean, even the very worst, most cringe-making car-crash of a date can turn out to have been the best ever.

 

 

 

I suppose they could go and put the kettle on, then bring him out a nice hot steaming mug. Honestly, dommes can overcomplicate things some time.

These lovely ladies are at the English Mansion and the lady on the right there is Mistress Vixen, who also plays the piano rather sweetly.  ‘Behind the scenes footage of dommes not realising they were being filmed’ is an under-served fetish, possibly because it often ends in the destruction of valuable cameras (and less valuable cameramen).

 

 

It’s more difficult than it looks, you know.

 

 

She’s not easily impressed, to be honest. Especially by males who are inherently very unimpressive.


 

That’s your lot for today, I’m afraid!  You know the drill by now: five CtD captions, twice a week plus an occasional weekend ‘special’.  But fear not, for I bring tidings of discomfort of the most joyful kind: unto us is born a new blog.  Or, to put it less pretentiously, check out The Age of Femocracy by spicegrinder, a long-standing commentator on this blog.  It seems likely to feature brutal oppression, humiliation, pain and other fun stuff like that so do give it a go.

Savage sirens

 

It’s your own fault: what you get for abusing her kindheartedness.

 

 

Good thing they had the bat with them.  They usually bring it along on their walks, though – just in case it might come in handy.

 

 

…and so on.  Sounds like it might become rather repetitive.  I hope you don’t get too bored.

 

 

Don’t worry about the forced tofu-eating.  Tofu has a slightly disgusting texture, but it’s pretty nearly tasteless – just absorbs the flavour of whatever liquid it”s been soaking in, basically.  So whatever Raoul chooses to… yeah, anyway, I’m sure it’ll be fine.

 

Oddly, though, the client she still calls ‘Mr Superglue’ became a regular, after he left hospital.  Subs, eh?  You think you know how weird they’re going to be but they’re always twice as weird again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sexual wealing

Interestingly (well… as near to being interesting as anything gets on this damp and flaccid excuse for a blog), the word ‘weal’ means both ‘a ridge or mark on flesh raised with a blow of a whip’ and ‘wealth or happiness’. Which to my mind – like the fact that ‘stroke’ means both a caress and the lash of a whip – just goes to show that there’ve been subbies around for as long as the English language has existed.  Chaucer’s ‘The Ffyndomme’s Tayle’ being a case in point, I suppose, or Shakespeare’s ‘Loves Labours Forced.’

Anyway.

Captions.


Interestingly, that rather racy outfit she’s wearing is modeled on that worn by Playboy’s Playmate of the Month from October 1842.

Attentive ‘readers’ will obviously have recognised the compassionate and sweet-tempered Cassie Hunter, the Hunteress.  You can tell she is feeling particularly merciful and forgiving, on this occasion, from the gentle smile on her lips. 

 

 

 

Honestly, if her sissy were a bit more familiar with orgasms himself he might have realised how totally inappropriate that request was.  Not that I’m excusing his selfish behaviour, you understand.

 

 

I’ve never really understood what ‘SPH play’ really consists of.  I mean, if we’re not doing ‘SPH play’ what’s she going to talk about – the weather?

 

 

 

Sometimes she puts a little extra in.  Other times she takes a little extra out.



What, all of them?


 

 

 

 



Blowing my mind, stealing my heart

 Somebody help me ‘fore I fall apart.


Don’t worry, it’s perfectly normal to feel a little nervous.



Remarkably, I understand she got 100% in all her exams without even turning up.  And now works in a profession where she earns more than £500/hour working from home.  It just shows the value of adopting the right educational techniques.




Don’t get her wrong – she’d be perfectly happy to lace or unlace her own boots.  But when there are men queuing up to pay for the privilege, why would she?

“…his eyes widened as she slowly, deliberately trailed her fingers all the way up his long… hard knitting needle, her fingertip lingering for a second at the top.  “It’s a number 7” he blurted out awkwardly, feeling the need to respond in some way to this sudden intimate contact.  “At least” she murmured in reply, nodding gently, thoughtfully.  Then she made a decision and looked straight into his startled eyes.  “I want you to make me something stylish but practical”, she breathed with an urgency that surprised even her.  “I want you to make it now!”.  She glanced into his knitting bag, where the multicoloured balls of wool nestled quietly, expectantly.  A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, as she…”




The ‘arrogant dismissive domme’ thing comes naturally to some.





Feminine ferocity

It’s important to think about her needs, not just your own selfish desire not to be in agony.


To be fair, many femdom activities seem unlikely to be compatible with evolutionary success.  Chastity, for one.


 

 

Oh good.  I wonder what it is.

 

 

She has testimonials from several hundred eternally unsatisfied clients to prove it.

 

 

 

I’ll go to the end of the line, then.

 

 

 

 

Forbidding ladies

Don’t worry.  One day you’ll no longer be a valuable asset.


 

 

You can still walk away.  For that to happen, you’ll need a degree of conscious control over your limbs, so you might need to wait a few moments.

 

 

 

Some might find it bizarre that he’s the one paying her, really, but we don’t, do we?

 

The extraordinarily wonderful Lady Sophia Black.  But no link to her web site, as she’s retired.  Like Paltego said a couple of weeks ago, you mustn’t  leave it too late – see what you miss out on?

I’m beginning to think she might be taking in laundry from her friends, to earn a little money on the side, the sly old thing.



 

Sorry, readers, I couldn’t resist.  Well… I could have.  But I didn’t.

 

 

Rather tediously, just a quick word about anonymity.  I’m getting more and more comments on the blog, which is absolutely brilliant, and I do try to reply to them all. Blogger provides an option for whether to allow anonymous comments and with some trepidation I switched it on some years back and I have not regretted it.  Almost all comments are fun and kind, I have very, very few trolls and the occasional marketing blurb that escapes the spam filters can easily be deleted (or left up if I think it funny).

So, all good.  But it’s getting harder to reply to all of the anonymous comments as specifically as I’d like.  You are of course welcome to be as anonymous as you want.  Our society is at present sadly unappreciative of males who need to be dressed in little maid outfits and have their naughty bottoms smacked until they squeal (actually, most if not all males need that, but the majority don’t know it yet).  However, if you could try to be just a little less anonymous, that would make the comments section more fun, I think.  Two options.  One: you can set up a Google account in a fake name.  I mean, I myself am not actually called ‘Servitor’ in real life, startlingly enough.  I have a completely separate Windows log-in for naughty stuff and that’s where Servitor lives, when he’s not chained up in the doghouse outside.  Two, if you’re uncomfortable with that you can still be officially ‘Anonymous’ but put some name at the bottom of your comments.  Misses Zoe and Holly do that, so do many others.  Even femsup can manage it, and he’s a worthless, incompetent worm, as I think he’d be the first to admit.  No offence, ‘sup.  

Or don’t.  Up to you.  I won’t delete purely anonymous comments and I’ll keep trying to reply to them.  So there are neither rewards nor consequences for good behaviour in this regard, as this blog is not under proper female supervision.  Just a suggestion.

Goodness, that was a lot of words with no wanking material involved. And there you are, sitting all ready with your trousers down around your ankles. Go on, then, have an extra captioned image of a lovely lady, as a reward for getting this far.

 

 

Quite right.  Back to those chores.


 

Her whip, her rules

 It’s basically self-enforcing.

 

Males who spend their lives being obedient to a dominant female partner and carrying out her every command live longer, you know.  Fact.  They get beaten less often too.

 

Don’t worry, the first performance is just in front of a few special friends.

 

Hands out of your trousers first, OK?  Don’t want to embarrass yourself.

 

Actually, you can have plans if you like.  She really doesn’t mind one way or the other.
To misquote the immortal Bing Hitler (3.15 in): ‘A domme won’t sting ye, as long as ye don’t annoy her… but how dae I know what annoys a domme?!”

 

 

Warning: immature content

 Don’t proceed past this point if you’re offended by implicit sexual imagery.

 

Some women won’t even let men know they’re upset.  I’m glad she’s being so forthright.




I think she’d be good at humiliation play, don’t you?  She could build on her knowledge of real clients who want real sex – and draw a few sharp comparisons.




It’s a natural gift.  That and practice.  And a lot of Gaviscon, if I’m honest with myself.


Actually, this reminds me of yet another depressing contrast between fantasy and reality I encountered in one of the very first times I sessioned with a domme, having been too nervous to do so, for many years.  (NB: don’t be like this guy!  Contact a domme!  It’ll be lovely; she’ll be lovely!).  With the wonderful lady, now retired, who stars as ‘Mistress Valerie’ in my early stories.  ANY-way, so back then she smoked (then she gave up – clever, strong Mistress).  So I did the human ashtray thing – wow, yeah, ash flicked into my mouth!  Oh the humiliation!  And then she gave me a near-finished cigarette butt to eat, and eager Servitor chewed and swallowed and… and… spent the remaining hour of that two hour session, with stomach churning, heart racing from the nicotine and generally feeling like he would soooo rather be somewhere else.  Oh well.  Did it once.  Thank you, Mistress. 



Rather like other much-maligned minorities, lesbians who happen to have jobs that involve castrating men often lean into the stereotype by embracing the otherwise offensive phrase.  One of Jennifer’s co-workers likes to wear a badge saying “Warning: castrating lesbian”.  It breaks the ice at parties and she does get served very quickly in bars. But she also has to explain to women who are annoyed with their husbands or boyfriends that she can only do it within the legal framework… unless they’re really cute wives and and girlfriends, in which case she’s been known to make an exception.



No, I just wanted to spend a few more seconds staring into those eyes…