professional dominatrix – Page 2 – Contemplating the divine

The flesh is weak

But fortunately steel is a lot stronger.

She *can* supply both, but usually prefers to dole out only one.

If you’re worried about the client who was abandoned in the cell for so long, don’t be: he’ll be fine. She’ll give him a discounted rate for all that extra time.

It was a labour of love. Which would have caused pages to stick together in the old days of typed manuscripts, but now it’s just a matter of wiping down the keyboard from time to time.

Some couples find it uncomfortable to talk about money, but there are ways of making it easier – romantic, even.

She’s a sweetie really, once you get to know her properly. It’s just a matter of surviving long enough to learn her little ways.

Hopelessly unrealistic. A nun with jewelled rings on her fingers? I don’t think so!

PS, I understand there’s some kind of election taking place today, in one or other of Britain’s former colonies. As a non-American, obviously I cannot advise anyone who does have that status on how to vote (although I’m happy to provide tips on how to spell words like ‘neighbour”, to point out that the phrase ‘I could care less’ actually makes no sense at all and to explain the difference between jelly and jam). The important thing is to vote, regardless of which candidate you… you… what am I saying? He’s a deranged idiot, everyone who has ever worked with him says so, how could anybody even be thinking of… oh, just do what you’re going to do. I suppose anyone whose vote might be swayed by what they read on a pornographic blog like this probably shouldn’t be voting at all, on general principles, right? But… I mean to say. Really. Again? Fucking hell.

Girls just wanna have power

That’s not strictly true – she actually does care. That’s why she does it.

Let’s hope Mistress is feeling forgiving. It’s not been known to happen often but there’s always hope.

Right now, he’s thinking having to cope with her passive-aggresive behaviour is actually worse than being whipped. He’s wrong, but we’ll let him discover that for himself, shall we?

She didn’t really suspect him of having an affair. She has more confidence in his fidelity to her than that – an unshakeable confidence, actually.

Just look in to those eyes and say the first thing that comes into your head. What’s the worst that could happen?

Sorry the blog’s been a bit Joyless lately, but that’s fixable.

Mulier Sapiens

There’s just never enough time in the day, is there? If only men could multi-task, but alas, that’s not an option.

She’s lucky to have a friend who’ll take the time to listen – you know, they’ve been walking for two hours already? You can’t rush these kinds of conversations.

It’s OK to discuss men’s lib when it’s just women idly chatting round a dinner table; it’s not like males breaking the law by saying the same things.

Maybe when ‘Supreme Mistress Suzannah’ realises what she has done, she could rush back? I’m not saying she would – she wouldn’t want to disappoint her mum.

Hmm? Oh, sorry, was I supposed to add a caption down here?

If nuclear war is about to break out, it looks like Strict Mistress Susan’s House of Correction will be the place that gets the call. Which, y’know, might even work out better?

The brutal reality

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.

But just for a change (but not for the first time, or the second or even the third), we’re going to be focused on reality in today’s post: the truth about femdom. How it really is. Because that’s reality. Because. That. Happens.

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.

Just do as you’re told

I mean, how hard can that be?

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.

Still lovely, still here.

In fairness, Sissy usually gets to go to bed a lot earlier than Mistress, too.

Apologetics

…a word that doesn’t mean what you probably think it means, as it is a form of ‘systematic argumentative discourse’. So probably not recommended in the sorts of relationships this blog favours, where apologies should be simple, heartfelt (and felt in other parts of the body too) and frequent.

I’ll confess I’ve never understood men who want to cheat on their partners or imagine they can get away with it. It’s not as if any lady’s going to fail to notice a second padlock hanging there on my chastity belt.

My SO is constantly ‘encouraging’ me to learn new dance routines to entertain her bulls, but none of them seem like the sort of guys who really enjoy watching dance, so I hope they don’t get too bored by it all.

Fortunately, Kate’s unlikely to reach the prize first as she’s too soft-hearted to use the whip on her horse, the sweet thing. She doesn’t believe in cruelty to animals.

Not The Hunt, for those of you paying attention to such matters, this is more of an informal social thing, with friends and less death.

He’s not even doing any work, just hanging around the office.

The silly thing’s forgotten to put a blouse on – perhaps you should remind her?

Reminds me of the time I decided to try some vanilla so I booked a sex worker who offered ‘a real girlfriend experience’. Bloody hell… I’m into humiliation and abuse, but not *that* much!

The will to power

This particular set of vows contains penalty clauses.

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.

Category: professional dominatrix