Category: professional dominatrix

Blonde obedience

You just have to be polite.  You don’t have to approve of castration yourself – you’re welcome to your own opinion, after all.  She might not take any particular notice of your opinion, but you can have it.

A talent you never knew you had.

I don’t uderstand people who pay for vanilla sex. I mean, I go to a dominatrix, it’s two hours of punishment and humiliation.  A really rich, varied experience. Pay someone for straight sex and what have you got?  Three seconds of fun, maybe four?


Chemical castration.  Hmm.  Not much fun for her, is it?


Little toys for little boys.


The agony and the ecstacy

Well, she seems very nice. Many dommes would be quite angry in such a situation.  Up you get.

She needs the money to get into the scene, that’s all.  Don’t worry – she’s genuinely turned on by fat middle-aged men rubbing against her like that.  That’s why she does it.

She owns a plumber too, which could come in handy if she decides to install you as a toilet slave.
I think Emily will be able to tell exactly how very, very sorry you are in just a short while.


Yes, I rather suspect she does.


Adult content warning

Persons proceeding past this point will encounter no genuinely adult content whatsoever, merely juvenile humour and sexual innuendo written by someone with the emotional intelligence of a teenager. You have been warned.

Let’s hope he enjoyed wishes 1 and 2.


Not very politically correct. Perhaps I need to be politically corrected.

Don’t worry, she’ll give him a 10% discount for all those extra hours.

These gender roles are essentially all social constructs anyway.  Why should we have to conform to a role because of what sex we are?  What if I choose not to do the housework, hmm? Well… I get tied across a chair and thrashed, obviously. But I could if I wanted to.. and didn’t mind the beating. That’s the point.






Self-harming is such a waste.  When there are people out there who’d love to do it for you.

Mistress and Commander

Celebrating the more militaristic side of our little hobby.  Destruction, brutality, war, death… it’s sad there are these things in our world, but there’s nothing wrong with having a little sexy fun with them, is there?


As a British citizen, I don’t actually carry ID, but I do have an ownership tattoo, so let’s hope that will suffice.

 

It
happens. You know, the ninth Women’s Gestapo regiment once managed to
lose an entire infantry divisions-worth of POWs. Careless, but war’s
messy, right?


Her way’s a lot quicker, too.
Obviously enough, a lovely image from the British Institution. 
You know, there are lots of organisations called “The British
Institute” of this, that and the other.  I hope they enjoy the
ocasional accidental surf to prison.

Don’t worry. You get at least four more opportunities for appeal. We are going to fight this!
The divine, lovely, commanding Mistress Eleise de Lacy is no longer associated with Femme Fatale films and is cross with them (but oh, it’s wonderful when Mistress Eleise is cross with you, as I can personally attest!).  So I won’t be linking to them, for images featuring her.  And the not-always-in-charge Miss Woods is here.

Right, like her name’s really Vinyl Queen, huh?  Dommes, eh? Do they think the rules don’t apply to them?
  I’m guessing that’s who it is, from a Google Image search.  Do correct me if I’m wrong.




Normal service

Right, after that little April interlude, this blog will return to its usual subject matter.  Or ‘object matter’ when male submissives feature in the pics.


I don’t really ‘get’ maledom anyway, to be honest.  I mean, I can just about see that it could be quite sexy to have an attractive woman all tied up, available for any sexual act of my choosing.  I could iron one of her skirts, for example, or tidy her tights drawer even if what she really wanted was to be brought a cup of tea or have the garage cleared out. The thought of that kind of power’s quite a turn on.  But what’s the point of my being turned on if if she’s completely helpless in the bondage – she can’t remove my chastity belt with her hands tied, can she?  In any case, how can I decide what I want to do if she’s gagged and can’t tell me?  See, I just think maledoms haven’t really thought it all through.


Oh well. Here are some things I do understand, dimly at least.

Ah, yes, the purest form of male submission: not even daring to irritate her with your presence.  I find women really appreciate it when I do that.

Then, bruised and bloody, the winner gets to have a heavy BDSM session.  Quite a day.
But you have to book.  And until you’re a ‘regular’ you’ll need to pay a deposit in advance. No exceptions – sorry.

I’m sure she respects us really.  It’s a kind of harsh femdom persona she puts on. She’s really good at it, don’t you think?
 This is of course the lovely Gigi Allens, whose boots I am not fit to lick, and whose name I don’t even know how to pronounce. Hard g, soft?  One of each?
The pre-marital agreement also refers to ‘objectionable conduct’ so don’t even think of arguing – that’s a red flag right there.

Hmm. Have I posted hat last one before? I have a system for this blog to avoid that, with ‘posted’ and ‘unposted’ folders (over 1000 captioned images presently in the latter, so this blog will be here for a while!  Keep coming back.) Unlike the Tumblr site, where I just randomly post previously bloggered images, so there’s repetition from time to time (2700 now posted, though, so it doesn’t happen often! Keep going back – although there is nothing there that has not been here so I don’t really understand why people do).  Still, the above looks awfully familiar.  Oh well, have an extra one:

Oops. My bad.


Controlling promiscuity after hours

Shame they never made a video for that one. 

The Stranglers, of course.  Who are also famous for a lyric about a woman’s clitares*… which one day I will work into a caption as an extremely bad pun**.

But today, we have a scholastic focus.

It’s always worth negotiating.

Oh well.  Adult life was fun while it lasted, I guess.
Hmmm.  Might have to review her salary after a while.







But when does the blow job happen?





Well, if she can’t be bothered to get the details right, then what’s the point, eh?  I mean, really!  I’d have a word with her about it, but I’m still very bruised from last time.







*  No, actually it doesn’t mean that.  Just go and look it up for yourself, OK?  Honestly, do I have to provide a link for everything?

** I haven’t actually thought up the pun yet.  But I think we can confidently predict it will indeed be extremely bad.

Mean and nasty and pretty and horrible

Or pinches any other parts for that matter. Ouch.  Only eight hours to go, though…

Yes, that should work.  I certainly wouldn’t expect many erections any time soon, anyway.

They’re very nice shoes too.

If you want to get to know her better, you could try joining her reading circle.





My SO and I are agreed that wearing fur is cruel. That’s why she wears so much of it.







(Yup, same old anti-Vietnam littering-based protest song, Steve.  But I’m hoping no one will notice the repetition.)

Since love is blind, then from the mind, all womankind should rout them.

… because she hates men.

It’s nice when newlyweds have pet names for each other.  But ‘bully’ just isn’t appropriate.  ‘Boss’ is a good one – he could try that, maybe?


I’m glad she’s taking precautions because some itching powders can be really nasty.  But see those gloves?  That’s safe BDSM play.  She’ll be fine. 

Oh – stop worrying!  They’re not going to starve to death or anything!  This blog can’t abide excessively violent scenes, you know that.  No: they’ll die of thirst long before they starve.

Let’s hope this one turns out better than the previous 117.  But if not, that’s valuable knowledge too.  Science: it’s all about reproducibility of the results.
Very lightly.  Safe, sane, consensual – remember?


For her



Weirdest client?  Oh,
I dunno. I mean, they’re all weird, aren’t they?

There was one once though – quite a regular.  And I had a party for my regular subs and
they got to arguing about which one adored me most – silly old fuckers, like I
care as long as they keep paying! 
Anyway, they decided to settle it with a breath-holding contest.   And when it was this guy’s turn, he took out
a roll of duct tape and wrapped his mouth up, popped a clamp onto his nose and
then slipped a pair of handcuffs on behind his back! 

Well, as you can imagine, after a minute or so, he was writhing around and all purple in the face, and I was just
about to look around for something to cut the tape when one of the other slaves
said “Shouldn’t you cut him loose, Mistress?”. 
Well, of course you can’t stand for that sort of impertinence, so I gave
him a good slap and I settled back in my chair and said “He’ll breathe again
when I decide, slave, not before.”  All haughty-like, you know.  You have to be like that, as a domme.  They like it.

And I gave it a bit longer and then I graciously instructed
them to cut his gag off.  And they faffed
about and panicked like slaves will. And then it was all too late!

Hmm? Oh no. Not dead. 
Severe brain damage, though.  It’s
the oxygen, apparently.

Shame really.  So
maybe he was the weirdest…. Oh, but hang on, there was other guy that had this
thing about asparagus!   And you know how
asparagus makes your wee smell? So one time – oh this is really funny, even
funnier than the other thing! – one time, right, this guy brought a big bunch
of asparagus with him and… 

She looked me up and down and really put me in my place

She said: “Nice legs, shame about your face.”


Been revisiting the music of my teenage years.  Although to be honest this one provides a rather more accurate picture of my dating experience. And this one is just timeless, as far as I’m concerned.

Actually, as a former investment banker he’d probably be better at handling the financial negotiations himself.  But they each have their own role in the business, I suppose.

I hate it when that happens.  But then I hate it when it doesn’t, too.  You know?

He used to be a client.  A lot of the stuff that’s lying around did.  Some of the leather coverings too, if we’re brutally honest about things.

Especially with her reading circle coming round to discuss it that very evening.

That’s good. Because when Madame Svetlana is displeased, very regrettable things happen.