professional dominatrix – Page 6 – Contemplating the divine

Perilous prose

You have to slap pretty hard to get the ketchup sachet to burst open. But then you have to slap pretty hard anyway – she insists on it – so don’t worry about that. Worry about other things.

And she’ll make sure you’re penciled in for one of the first slots available in her schedule after her holiday, OK?

I once told a domme I couldn’t really cope with public humiliation and she just looked at me strangely and asked how I managed in day to day life, never leaving the house. I think she must have misunderstood me.

Don’t worry, her travel insurance will make sure she gets all the money she needs after your tragic and unexplained disappearance.

My SO once had an affair with a lesbian sub and I was over the moon, because I thought finally there’d be another submissive to share the chores. But apparently lesbian D/S “doesn’t work like that”. And the attitude to chastity play was a bit different too… a lot different, if I’m honest.

When her pet-name for you is ‘maggot’

… then you know you’re onto a good thing.

Make sure you get the right one, this time.

She’ll have plenty of sex and plenty of money – she prefers to get them from different people, that’s all. That’s not going to be a problem, is it?

Sexual pleasure is over-rated anyway, so I have been led to understand.

Princess Neive and Miss Analisa, there, and also here. But neither working in person any more, I believe, alas.

Oh well. You can enjoy watching her eat too, I suppose, just like you watch her do the other thing.

I asked a sex worker for a nurse roleplay session and when I got there she threatened to go on strike, harangued me about the state of NHS funding and then fell asleep, exhausted after a 14-hour shift. Exactly as I’d asked for in my pre-session email… what a pro.

True love’s first slap

Yes, it’s Valentine’s Day, a day when humiliation freaks worldwide will rush down to the letterbox in the morning, to revel deliciously in the proof that once again, not a single one of the three billion females in the world has the slightest romantic interest in any of us.

Actually, I did once receive a Valentine card, from this girl I really fancied at school and didn’t have the courage to tell of my feelings for her, but it turned out it she had sent it to the wrong address and it was intended for someone else. Goodness, how everyone laughed and laughed when that little mix-up was revealed in class, after I got down on my knees to confess my long-standing love for her. I hope she wasn’t too humiliated by her error being exposed so publicly, poor thing.

I do have a couple of Valentine-themed captions, as it happens, but not a
full set of five, so I thought I’d… what’s that, readers? You say you don’t
give a flying fuck whether I creatively theme the blog or not? That you
just want to masturbate to images of pretty ladies saying humiliating
or vaguely menacing things, so why don’t I shut the fuck up and get on
with it?

Oh. OK then.

You could cavil at the poor quality of the photo, but this is Mistress Ardenne so even a blurry photo is more beautiful than 99.999999999999% of things on the planet. Long retired, I’m sure, so don’t even ask, OK?

Wow. No time for second thoughts – let’s tie the knot!

My SO says the same: apparently it’s ‘easier’ to leave me locked up. Personally, I’ve never had any real difficulties masturbating (except when my penis is locked in a tube, or I’m in tight bondage or agonising pain, that is) so I don’t really see why that should be but I don’t doubt she’s right. For one thing ‘doubting she’s right’ is #255 on the list of forbidden activities, just 243 places below masturbation itself.

Selecting honesty level two would have got you “Oh… it’s all right, I suppose. A bit below average but I’ve seen worse.”

Funny how it still feels just like that very first date you went on together. Some relationships are like that, but it’s very rare.

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…”