punishment – Page 2 – Contemplating the divine

It’s the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud

Who loved a lord and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum
Whose soul was sad and whose glance was glum
Who sipped no sup and who craved no crumb
As he sighed for the love of a la-dy.

I used to wonder how girls could spend so long washing their hair. Then I found out.

Air stewardesses often like to have a sub waiting for them on arrival. After a long flight, they really want someone else serving *them* drinks and food – and if there’ve been any rude, arrogant passengers on the flight it’s still more important to have access to someone on whom to let off a bit of steam.

There are also consequences for remaining silent when she’s asked something, as well as for lying. So it’s all covered, really.

I hope this jokey little caption doesn’t contribute to that hurtful ‘castrating lesbian’ stereotype. Actually, survey data show that lesbians are, if anything, slightly *less* enthusiastic about castrating males than are heterosexual women, although there’s only a few percentage points in it.

Ooh… I hate job interviews. Like, I went to one where the interviewer asked me how I’d react to being slapped across the face and she didn’t even let me finish my answer! I did get the job, as it happens, but frankly that turned out to be a mixed blessing.

Fans of the ‘strict governess’ style of femdom might be interested in skipping to exactly 49 minutes into this 1970s British movie (NB, Russian site if you worry about such things), to reach the section which is about Theresa Berkley, of whipping horse fame. The movie is mostly in that 1970s British sex comedy style (oo-err, Missus, gwarn show us yer knockers!) but this bit is, I think, done quite well as it features the slow scolding build-up and anticipation (a theme I tried to convey in one of my few serious pieces: Waiting). Weirdly enough, although most of the film is knockabout farce, towards the end it takes on the tone of a public information film and features the then living, famous and very serious dominatrix, Monique van Cleef, in a short bit starting at 1:15.45. The 1970s were odd. But then, so are we, aren’t we? Extra trivia: the narrator is Charles Gray, narrator of Rocky Horror (where was his neck?) as well as being the best Blofeld, and Mrs Berkley is Carmen Silvera, who later dominated René in Allo Allo.

Give me shudders in a whisper

Perhaps she should leave him out there for a while, to help him understand the mistake he made. A little cruel, perhaps, but as my SO says: sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. Not that she’s in favour of actually being kind, you understand, but she likes to cover all the bases.

I always try to be brave in session, as they say it’s only through failure that we really learn.

Actually, a well-trained python can provide an exciting twist to bondage play – or to a tight-lacing scene, for that matter.

I once bought a blow-up sex doll and it was actually a much more realistic experience than I’d expected – the shipping company delivered it to some other guy to fuck and charged me extra for the meal he had delivered.

Actually, there really ought to be a ‘k’ in electrode, as it’s from the greek ‘ἤλεκτρον’ meaning amber. I once dated a girl called Amber and as she was clamping the wires onto my genitals, I realised what an odd coincidence that was and was just about to point it out, when she flicked the switch and obviously then I was far too busy writhing, screaming and desperately pleading for mercy to say anything. Then she put it on a timer and went home. So it wasn’t, like, a serious relationship or anything but I think of her fondly.

She’s much misunderstood. And she so dislikes being misunderstood – just ask Gordon.

Apropos nothing whatsoever, I thought this was very lovely. She can definitely come to my funeral dressed like that! No, hang on, erm… someone else’s funeral that I’m at…. but not someone so close to me I’d be too sad to perve. Oh, heck it doesn’t even need to be a funeral at all.

Entzückende

As you’ve probably noticed, this blog features ‘themed posts’ on a Sunday. Well, I… what do you mean you haven’t noticed? You don’t just come here to look at the pretty women and wank, do you? This is supposed to be a conversation between me, the artist, and you sitting there, with your trousers down around your…

OK, well anyway, not exactly a themed post today but I noticed I was doing more and more captions, defacing the lovely image of a lady called Nicola Cavanis, so I thought I’d do a special on her, give her her own tag and so on. I expect she’ll be rather pleased, don’t you?

Remarkably, for a young lovely whose photos are all over the Internet, she appears not to be Russian.

That’s the great thing about femdom – you can just turn many ordinary household implements into sex toys. Whether it’s something sharp, something blunt and heavy or just something vaguely cylindrical and sufficiently large, there’s almost always some kind of scene you can work with it.

Are you going to stand there and let her speak to you like that – you, a grown man? Stamp your foot, dammit – or run to your room, throw yourself onto the bed and scream into the pillow while kicking your feet. She’ll soon realise she can’t treat you this way.

I just can’t imagine why he would have wanted not to spend hours handwashing her panties… what’s wrong with the guy?

Be prepared, sissy, be prepared. I myself never go out without lubing up a little, just in case I should run into one of my SO’s former boyfriends and find myself being whored out to his mates. I’m not saying it happens every time, obviously, but when it does I’m usually glad of a little lubrication back there. I usually carry some mouthwash too – you never know when you’ll need it, do you?

O Fearefull frowning Nemesis

Daughter of Justice, most severe / That art the world’s great Arbitresse / And Queene of causes raigning heere.

Don’t try explaining that it’s too late to do anything about it now. She knows exactly what she intends to do about it, and it’s never too late.

Ironically enough, Pam herself has slaves make the cakes. But I doubt that’ll do him any good.

The wonderful Mistress Sidonia of course, Head Mistress and goddess incarnate at the English Mansion.

What Colin has here is a failure not to communicate. But I’m sure he’ll be given some very direct feedback to help him improve.

Speak softly and always carry a massive dildo.

Relationships founded on respect

Not mutual respect, obviously. No fun in that.

Go on, it’s an opportunity to show off your strength. Girls like that.

An optional 150% service charge will be added to his bill, but of course it’s entirely at her discretion.

I don’t think ‘we’ are going to be doing a lot of talking, except of the begging and pleading variety. Same as usual.

There are penalties for average scores below ‘B’ and rewards for slaves receiving an overall ‘A’, although no one has ever found out what those rewards might be. This guy here is averaging a ‘G’, but then he is very experienced and well-trained so it’s not surprising he’s doing so well.

We were bent over the desk, dreading every stroke, I think, if I remember rightly – and wondering why we can’t just enjoy normal sex, like normal people do.

A few bad men

Let’s hope she learns from this little conundrum. An espresso machine prepared and ready to go just within button-pressing reach of a pilloried hand and she can have her aching, tearful, regretful husband and a freshly brewed cup, both at the same time.

Most of the choices I face are no-brainers, which all the women who have ever known me would probably agree is just as well.

Princess Kali, there – lovely and an accomplished author too.

She could even theme your confession with the outfit by putting the lasso of truth around you. That would be a nice, gentle start to what is about to happen.

Let’s hope the greeting ritual she chooses is number 17. I’m particularly good at that one.

Come on… you’ve got this. Two pawns down is nothing – you started with ten of them, right? Something like that. Try moving one of the little horsey ones.

Who loves the sun?

I do! After a miserable rainy May, we now have bright sunshine chez elle (i.e. where I live) and I thought I’d do a sun-drenched special to celebrate summer’s balmy days. Admittedly, I myself haven’t yet seen the sun, as there are no windows in the part of the house where I live (not a problem, of course – after all, what would be the point, this far underground?). But she’s promised to break out the summer sweaters and the heavy rubber gimp suit, to take me out into the garden this weekend to where the treadmill awaits, bathed in sunshine. So that’ll be a nice change. I’ve also just booked a romantic stay for two at a beach resort for later in the summer, but I wont divulge the details as she hasn’t decided which boyfriend to take with her. They get so jealous – especially a certain old bull I won’t name! *

Anyway, here we are: summery captions.

I doubt that. I have actually become quite good at accurately judging women’s weight. But sometimes you have to tell them little white lies – bless them. The number of times I’ve had to control my breathing carefully to say ‘no, no – light as a feather!’ without gasping…

It’s great. Yeah. I’m getting quite good at never having any sexy thoughts at all, as long-term readers of this blog will know only too well.

Oh… don’t mind me.

She
likes long walks in the country, getting caught in the rain and keeping
up with the latest developments in applied metallurgy.

Actually, I brought a spare myself. I always do, just in case. I mean, imagine how awful it would be to run into Gal by chance and not have a leather belt or similar implement on you… a lifetime of regret would await.

* Regular readers shouldn’t worry. There’ll always be a place for Raoul in her heart – and in her vagina, mouth and anus, too of course.

Sexually irresponsible

I used to be sexually irresponsible, but someone has kindly taken responsibility now, so that’s all right.

Male chess players need to learn that being beaten at the game by a female player isn’t humiliating. Believe me, there are much more humiliating ways of being beaten by a female, if you only seek them out.

I’ve never understood why dominant ladies so often like to promise me more to cry about. I don’t find it the least bit reassuring.

So much to look forward to.

She shouldn’t let him exploit her like that.

She seems quite forceful. It’s probably just as well for Gerald that he’s only marrying one of her.*

*NB, although this blog generally does not seek to provide advice on safe, sane and consensual BDSM, readers might want to consider the advisability of a romantic relationship with any woman who refers to them as ‘human male’.

She’s the latest and the greatest of them all

Dommes and cats… am I right? Ever noticed that? Dommes and cats…

And a lot harder

The simply wonderful Amy Hunter. I once had the remarkable pleasure and the still more remarkable pain (mainly the tawse on the hands – ow!) of visiting her.

I have a purpose to my existence. My SO has promised some day to tell me what it is.

Arachnophobia play is quite culturally specific. In the UK it’s just a matter of harmless terror, but in Australia I’ve heard it ‘s considered quite edgy.

It wasn’t actually feeling that nervous – it’s just got one of those faces, you know? But it’s beginning to get a bit jittery right now.

Keeping it real

More images of female domination that aim to expose the harsh – sometimes even bleak – reality that underlies our harsh – sometimes even bleak – fantasy world.

Subs are all about rules. It’s good of dommes to indulge us. I don’t know what I’d do with myself without my chastity regime, for example.

Fake lesbian crap? On this blog? Surely not.

We would not.

…and I suppose it would be exciting to imagine that she’d be sitting on him, too. But her fantasy is probably more along the lines of her sitting somewhere else entirely – a nice cafe, for instance – properly dressed.

Obviously.