Stories and pictures themed around female domination and male subjugation and servitude. Unsuitable for children, for alpha males, for hard-core practitioners with an interest in the politics of bdsm and the mechanics of complicated rope work. Of interest to perverts like me, basically.
Whatever…
Number 42 in the series, apparently! How many roads must a man walk down before he reaches a turning point, eh? OK, one, I suppose, as if he was on a second road he would presumably already have passed a turning point. OK, so not a good analogy, but you see what I’m trying to say here, right? Erm… anyway, I’ll just get on with the not-quite-femdom captions, now.
…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.
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.
More glimpses of life (if you can call it that for the inmates) from The Facility, a very occasional and thoroughly unpleasant and non-consenual series.
This wonderful lady is Miss Tamara Kenworthy, also known as Samantha Alexandra (but not in any pictures you and I are allowed to look at).
Yup, those. Number forty in an occasional… forty? Forty?? Bloody hell, how long have I been doing this blog?
Yes, more tales told over a stirrup cup, after a fine day at The Hunt. Brutal, misandristic and non-consensual throughout – so if that’s not your style of femdom, try this instead.
Tally ho!
New series! Brutal, unpleasant and – so far at least – with very longwinded captions. But if you’re into the idea of running naked at the limits of your endurance, desperately gulping lungfuls of air as you flee in terror for your life, pursued by whip-wielding jodhpur-clad ladies on horseback intent on your mutilation and painful death (and let’s face it, all of that adds up to a very attractive image), you might like these).
More mundanely, I understand commenting here has become harder the last few weeks. That’s not something I want to happen, so I have tried tweaking the anti-spam settings a bit. I found out for example that it was considering all comments containing the word ‘penis’ to be spam. I’ve deleted that but ‘penis enlargement’ continues to feature on the list, as that is not something this blog supports – quite the opposite, if anything. I’ll keep a better eye on this – apologies if you felt the urge to comment recently and were discouraged.
So, after all these years of being told that football’s just a silly game in which a bunch of moronic boys chase a ball around in a field and surely I’m not asking to be allowed to put the ironing off just to watch that nonsense, apparently it’s a remarkable display of female skill, grace and power. Who knew? Well, my SO did, obviously, and now I do because she’s told me and that’s that.
Personally I’m not so much interested in the football itself as in the players’ muddy boots and sweaty socks in the fact that we are now officially all allowed to cheer ourselves silly(er) for a team called ‘The Lionesses’. That I do like, rather a lot.
It’s coming home. Unless the Lionesses lose on Sunday, obviously, in which case it’s going somewhere else. [UPDATE: They did. It is.]
Anyway, back to the depressing porn.
I have posted this before, but ‘too few’ is always the number of times I have done that, so here’s the lovely Mistress Vixen playing the piano.
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| It’s funny: in a few weeks he’ll probably be complaining it’s too hot, staked out there on a lovely summer day with the honey and sweat running off his skin and the ants tickling his face. |
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| I tried a self-help book once. Apparently my feelings of inadequacy aren’t real. Oh right – so what have I been paying all that tribute for, over the years, then? Silly book. |
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| Good thing she decided not to wash her hair, as she hates saying no to people. |
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| A survey of the male employees found 82% of them consider the new dress code unbearably humiliating. Management are working hard to think of something they can do to respond: 18% of males not feeling constantly mortified is simply unacceptable in a truly inclusive workplace. |
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| Just don’t leave your used jodhpurs lying around. |
