Scornography


Submissive husbands sometimes don’t realise how embarassing it must be for their partners to be married to such hopeless, pathetic losers.





She’s definitely one of those teachers that students will remember all their lives.

Another lady who takes pride in her work.  They say pride is a sin but I’m pretty sure that’s not supposed to include women.
As if she didn’t have one packed for the honeymoon already.

Sure, no rush. Pain’s pain, at any time.


Miss-judged



I’ve been a very bad wolf.

Actually, there’s a funny story about this one.  It turned out there were no fewer than three Miguels on the beach!  So as you can imagine things got a little embarassing – and of course we soon ran out of condoms and beer, so I had to run back to the shop. Still, it all worked out OK in the end.

You can cary an orgasm donor card, you know: ‘I want to help someone come when I die’?  Not that it really makes much difference, but prior consent is a thing with some people.

I think he’s looking at her funny now.  Some men never learn, huh?

And the evening, and the next day too, if need be. One wrist can outlast a great many bottoms, as any schoolmistress will attest.


You know how bad girls get

Ah.. school days – cold showers, long tedious detentions, horrible over-cooked cabbage for lunch, exams and homework… not to mention the corporal punishment and the humiliating bullying.  It seems so long ago now… must be months at least. I really must book another session.


No I never said that!  So unfair, you horrible old cow.  Oops.

But not so brave as to refuse. There’s brave and there’s sheer suicidal lunacy.

Spelling ‘wear’ wrong shouldn’t go unnoticed and uncorrected, either. 
Mistress Teresa May, obviously.  Of all the things that could complicate a career in professional domination, “Having the same name as the Prime Minister” (or vhery nhearly the same) was probably not one that she anticipated.
I think she’s probably right there.  You might have to conduct a careful examination of her feet before you’re sure, though.



He probably doesn’t know what the capital of Gabon is. Trouble is, nor does she.  I wonder how they’ll resolve the impasse?


Simply divine, darling





It’s always such a relief when finally the boxes are all unpacked, there’s a chain the right length in each room, all the pillories and cages have been assembled and you can get back to ordinary married life, for goodness sake.

She’s always taken roleplay very seriously. They tried medical fetish play once and it didn’t turn out well.

Making a decision of my own free will, to do exactly whatever she has told me, immediately, is the secret to a happy life I find.
Oh, you’ve already promised to honour and obey him, so adding love to the mix doesn’t change much.

The truth will not set you free.


It’s what I go to dommes for

...you can call me crazy


(Kinky bit is 2.18 in if that’s really all you’re after. Pervert).



Of course, as long as everyone keeps quiet there’s no way she can find out who wrote it.  And it’s not as if she can cane the whole class just because one boy misbehaved now, is it?


They do need male teachers, though.  Every time they seem to have got the male/female ratio on the staff up, another lot disppear and they have to start again.  So at least you’ve got job security: there’s that to be said for it.

Cold cream?  And, ermm… not being beaten?


What a bad girl.

I wrote this caption last year, surprisingly enough.


Outnumbered





Mens lib is fine in theory, but someone has to lick out the ashtrays, don’t they?  So I don’t see how it could ever work in practice.   

They don’t aprove of modern fads. Actually, there are lots of things they don’t approve of.  As you’ll discover.

Everyone makes little mistakes when they start out.  No real harm done.
 The parts of the dommes in this little tale were played by two dommes, by an odd coincidence.  The extraordinarily wonderful (as I can personally attest) Lady Sophia Black  and Ms Morigan Hel, whom I briefly met once before Ms Sophia dragged me away, and is probably equally but differently extraordinarily wonderful.

Don’t worry – he’s not a real schoolboy.  And that’s not really his mother.  And the person on the left who seems to be an attractive young blonde lady in a doctor’s coat is actually a 57 year-old computer scientist from Gujurat called Deepak.  Femdom porn… it’s all fake, really, isn’t it?

Time to explain to them that you’re not into that, I suggest.


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.

New year, same old nonsense

Welcome back. Hope you enjoyed the extra captions over the 12 days (or possibly the first 11 days if you’ve been reading the comments sections too) of Christmas. 

Back to normal now, though – twice a week is all you get.  Ooh-er, sounds bit rude!

They practice mindfulness too.  That involves thinking very very hard about what’s about to happen when your skin won’t stretch any further.




Might take quite a while to do penance for all of the sins during those five years of freedom.  Still – there’s the rest of your life.

 


I’m a member of their frequent shriekers’ club.
 
 

 

Of course, it wasn’t like that when she bought the house.  There was no flowering bush behind the gimp feature – in fact, the garden was mostly just gimps all over.  Much more colourful this way.
 
 

 

 
 
 

 

Or – on  most occasions – participate.

Distance learning


Yes, I
suppose I do like to take it seriously. 
I’m always uncomfortable when I see dommes who are all latex and boots in what’s
supposed to be a school scene, you know? 

Actually,
I’ve got a client who can’t get enough realism. We discovered this online
tuition outfit – puts you in touch with a tutor to take you through a whole
GCSE course, and at the end of it you take the exam and everything. He used to
send essays and tests off to some lady in Macclesfield, and she’d mark
them. 
 
Then we had a system: the strap
for less than 18/20, the cane for less than 14/20. We had a strict rule for how
many strokes, and any additional lines or detention punishment.  You know – so it wouldn’t be me as a Mistress
deciding; it would all be about the schoolwork.
 
And then he’d take the proper exam at the end of it – you can do it online these days.  With more punishment – obviously! – for any grade less than an A.
 
 

So it was all working out fine, he was doing course after course.  Getting so many qualifications!  Languages, sciences, all sorts of
things.  I think he was quite a high-flying lawyer, though, so I don’t suppose a few more GCSEs did him that much good.  Anyway, one day it went a bit
wrong. He’d accidentally included some kind of email to me about his next
session, in one of the packages of essays for her.  So I come down one morning, and there’s this
nicely spoken lady on my doorstep, demanding very politely to know what the
blankety-blank is going on!
 
Of course,
she had the address because we’d used this one for the deliveries. He used to
come here, and I’d open the envelope right there and read out the grades and
any comments in front of him – with all the implements on display.  A bit difficult for me, actually, not to be in
control of a session like that. He might have 19/20 and just be sent into the
bathroom for a hand-job, or he might have 12 or so and need a good caning
followed by lines and detention.  Made it
hard to plan my day.

Well, I couldn’t leave her standing there so I asked her in for tea and at first I wasn’t going to say anything.
Client confidentiality and all that.  But
then I thought – you know, in a way we’ve been involving her in this thing
without her consent. It’s not really fair. So without giving her his real name,
I told her everything. 
 
She went
white!  But she listened to it all in
silence.  Showed her the room with the
whipping bench and the canes and things like that.  She looked pretty shocked, but she was quite
calm.  Calm and quiet.  She’d once given him just 9/20 for a piece of
work – that was the worst grade he’d ever had – and she asked me what he’d got
for that, so I said 36 with the cane and writing seven hundred lines in
detention. But she didn’t say anything… just nodded and reached out, gently
touched one of the canes as if she was thinking about what it must have been
like for him.  She asked a few more
questions, but I think she was just being polite by then.  She wanted to leave, so we quickly finished
our tea and off she went.
 
 

And, as luck
would have it – or bad luck if you like – he was just arriving for a
session.  He turned the corner of the
road just as she was coming up to the end. 
He told me their eyes met.  Of
course, he didn’t know what to think at the time, didn’t know who she was, but
when I got here I told him all about it. And he said that when their eyes met,
he knew that she knew it was him!  Isn’t
that weird! 
 
 

Anyway.  We thought that would be that, so I started
looking around for another online tutor. But then he got a message asking where
his essay on Cromwell’s reforms of the legal system was, as part of his GCSE on British constitutional history, so he wrote one up
quickly, and sent it off.

Came back
covered in red ink.  8/20 for content
minus 4 for lateness.  I’ve never given
anyone such a beating.  He literally
could not sit down for a week – which was a shame, as he had several thousand lines to write. Fortunately, his next essay was a bit better: he’d have got 15 if she hadn’t taken a few points off for messy handwriting.
 
He got a starred A for that subject, when he finally came to take the exam.  Examiner’s report said it was the best script he’d ever seen.  Well, I suppose he is a lawyer.  He hasn’t done quite as well on any since, although it’s rare he doesn’t get at least an A, nowadays.

Funny how
things turn out sometimes, isn’t it?
 
Anyway, can’t stand here talking all afternoon.  So what it’s going to be today?  The cane for masturbation, was it?  Right then, you go and get into your uniform, and I’ll set up in here.

 End
 

Note for foreign chaps: GCSEs are the exams English* pupils take when they’re fifteen or sixteen.  But those of us whose emotional and sexual development is eternally stuck at that age could take more of them at any time, I suppose.

 
Note for everyone: all of these lovely pictures are of Miss Porter, of the English Governess site. I hope she isn’t cross with me for using them like this.  That would be just awful 
 
*Note for pedants.  Yes ‘English’ not ‘British’.  Well, English and Welsh.  They do it differently in Scotland.  That’s why the story above does not mention tawses.

And – finally – here’s a bonus caption, also voiced by the divine Miss Porter, bearing some rather unsettling news!
 
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