Feeling her pain

Some men aren’t very good at that, but with the help of a really determined woman, you’ll find you become quite good at it.  Try practicing at a fixed time each week, for example.

I think once a day is usually enough for me, when it comes to cold showers, but occasionally I wake up in the morning needing a quick one.
 
 

 

And you wouldn’t want to be offensively unsubmissive.  Anyway, that’s illegal.
 
 

 

I suppose those other men have to keep their session visits secret from their wives. Must be awful.
 
 

 

Yes, Mary can be kind like that.  Eventually.
 
 

 

Yeah, c’est la vie.  Che sera sera.

Back under the saddle

Ah well, summer holidays over and it’s back to the daily grind.  Which to be honest can leave you quite sore, especially when you then have to get up and go to work.  But who am I to argue?

I hope you enjoyed the archival clear-out over August.  But not that you enjoyed it so much you did anything you shouldn’t.

Back to normal.  More of the same, but written more recently.

Down you go.  You’ve got at least 10 hours before sunset.
 
 

 

Submissive man not actually very good at housework, in reality!  Who’d have thought?
 

 

It’s just her thing. Go with it.
 
 
 
 
She got you, babe.
 

 

Yes.  Anyway, it really doesn’t matter how big it is, if you’re not allowed to do anything with it.
 

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!
 

Resistance is futile

Utterly futile.

I love the way a recent article in the Guardian about science fiction on British TV just *happened* to use an image from this episode featuring whip-wielding dominatrices to exemplify the series Space 1999.
 

 

That’s only fair, because you’re not in fact safe.
The awesome Jean Bardot.

 

Aww… look at that little pout.  Isn’t she sweet when she’s cross?  Better do what the little woman says, hmmm?  Just to humour her, you know.  You can assert yourself later, I expect.
 
 

 

If you want a picture of the future, imagine a sweaty trainer stamping on a human face — forever*.
 
 

 

I do.
 
Mistress Francesca Harding, prepared it would seem to help with life-long learning experiences.





*Test time!  What is the slightly garbled literary reference?  Hmm?  Anyone?  You!  You at the back – hands out of your pockets, boy! – what’s the answer?

And – which is more – you’ll be a man, my son



Ah– it’s Jenkins, isn’t it?

Oh don’t look so alarmed, boy. For once, you’re not here to be beaten. You are
here for careers advice, as you will shortly be leaving our school.


Now, as you know, Jenkins, we at Thrashington Hall believe strongly in the
old-fashioned school values.The eight years of misery and brutality you have so
reluctantly endured here did have a purpose.Our system of rote learning,
accompanied by twice-daily cold showers, strict masturbation control and
frequent brutal floggings, was expressly designed by our founder, Constance Thrashington, to build character – so you can venture
out into the adult world with a sound moral foundation and a solid and traditional educational background.


I hope you realise that this makes you very unusual among boys of your age?  In the modern world, this sort of education is increasingly rare.  When you leave these gates, you will be one of the very few young men more familiar with counting strokes of the cane than with differential calculus, capable of writing the same line for hours without a break, but not of writing anything of your own creation, more familiar with the tawse than you are with a computer mouse. There’s not many young men today that have the self-control needed to remain perfectly in position, while enduring a brutal flogging across their bare buttocks, and then the presence of mind politely to offer thanks for the agonies they have suffered.  You have learned to respect your betters, to do as you are told and to fear retribution at all times.

Unfortunately, we’re beginning to realise this doesn’t really work, especially
in the modern world.


The eighteen year-old boys we turn out are quite incapable
of the sort of creative thought needed in modern business, lack any
self-confidence or independent drive and find it impossible to build relationships
with women.Your employment prospects are appalling – with luck, you’ll find
some minimum wage menial job that can provide you with enough money to eke out a miserable
existence in some squalid bed-sit. Many of our graduates become road-sweepers.  Street begging is another popular career choice.  Some of the more talented manage to secure jobs as burger-flippers, but unless you’re lucky enough to have an authoritarian female boss, you probably won’t be able to concentrate long enough to do a job as complicated as that.


I expect you’ll spend your evenings in sad,
lonely masturbation – your sexual urges are probably perverted and anyway, you
don’t know how to relate to women because you have only experienced them as
disciplinarians.  Not much of a life – rather a shame really after enduring such brutal, sexless and miserable teenage years.


Sorry about that.

Anyway– dismissed!  I’ll see you at the graduation ceremony tomorrow. Send in
Knightly, please.

 

 
The lady in the picture is the delightful, scary and astonishingly beautiful Lady Sophia Black.  I have had the immense privilege of being beaten, derided and ignored by her in the past, and I hope very soon to experience that unpleasant delight again.

Making him pay

Ballgagged flr husband
nnnn nnnNNN  NNNGGG!  nngg nnnng!
 

Cane mistress looking stern...whew
Oh well.  It’ll be agony this time, around, but…it’s not as if you masturbate often.  Is it?
 

Femdom choices
Oddly, I understand this is one exception to the rule ‘everything tastes like chicken’.  It just doesn’t.
 This is from a lovely English Mansion clip, much of which can be found here.  I just love the way Mistress Neive (the blonde one) giggles.  ‘Hee hee hee’. Somehow the way she’s slightly self-conscious makes it even sexier.
 

Fail humiliation
Good thing you’re into humiliation.  You’ll be getting lots of that.
 
 

Yet another castration cap
Actually, it’ll be quite a bit cheaper than having it done back in a properly equipped facility in the First World.  More holiday spending money – can’t object to that!

Speaking strictly

Generally, violence isn’t the solution.  But in this case, it probably is, if we’re being honest with ourselves.  Not just impertinence, but habitual impertinence, after all.
 
 

Why do I find this the scariest captioned photo I have ever posted?
 
 

Cool. This could be your lucky break into movies.  Maybe when you’ve recovered, you could see about getting an agent?
 This of course is Cruella, and the sublime Lady Victoria, from the very first set of magazines after the company was founded.  She haunted my adolescence… still does.
 

Well, she used to, anyway.  I think she might have lost it, actually.  Doesn’t really matter, but just so you know.
 
 
 

OK, so you’re probably not going anywhere here.  Still: you haven’t been rejected as a sad, useless and unattractive excuse for a man… you’ve been rejected as a sad, useless and unattractive excuse for a man by Billie Piper!  Huh?  Not bad, huh?

Cuando las mujeres atacan

The title is a tribute to my favourite tumblr at the moment, which for a long time I assumed went by the name of “When women attack”, until I bothered to ask Mistress Google what it meant.  And a much better title than mine it is, too.

So, on we go.  Another post, featuring several hovercraft full of eels.




Backchat young mistress
Lily looks rather sweet, doesn’t she?  Not mean at all.  Odd, that…
 
 

Oh dear, they’re going to be so embarrassed on Monday!
Also on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday – oh, and then really mortified on Friday, when I understand the girls have something special planned.
The lady of course is from Planet Femdom, where Nanshakh paintings come to life…





Philosopher queen
One of the advantages of male submission, as compared to other sexual perversions, is that you can use it for self-improvement.  My Significant Other taught me to fold my shirts properly, for example, by showing me how and then hitting me until I got it right.  It’s useful on business trips.
Not a particularly amusing or wry comment, I know, but it happens to be true.
From SchoolMistressFantasy – but my virus checker gets alarmed by this site, so I won’t link: your choice, your risk.

Of course, if they start coming out the other end it doesn’t count.
This is Mistress Elektra Skye, for whom I can’t find a dedicated site – but she’s here, among other places.


Yes, Ma’am.  Miss Hurley.  Ma’am.
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