Category: sissy

Kept men

(we don’t talk about the discarded ones).



Another 2% fantasise desperately about it not happening, or at least not so often and not quite so hard.
Featuring the lovely and no-nonsense Miss Cassie Hunter, the Hunteress.
Right.  It’s about time all this nonsense stopped – I’m going to put my foot down. In fact, I’m going to stamp my foot – hard.  Several times.  And I’m going to to have a proper tantrum.  That should show her she can’t treat me like this.
Their faces usually fall again when she goes on to inform them that she will therefore proceed to the next thrashing, for the next item on her list.
I once asked my SO if she could feminise me, but she just laughed and said she’d love to, but I don’t have the IQ to make a convincing woman.
She cares a lot.



By the way, not ‘found femdom’ in any meaningful way, but over the break I’ve been watching episodes of 90s British sitcom Game On and perving ever so slightly to the lovely Samantha Janus and especially her relationship with the character Martin.  I watched it occasionally at the time it was broadcast and it’s as weird and spectacularly depressing as ever, as the basic set-up is that Matt – a neurotic, agoraphobic narcissist – rents out rooms in his flat to Martin (a wimp) and Mandy (a goddess!).  Martin is a virgin desperate for sex, while Mandy is frustrated with her life and hates herself for sleeping with so many men.  But (da-dum), the only men she absolutely will not have sex with are the other two characters.  With Matt, she refuses and pushes him away but with Martin it obviously never even occurs to her to have sex with him. There’s a lovely scene in this episode (intended to be the first ever, although they varied the order of broadcast), in which her latest boxer boyfriend takes up her whole bed, so she snuggles up with Martin, who lies there with an erection the whole desperate night.  Here, starting 16.22.  Ahhh…

So, yeah, not in any way femdom.  Except that Samantha Janus is quite literally a goddess and I for one intend to found a religion in her honour.

She is notionally Samantha Womack these days, but I’ll be hunting down Mr so-called Womack and forcing the blasphemer to change his name to Janus, as is only right and proper, so don’t worry about that.

Dommesticated

Bliss.  Link is, just for once, actually to something femdom-themed rather than random British music.  Really , honestly.  No, it’s not Rick Astley.  I promise.  Really – try it.  It’s a very sweet and sexy thing.*

I tried one of those virtual girlfriend programmes.  Something went wrong, though – after the first time I’d tried it, every time I started it up, the computer would just crash and shut down.  I thought it must be a bug so I called the helpline but the lady there just laughed and said she thought there was nothing wrong with the software and she put the phone down on me and blocked my number.  Computer-generated personalities can be startlingly lifelike these days, don’t you think?



Well, let’s hope she doesn’t just fall asleep as soon as she’s had her orgasm, this time.

Actually, most of my clothes these days are washable latex anyway.  The blood just rinses right off, so no harm done.
Fortunately, when you get near your own neighbourhood most people will already know that.


Even Hollywood megastars have to pay for some things themselves, huh? Still… I expect she can afford it.


* PS You thought it was going to be Rick Astley, didn’t you?  Don’t you trust me?  Just admit it – you don’t trust me, do you?  Trust’s important in BDSM.  I’m hurt now… and not in a good way.

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.


When you’re in a fix

just call for the men in tights!






Well… those are two of her spanking aprons, anyway.  She has more.






You never know when you’ll need to do some sudden washing up in the middle of the night.




Hmm..  Turned out they don’t have a vibrator at the reception desk, but they sent up a couple of their room service guys anyway and they were able to sort the problem out, so that was OK.  Pretty impressive customers service, I’d say.



Now you see that’s just typical of my wife – she sends me out to buy the stuff but doesn’t tell me what she wants it for!  Now I’m going to have to buy both – she hasn’t heard the last of this, you know!

The magic’s still there.


Frou-frou

Not a proper post, one of those on Tuesday.

This is a message to any readers of the blog who are sissies: into very feminine, frou-frou things, basically.  Not those readers into hard BDSM and cattleprods – that was yesterday.

Anyway, I’ve recently returned from a trip on Air France and I was reminded that their in-flight safety video is really very nice. 

To judge by the user names of my followers here and on the derivative Tumblr site, there are quite a lot of you who are more into flouncey skirts than cold dark jail cells, and you might well enjoy this if you haven’t seen it before (it’s been around for years).


I study the safety video intently whenever I fly Air France. So, I notice, do most men.  Probably we’re all just safety-conscious.

But now you can experience it in the comfort of your own furtive porn browsing.  Not that it’s porn, obviously.  Thoroughly SFW.

Panic of girls

Oh well.  It has to be better than that call centre in Dhaka she put me in last year.

That is what little boys are made of, after all.  Somehow I always knew.

Well, as long as she’s genuinely rehabilitated herself, I suppose it’s OK.

Girls have always known I’m ‘special’ and treated me accordingly.

 

I feel disempowered every time I even see a picture of Gal Gadot. I go weak at the knees.


Controlling personality syndrome

It’s not a ‘disorder’, thank goodness.

It’s a remarkable experience, actually wanting your penis to be smaller all of a sudden.

Should be a lot of fun.

It’s kind of her to help him like that.  Spreader gags can be so impersonal.


My pleasure.

Cometh the hour cometh the thithy


Sub title


 

On the other hand, until she’s actually checked the lingerie, she won’t know.  I mean, he might.

Safewords are a hard limit for my own domme.  She understands why some people like to use them in play, but it’s just not for her.  Or – therefore – for me, obviously.

Oohhh I ‘d say… three times…maybe three and a half times?  Oh – sorry – you mean in absolute terms?
Gotta take out those male supremacist religious maniacs.  We like female supremacist religious maniacs.  With a vigorous approach to rooting out sin.


I’ve heard employers like to see a broad range of skills on your CV (resumé, Americans, resumé), so this sounds like 10,000 hours well spent.


When you see her, say a prayer and kiss your heart goodbye

She’s trouble, in a word get closer to the fire.  Run faster, her laughter burns you up inside.

Mistress Annie, and her bearded keyboards boy, of course.

She’s very good with pain.


If you don’t want to do that, just tell her.  You could try stamping your little foot and having a tantrum even – you never know, it might work out quite well.


Drill, baby, drill.

It’s funny how men go on and on about themselves and their jobs, but women rarely do.  She should try being more assertive.
This is what a femme fatale really looks like.  Believe me – a long cigarette holder and a slinky dress has nothing on a battery of field artillery.




Meek and feeble




He’s made a lifetime commitment.
My SO always says a bit of bruising on a man’s face can be quite attractive, anyway.
 Actually, the market is a bit limited as sissy husbands tend not to have much time for reading, or a lot of pocket money.
It’s all a bit academic (if you’ll pardon the pun), actually, because the school moved four years ago and there isn’t actually a Staircase B any more.  Still, that’s no excuse for not memorising the rule properly, is it, boy?


I think the correct response is “Mmmmphh!”