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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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?
But you get bigger tips, so maybe it’s nearly even.
There! Now who can still claim that men can’t take on front-line combat roles?
I’ve heard chlorinated water can be quite good for cuts and bleeding welts, so maybe if you ask nicely she’ll ask them to dip you in the pool when you’re done.
Yet oddly enough, he still gets it wrong. Men and housework… will they ever learn?
Sissy fights always end the same way, at least when wives are around to step in.
