Category: size matters

Fairy tale romances

Yes, more scenes from stories of brave princesses rescuing – or not – helpless knights and suchlike. A ‘happy ending’ every time – without even the need to plead and beg for it.

They get porridge to eat, of course, and it’s always ‘just right’ too, despite being cold and lumpy.
Ah, the first electric shock of married life. I remember mine so well. It’s traditional for the husband then to ask his loving wife ‘How long do I have to wear this, darling?’ to which the correct response is of course a peal of delighted laughter.
You do get a say. Not the decisive say, not even an important one, but a say, anyway. Or a squeak, at least.
It’s not as easy a life as you might imagine – those pegs hurt just as much as they would if they were suspending a ‘normal’ male body, for instance.
The grateful populace of the kingdom later began a tradition of staging a re-enactment every year, to celebrate their beloved King’s heroic deed, although obviously, lacking centaurs, they had to use ordinary horses and stable-lads.
He may have found a comfortable place to live, but he remains vigilent. As he trots obediently at her heel, or chases madly after sticks, Sir Foofles is always alert for possible witches in the vicinity, but so far he has never found any. Perhaps they don’t exist? That would certainly explain it.

…and some of them lived happily ever after

More fairy tales.

Latest upate in the ‘spam filter unduly limiting genuine (if perverted and despicable) commenters’ saga. The spammers seem to have penetrated the updated widget thingy and I’m getting a lot of spammy comments – worst of both worlds, as I know real commenters are still sometimes blocked but now the bad guys (as opposed to the very naughty boys) are getting through. I’m just deleting manually for now but I might have to tighten the settings again. As ever, if you get blocked just request access and check back in a day or so. In case I do have to tighten the settings, I’d suggest avoiding mentioning the names of any cryptocurrencies, casinos or phrases such as ‘make money fast’ in comments*. Keep discussion on more wholesome topics like slavery, castration, piss-drinking and torture, OK?

Right… on with the fairy tales.

* Yeah, I delete all the crypto spam. It occurs to me that, since the majority of my readership is male, some of you might be very stupid indeed and feel aggrieved that in doing so, I am depriving you of the opportunity to see potentially valuable financial advice. After all, there can be few more dependable tips than those posted by a random stranger based in Russia, in the comments on a fetish porn blog. I can only suggest (and I should warn you that this does not constitute professional financial advice) that you’d do better handing over all your money to almost any random findomme. If you’re more of a long-term investor, consider signing up to a blackmail contract and suppplying her with the photos to enforce it, too. Investing in Princess Perfect’s shoe and handbag collection, or her holidays with Ibiza with her boyfriend and bf, will at least produce a certain and known return, unlike crypto, and probably one of the same expected value.

If wishes were ponyboys

Once again, this blog takes a little break from its usual commitment to hard-core realism to present some fairy tales. Pretty Grimm, I know, but it’s all I’ve got today.

Don’t worry: if she smashes the door, he has alternative accommodation options. She bought a birdcage, before she had the doll’s house furniture idea.
Even tyrannical despots enjoy ‘bring your daughter to work day’.
Frustrate you? Oh, the poor chap. I wonder how long he’ll be left in that condition?
King Jorral’s queen interpreted the promise as meaning that she would continue to sleep in a queen’s bed, and she was absolutely right about that.
Now she’s learning witchcraft, she’s got some plans for Mr Granger, too.
It’s going to be quite odd for the people running heaven when, in about 970 years, the first post-Internet cohorts of mortals start to arrive. ‘Where are all the men?’, they might ask. Although obviously they’re not allowed actually to say the answer.

Spare the rod and spoil the marriage

Don’t worry: these ladies won’t.

Some wives are actually quite liberal in extending ‘permission to ask’ – one of my SO’s friends lets her boys beg whenever they like, says she rather enjoys it.
Especially when you’re wearing the pink one.
Of course, if you don’t enjoy it, you can always just wait until she orders you to argue or complain, then you can tell her all about how you feel.
For non-British readers; if a domme ever accuses you of ‘taking the piss’, she’s not referring to your impressive swallowing technique during toilet-play, she’s probably quite cross with you (‘pissed-off’ even).
If she holds her hand in the right place, they won’t see the leash, either.
One of my SO’s former girlfriends was an ears, nose and throat specialist. It was quite a relief when I discovered she specialised in removing tonsils, not ‘tonsils’.

… and as an extra, here’s a sweet little femdom video if you like that sort of thing.

Benevolent brutality

She’ll work around it. A relationship is founded on how the partners feel about one another; things like whips and canes and tawses are just the physical expressions of that.
He’s not actually naturally balding; she just prefers him that way as she says it tickles less when she’s watching TV.
Wow – sounds like you might have an important assignment on your very first day!
He doesn’t need to check his privilege because she’s checking it thoroughly on his behalf.

Classic Cruella, of course, featuring the stunning Lady Sonia and the lovely Lynda Leigh. And some bloke, probably with an ugly moustache, but who cares, eh?

You might as well blame yourself. After all, she‘s going to be blaming you and it’s not as if anyone else cares.
I think we know what’ll happen to Rob if he doesn’t make more of an effort. Rob doesn’t, but he’s more brawn than brains.

Frustrating femmes

Increasingly, I find ‘the prospect of an orgasm’ is all there is, along with the memories of them too, of course.  But my SO has other means of motivation, so that’s OK.
You might want to try to get used to it, just in case the witch doesn’t co-operate.  Good thing you’ve got someone to look after you, anyway.
She’s a very sympathetic person – just ask the boys – but even her sympathy has its limits.
On that principle, I ought to be a very good person by now, but oddly my SO doesn’t agree.
It’s funny how vanilla sex workers can be crueller than the dommes.  Without even knowing it, sometimes.

Some tales

 … as old as time for this bright new year!

Fairy tales, that is.  Not all themed around Beauty and the Beast.  Well… except insofar as everything that has ever appeared on this blog does have that theme, if you think about it.


And of course she’s keeping the whip and the
cattle prod.  But she’d have those anyway – her mother would have
presented her with them as a wedding gift, had circumstances not caused
her to need them sooner.
Many girls dream of meeting a handsome Prince, when they grow up.  Only a small fraction of those girls also dream of watching him being eviscerated by a seagull and then going off to make passionate love to their girlfriend… but enough do to make the world a more interesting place.






Well, let’s hope she turns him back soon.  It won’t be much fun for her having to look after a guy who’s basically not much more than an erect penis with a handle.


He’s going to need her to try the black leather corset, too.



Don’t try warning her how fattening you are.  Women find that offensive and patronising.


Lachrymatrices



The annoying thing is, I only bought the car last week. But I guess I can do without it.  It’s essential to prioritise, when making important financial decisions.
She doesn’t mean the bondage. He likes the bondage.  It’s the things she can do to him because he is in bondage that he won’t like.

There used to be a brand of condoms that fitted me just perfectly, but the manufacturer decided to stop producing that particular size.  Not enough demand for it, apparently.  Over 20% of men are that size or less, but they make up only 0.3% of all sexual encounters, so… I can’t really blame them.

And she’ll decide whether you really really need it, or not.
My wife’s very sexually demanding too, but I don’t have too much difficulty keeping her satisfied: the local male escort agencies all give us loyalty discounts now and if I book in advance as well, I can get up to a 25% off the list price. Which is – just about – affordable on my salary, if I’m careful to economise on everything else.


Effortless superiority

Oh well. Being beaten by Simon’s no fun, but there’ll be other guests who want a go too, so…
It’s good when fetishes are complementary* like that.  A friend of mine went on a date with a girl he really fancied, who turned out to have a castration fetish – and that just wasn’t his thing at all. So he hasn’t dated her since.  Or anyone, come to think of it.   Sad, really.
Of course, it’s not just about penis length.  Girth matters too.
Crush fetish again!
Oh.  OK.  (Damn!)





* Now come on, EditorDomme!  Is there another fetish blog anywhere on the Internet that knows the difference between complementary and complimentary?  As you know I take (and ocasionally receive) a lot of pains over my grammar.  I could of just written any old rubbish, but I choose my words with care.




Note: due to technical incompetence out of my control, I don’t have a good record of which captions I posted between July and October this year (and I am not looking through all the blog posts to check…).  So any males reading this who see a caption they’ve seen here before can do some work, for once in their lazy, feckless lives, and let me know in the comments.

Subjugated

Ah… reminds me of my collaring ceremony.  It happened right here, actually, not three feet away from where I am crouching right now.
I’m very aware of sexism in the workplace, being one of the more inferior members of the inferior gender.
I don’t understand men who send women pictures of their penises.  I mean, it’s just asking for trouble.  Like waving a raw steak in front of a hungry leopard.
On the plus side, his steel tube is a lot bigger than mine or yours.
You say “Yes, please”.