It’s the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud

Who loved a lord and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum
Whose soul was sad and whose glance was glum
Who sipped no sup and who craved no crumb
As he sighed for the love of a la-dy.

I used to wonder how girls could spend so long washing their hair. Then I found out.
Air stewardesses often like to have a sub waiting for them on arrival. After a long flight, they really want someone else serving them drinks and food – and if there’ve been any rude, arrogant passengers on the flight it’s still more important to have access to someone on whom to let off a bit of steam.
There are also consequences for remaining silent when she’s asked something, as well as for lying. So it’s all covered, really.
I hope this jokey little caption doesn’t contribute to that hurtful ‘castrating lesbian’ stereotype. Actually, survey data show that lesbians are, if anything, slightly less enthusiastic about castrating males than are heterosexual women, although there’s only a few percentage points in it.
They seem well-equipped.
Ooh… I hate job interviews. Like, I went to one where the interviewer asked me how I’d react to being slapped across the face and she didn’t even let me finish my answer! I did get the job, as it happens, but frankly that turned out to be a mixed blessing.

Fans of the ‘strict governess’ style of femdom might be interested in skipping to exactly 49 minutes into this 1970s British movie (NB, Russian site if you worry about such things), to reach the section which is about Theresa Berkley, of whipping horse fame. The movie is mostly in that 1970s British sex comedy style (oo-err, Missus, gwarn show us yer knockers!) but this bit is, I think, done quite well as it features the slow scolding build-up and anticipation (a theme I tried to convey in one of my few serious pieces: Waiting). Weirdly enough, although most of the film is knockabout farce, towards the end it takes on the tone of a public information film and features the then living, famous and very serious dominatrix, Monique van Cleef, in a short bit starting at 1:15.45. The 1970s were odd. But then, so are we, aren’t we? Extra trivia: the narrator is Charles Gray, narrator of Rocky Horror (where was his neck?) as well as being the best Blofeld, and Mrs Berkley is Carmen Silvera, who later dominated René in Allo Allo.

Careless talk

Time for a chivalrous gesture.

 

 

 

No regrets. What you never have, you cannot lose.

 

 

 

Oh dear.  Let’s hope he’s not too rough with her.

 

 

 

Only a few.  She has more.

Many stepdaughters find the arrival of a new parent uncomfortable.  Looks like she’s found a way to deal with that discomfort; indeed transfer it to you.

 

 

 

Ladylike behaviour

A caption from the days before teleworking, of course.  These days busy executives can do a full working day and tawse their husbands as often as needed, all without even leaving the house.



Obviously, men are allowed in the toilets to clean them – but that’s a privilege reserved for the best-behaved and longest-serving residents.




If they put that finding together with the body profile they deduced from the outsized maid outfit also found in your house, they just might get a clear picture of what happened.  Science is great, isn’t it?  Just ask Serena and Alice.

Some people who are generally quite dim can turn out to be brilliant at maths.  Just like some of us with quite high IQs can often be fucking useless stupid morons – or as often as I can afford to pay people to tell me I am, anyway.




He must have very good genes.  Shame there’s no question of them being passed on to the next generation.






Persuasive speech

Ooh!  A potential ally. That’s rare: so few women take men’s lib seriously.



You can’t put a price on job satisfaction.



 

Don’t worry, I’m sure she can’t trace your IP address.  Just keep reading Contemplating the Divine… everything’ll be fine.

 

 

He doesn’t need to renew his vows to her, of course.  I mean, she’s not going to release him from them, or anything.


 

 

Oh well.  No real harm done.  You do look a bit like No. 23, actually – I don’t know whether anyone else has ever mentioned that?  But then we all look near-identical… hence the numbers, I suppose.

A kiss on the boot

 …may be quite deferential.  But diamonds


Double what he himself would normally have to pay, that is.  So about six times the going rate for a ‘normal’ client.  But he does get to keep the shoes and ‘normal’ clients don’t get to keep the lady, so I guess he’s ahead.




Very directly.  She’d appreciate short and truthful answers too and frankly you are likely to be gasping and crying out too much to think of (still less articulate) anything complicated.

I think she should just get on with it.  A few little buzzes and he’ll almost certainly find that he agrees with her – on this and on everything.




Probably something to do with swimming. Maybe you can ask her about it later – but I’m sure you’ll both have better ideas for how to spend your wedding night than reliving old school memories.



I think the phrase he’s looking for is “Ma’am yes Ma’am!”.


Supremely confident

Thank goodness he’s around.

 

 

 

My SO can be quite inconsistent on this.  If a tawse or cane she was hoping to use goes missing – or on one memorable occasion the batteries from her favourite cattle-prod – she instantly suspects me and we ‘have a little chat’ about it.  But if a key isn’t where she’d expected it to be it’s ‘just one of those things’ and ‘is bound to turn up in a month or two’.  Women.  Eh? 

 

 

 

As anyone deeply familiar with the OWK photographic record will testify: describing an OWK slave as ‘that one with the stupid moustache’ isn’t really specific enough.  They might have to have a lot of slaves punched to be sure to get the right one.  Still, no real harm done if so, I suppose.

 

Am I the only male sub whose first experience of toilet slavery was during the interval during a fully-booked theatrical performance?  I suspect not.

 

 

 

…which is actually true of a lot of things, if you think about it.  As I’m sure you have.  Pervert.

 

 

Her husband, her rules

She doesn’t need any limits, so why would you?


 

 

Actually, the disciplinary spankings can also be part of a healthy, active sex life, as long as it’s understood that it’s not yours.


 

 

 

 

It’s a day to express gratitude, so don’t forget to do that. Oh – and to count, too.

 

 

 

Don’t worry: ‘the good bit’ goes on for a long time.



When she says she ‘doesn’t believe a word of it’ she means the story, obviously.  She fully agrees with the statement that was actually tattooed on.


 

Blonde justice

And if she gets what she wants, you might get what you want.  Or you might not.

 

 

 

 

Erm… oh, I’ve got one!  “What do you say to a blonde disciplinarian with a tawse when you’re strapped across her ugly whipping bench vaulting horse?  Nothing: you just scream and cry out hysterically in between gasps for breath!”  Well… she finds it funny.  Mildly amusing, anyway.

 

 

 

She doesn’t want to, and yet…

 

 

 

 

Don’t worry – she’s very imaginative, so it’s only going to be on the rarest occasions that you’ll have to fall back on the boring old trope of male ejaculation.

 



I’d expected this was going to lead to an uncomfortable conversation but it seems she’s decided to skip the conversation part.



 

Domestic goddesses

 

She didn’t actually write all of the lyrics herself of course, but she suggested the basic themes.

 

 

 

Don’t feel bad about the waste of electricity, though: no electricity used by a woman to shock a man is ever truly wasted.

 


 


And if you don’t like the red colour, the marks come in purple and black too as long as you go long enough.

The goddess on the left is the lovely Miss Zoe.  The one on the right is not.


She was a spectacularly naughty schoolgirl, I’ve heard.



 

Well, my arm’s not tired either, so why shouldn’t I?  Honestly, women say the strangest – ah, no, let me go, please Ma’am, don’t!

 

 

And the Government shall be upon her shoulders

Sir Reginald Horner

Knelt in the corner

Worried about his career.

He feared he’d be late

For the Budget debate

But his Nanny was keeping him here.

In the House, with disdain

He’d rise up, to explain

That an increase in Health Service pay

While undoubtedly right,

Was not on, in the light

Of the fiscal position today.

Nanny Strict, with her feet up

Read, over her tea cup

Her paper: the politics page.

She was thinking of days

Lost in memory’s haze

 As a staff-nurse, on minimum wage.

 

So she picked up her tawse

To prepare for a course

In arithmetic: “Stretch out your arm!”

“Take a nurse’s base pay (thwack!)

Then take taxes away (thwack!)

And you’re left with a hot stinging palm!”

“Here’s another quick sum

Take one fat fleshy bum

Add twelve strokes from a long rattan cane

Then if feeling contrition

You can check your addition

And add up the budget again.”

 

All the MPs were stunned

By Sir Reggie’s new fund

To pay nurses twice what they now earn.

Then he winced as he sat

And they wondered at that

What had led to this sudden U-turn?

“I just felt nurses’ pain”

He explained, in the rain

Interviewed, by the TV and press.

“This award, you might call

It… a ‘tribute’, that’s all

I could not sit at ease giving less!”

The rest is just history:

Whatever the mystery

That changed his decision back then.

All the experts agree

 That this speech was the key

To his new house in Downing St: ten.

 

As PM he has access

To experts on taxes,

Defence, Home and Foreign Affairs.

But he likes to defer

For the last word, to… ‘her’:

To his ‘Special Adviser’ upstairs.

Now every decision’s

Thrashed out with precision:

The smack of firm government’s here.

Yet bad luck for the Right

(Who should cherish the sight):

It’s the Nanny State that they so fear.

 


 

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