Category: too small to satisfy anyone

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.


So pretty, oh so pretty

Not the version by those dreadful yobs, of course, but by Mistress Joan.

Oh well, I suppose it’s something to take my mind off it.

She’s Prisoner Welfare Officer too, so you know she’s got your best interests at heart.
A lot of new findommes have the wrong idea about financial domination.  It’s actually quite hard work. But not for the domme, obviously.

This being a fantasy blog, I expect she’s going to ‘punish’ you by doing all the things you’ve always dreamed about, rather than just divorcing you and exposing you to ridicule in the newspapers. 


They’re very zealous about it. Indeed, I believe that some of his team are about to raid an establishment where they’ve received a tip-off about repeated violations of the ban on smoking in the workplace.  They don’t give any warning – just burst straight in through the door, cameras at the ready.


Managed care





Well, I hope she finds something to amuse herself with while you’re busy with all that.



You get to wear a nightie just like hers, too.
And she has a lot more than ten commandments.


I find I do some of my best thinking over a trestle.  I think about stuff a lot when I’m there.


Wow.  I think that’s the niceest compliment any girl has ever paid me.



Prisencolinensinainciusol

As they say about President Knavs’s husband’s tweets: I think the title speaks for itself.








I understand more and more people these days are digging out cellar* conversions, creating lots of lovely extra space down there, far, far down beneath sound-proofed floors.

 *basement

They could go down to the cellar* and play with her toys.

* still ‘basement’

I’ve got a special brown card – it’s kind of the opposite of a loyalty scheme.  Hotels and airlines treat me like dirt wherever I go.

 I wrote a story about loyalty cards once.  That was when I wrote stories featuring the first domme I ever visited and her friend. They appear briefly in this one, under false names.  

But this was my favourite from back then.

I dunno. Feels a bit weird, trying on her dead dad’s dresses.  Don’t know why.

Apparently she does humiliation scenes too.  She just doesn’t always know when she’s doing one.


Little man you’ve had a busy day

… so it’s time for a spanking, then all tucked up for an early night with hands secured in your special mittens.  Don’t worry about wifey – she’ll find something to amuse herself with.

You’ll probably also find that you prefer not to watch sport on TV and you love going to bed early.  In fact, you’re going to discover a lot of things about the real you.  Isn’t that nice? 



I used to worry that women would discover I’m really rubbish in bed.  But so far, as luck would have it, the situation just hasn’t arisen, so that’s OK.







There are probably a few things bothering him just at the moment.  And there’ll be a few more, quite soon afterwards, I expect.


It’s nice they can sing while they’re working.  I mean, having to end another human’s life, it’s a serious and depressing business, isn’t it?  Good for them – keeping their spirits up like that.


Ah.. now that takes me back.  I remember the very first face-slap of my married life.  It was about – oooh, seven seconds after the last face-slap of my unmarried life, as I recall. 




At Her Majesty’s displeasure

And she’s actually having a lot more heterosexual sex than before the change, so it’s all going rather well.
 The wonderful Mistress Eleise, of course.  Do you need the link? I’m sure you’ve visited her site already, no?

Oh no, not Oliver.  I just don’t think we have anything in common, you know?
Hmmm… Maybe if she worked in metric?

Oh well.  On with the marital bliss, I suppose.

I’m usually in the corner at parties, myself.


Pitiful, really

…but it’s all I’ve got.

I once dated a girl who said she wanted me to be a stallion in the bedroom.  So I got all kitted up, you know in reins and harness, and when she came into the room I handed her spurs and the riding whip and she just screamed, slapped me round the face and left. How humiliating. Happy days…

Former boyfriends… bane of my life.

The first time a domme gave me a golden shower and ordered me to lick it up, She asked me what the taste was like.  I replied ‘tart’ and things got very painful, very quickly.   (Non-British readers won’t get that: don’t worry about it, move on).

I took a personality test once and scored a perfect zero.

She’s lying because she knows I like the contempt.  Really, she has to keep swigging at that bottle to take her mind off the hot action in front of her.  Otherwise she’d be overpowered with lust, at the sight of an overweight middle-aged sub, desperately jerking away on the floor by her boots.  Women just can’t resist that kind of thing.


Masculinity is a treatable medical condition.

Look, I do understand the hypocrisy involved in my advancing political opinions, but can I just comment on this view going around that Trump’s election is in some way a consequence of ‘political correctness’?
Trump was elected merely because of a ridiculous quirk in the US electoral system, that might have made sense in the eighteenth century but has no relevance to the modern world: namely, that men are allowed to vote.  The country basically voted 54% to 42% for Clinton, before all those male votes were taken into account and it’s absurd this should have been allowed to distort the result.  Sure, it’s nice to let men feel they can take part, but to actually let them cast ballots unsupervised is just political correctness gone mad, and now we have to live with the consequences.
I mean, honestly, you wouldn’t let a man make decisions about the family finances, or how best to iron your blouse or what time he goes to bed, would you?  So why on earth would you let him have a say in choosing the President?

Doesn’t make sense to me.  But then, I am ‘chromosomally challenged‘* so what do I know?
(* and yes, I am using that politically correct phrase ironically. What’s wrong with just saying ‘a stupid boy‘ for goodness sake?  When did we stop calling things what they are?)
Thank goodness things round here are still sane and matriarchal. 


She seems to be controlling his masculinity problem nicely.
She loves her work.  You will too.



I think she’s recognising that his behaviour has been causing pain in their marriage – but not quite enough pain.







I wonder how the consultant goes about measuring her?





Secondary sexual characteristics – they’re even more annoying than the primary ones, sometimes.  Fortunately, a simple surgical procedure can deal with both at the same time.


Abjective reality

He could try offering her all his money.  Oh hang on – he did that already.

Gender sensitivity training.  I’ve tried and I am very sensitive indeed to women’s concerns.  But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t benefit from further instruction, obviously.

Medical research has shown that male impotence can arise from many quite sepaarte causes.  Failure to leave out the bins on rubbish day, addressing your wife in an impertinent manner – even ironing a blouse badly can lead to weeks or even months of being completely unable to sustain an erection.

My domme uses my real name in session these days, but only after she made me change it legally to “Maggotdick”.
 The lady pictured here contemplating Colin’s immediate future is of course the Divine Mistress Heather.  Have I ever mentioned that that she once – oh, did I?  OK, then I won’t mention it again this time.
No… no problem at all. I’ll just get my coat…


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