Uncategorised – Page 2 – Contemplating the divine

Sorely mistaken

She enjoys a good laugh – and a good ballbusting, too. Sometimes she likes to enjoy them both together but today she seems to be in a more serious frame of mind.

If you don’t even have to pay for Option B, then I reckon it’s the deal of the century. I pay hundreds of pounds an hour for that.

It’s a dilemma. I’m sure they’ll do the right thing, in the end.

Aren’t males disgusting? No wonder he’s not allowed in the house.

You should be brave and go first, even if it is a bit dark and eerie. Don’t worry: she’ll be right behind you.

With apologies to those readers who aren’t really cellar fans.

She has to deal with so much nonsense…. you can’t imagine.There are some very sick websites out there that will just make up all kinds of hurtful stuff with no basis in reality, especially about a big star like Ann(i)e.

Prank-mags

Some more very bad attempts to create magazine covers. Just ignore me and I’ll probably stop doing this, out of embarassment, sooner or later.

AFM has already been mentioned in several captions in the blog, so I thought I’d give ‘readers’ a glimpse of what it looks like. Frankly, once you’ve seen one issue you’ve pretty much seen them all, I think, although remarkably it’s now in its seventeenth year of publication. It just goes to show, as I always like to say (when I can’t think of any other way of finishing a comment off).

They always have a celebrity interview but, like the divine Ms Kidman’s in this issue, it’s usually disappointingly short.

It’s a top-shelf magazine, of course, mainly so that laughably short sissies have to blushingly ask a big tall man (or, if they’re very lucky: woman) to reach it down for them.

Darling, it was positively savage!

To provide welcome relief from the brutal vulgarity of much of today’s femdom, here are some more Downton Domination captions, recalling a more elegant age when brutality was not so vulgar.

Taking on a governess just on the offchance that at some point you might have children might have seemed an unnecessary expenditure at the time, but actually it’s been the best decision she ever took.

If you can’t, I’m sure she can. Or you could ask Reynolds what *she* thinks, although her approach might be less refined, as she’s from a rough background.

A perfect place to engage in traditional country pursuits.

Of course she knows she’ll have to give him back eventually, but there’s no rush, is there? Anyway, they started it.*

* Yes they did, they invaded Poland.

Maintaining standards

HM SCHOOLS INSPECTORATE

Provisional report – provided for information, HMG circulation only

School inspected: Mrs Thwackbottom’s Boarding School for Naughty Boys

Date of inspection: 3 March 2024

Categorisation:

Type: private, unregistered
Age range: 34 – 78
Fee band: Highest (NB, fees paid daily)
Single sex / co-educational: Unclear (see notes below)

Summary scores:

Educational excellence: 2/10
Quality of facilities: 4/10
Pastoral care 4/10
Discipline: 10+/10

Background

The Inspectorate was made aware of the existence of Mrs Thwackbottom’s Boarding School for Naughty Boys (hereafter BSNB) only late last year. The legal status of the school is unclear, as is therefore the Inspectorate’s responsibility for the establishment. This report should therefore be considered provisional.

The school is based in a large nineteenth century house, in the London suburb of Streatham. Unusually, it caters only to adult pupils, most of whom are occasional visitors rather than enrolled full-time. The youngest pupil of whom we are aware is 34 years old, the oldest 78. Although advertised as a boarding school, in fact pupils rarely stay for longer than one night, although ocasional ‘long weekends’ are organised, as well as an annual week-long ‘summer school’ for the most eager learners.

The establishment’s single sex status is equally ambiguous. All the pupils our inspectors encountered were male, although about one third of them were considered ‘special girls’ by the school and dressed accordingly. Mrs Smackbottom, the headmistress (who prefers that gender-specific term to our standard ‘Head’) told us that female pupils would be very welcome, but that few women seemed to experience a need for the specific educational services she and her staff provide. One of the younger teachers (female, like all of the teaching staff) does appear to be registered as an occasional pupil, confusingly, but only in one-to-one classes with the Headmistress and only outside regular school hours. This activity features in a part of the school’s web site that can only be accessed by paying a subscription. Other young women do occasionally arrive as pupils but only in a prefectorial capacity – acting, in effect, as classroom assistants – and it was unclear to us what learning goals they themselves were set, if any.

Overall, the school applies a mixed learning environment, in which classes of different abilities and different ages are often taught multiple subjects within a single lesson. Expectations of pupils are relentlessly high, in that approximately 90% of the written work, oral answers in class and test scores appeared to be considered to fall far short of the required standard, resulting in pupils being disciplined for unacceptable work. Similarly, school behavioural rules are exceptionally complicated and it is rare for a pupil to complete a day’s attendance without finding himself in breach of at least one rule. Furthermore, some rules are ‘unwritten’.

Despite this challengingly low level of compliance, student discipline is very high at BSNB, perhaps as a result of the Headmistress’s vigorous emphasis on this aspect of the educational experience. Although some pupils arrive at school seemingly determined to break rules or ‘cheek’ the teachers, the thoroughly strict application of the school’s unusual disciplinary regime seems to instill an increasing desire to avoid further punishment as the school day progresses. The approach to discipline is old-fashioned and can best be described as ‘brutal’. We note that most of the techniques used are not only obsolete in every other school the Inspectorate has evaluated but would be clearly illegal if applied to children. However, all of the pupils are over 18 and have consented in writing to (indeed, typically requested) this harsh regime.

Lesson observation

Our inspectors observed a lesson conducted by ‘Miss Taylor’ (real name: Stacey Lewis, aged 23, with no apparent teaching qualifications, whose normal occupation was later discovered to be ‘glamour model’). There were seven pupils in the class, including three ‘special girls’. The class began with roll-call and a unform inspection, which exemplified the extreme complexity of the school rules mentioned above and the punctiliousness with which the school staff apply them. No fewer than four of the pupils were found to have committed the infractions of the uniform code and although these seemed to our inspectors to be minor (one boy with a tie knot fractionally too wide, a ‘special girl’ wearing the wrong shade of knickers etc), they nonethless resulted in a punishment tawse being applied to the miscreants’ palms. One other pupil received a similar punishment for ‘looking at Miss Taylor funny’ during this procedure. This seemingly arbitrary and brutal start set the tone for the rest of the lesson.

The subject was initially mathematics, but bizarrely shifted to geography halfway through (before concluding with a multi-disciplinary written exercise). Our inspectors have serious concerns about Miss Taylor’s expertise in either subject. Several ‘sums’ written up on the board (a traditional chalk blackboard – the whiteboard revolution, let alone modern AV techniques, not having reached Mrs Thwackbottom’s establishment) were incorrect as, later, were some of the city locations, spellings and pronounciations when Miss Taylor switched to geography. Our inspectors also found that Miss Taylor could benefit from refreshing her class engagement techniques as, far from seeking to develop and encourage a questionning and self-learning environment, her approach was based almost entirely on rote learning and a binary ‘right or wrong’ attitude: for example putting up a ‘sum’, challenging a pupil instantly to solve it, then applying the leather tawse, a wooden classroom ruler or simply the palm of her hand in violent retribution, should the response not be satisfactory. This approach was rendered particularly inappropriate in light of her own errors: on several occasions, pupils were beaten for having given what were clearly the correct answers.

This did not go unnoticed by the pupils themselves. Any sceptical or doubting look was usually met with a slap to the face, Miss Taylor emphasising that she was the teacher, usually accompanying the slap with coarse swear words. One pupil made the grave mistake of taking her to task for her errors in mathematics. He (or she – this was a ‘special girl’ in a gymslip) did so very politely, indeed his demeanour could be described as ‘cringing’ and ‘servile’. It did him no good. Miss Taylor, perhaps due to her lack of training as a teacher, did not attempt to maintain her composure but instead assaulted the poor pupil violently with slaps and even kicks (he was kneeling before her), then dispatched him to the Headmistress’s office for a caning. When he returned he was made to kiss her shoes in apology, which our Inspectors considered a questionnable practice.

In the meantime, perhaps taking the criticism more to heart than she had been prepared to admit, Miss Taylor switched the lesson to geography. Alas, her competence in this discipline was still less. The pupils were forced to memorise lists of cities and their associated countries, in which Vienna was held to be in Germany, Damascus in ‘Damaria’ and Cape Town in ‘Argentina or that long thin one next to it – Chilly’. Perhaps wisely, none of the pupils raised any objections to this. Eventually, Miss Taylor appeared to tire of the class and set them written work, which consisted of copying out pages from a textbook – or rather, different textbooks, as the pupils were all given different books on entirely different subjects. During this time, Miss Taylor either sat at her desk staring at her phone, or ocasionally wandered the classroom, administering blows with various implements for bad handwriting, apparent ‘smiling’ or just ‘having a stupid haircut’. When the bell rang for the end of class, Miss Taylor collected the written work, tore it all up and threw the pieces on the floor, instructing one of the pupils to remain behind and tidy them up. The educational value of this written exercise was therefore not apparent.

As noted in the summary section, what Miss Taylor’s class lacked in subject matter or educational technique, it more than made up for in discipline. Indeed, our Inspectors estimated that no less than about 40% of the class time was taken up with disciplinary action against one pupil or another. Furthermore, while the tirades, scolding and inevitable beatings handed out by Miss Taylor were being conducted, all of the other pupils stopped work and wateched intently. Thus, there was little time available actually for learning, except the learning – of which Miss Taylor several times declared herself a firm devotee – that can be imparted with a tawse or other punishment implement. However, given the inaccurate information Miss Taylor provided in the more conventionally educational sections of the lesson, perhaps this was no loss.

Catering

The food available for pupils at lunch can best be desribed as ‘traditional’. A rather fatty and gristly stew, accompanied by lumpy mashed potatos and boiled cabbage. Regretably, the meal had been prepared too far ahead of time, despite the lunch break beginning precisely on schedule, so it had gone cold by the time the pupils (in some cases gingerly) sat down on the hard wooden bench at the dining table. However, all managed to eat up everything on their plate, as this is apparently a school rule, and one that was supervised quite closely by Mrs Thwackbottom herself.

One of our inspectors pointed out that the vegetables in the meal had been boiled almost to oblivion and questioned whether a cold salad or some such would be healthier, as it would retain vitamins. Mrs Thwackbottom laughed and assured her that pupils regularly ate uncooked food – raw vegetables and suchlike – so possibly lunch on the day we observed was atypical.

The teaching staff took a pizza delivery order for their own lunch.

Physical Education

In the afternoon, another young (female) teacher, Miss Rylands (whose qualifications the Inspectorate were unable later to verify, not least because each one of her online ventures requires a subscription to view and she states that even ‘direct messages’ over social media will not receive a response unless accompanied by gift cards), took a physical education lesson. Like so many educational facilities in these straitened times, the school lacks a dedicated gym but furniture in the main classroom was pushed to the sides, and a mat laid down, providing adequate space for some simple exercises.

The pupils then changed into ‘gym kit’ of various kinds, closely supervised by Miss Rylands, who seemed not to be familiar with D of E guidance on promoting self esteem in pupils’ bodily image, as her comments both on the unfitness of the bodies revealed during the changing (and afterwards, as most gym outfits were distinctly skimpy), as well as more general comments on physical appearance seemed ill-judged, if her intention was to promote body-positivity feelings. Miss Rylands seemed particularly to hold the view that a small penis is to be disparaged, frequently making comparisons to her apparently well-endowed boyfriend. We believe this does not confirm to best practice. We would also like to take this opportunity to express our regrets on behalf of the female inspector who laughed apparently in response to one of Miss Rylands’ comments: she has assured an internal investigation that she was merely thinking about a funny cat video she had viewed the evening before.

The PE itself consisted mainly of simple in-place exercises: press-ups, star jumps and the like. Unsuprisingly, given the vast age range of the pupils, the requirements were tailored to each individual pupil’s needs, which is commendable, although in every case, our inspectors felt that the targets being set were perhaps a little too stretching, leading pupils to fail with the inevitable consequence – this time from a traditional and flexible rubber gym shoe (or ‘plimsole’, as one of the older inspectors affectionately called it) wielded by Ms Rylands. Ms Rylands did occasionally seek to employ her disciplinary techniques in a positive manner, for example by applying an upward stroke to the thighs to assist a pupil doing star-jumps. However, on other occasions she deliberately hindered the pupils in their task. For example, she often placed her foot on the back of pupils doing press-ups (or stood in such a position that they could not avoid their faces coming into contact with her shoes on the down-stroke) and casually kicked, slapped and tickled the entire row of pupils attempting to stand on one leg, until all failed. While we regard this approach as commendably challenging, one of our inspectors felt that it was unduly discouraging and attempted gently to remonstrate with Miss Rylands, to which she responded with a phrase that we will not reprint here and must record as being thoroughly inappropriate in a classroom environment.

We also have to note that Miss Rylands smoked several cigarettes during this session, obviously against Departmental guidelines (albeit arguably legal, as the the school may count as a private facility) and particularly inappropriate in a physical education lesson. Despite apparently being a habitual smoker, Miss Rylands had neglected to bring an ashtray with her and once again, it was the pupils who had to deal with the consequences of this lapse.

After about 45 minutes, Miss Rylands started to dismiss the pupils, oldest first. Each was instructed to stand with hands on head and nose touching the wall, while the younger (or rather, less elderly) pupils continued the P.E. lesson. Finally, all the pupils were in this position and Miss Rylands simply left the room abruptly. It was not obvious to our inspectors whether the class was at an end or not (and they did not believe it fair to ask any of the pupils for advice, given the likely consequences for the latter of breaking silence), so after a few embarassed minutes they quietly left too, to rejoin the staff in the staffroom, where Ms Rylands appeared to be drinking a can of beer and smoking yet another cigarette – thankfully, this time flicking her ash into a proper receptacle.

Rather than disturb her – as she had taken such vigorous exception to the earlier advice she had been offered – our inspectors quietly tidied their notes, while (presumably) the pupils stood in silence, noses against the wall, for about a half hour, before being dismissed for showers (cold, supervised) and to change back into their uniforms.

We would recommend that Miss Ryland’s teaching qualifications be revoked, should she possess any. We discussed her case briefly with Mrs Thwackbottom, who merely described her as a ‘mean girl’ and a ‘Class A bitch’ (we regret having to reproduce this sexist slur) – but noted that she made quite a lot of money out of it, several of the school’s pupils apparently seeking her guidance on financial and other matters outside school hours. We did not press the matter further.

Pastoral care

The last item on the timetable for the day turned out to be another classroom exercise, but this time in social skills and sexual health. Mrs Thwackbottom conducted the class with the two other teachers and was able to unite these two apparently unrelated topics, by expounding her view that ‘respect for women’ was being undermined by excessive self-abuse (masturbation) by males in society.

She appeared to hold this view very strongly, along with some perhaps less justfiable concerns about the moral and physical harm potentially caused by excessive masturbation. She expounded very vigorously on these points both in general and with specific reference to the pupils in the class, each of whose sexual history, in turn, was exposed and mocked.

The inspectors therefore found it very surprising when, despite this clearly-expressed opposition to masturbation, Mrs Thwackbottom finished this lesson by insisting on the pupils masturbating to orgasm then and there. Furthermore, during this surprising turn of events, the two other teachers held and stroked one another in blatantly sexualised ways while mocking the masturbating pupils in front of them.

One positive result was that, for the first time in the entire school day, each of the pupils managed to achieve the objectives set for them, albeit after some time for the older members of class (and in one case considerable attention paid to Miss Rylands’ shoes). As each reached the stage of ejaculation, Mrs Thwackbottom and her colleagues expressed profound disgust and mockery but – again, uniquely in our observation of the school’s approach – failed then to take any consequential disciplinary action against what they appeared to consider a filthy sin (albeit one ordered my Mrs Thwackbottom herself). Indeed, it was against those pupils who were slower to reach orgasm that disciplinary measures were threatened, Mrs Thwackbottom repeatedly tapping her cane manacingly against her thigh, or flexing it as if in readiness to administer a beating – but, for once, not carrying out any such brutal action.

Regardless of any opinion they might hold about her view on masturbation itself, therefore, the inspectors felt that Mrs Thwackbottom could try to be more consistent in the way she expresses it in class. Numerous studies have shown the importance of consistency and clear messaging when it comes to communicating moral and social advice in particular, and although the pupils in Mrs Thwackbottom’s class may well have left it feeling satisfied, they must alkso surely have been left somewhat confused about her ambiguous attitude to self-stimulated sexual activity.

More generally, the class itself and the school day then broke up in somewhat ragged style and again the inspectors noticed an inconstency of approach. Despite her consistently rigorous and strict approach throughout the day, Mrs Thwackbottom took on a distinctly informal tone as the day ended, even hugging two of the pupils once they had changed out of uniform and were preparing to take their leave. At the same time, the two teachers who had been close to engaging in a lesbian tryst seemed to lose interest in one another and instead went around gathering up their belongings. Once the last pupil had left, Mrs Thwackbottom collated the fees (which, most unusually, seem to have been payable in cash on the day, each pupil handing over an envelope before registration) and handed some out to the other teachers who then departed. At this point, our inspectors, too, made their excuses and left.

Personal note: Chief Schools Inspector to Special Advisor to the Ministry of Education. Hi Julie. Bit of a strange one, as you can see! Legal seem fairly confident that this is not actually an ‘Educational Establishment’ within the meaning of the Act, so it need not fall within our purview and this report could simply be deleted and forgotten, along with all of the related files. On the other hand, one of our inspectors discovered that the Minister himself occasionally attends the establishment. I must confess myself surprised he can find the time in all his onerous public duties for such continuous education but Mrs Thwackbottom (apparently under the impression we were something to do with HM Tax Inspectorate) insisted he was a regular and we should discuss the matter with him. So we wondered if after all, it might be of interest to forward this to the Department and perhaps even circulate more widely?

What do you think? I really can’t decide, not least because of worries over the continuing uncertainty over our budget for the next two years and especially the crucial issue of senior staff salaries. I do hope a ministerial decision on that will be forthcoming soon… I’m afraid the Minister’s homework on this one is well and truly overdue. Mrs Thwackbottom would not approve, of that I’m quite sure!

All best wishes

Rachel

Mrs Thwackbottom. Although both she and – a fortiori – her more junior staff often sport distinctly atypical modes of dress on school premises, Mrs Thwackbottom does seem to have a sentimental attachment to academic gowns.

One of the many (and least explicit) photographs of daily school life, from BSNB’s own web site. A brief perusal of this site satisfied our inspectors that no propsective pupil could be in doubt about the disciplinary regime to which he would be subjected. Considerably more material is available on the site, but this requires a monthly subscription, which Management decided would be unlikely to pass annual audit. The teachers featured here were not present on the day of inspection; indeed the school seems to employ a large number of teachers at different times, some of whom are apparently also enrolled as students (‘school prefects’). We feel this could imperil the consistency of pupil’s learning experience, although many of the main themes of instruction seem to be common regardless of which teacher leads a class or indeed what the academic subject of that class might notionally be.

Remarkably, the school boasts a very well-equipped medical clinic, although the qualified professional normally staffing it (“Matron”) was not present the day of our inspection so we were unable to assess the quality of medical care provided.

A classroom scene. The meagre stationery available to the pupil is sadly typical of the school, despite daily fee rates that are higher than some establishments would charge for a month.

Spankable moments

She will drink dairy milk at a pinch, but it saddens her to think of the cruety to animals it involves.

More and more businesses are setting up dedicated DS service units, because the improvement in male worker productivity is so evident. Skilled practitioners like Julie are therefore much in demand, but businesses can keep their dommes’ salaries to a manageable level by turning a blind eye to a bit of findomming senior male executives on the side.

This was much more practical than the later craze for ‘add ten lashes and pass the challenge on’ which quickly got out of hand.

She’s willing to listen, at least to the first two… maybe two and half sentences?

Poor thing. That’s the third boy being whipped as a result of her actions that she’s had to witness this term. She must feel awful.

The wonderful lady playing the schoolmistress here goes by the name Lady Tamara Kenworthy in the material that’s appropriate for the likes of us sub males to view (Samantha Alexandra when not, but you didn’t hear that from me). Tragically, she no longer does sessions with clients (if she ever did), as far as I can see, or I would be scurrying to her door as fast as my hands and knees could carry me. I can’t blame her, though – I wouldn’t want to meet me in person either. But it would be so nice to be blamed by her… for anything really. Sigh…

Sounds like a sensible way to resolve this. Just imagine… a similar dispute between two males could easily have ended in violence. It’s because women have more empathy.

Yes, Madam Prime Minister

A sequel to this.

To: tjl@mmc.gov.fem
From: lhh@pmo.gov.fem
Subject: Re: New publication: Your Government – Working for Women

Security classification: confidential election nomales

Hi Tilly

Thanks for the draft of the comprehensive Policy Evaluation. It’s a great document: what a fantastic record of policy achievement (no false modesty here at Number 10!). It’s amazing what can be achieved without men around to screw things up.

The PM will love it. One of her pet hates is ‘department-itis’, when each Minister implies she’s the only one really promoting women-oriented policies. From the Minister of Education banging on about the re-introduction of caning in boys’ schools (btw, do you think maybe she’s a leeeetle too obsessive about schoolboys being caned…? I mean…😬), via the Minister of Employment’s ‘Re-training and Skill Development’ centres for unemployed males (to be honest, I didn’t know we had that many quarries in this country), to the Minister of Defence claiming credit for the successes of the rebels in Saudi Arabia (sure, our weapons help but to hear her speak, it’s almost as if she were there with those brave girls in the desert, you know? But we all love her and she did look simply stunning driving that tank.) Anyway, great to see all our initiatives related to crushing the patriarchy (sorry: ‘Women’s liberation’ !!) all in one document.

Just a few suggestions.

1. The section on Science and Technology? I’ll admit I haven’t been keeping a close eye on this policy area, but I’m a bit worried if the account here of what goes on in the new Research Centres is accurate. The Medical Interventions for Rape Prevention study for instance. OK, so I understand that the scientific method requires a control group and randomised treatments but… we’re castrating hundreds of men at random? I mean, I’m not opposed as such… just didn’t know. And it could be off-putting to moderate voters, so… might want to tone down that section a bit? More emphasis on what happened to the test subjects who were rapists, rather than those who weren’t (and never will be, now 😊)

2. Same section. The publication record from the new University Departments of Female Superiority is very impressive – I had no idea! Looks like we’re leading the world in demonstrating that males are stupid, lazy and annoying. Which – obviously – we all knew, but it’s nice to see that peer reviewed studies support it with statistically-significant findings. Maybe some kind of table summarising the scientific evidence on just how fucking useless males are? Just the highlights, obviously as there are far too many ways to list them all in a publication like this.

3. Same section, quick point: in the section on medical research, the programme’s called ‘Nurturing Amenable Natures through Neurological Implants’ (NANNI – cute, huh?), not ‘brain clamps’ – that was just an internal, informal name for it and the PM thinks it might send the wrong signals.

4. Employment statistics – brilliant. Overall employment up, female managerial positions increased by a factor of five, Board representation of women now at 95% (why not 100? Are we keeping a few places for subs, to make it look like men have a say? Seems a bit last-year, no?). All at the same time as male employment has jumped to 100% and stayed there! Although I do wonder whether we can actually export all that stuff they’re quarrying out in the places-we-dont-call-labour-camps. What do they dig out anyway? I mean, rocks, obviously but any particular kind? Do you know? Does anyone?

5. Civil Rights. Very important section. Just the other day, the Leader of the Opposition was claiming that it’s illegal for her to speak out against our policies. Which is so offensive – she’s female, so she can say what she likes, this isn’t North Fucking Korea! If her right to free speech is so restricted, how come she’s on TV all the time banging on about oppressive mistreatment of men? (OK, the PM is also often on TV talking about the oppressive mistreatment of men, but in a positive way, obviously). Anyway, maybe add a few words about how free speech for women is actually being protected by our policies – e.g. the ‘Don’t you Dare Interrupt Her!’ campaign?

6. Photos of males. Again, can we tweak the balance – maybe a few more pictures of men looking a bit happier? There are some of those already: the husband doing the laundry on page 8, the young guy making coffee in a business meeting on page 13 – oh, and definitely the young couple out for a walk with their dog on page 5! I love the way the photographer has caught the exact same expression and pose for the young male and the dog! I mean, the guy’s not actually on a leash but it subconsciously suggests… well, anyway: it’s brilliant. More like that. Not to say there should be no pictures of sexists looking thoroughly miserable too, of course: obviously, we need to appeal to our young activists who want to see the bastards suffering! But I counted 17 pictures of men looking unhappy, 11 of which had them actually in pain or chains/cages etc and maybe that’s a bit much for the more ‘middle-of-the-road’ femsuprem voter, bless her kindly heart, you know?

Fantastic work, anyway! Your Policy Evaluation will be a great springboard for the next election. The PM wants to make sure everyone understands how our Party has benefitted all women: sure we are going to crush the ‘Equality Party’ but she’s worried some of the radical fem-suprem parties might be taking the youth vote. The opinion pollsters tell us that those parties’ extremist image doesn’t play well with the ordinary voter: all whips and chains and cattle-prods, you know? (I’m all in favour of those things but best kept in the bedroom, I say 😉). Still, the PM wants some messaging to voters that they can rely on us to continue ratcheting up the oppression of males, so they don’t turn to some jack-booted young firebrand (did you see the pictures of Janice Alicesdaughter speaking at that RadFem rally – in those boots and leather cape? It may not be good political imagery but it was fucking hot! I think we lost 10% of the lesbian vote that day).

So the ladies who spin have come up with a mock campaign: ‘There’s a reason for that’. Killer stats on stuff that works better now we’re in charge: where the word ‘reason’ is supposed to imply sensible moderation instead of the whippy-chainy thing. A few examples below – don’t worry about the exact look, this is an off-the-whiteboard tiger teaming brain dump. Any thoughts?

And finally, on a matter of policy substance (crazy, I know, but we do occasionally think about things other than image and social media), we’re kicking around some policy proposals for the next election. Thoughts?

– Introduce mixed sixth forms at boys’ schools. Sounds like a step backwards, right? But hear me out, as they say. We’d allow older girls to transfer in to the sixth form at every male school. Why? In an old-fashioned word: fagging. That’s nothing to do with gay male sex (well, only indirectly), it means giving school prefects disciplinary rights over other pupils. Which was abolished years ago, because of its potential for sadistic abuse but obviously it’s a completely different ballgame if girls are the only ones in charge. We quietly carried out a pilot study and the girls’ response was amazingly enthusiastic. I feel so proud of this young generation… they’ll do so much, with their new-found freedoms. Anyway, looks like an effective programme but the PM’s worried about the optics? I mean, does it sound too, well, pervy? It is an initiative of the Minister of Education, after all – see comments above re her ‘interest’ in school punishments 🫤! I mean, she actually wanted the girls to wear gym-slips, can you believe that? And possibly the boys too…

– Streamline the transfer of responsibility for males. So, right now, if a woman wants to become the Responsible Female for a male, she has to register her interest and then the Office of Responsibility needs to approve and process the transfer – either from another RF or a State facility. It seems like a lot of fuss. Why not simply let RFs come to a private arrangement? Of course, if there’s a lot of interest from RFs in a male for some reason, it would be reasonable to expect a financial consideration in return. Responsibility rights could even be auctioned in public… perhaps several males could be displayed, made to show off their talents, and women willing to take on the burden of looking after them could bid for them. Seems quite novel, but I’m assured there are historical parallels.

– Remove voting rights for men. Too soon?

Oh and do you have any suggestions for how to counter this RadFem shock-collar proposal? Focus groups suggest it’s got almost 30% approval among women, as much as 55% for younger voters. We thought about saying it’s a waste of electricity, but apparently even if the entire male population of the country were all shocked at the same time, writhing in the ground for a full hour (lovely image!), it would add less than 1% to overall energy demand. Who knew that overthrowing the patriarchy was such an environmentally-friendly thing? Of course we could just steal the idea 🤭🤭

It would be nice to see a printed, glossy version, by the way. Could you print a few up and send them across? Maybe that new intern could bring them over – you know, the blond lad you sent last time. With the blue eyes. You wouldn’t need him back immediately, right?

kiss kiss

Lindy

Special Political Advisor to the Prime Minister

Rt. Hon. Linda Harcourt, GCMG

Prime Minister’s Office

10 Dworkin St, Whitehall, SW 1

The more cruelly she treats him

“…and the more faithless she is, the worse she uses him, the more wantonly she plays with him, the less pity she shows him, by so much the more will she increase his desire, be loved, worshipped by him.” The Founder himself said that, in Venus in Furs. He was right, although I don’t suppose Wanda thought any more of him as a result.

She’s trying her best to make this chastity regime work but you at least have to meet her halfway.

Good thing he warned her, or this could turn out to be a lot more painful than he’d expected.

He may be dying a virgin but he can be happy that he’s provided a woman with sexual fulfillment, even if only in his agonised dying moments. So there’s that.

If you think an affectionate little peck on her shoe is embarassing in public, try being slapped in public. Just not doing the kiss should be enough to bring it on.

I’m one of those people who can’t be hypnotised. Some say it’s a willpower thing, but as a sub it’s hard for me to believe that. A few people are just immune and that’s that. Back when I was a smoker, my girlfriend at the time persuaded me to go to a hypnotherapist she knew and the smoking craving was just as strong after the session as before. As it happens I *did* give up smoking soon after, but that was because I couldn’t really afford it, because I suddenly realised, that very evening, that I wanted to start handing over 75% of my income to my girlfriend. So it was just coincidence that it was right after the session with the hypnotist. It was difficult, but I managed to give up the cigarettes, entirely on my own, even though I decided I should be buying a pack daily for her new boyfriend, soon after. Maybe it is willpower, after all.

Pro tip: arguing that you weren’t, in this situation, is a losing proposition.

Uxoraphobia

Oh dear, I thought she might have forgotten about that little accident. Still, I expect she isn’t one to hold a grudge. It wasn’t her very best skirt.

She doesn’t like to hurt you any more than she has to.

Well, that doesn’t sound like much of a challenge for her. I hope she doesn’t get bored, poor thing.

I missed out on the era of corporal punishment in schools, but I guess we’re living through a golden age of corporal punishment outside them, so I’ve not done so badly.

Um… yeah. Listen, don’t take what she said to heart, OK? It’s barely noticeable. Really.

…and one I’ll call a bonus as there isn’t necessarily anything femdom about it:

Forty years on

Once again, it is time for the nichest of niche postings: the third in a series I am calling ‘The 1980s called’. Regular readers (those of them who haven’t already turned away in frustration, knowing there will be no colour images of sexy young ladies captioned to say cruel things), will recall this as the series in which Servitor self-indulgently reminisces about British femdom mags that few if any of you ever read, then proceeds to try to reproduce sections of his own, made-up version of something that has been superseded first by magazines with higher production values, then by digital media and the Internet. Oddly, most people don’t seem to regret that, so just possibly, Servitor, nobody wants this crap, hmm?

But it’s no use. I’m nothing if not stubborn: just ask my SO who frequently has to go to the trouble of clicking her fingers twice, or raising an eyebrow more than a milimetre to get me to do her bidding.

So, as is now traditional in this series, let me first feature a couple more covers from the real thing, the Vixen and Mistress magazines. I’ll remind you again you can buy complete scans of these from Swish Publications and it’s an incredibly good deal: you actually pay fewer £s per mag than you would have paid in 1985. Inflation? Not in our femdom.

Those were real, from here on it isn’t.

As before, the below are entirely made-up letters to an entirely made-up magazine called Empress, together with some modern photos made to look a bit like a 1980s magazine scan. Isn’t that just about the most pointless thing ever? But I don’t care.

Empress Vol 3, Issue 6. Letters to The Editrix

Most superior Goddess-Lady Lucia

I have long admired your publication, but I felt compelled to write to you after reading Twenty rules for David in the last issue. I myself am lucky enough to live under speech rules imposed by my wise and beautiful wife, for which I give daily thanks.

Recently, my brilliantly creative wife extended these rules to include ‘codewords’ to be used when we can be overheard in public. She might, for example, say “Are you sure, darling?” which is a way of indicating that I have said something wrong and need to correct myself. If her response is “Are you quite sure, darling?”, then I have said something quite offensive and impertinent and proper correction is sure to be applied later, in private!

I wonder whether other couples have a similar system. Perhaps there are more of us than some people think! When next, at any dinner party, you hear a wife smilingly remark to her husband “We should go home soon, darling: so we can sort out those things in the attic”, just look closely to see if he goes pale! I would, as the only thing to be sorted out in the attic is my attitude. If she adds that we ought to be sorting out “Those things Aunt Susan gave us” I might even have to suppress a shudder, as ‘Aunt Susan’ is about three feet long and made of whippy rattan.

Anyway, Goddess-Lady Lucia, I must dash because it’s almost time to “do the weekly household accounts” and I fear this week those accounts might take a lot of balancing!

Respectfully

A devoted husband

Your ruler’s system sounds quite practical, devoted husband, although a little over-complicated for me. I hide nothing about my relationships and any male given the privilege of accompanying me in public can expect his status to be made perfectly clear to anyone in earshot, as the sound of a good hard slap to the face can carry a long way. I do approve of warning slaves well in advance of particularly severe punishments, however, as I enjoy watching them squirm. It would be delicious if your generous wife were to inform you early in the evening about a later encounter with Aunt Susan, to give you a few hours of dread while trying to keep up appearances in company. G-L. L.

To the exalted Editor-in-Chief

Another magnificent edition, thank you Goddess-Lady Lucia.

I particularly enjoyed the story entitled Adult Education as the ‘classroom’ scene has always fascinated me. With the greatest respect, however, I wondered whether something had gone wrong in the editing process, as on the second page of the story our protagonist receives the cane for mistakes in his algebra test – a test he only takes on the third page! Was this intentional; implying that Headmistress Burroughs could simply anticipate his hopeless performance and apply correction ‘in advance’ so to speak?

Yours in confusion

Jenkins minor, Guildford.

Your first suggestion was the correct one, Jenkins minuscule. Something did indeed go wrong – or rather someone did – and the columns of that particular story were ‘pasted up’ in the wrong order. Believe me, ‘the mistake is regretted’ as they say – regretted profoundly. ‘Pasting up’ involves taking columns of text printed on photographic paper by a Linotype machine and applying warm wax to them so they can be placed, along with photographs, on the page ready for printing. The wax is applied warm, not hot, so it sticks the items in place while allowing small adjustments to their positions. However, wax can be made hotter. Much, much hotter. And then it can be applied to other places, such as the more sensitive parts of some incompetent sub-editor (emphasis on the ‘sub’) who messed up the order of that story. I do like to make the punishment fit the crime. Equally, though, if a fitting punishment is not enough, I like to add more, so after the hot wax treatment I thrashed him with a riding crop. Then I fired him – banished from my divine presence forever. He will not make that mistake again… nor walk, for a few days I imagine. G-L. L.

To my esteemed sister in dominance

I am greatly enjoying the series Maid to Command as I have always taken particular pleasure in imposing the arduous lifestyle of a Victorian housemaid upon arrogant males. My husband inadvertently – and I suspect to his regret – introduced me to this hobby, through his sexual interest in frilly, lacey and submissive feminine dress. Such foolishness can and should be exploited and after a brief period of indulging his desires, I briskly moved things on. Today he wears a simple and practical uniform, as do two younger males whom I have also taken into service. Quite a few males have an interest in occasionally flouncing around in a frilly or rubber simulacrum of a French maid outfit but I find few who are prepared to suffer the real thing – or rather, enough of the real thing for them to be beyond the point of turning back. For that to happen, I find they need to be subjected to three important disciplines: if I can impose those, complete control is assured.

The first is submission to proper, painful chastisement. When assessing a potential recruit, I sooner or later put him across my lap for a firm hand-spanking. No implement is required: I am a large and powerful lady, with hard hands, and by God I can spank any man to tears. Held firmly in place with one hand in the small of his back, a male over my lap expecting a sexy foreplay spanking will be sorely – very sorely – disappointed. I do use other implements, but I pride myself on being able to inflict intolerable pain with my hands alone. Any male who submits to that twice, knowing what he is in for, is surely mine to do with as I please.

So the second discipline is rapidly imposed after the first proper spanking: chastity, of course. I control the pain, I control the pleasure. After perhaps an initial period to accustom the maid to the device, I quickly tighten up, limiting orgasms to a thoroughly impersonal three-monthly release, all the maids together to add to the humiliation. I never ‘reward’ with release. My husband will be 60 in two years’ time, at which point – I have informed him – that will be that as far as this particular aspect of his life is concerned.

Finally the third discipline, which I regret has not thus far appeared in Maid to Command, Madame Editrix: tight corseting. If there is one enduring symbol of the centuries of male domination over women it is the way our bodies were forced uncomfortably to conform to an ‘idealised’ female shape. Well, no more. I am a large lady, as I said, and I see no reason to constrain my natural girth. For my maids, however, it is different: their lives are shaped by my wishes and, thus, so will be their bodies. If in history females were corseted primarily for looks, with the discomfort as a side-effect, for my subjugated males it is the opposite: discomfort is the objective.

I particularly look forward to a new maid’s first corseting. The garment I use looks reasonably feminine, in white with black laces and even some floral decoration. But it conceals ribs of steel, those white laces when pulled can, through their actions across multiple eye-holes, exert a tremendous constraining pressure and the ensemble is topped off with a buckle, fastened with a small padlock ensures no loosening. This latter is probably superfluous – the corseted maid cannot really reach behind to loosen the firmly-tied bow and his fellow maids would never dare to help him do so! But the ‘click’ of the lock removes any lingering hope of relief from the pressure and is thus effective in bringing home the difficulty of the situation.

Difficult it is. I pull the laces with all of my strength, working them over several times to create the maximum pressure. This finishes with my foot or knee in the small of the panicking maid’s back, extracting the last tenth of an inch of tightness. And by God it is tight. “Mistress, I can’t breathe!” they will squeak in panic. And they’re right: they can’t. Not until they learn the technique: shallow, frequent breaths from the chest, no expansion at all at the waist. But fast shallow breathing merely adds to the sense of panic – and panic they do. Most will pass out, some several times. It does them no harm. When unconscious, their panic will cease and they will take in enough oxygen to recover. When fully tightened they will be perpetually short of breath, which is an important element of the corseting. The maids’ stays are loosened just a little at night, then each day they initially have a few hours of merely uncomfortably tight rather than painfully tight corseting, before once again my strong arm and my boot in the small of their backs restores them to doll-like weakness. It involves considerable effort on my part, of course, but I love it.

So constrained, my maids cannot undertake any activity involving great exertion. They can still serve and undertake certain household tasks but anything involving heavy lifting must take place in the hours between to start of their day at 5.30 and my rising, typically around 10. After that, work is slow. Even before their corsets are tightened, short lengths of chain between their ankles and between their wrists create some inefficiency. You might wonder how the housework ever gets done? The answer is simple: each housemaid works a fourteen-hour shift and I have three of them. Even in the absence of any labour-saving devices (I haven’t the slightest interest in saving labour: the more of it there is for me to enjoy, the better), there is plenty of time for everything to be done in the most, repetitive tedious manner possible. So what if it takes a maid half an hour to iron one of my blouses and carry it carefully up to my wardrobe on the third floor, stopping every few steps carefully to recover her breath? To do six such blouses takes only three hours, leaving eleven hours left in the working day. I read somewhere that the unions in France are striking for a forty-hour week. My maids each work a ninety-eight hour week and they don’t get paid for it, the incentive being provided by my hand rather than my purse.

In conclusion, my dear, I encourage the author of Maid to Command to embrace corseting. A male placed in rigid physical control appreciates all the more the inflexible moral regime under which he serves. Generations of women forced into these appalling devices will applaud – and laugh, as you will laugh, at the sight of the corseted male in his perpetual discomfort.

Yours in sisterhood

Lady Maud

I suppose as Editrix I should add a note of caution at this point, for readers tempted to try corseting a male so tightly as to restrict his breathing. However, Lady Maud’s description of the suffering this causes is so appealing that I cannot bring myself to do so. Have at it, ladies: tug away. G-L. L.

Exalted Goddess-Lady Lucia

I just had to write to express my appreciation for the Birchwood Detention Centre series. Too often, the personalities and backgrounds of the ladies in disciplinary literature are barely sketched, if mentioned at all. Here, we appreciate the three young heroines as fully rounded characters from the very opening of the first instalment, with them as raw young cadets on the train to their assignment at Birchwood. As I child I read and loved the ‘jolly hockey sticks’ style of girls’ school story – how lovely to see it transposed into such a setting… ‘jolly rattan cane’ perhaps? But not so jolly for the male inmates!

How I felt Angela’s embarrassment at being greeted in such an over-familiar fashion by an inmate who had briefly been her boyfriend, and how we all cheered when she was given an opportunity alone with him in the punishment room to teach him about their new ‘relationship’ at the Centre! How very wise of Senior Section Officer Wallace to give her that opportunity even if a Trainee Junior Disciplinary Officer is not really supposed to be left alone with an inmate – a true leader knows when to bend the rules and when to enforce them rigidly. Oh – and poor Rosie, accidentally setting off the shock collars of every inmate on the block when she was learning how to use her remote punishment device! No real harm done, of course, but how we felt for her when she realised her mistake, face burning with embarrassment, after SDO Morris stormed in to find out why her work detail were all writhing on the floor in agony instead of carrying their loads of bricks! It was a sweet and tender scene when Julie comforted her afterwards in her quarters… I wondered whether perhaps it became later even more sweet and tender? There seems to be to be a strong undercurrent of lesbianism in several of the girls’ relationships but only hinted at, at least in the first two instalments. Will romances perhaps blossom?

Finally, I am sure all your readers are enthralled by little Clara’s storyline. At present, I have to say she seems rather a fish out of water, being so easily upset at the sight and sound of boys in pain. Will she be able to overcome her squeamishness, or might we say goodbye to her, perhaps last seeing her sitting sadly alone on the train, contemplating an uncertain future? I do so hope not, as she is such a determined little thing, even if she lacks innate brutality. Disappointed too, I imagine, would be SSO Ryder, whose interest in her seems rather ‘closer’ shall we say, than is strictly required for her training role. Again, without necessarily wishing to see an explicitly lesbian sex scene as such, it would be lovely if these ambiguities could be resolved with a loving embrace or even a full kiss…?

Yours agog

Slave to schoolgirls

I am pleased to receive such appreciation of the narrative elements of these stories; so many male readers’ missives essentially saying little other than ‘Whoa, nice tits!’. Indeed, character development is central to the Birchwood series and the author assures me that new characters will be introduced over time, along with new dilemmas bringing triumphs and disappointments for our three heroines, in true ‘school story’ style. I believe that in so implying Clara’s continued presence, I am not giving away too much, since, as you will read in this issue, an encounter with a rather unpleasant trio of lads when on an out-of-uniform visit to the nearby town awakens something inside her and she – well, I’ll write no more here, in case any readers have turned to this letters page before reading the latest instalment. Let’s just say that it was a life-changing experience both for her and – once the process of the law had worked its course – the three boys, who are likely to have the dubious pleasure of meeting her again, in a subsequent instalment.

I recognise in Clara a lot of women I have known, who came late to the realisation of how much they truly enjoy hurting males. I believe that at least half of all females have that potential inside them, whether the pleasure they will find is sexual or has a different aspect. But in our woefully male-led society, few develop it. I myself have been an enthusiastic persecutor of the male sex since childhood bullying days, but in so many others it is latent. I have a friend who horrified me by her lovey-dovey, indulgent attitude to the young man she eventually married, but I am so glad I did not cut all ties because one day something simply snapped and ‘hubby’ painfully learnt the consequences of presuming on a lady’s good nature. I visited them recently and observed with approval his nervous attention to her every casual word, the cane hanging so brazenly on a hook in the hallway leaving very little doubt as to what he feared!

As for the lesbianism, StS, it’s really none of your business. I know men fantasise about this, but the reality of female-only romances is far too complex for the brute emotions of males to comprehend, so any description of such a relationship in a magazine that out of commercial necessity is aimed mainly at a male readership, could only ever present the surface, obvious elements of a lesbian tryst. Lesbianism is not for provoking sexual arousal in males, only sexual frustration at the realisation that we can do quite nicely without male sexual activity (of which none is therefore required nor permitted).

Hmm. I have bestowed on you rather a longer reply than you deserve, StS. I order you to write another letter about Birchwood. This time, provide a long paragraph on each of the principal characters, avoid speculating about lesbian affairs that are not explicitly present (you may, therefore, refer to Rosie’s visit to SSO Ryder’s quarters, from the instalment in this issue of the magazine) and try to use proper punctuation. I had to edit the letter above, to make it readable and my time is incomparably more valuable than yours. G-L. L.

In the light of your insistence on males in your presence being naked, Goddess-Lady Lucia, I wonder if you have a view on the ideal length of the male penis? I have heard that some ladies do not like them too large?

Too much effort to add a line of respectful greeting or sign off your ‘letter’, boy? You don’t really deserve a reply, but I will just note that opinion is divided on the topic. Many ladies of my acquaintance – especially those of a lesbian persuasion – believe that the ideal size is ‘zero’ and some have devoted themselves to reducing the average towards that. Me, I like a man to have plenty of flesh there, as larger penises have more pain receptors in proportion. But if I decide a man would serve me better with less down there, I am quite prepared to follow the example of my sapphic sisters! G-L. L.

To the supreme Goddess-Lady Lucia

I am a submissive male who has the privilege occasionally of serving a superior lady in person. However, I cannot visit her as often as I would like, so she has taken to setting me time-consuming menial tasks, so I will think of her in the long gaps between visits.

I write lines, of course, hunched over my desk at home like a schoolboy, copying out endlessly some uplifting moral message, such as “My heart and soul belong to Mistress [X], at whose whim I am writing out this line five hundred times and who delights in setting a long sentence for this tedious task, regardless of whether the resulting absurd pile of words makes sense, the point merely being to ensure I spend my time in this repetitive task so befitting of my status.”

However, she has lately hit upon what she calls the ‘lottery game’. This was inspired by a game she invented for playing during our sessions, when she would scatter a pack of cards around a room and I would crawl around picking them up (sometimes with hands restrained). On one occasion, she told me that one card had been removed and that it was my task to identify it. Of course, a missing card cannot be identified until all the cards have been gathered, so I had to carefully sort them in to order once all had been gathered up.

When I was leaving her house after a later session, she handed me a plastic shopping bag. Inside was a mass of lottery tickets, of the sort sold in tear-off books for use at summer fete raffles and the like. They had indeed been torn off and simply filled the bag higgledy-piggledy, like waist paper. She informed me that they were from a book of 500 tickets and that at my next session I should report the number of the one she had removed.

Perhaps your readers can imagine what a tedious task this turned out to be. The 500 (or rather, 499) tickets had to be sorted into order, which took me several hours. The beauty of the system, of course, is that the dominant can perfectly accurately verify the amount of work her submissive put in with almost no effort – she simply had to take a ticket at random and note the number.

Since then she has varied the task occasionally. She almost always uses books of 1000 tickets, after I made the mistake of truthfully reporting how long it had taken me (she looked disappointed). She no longer tells me how many tickets she has taken – it could be two, three or four, or – and this caused me the most immense anxiety – none. Sometimes I am at ‘liberty’ to carry out my tedious task at any time in the interval between my visits to her (I usually try to deal with it fairly early, as it is horrible having the task hanging over me), on other occasions she might require an answer by telephone within 24 hours. On one occasion when I had done that, I was surprised and delighted to receive a package in the post a couple of days later – out of which fell, of course, another batch of lottery tickets.

All of this, of course, merely serves to remind me that my time is hers to command, and so I will take this opportunity to record my gratitude to my creative and thoughtful Mistress, for giving me so many hours of opportunity to spend my time in her service.

Her obedient servant

Timewaster

P.S.: My Mistress has just ordered me to copy out this letter several times. She has not yet informed me how many copies I will write, but I am to begin now and she will tell me when I have reached – or exceeded – the target she has decided upon. How silly of me to have written so much but that is my own fault for being such a tedious little man. This postscript was written under dictation.

I did indeed receive 30 copies of the letter above.

If Timewaster’s Mistress is reading this, she might care to note that there was a spelling mistake – regrettably repeated in each copy – that I have reproduced in the printed version above. Once he has found it for you, you might decide it is appropriate for him to write out a corrected version, or several. For my part, if I receive a written punishment that contains an error, I usually quadruple the required length or number of copies, but of course that is up to you, my dear. You might also have spotted that he describes telling you the truth as a ‘mistake’, which I found infuriating and I do not even know the wretched little man!

Nonetheless, the contemptible Timewaster’s letter has inspired my generous nature to provide a task to the absurd male creatures who make up the mindless majority of this magazine’s readership. How many times does the word ‘cane’ appear in this edition? Include all instances, whether in the main text, letters or advertisements but do not count any variants such as ‘canes’ or ‘caned’. The sub-editors have counted very carefully (they came to different totals the first time, so they did it again). Once you have counted, send your answer on a postcard clearly marked ‘I wasted my time at Goddess-Lady Lucia’s direction’ to the usual address. There are no prizes, of course, the opportunity to engage in a completely pointless task I commanded from you should be reward enough, along with the thrill you will get thinking of the contempt for you I will feel in the unlikely event that I bother to look at any of the postcards. Get on with it, scum. G-L. L.

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