That little chat

You know… that little chat. The one she’s been promising you all week. Don’t keep her waiting.

And don’t forget what happens to sissies who tell lies. Although I don’t imagine you will, after that last time.
Oooh – potential ally! Maybe you could start by explaining how oppressive and inappropriate disciplinary spankings are, see how she reacts, then develop the conversation from there.
Unlike many mothers-in-law she’s quite pleased with her daughter’s choice of husband and enjoys her visits.
Maybe they’ll have a ‘bring your sissy to work day’ at the silo.
Those slaveboys… they get up to such mischief. Good thing she’s there to keep an eye on him.
He is lucky. Look at all that effort she’s putting into their relationship.

The wonderful Lady Kenworthy, demonstrating the sound of one hand clapping.

Alma mater

Today’s post celebrates the approaching quadricentennial of a great British educational institution: St Mackenzies. Founded in 1625, to provide, in the words of the school charter: “opportunyties for daughtters of gentelfolk to fuckke and cavort in uniformes both sexie and impracticalle”, the school has always prided itself on its insistence on slutty demeanour at all times, its non-stop attention to lesbian sexual hi-jinks and its almost total indifference to any kind of academic success. Despite this determination to prioritise hot girl-on-girl action over scholastic excellence, the school has, over the centuries, exerted a distinctly perverted influence on British politics, culture and life, famous old girls including mistresses of various notable historical figures (including three concurrent mistresses of the same archbishop of Canterbury) as well as distinguished brothel keepers, Page 3 girls and – in one case the school prefers to downplay – a recipient of the Nobel Prize for Physics.

The school’s proud motto: Exue vestimenta tua et habeamus coitum (loosely: ‘get your kit off and let’s fuck’) has inspired its former pupils to create many cultural works celebrating the school’s values, from the seminal sixteenth century Bokke of the two douzone virgines, with manyye instruktive illustrashiones, through the sadly now near-unknown 32-volume Lady Birchingham’s Daughters saga written by the prolific ‘Anonymous’ in the mid nineteenth century, through to the much beloved 1950s school stories featuring ‘Daisy’ (of which Daisy and the Mystery of the Changing Room is perhaps best known). More recently, of course, the school is best known from its photosets and videos in which staff and pupils alike demonstrate the sapphic skills for which the school is justly famed.

Despite the frequent presence of canes, rulers and other implements of chastisement in its classrooms, the school’s reputation for obsession with CP is (regrettably, in the opinion of this blog) ill-deserved, as although many pupils have found themselves stripping to bend over to be disciplined, they usually experience no more than a few taps before the schoolmistress tasked with administering the punishment finds the near naked young lady before her too irrestistible to delay fucking any longer. Indeed, a frantic lesbian sex session is the school’s preferred approach to any disciplinary problem, particularly bullying (which has reared its ugly head on too many occasions, before having that head shoved firmly down between the thighs of a pretty schoolgirl). Just occasionally, girls who have behaved particularly badly are kept behind in detention, sitting bored behind desks in front of an equally-bored supervising teacher, a situation that turns out pretty much as you might expect in a school full of attention-deficient lesbian nymphomanics.

Still taking students of all ages from 18 to 30 or so and proudly bearing its Ofsted ‘Utterly Preposterous’ rating (but having scored a ‘Highly commendable – if a little pervy’ for the school’s approach to LGBT issues), St Mackenzies now totters gingerly on its high heels into its fifth century. Times may change, but there are values that are eternal and for as long as people enjoy watching female teachers and pretty schoolgirls in tight-fitting uniforms shriek, giggle and – inevitably, rapturously, exhaustingly – fuck each other senseless, there will always be a St Macs. For which we can all be grateful.

https://stmackenzies.com/

Nonsensical sex

More of these.

Aren’t you just the perfect host? Sorry, I meant pervert. The pervert host.
I always get so excited on Pervemas morning, waiting to be unwrapped.
I don’t know what they pay those sweatboys for. Oh, don’t they? Oh, OK. Even so, there’s no excuse for not doing a professional job.
I don’t know what it is about the phrase “Purely routine anal probe” but I feel (deep inside me) it’s not used enough in our own world.
Although everyone says that no one carries coins these days, public shining posts like this one (like the many coin-operated public lavatories you can still find chained up with gaping mouths in Pervworld) often end the day with a rectum uncomfortably full of change.
It’s a lot greener than most other forms of transport, especially since a lot of their fodder is recycled.

The Facility

New occasional theme that’ll be included in regular posts from time to time, but I thought I’d introduce it in a themed post. Brutal, non-consensual – if you don’t like those things… well, you’re probably reading the wrong blog to begin with, quite frankly.

And what’s more, you’ll be a woman, my daughter

War. They say war changes nothing. But sometimes if nothing changes, war is the only way. These girls didn’t seek the war they fought in but it found them. Then they fought and some of them died. Then they won and some of them came back. Did they come back as heroines? They came back. Plenty didn’t. Those who made it said the war changed them – for good, for bad, who knows? It changed a lot of guys too, mostly for the better. Sure: war changes nothing. But war changes everything, too.

Etc. That stuff’s surprisingly easy to write.

World War M, anyway. When the war between the sexes went hot.

Just tell the truth, subbie. The truth can’t hurt you.

And introducing a new series. World War M: Origins.

Rigorous relationships

“Because I say so” is actually the best reason of all, I’ve found.
I’ve heard that ‘smelly feet’ is actually one of the flavours in those Harry Potter jelly beans, but you have to eat a lot of raspberry and cherry and other such pointless flavours while looking for one.
She hasn’t even got that right: that helmet’s definitely from the Franco-Prussian War of 1870. Do you think I should tell her?
Don’t worry: there’ll be lots of chances to apologise during and – taking an optimistic view of how it goes – after, too.
Surely you wouldn’t sacrifice your deeply held commitment to the principles of men’s lib, just to get into a relationship with a pretty woman? Because that would be shallow and demeaning.  Wouldn’t it?

Subjective opinions

Don’t worry, even without last words it’ll be a very memorable experience for her.

 

 

 

I expect she’ll get used to the situation, although she might request a few changes to be made.

 

 

 

A few nights shivering on a cold concrete floor are surely worth spending, to save her from any discomfort from the peer pressure.

I’m told the most useful piece of advice for any young teacher is always to remember who’s in charge.


 

 

 

I hope she doesn’t have to wrestle with her conscience too long, poor thing.



Due deference


Don’t worry: as an experienced keyholder, she’s very well aware of men’s sexual needs and makes sure they’re satisfied – unless there’s an urgent deadline, she’s teleworking or you receive a ‘needs improvement’ on your performance review, or something.  Not their sexual wants, you understand, but definitely their needs.





There’s really no need for males to learn mathematical techniques beyond basic counting and thanking. I often even get that wrong, to be honest.




If its something you’re already good at, then maybe you should try that 10,000 hours technique, you know?  That’s all you need to become really expert.




It’ll be good practice for when he’s released to forage for himself.


Aitor might make a bit of a mess later too, so thank goodness you’re around.


War is cruelty

… there is no use trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over.  General Sherman said that.  Smart boy.

Yes… it’s another World War M post.  It’s been a while.  But war is eternal.

These girls know all about that.  They’ve stared war in the face and slapped it more times than they like to remember.  Was it worth it?  That’s one for the history girls to decide.  But each of these soldiers has made her own peace with the goddesses of war.

 

 

 

 

 

 


 


 

 

 

A bit of harmful fun

Some might say it’s too late for that but every little helps.



“Yossarian was moved very deeply by the absolute simplicity of this clause of Catch-22 and let out a respectful whistle.”

OK, so it seems I’ve used this one before.  Extra captioned image now posted below, with thanks to an anonymous commenter who isn’t femsup for spotting it.  If it’s any consolation, seven of the forty-three clauses in that contract do have that exact same text – just to make sure.

 

Makes a change from the more traditional British party games, like ‘Musical gimp’.’Spin the gimp’ or (my personal least favourite) ‘Pin the tail on the gimp.’


 

Sometimes the wisest thing for our forces of law and order to do is to hold back and watch the males truly fuck things up, as only a male can.  Teachable moment, here.

 

 

 

Another teachable moment.  What an educational post it’s been today.  See you next time.

 

Or see you right now for that extra image I promised!

 

Apparently it works better than caffeine.

 


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