uniform – Contemplating the divine

Spoken for

She’s already apologised to her sister on your behalf, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be going round to her place to apologise directly, too – and offer to make amends, of course.

Must be terrifying being tiny. Good thing there are big strong girls like her around to look after you.

Understandable that he wants to make sure, given that the two of them will be working so closely together every day, but sometimes a candidate arrives at an interview and just makes such a strong impression from the start that you know she’s going to get the job.

That’s the divine Heather, being contemplated in the scene above.

Many people don’t realise that in English, like very gendered languages such as Japanese, there are words that women can use that men cannot. But there are.

Sometimes an unexpected, spur-of-the-moment session can be best. One time, for instance, I was walking home late at night and clumsily bumped into one of a group of girls. Given no time to apologise properly, I was beaten up, kicked repeatedly in the balls and face, robbed, spat on and left penniless lying in a side-alley. When you think of all the emails and careful arrangements you’d need to do that with a pro-domme….

A state of war only serves as an excuse for domestic tyranny

This blog’s all in favour of domestic tyranny, of course – despotism begins at home – but has mixed feelings about war. Nonetheless, today, as so often before, we pay tribute to those heroines who fought in a war they did not seek*, to overthrow a cruel, oppressive patriarchy and replace it with the cruel and oppressive matrarchy the good boys who read this blog fervently wish for.

* You might imagine that the female supremacist side started the war but you’d be wrong (male, are you? Yeah, that explains it. You’re probably wrong about a lot of things – don’t worry, there’s plenty of women who can set you right). They were no more responsible for the war than a wife wearily sighing “Oh darling, don’t make me whip you again!” is responsible for the consequences of your impertinence. The losing side in WWM had only themselves to blame, and if they didn’t take that opportunity to do so and apologise to their superiors, the survivors had plenty of time for that after the war.

You know how it is with some girls. They seem to take the stuffing right out of you.

I mean to say, there is something about their personality that paralyses the vocal cords and reduces the contents of the brain to cauliflower.

P. G. Wodehouse, Right-Ho, Jeeves!

Yes, it’s more Downton Domination.

Simple obedience

Why make things complicated?

C’mon, don’t be selfish: work harder, Mila needs this orgasm.

She’s got a whole prison cell and interrogation routine worked out too.

Don’t worry: she’ll have to stop when she runs out of apples.

She has a very personal relationship with her deity. And she’s hoping for one with Sister Lucy, too.

You were probably just going to express your gratitude for how perfect everything is and check whether she has any criticisms you can take on board, right?

They come in various flavours, some of which go better with sweaty trainer than others.

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.