Category: whimpering in adoration

My goodness!

‘Readers’ of this blog might have picked up on the subtle hints I have ocasionally dropped here, that I might have a bit of a thing for Anne Hathaway (the living actress, not the dead wife of William Shakespeare, although I don’t doubt she was very lovely too).   Very regular ‘readers’ will also be aware that earlier this year I posted a video of an interview with the divine Anne, in which she had to speak quite firmly to the young male who had been privileged enough to be allowed into her presence to interview her.  I have to confess I found that firmness somewhat… stimulating. Obsessive ‘readers’ might even have noticed that I then developed something of a compulsion to publish a series of captioned images all with exactly the same caption, whenever the facial expression or the situation seemed to warrant it.

At the risk of alienating what few ‘readers’ I have left, I am afraid to have to tell you that the compulsion is still with me, so more of the same – exactly the same – below.  Sorry about that. This is an extra post, though, so it will not diminish the twice-weekly postings of captioned images that don’t all have exactly the same words (just the same tired old set of ideas and jokes).

 So… as is traditional, we’ll start with the original, then repeat the same theme ad infinitum (where ‘infinitum’ is here understood to mean ‘seven times’). 

 

 

 

 


 


 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Astounding Stories

 Once again, this blog departs from its usual focus on gritty realism, this time for a sci-fi special!  There’s nothing wrong with departing on an occasional flight of fantasy: it doesn’t mean I forget about the daily reality of boots to lick clean, panties to hand-wash and having to follow obscurely complicated rules governing my chastity regime.

And before you start, no: as a matter of fact, the blog post does not just feature stills of Anne in a space suit in Interstellar.  Anyway, I’ve done that before.  There are other sci-fi movies and shows, you know.  These for instance.  They’re just not as good because they don’t feature Anne in a space suit.  

 

Come to think of it, though*, Talulah in a space suit does actually put Dr Who almost on a par with Interstellar… but it was only for two episodes and she wasn’t in the second of those for long.

 More Dr Who femdom here.  Sort of.

 

 

A popular theme for ‘alternative history’ stories**, as I understand it, is the US Civil War.  I read one once which re-imagined the whole slavery thing as being about race, rather than sex, which is pretty weird when you think about it – surely it would be obvious that all men, no matter what their race or creed, are worthless and inferior?  But that’s science fiction for you: it takes you to a different place, the better to appreciate the reality in which we live.



Hmmm.  I was a bit suspicious at first, but I think I believe she’s who she says she is.  Or maybe I just don’t care.  Would you?…


More Gal here… and all the Gal here.


Yes, I think I probably will.



Be gentle with them.


* But please catch it in your hand if you do.

** The lady in the picture is educated and speaks properly, using correct grammar.  Cosequently, when speaking of parallel worlds, she uses the word ‘alternative’ to mean something which is an equivalent but not identical choice, as opposed to ‘alternate’ which means taking turns, as in ‘alternating motor’.  I realise that many of the ‘readers’ of this site, especially from the United Matriarchy of America, might prefer to use the phrase ‘alternate reality’, but they would be wrong – as I am sure she would be delighted to explain, in an educative manner.

Regulars

Obviously, this blog prides itself on being fresh, original and creative unlike those awful, repetitive ‘adult’ blogs that just consist of the same thing all the time. Good captions, for instance – imagine how tedious it would be if I published those all the time.


Nonetheless, taking advantage of fact that males have short memories and attention spans, the blog does feature a few regular stars. Famous dommes, obviously, such as Mistress Eleise, The Hunteress or the OWK Ladies (especially Katarina).  But also some lovelies whose sadism and dominance is masked beneath a vanilla persona.  Each such lady has her own ‘tag’ used to label a post featuring her, but as no one but me has any idea which tag refers to which goddess, it’s all a bit pointless.


Hence this post.  Five regulars are featured below, in new never before seen captioned images.  Can you name them all?  Can you match them to their ‘tags’, listed in the labels section of this post? Try clicking that label and seeing if you were right.*




The accent’s quite important.  Clue: its not a mid-Western American drawl and if you are reading it to yourself like that, you’re doing it wrong.













It is a truth rarely acknowledged that any Tumblr featuring high-heeled leggy ladies will one day discover this goddess and post about twenty pictures in a row, all of her.  I have at least that many captioned images of her, but as so often in your sex life, I’m afraid you are just going to have to wait.**

























Goddess playing a demi-goddess.  Slumming it a bit, therefore, but I am not complaining.
















A new addition to the pantheon, this Goddess.  But we’ll be seeing more of her.***








Anyone who gets this one wrong, let me know so I can block you from seeing the blog ever again.  In fact, I think I should install a gadget that pokes you vigorously and repeatedly in the eye, if ever you try to visit.  Then there’ll only be two readers.









*  Hmm? No, I know you don’t see the same captioned image if you click the label, moron.  I mean you see different captioned images of the same goddess. Yeah?  These are new: I did say that.  Got it now?  


** Yes, you do have to spell her surname correctly, to win the prize.   Anyway, there isn’t a prize.


*** What?  No of course I don’t mean you’ll be seeing her nipples, you wretched little man.  Not on this blog.  I just mean you’ll be seeing her more frequently.  Why are you asking all these questions? 

And make her some great Princess, six feet high!

Grand, epic, homicidal.

Armpit Fetishist Monthly is just another example of the decline of traditional media, another fine publication swept away by the Internet.  I recall their cookery page with particular affection.
…and by the way, I have posted this before even with the same comment, but… Oh.  My.  Goddess.  I have to see this  movie!
My office established a system of disciplinary procedures for inappropriate sexual activity. Which to my mind is just having your cake and eating it too… or would be, were I allowed cake.
I’m thinking of paella – perhaps a nice Rioja to go with it? And maybe Roger might like to try bastinado, in keeping with the Spanish theme.
With luck, she’ll take up chewing gum obsessively.
Love hurts and so does she.
By the way, this lady is going to feature here rather a lot from now on. Unless she takes out an injunction or something (don’t you hate it when women do that?).   Nata!

Fantastic terrors never felt before




She shall press, ah, nevermore!





Worst fudge ever?  Of course, I’d want to stay out of Devon.


I think it’s sad, to see magnificent beasts penned up in dark underground enclosures, like that.  They should be free to roam the snow-covered fields.
 Mistress Courtney and, erm… another goddess and two maggots, there.

It’s a good point, actually: I do like paella.  So, I suppose I have to be whipped.  Damn – I hate it when she uses logic on me!
There are other extras.  Not as many as there were, but there’s an endless supply waiting patiently outside the studio door.



Malevolent society

Possibly rather alarming, but don’t worry: she’s a kind and loving person. She has cats, for example.  Cat people are always OK, right?  She has several cats and she loves them dearly.
Fortunately, scurrying is one of the things I do best.



It’s odd, because when I bring up how little I like the idea of giving blow-jobs, she says I shouldn’t rule something out without trying it!  I’m almost tempted to agree with the sexists that women can’t do logic.  But I won’t argue about it.  It’s just very frustrating, though, you know?
Looks like you owe your liberty to her.  I hope you’re grateful.








Poor Diana. Oh well, back to lesbianism I suppose.

Stunted little runt




OK, so the story is that the guy had won
a chance to meet me – it was a charity thing I did, yeah?  Raised a lot of money. For, maybe, stray cats
or something?  Or dogs, I don’t
remember.  Maybe homeless people, come to think of it.

Anyway, I met the guy backstage at a convention like this one and… let’s just say he was the typical loser fanboy?  I mean, no offence to anyone here but you know the type, right?  Lanky hair, black t-shirt, scuzzy
trainers.  He started out by saying he’d been hoping I’d be wearing the Wonder Woman outfit,
which was kind of a bad sign from the beginning, you know?

And then he said ‘can you do a fight
move’?  And I was, like, no way: that’s
only on-set in carefully controlled conditions, with professional
stunt-men.  But he started ducking and
dancing about saying ‘I know stuntwork – fight me’ and… well, suddenly I saw he
had this massive – actually not so massive but very prominent – bulge in his pants, you know?  The guy had a boner.  And I just reacted instinctively and I spun
and kicked hard at the side of his head.

OK, he’d said he knew stunt work,
right?  He’d said that.  When you’re taking a hit to the
head, you lean with it.  Everyone knows that. Day one at stunt school – lean with the blow. But he leaned
into it.  Got the full force of the kick
right to the side of the head – blam! 
I was a physical fitness instructor in the Israeli army, yeah?  I’ve got strong legs.

So… he’d wanted a fight move, I was doing a fight move. That spin and kick – it’s a two
stage move.  A kick to the head, the
stunt guy falls back and sideways, I finish the spin, shift the weight from one
foot to the other and do the second kick which just misses his chin but with
the right camera angle, the audience can’t see that. It’s all one motion – has to be, or I’d fall over.  I need the second kick to balance up.  It’s just reflex with me now, anyway.

So I came around and I guess I could somehow sense he wasn’t in the right place.  Totally not in the right place. He was
reeling, staggering, whatever,and he was way too close.  But I had no time to think and the second kick
went right in, and it was still on the upstroke, probably just at its most powerful moment,
unfortunately, right up between his legs. 
The force actually carried him off the ground… and he was kind of overweight, so there was a lot of power going in there.
Like I said, I’ve
got strong legs.

And that was it… my people called an ambulance
immediately, obviously.  He was quite
lucky actually – he had a minor fracture to the skull from the first kick, but
no permanent cranial or brain damage. That would have been really bad.  The second kick… yeah, well, that didn’t work
out so well for him.

I’m actually sorry for the guy, yeah?  I really am.  I don’t mean I said sorry for what I did – that’s actually a different word in
Hebrew, the difference is clearer.  Maybe I should say I don’t ‘apologise’?  Because everything was the guy’s own
fault, right?   But he had a pretty sad life to
begin with and now there’s… less in it. 
So I feel kind of sorry about that.  Although I don’t think he was ever going to have much of a sex life
anyway, if you know what I mean.

And we raised a lot of money for the stray cats.  I don’t know how much, but I heard it was a
lot.  Or for the homeless people – whatever.

Downton on your knees

Sorry about that.  I find it hard to resist a pun, no matter how bad. If only there were someone who could mete out painful consequences for such lapses of judgement on my part… whom I could pay to judge me, find fault and punish me. But obviously no such profession exists, so I suppose I’ll just carry on.

Anyway, Downton day today!  I won’t say where I got the photos. You might recognise the sytyle, I’ve used similar before.  The photographer has a lot more on his web site and I’m sure you can find it but probably best not to jump there straight from this site as I doubt he would appreciate this particular use of his images.  I wouldn’t want to have to take this post down … ton.







P.S.  Nothing at all to do with Downton but Oh My Goddess  look at this! 

Painful conversations

Lots of men don’t realise that ‘mere’ words can cause pain.  There are words that I have spoken on occasion that have led to quite astonishing amounts of pain, sometimes almost immediately.


See: this is just the kind of thing I’m talking about. One minute you think you’re having a pleasant conversation, and…, I dunno, maybe there was something that upset her or something, but when you wake up you’re naked and gagged, upside down in a canvas sack bumping along a country road to goodness knows where…  I guess it’s a Mars/Venus thing.

When they next see Trevor, I expect they can ask him how the special effects wizards manage to make the torture and murder look so realistic.

Thank goodness all that’s behind me.

Poor thing.  I expect he has no idea how much pain she’s been going through, the heartless bastard.

Yeah ‘trodden’. It is a ridiculous language, actually. Perhaps Gal could give me a few Hebrew lessons.  I’m sure I’d be a very conscientious student.


A pretty face may be enough to catch a man, but it takes character and good nature to hold him.

The title quote, of course, is from Sir Thomas More’s Utopia.  But you knew that, right?  You’re an educated, sophisticated man of the world, who knows that the capital of Gabon is Libreville, can calculate complex sums quickly and accurately and understands the main principles of the annealing process in glass manufacture.  You just pretend to be an ignorant schoolboy who doesn’t even know that the capital of Australia is Sydney.*


Apparently, I have ‘kick-me testicles’. I never even knew that was a thing, but there you go.


Actually, I get quite a lot of normal healthy sex in my current relationship – maybe a bit rough, but really just your basic penetrative sex, fellatio… that kind of thing.  Several of Her favourite boyfriends are bisexual, so I get a lot of action.  I have to say, I prefer perversion, on balance.

And ‘cum-bucket’ isn’t even a word, so in a sense the question of spelling doesn’t even arise.
Her bedroom wall is covered with hunting trophies.






It is, right? I mean, better than nothing. You’re enjoying yourself, yeah?  I’m afraid this is the last caption today, so you’d better finish now.. that’s right.  Up and down, up and down.  Tugtugtug? A bit more – there! Excellent.  And… just get the last out, there… great. See you on Friday!





* Yes, I know.  It’s a joke.  If you don’t get it, maybe it’s my fault for being too obscure. Or if you’re a humiliation slut**, maybe it’s your fault for being such a moron, hmm? Too stupid to actually wank and think at the same time, are we? Gosh… a small cock and a tiny intellect – didn’t exactly win the first prize in life, did you? Try one of those blogs featured on Tiresome Tropes, instead, lamebrain, maybe it’s more your level.


** If you’re not a humiliation slut, I don’t recommend reading the rest of the comment above.