whip – Page 11 – Contemplating the divine

Her husband; her rules

It’s only fair, right?

She can certainly make you less happy in the days and years to come, should she choose to do so. Thoroughly miserable, in fact. So in that sense, today is indeed the high point.

Sounds exciting! Some sort of wet ‘n’ messy play, I imagine?

Yes, you really must stay to comfort her. It can’t have been easy for her, losing three husbands in a row like that.

I don’t usually link to tumblrs but I will give a shout-out to Strict Widow, as I love the concept and I’m using it quite a lot for material!

Ah – a caption turning on the finer points of English grammar. One for the Editor Domme, there.

While we’re on the subject of tumblrs… Just remember you’re apostrophe’s if you comment on her site, for gods sake, OK?

Dominant males quite often feature in this blog, actually. You can’t always tell the difference between them and the subs, but believe me, when I post a picture of some male under female control, with hands secured and cock firmly locked away or absent, it’s often a male dom formerly known as “Master Roger” or some such.

…and here‘s an extra one, without words.

I was so upset that I cried

… all the way to the chip shop

(trigger warning: video is unrelated to the subject matter of this blog, although I suppose those with a really really strong cuckoldry and insult fetish might just about find something in it).

And she’ll hold on to that very special key, just to make specially sure.

It’s true, actually. There’s nothing that drives away mild discomfort quite like agony.

A bit foolish, really. She could easily claim pro-domme rates for acting as his slavemistress and then where would he be?

I eventually got round to asking my wife whether my performance in bed was OK or not. I was a bit worried, but actually she was very nice about it. Said it was so long ago she’d completely forgotten after all these years and why would it matter to anyone anyway? I was so relieved.

Silly wasting money on a bus when it’s only eight miles anyway. Think how good you’d feel putting the bus fare into the fur coat fund instead. Every little helps.

The agony and the ecstacy

Well, she seems very nice. Many dommes would be quite angry in such a situation. Up you get.

She needs the money to get into the scene, that’s all. Don’t worry – she’s genuinely turned on by fat middle-aged men rubbing against her like that. That’s why she does it.

She owns a plumber too, which could come in handy if she decides to install you as a toilet slave.

I think Emily will be able to tell exactly how very, very sorry you are in just a short while.

Yes, I rather suspect she does.

I’m so hot for her, I’m on fire for her

yet she’s so cold. And so’s the tub of cream in the bathroom cabinet, if she’ll only let me out of this corner to go and get some. Please, Mistress. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.

It’s not about you, do you see?

Actually, you can fit a sub in either way round. She’s just got it wrong, that’s all. Made an embarassing, stupid mistake. Do you want to tell her, or shall I?

I could add a caption here, but what does my opinion matter anyway?

It’s important to understand the power dynamics of your bdsm relationship. Frankly, that’s important at any time, but it’s particularly important when you’re naked and dangling helplessly from the ceiling.

It’s good she’s decided to treat you as an adult, for once.

Twas the night before Christmas

… when all through the night
not a penis was stirring,
all locked up quite tight.

Look, she said it, not me – OK readers? I respect and cherish each and every one of you. But she doesn’t.

The divine Mistress Eleise. You might have seen her here once or twice before, I suppose.

You’ll look back with longing at this, come summer, when she’s whipping you up a hot gravel track under the merciless sun.

1.2 seconds of pure bliss. But, you know, it’s not just Christmas that comes but once – oh, hang on.

I used to suffer from low self-esteem. But then I just decided to enjoy it instead.

And the divine Divine Mistress Heather, too.

He should pay attention to this blog over the next few days.

The latest femdom captions

Apologies for the dull title. But I have noticed that by far the highest viewing figures on this blog are for posts with titles like “More femdom captions”. Anyway, I’m running out of 80s lyrics…

Nothing like hot coffee to wake you up.

It’s a living.

Yes. I’ve been quite disappointed, just how open-minded many of my friends have been about my SO beating me. “About time too” was the usual comment.

She means it about the running. Don’t you dare dawdle.

Like many men of kink, I do find I have to pay for most of my fantasies to be acted out. However, I think I can honestly say that all of my unpaid sexual encounters have turned into really strong humiliation sessions, one way or another. I guess I’m just lucky like that.

Love is…

… savage and cruel and it shines like destruction.

Or at least, I’ve always found it to be so.

I usually deal with it by shrieking like a little girl, thrashing helplessly against the bonds and frantically begging for forgiveness. I guess everyone has their own way, huh?

She shouldn’t worry about a thing. He’s really good at toppling over onto his side.

Yes, I suppose that would be very special.

Well, that’s a bit last-minute isn’t it? Honestly – that Raoul! He does make me cross sometimes, he really does.

Letting daylight in on industrial light and magic.

Respectful silence

…

Get ready… they’re rough.

It adds a bit of tension to an otherwise dull game.

Very wise.

Oooh.

Of course, there’s always a risk in catching up with old schoolfriends, that they’ll make you feel bad by being, like, waaay more successful. But really, when your future’s the butcher’s hook, there’s no point in drawing fine distinctions, I say.

Esclavage, inégalité, sororité!

OK, so it doesn’t have quite the same ring to it as the original. But happy Bastille Day, anyway!

My favourite verse, lightly adapted:

Grande Déesse! Par des mains enchaînées
Nos fronts sous le joug se ploieraient
De viles despotesses deviendraient
Les maîtresses de nos destinées !

Francophony or not, we can surely all celebrate a day named after a dark and gloomy dungeonlike prison in which unspeakable tortures took place, and even the Marquis de Sade (surely worth celebrating in our community, despite his peculiar ideas about which sex should whip the other) was imprisoned, so –

What’s that? Bastille Day celebrates the liberation of the prisoners? Oh dear me, we can’t be doing with that. Bloody French; get everything backwards. Never mind, forget it, relâchez-vous!

Marchons! Marchons!

She’s always had a kind generous nature like that. One of those people who loves doing favours for her friends, you know?

Good thing you clarified that. It’ll be all right now.

Imagine not being turned on by the thought of whipping! Some people are so weird.

You had one job.

Isn’t that romantic?

Devotional abuse

I’m sure she’s very fair-minded.

The wonderful Eleise de Lacy, whom I had the immense privilege of meeting a few months ago. As extraordinary, beautiful and creative in person as she seems in the brilliant Femme Fatale videos.

And afterwards… especially afterwards.

Hmmm. What a bit of luck to catch you cheating on her just as she was next to a shop selling whips!

Just one less thing to worry about.

You’d better.