Category: whip

Abject pleasure

Any prisoner being mistreated has the right to protest about it, too.  As much as he likes.




Shame really… if the two of you were gay, you could save a lot of money by doing this voluntarily instead and not paying her to force you.


The lovely Goddess Snow, who makes the most wonderful tease videos in which she induces uncontrollable erections by… well, by existing really.


It’s complicated.  To be honest, I don’t quite understand it myself.  But she assures me there is a very good reason and I don’t like to argue.



I do occasionally wonder – especially when bent over and quivering in fear while being caned – what life would have been like if I’d had a different sexual fetish.  Plushies for instance.  That must be really easy.




I’m told I have a very punchable face.  I can confirm that.

Liasons dangereuses

Urban foxes maybe?  We used to have urban foxes, round where I lived in London. They used to steal so many things: shoes, certainly.  They’d even take the panties and bras off the clothes lines of my neighbours…   Yeah.   Nasty little beasts. Agile too, to leap up high enough to reach the clothes line.









No, no: don’t get up.







Actually, it’s not quite true that she doesn’t care about your feelings.  Truth be told, she enjoys the thought of your misery.  But she’s too kind to admit it.











That’ll teach her.













It’s a pretty effect, isn’t it?  Makes a change from the usual striping.


Ooh!

It’s as far as I can take it.


Do you think you could ask him to slow down for just a moment while I write the captions under the pictures? No?  OK, well, I’ll do my – ouch, that was a deep one! – I’ll do my best. 



Sounds like someone’s having a bad day.  Who’d have thought being sissy maid to a sadistic perfectionist would be so difficult?
Trick question.  You need a lot more and she’s waiting for you to tell her that.  It’s a Mars/Venus thing, just go with it.

Her sister rebelled against the whole female supremacy thing.  Lives with a guy in Brighton and she lets him have his own pocket money and she even helps out occasionally with the housework.  Still, each to their own.


What a very sharp observation.


Fair maidens, faint hearts




I find it’s always easier to tell the truth. The aftermath is sometimes extremely difficult.

I have my pride.  At least, I did. Hang on…it’s got to be here somewhere.

By a curious coincidence, I got the cattle prod for ‘last night’ the very second day of my marriage.
I get quite excited about this sort of thing.
I heard Jason was having an operation so I sent flowers and my best wishes for a full recovery.  Well, you never know, he might.









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.



Her whip, her rules




She could well be right.  Early on in our relationship, my SO visited a therapist who told her to try dealing with her feelings frustration by beating the living daylights out of me.   Worked.

You get health benefits too – mostly regular exercise and a healthy diet.

I guess we’re both disappointed about the whole situation.
That’s a museum ship, by the way: HMS Belfast.  Worth a visit, if you’re in London, but the guns obviously can’t fire any more and all the seamen left a long time ago. 
 The lovely Mistress Sidonia, of course. Oddly enough, I understand she began her career as a submissive, but she has amply paid back the male sex in the years since.

My own car just stays locked in the garage all the time, these days. I don’t know why I bother to keep it, really.


To wear that ball and chain

It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy.

She has.  Twice already just this week, actually.














Can’t disagree with that.

He’s actually going to be hotter here at home than she is on the beach, oddly enough.
She volunteered for the sexual crimes squad. Said she wanted to give something back.








Yeah… yeah.  Just pretend.  It’s fine.  Go with it.

Not now, John

I’d forgotten this had femdommy bits – mildly suggestive only, I guess, and with that very special 80s pop video fuzziness, but I actually find that nostalgically erotic.*

Anyway, on with the 21st-century nonsense.






I always find a good beating really brings an apology home. And a bad beating, still more so.

It would be very odd to be the sort of guy who visits a sex worker who doesn’t tell him off and treat him with contempt and disdain.  A bit limiting, I’ve always thought.

Might be time for that safeword, actually.  Now what was it.  Pretty sure it wasn’t ‘mmph’, sadly for him.

She hates ironing, loves whipping.  That’s why this happening.

There’s a splendid phrase in British english “Face like a slapped arse”.  I think that’s one problem I don’t have – I have a face like a slapped face and an arse like a slapped arse.  When I’ve been lucky.





*I once caught the first 1 minute of “The Dominatrix sleeps tonight” on a BBC 2 pop programme, when I was, I dunno, sixteen or something. Oh. My. God. Then they stopped playing it.  Noooooo!!!  For years afterwards, every time I watched a music programme, or a bit of MTV when visiting somewhere (we didn’t have it), there was a little glow of hope I might see it again, or see more of it.  Never did until the Internet came along and then I was more jaded, of course.