Category: whip

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.

Freddie’s back

If you like Contemplating the Divine* then you will certainly have loved Freddie’s Tales.**  You, therefore, like me, will have been devasted when Freddie’s Tales disappeared from one day to the next. Also like me, therefore***, you will be absolutely delighted that Freddie is back, with a new blog and no doubt just raring to produce more of  those fabulous Beetle books.

So get yourself over to Freddie’s new blog. I – hey come back!  I didn’t mean now.  Read the captions below first, moron.  That’s what you came here for, right?  Men… I dunno.



My SO and I have been experimenting with pre-signed suicide notes.  It’s a kind of next-level thing, you know?  Edgy, I know, but it works for us.








I think I can give her 110%.
Sounds like you are actually going to be discussing it… at length.  But not until you’re safely married.
Consent seems to be a theme of this post.  That’s because it’s so important.  My SO always insists that I consent to everything she does to me.
 
Thank goodness they no longer hunt foxes.  That was so cruel.





*  And if you don’t like Contemplating the Divine what the fuck are you doing here? Are you some kind of weird masochist or something?  Freak.

**  Except the Femsub bits, obviously.  One day, I hope young Freddie will meet a lady who will set him right about the suitability of that sort of material.


*** Writing this, I realise how uncannily similar we are, you and I.  We laugh at the same things, cry together – we should get a drink some time, yeah?

Feet first


It’s got to turn out my way one of these times…

Hmm… looks like she’s finished all of that bottle of water.
If it were being totally candid, it might suggest that it would occasionally appreciate being whipped just a little less hard, but fortunately it has the sense to keep its moronic opinions to itself.
I don’t see how the marriage can be regarded as consummated unless she has had sex too.  Hmm…  do you suppose that bell-boy is still around?  He seemed nice.
I think he’ll be cleaning her tank again.