whipping – Contemplating the divine

Keeping it surreal

More feeble attempts at Far Side style humour, or at least captions that seem even less firmly strapped down onto reality than usual.

Finally, a quick note about comments here on this blog. The anti-spam thingy (to use a technical term) seems to have been a bit too cautious of late, with some commenters being blocked. Sorry about that. If you are, I think you can request approval. I do see those (might take a day or two) and I’ll always approve any that aren’t obvious spam marketers. I think once you’re on the approved list you’re fine forever but I’m not sure – the anti-spam stuff keeps having to change to stay ahead. I’d love to just switch it off, but I see the list of spammy comments it has blocked and believe me, there are hundreds every week so that’s not an option.

Historical fits

Yeah, more old-timey femdom. They did have it before the invention of latex, you know.

Fun fact: the beautiful Anna Popplewell who features here is, I think, the only actress I have ever captioned whom I have seen in (so-called) real life. Not a very fun fact, I know, but I don’t get a lot of fun in my life.

Don’t make her ask you twice

It wasn’t really a request in the first place.

The world looks different, seen through tears. Often a lot clearer, oddly enough.

Of course, later, historians would debate whether ‘the lab leak hypothesis’ was actually a correct description of the cause, many (such as Sonia Lucysdaughter in her book *They Had it Coming Anyway*) preferring the ‘Some male moron probably fucked up, as usual’ hypothesis.

She’s struggling to keep control of herself.

If anyone’s thinking she’s only giving away someone else’s money, you haven’t really got the findomme thing. That’s Jerk-off’s wallet, so the money in it is hers, whatever you (or indeed Jerk-off) might think. Incidentally, Jerk-off’s name is going to change soon, as it doesn’t really suit his new lifestyle.

I read somewhere that modern AIs hallucinate things, so any AI femdom programme might punish you mercilessly for things you never even did! Yum…

And your parents will be gone long before Simon and Olly arrive, later.

Until it hurts

and beyond.

My SO’s not really into roleplay. She says she enjoys our heavy pain play sessions most when I’m being myself.

I once saw a lady buying some of those cruelty-free cosmetics which she then put into one of those fashionable manhide handbags. A bit hypocritical, wouldn’t you say? Not that I’m judging her, of course.

A bit embarassing, having to wear a chastity belt over nothing. It felt like I’d got past that stage, you know?

Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to enjoy the psychological aspects while you’re being flogged.

I’ve never asked. To be honest, I’ve never really been able to think of an emergency which would require me to have an orgasm.

It’s a caring profession. They care a lot.

If wishes were ponyboys

Once again, this blog takes a little break from its usual commitment to hard-core realism to present some fairy tales. Pretty Grimm, I know, but it’s all I’ve got today.

Don’t worry: if she smashes the door, he has alternative accommodation options. She bought a birdcage, before she had the doll’s house furniture idea.

Even tyrannical despots enjoy ‘bring your daughter to work day’.

Frustrate you? Oh, the poor chap. I wonder how long he’ll be left in that condition?

King Jorral’s queen interpreted the promise as meaning that she would continue to sleep in a queen’s bed, and she was absolutely right about that.

Now she’s learning witchcraft, she’s got some plans for Mr Granger, too.

It’s going to be quite odd for the people running heaven when, in about 970 years, the first post-Internet cohorts of mortals start to arrive. ‘Where are all the men?’, they might ask. Although obviously they’re not allowed actually to say the answer.

Hell hath no fury like a woman…

…does.

Men don’t really understand stuff like that, unless it’s slapped into them.

It’s a symbolic denial of heterosexuality, you see. And a rather practical and concrete physical one too, of course.

Actually, of course, lady Vikings didn’t usually go raiding. No: they waited at home, standing there tapping their feet and idly stroking their whips as their apologetic husbands returned with more meagre and unsatisfactory booty. There is a reason Vikings were so fierce, you know.

Of course, it doesn’t take the human element out completely – it can’t whip you, for instance.

Thank goodness for that. She must have been quite distraught.

Even if you’re sure it’s not yours (and let’s face it – in your condition, you can be reasonably confident it isn’t, right?) it’s polite to offer to lick it off.

A surprising facility for pain

Essentially the title is purely descriptive: we are back (after waking up woozily, dangling upside down, swaying around sickeningly as the abduction van tackles the winding country lanes) in the Facility. It’s a woman-owned, woman-run business that provides an ideal country break. Women can relax here, while men can get away from the stresses and cares of their everday lives to experience stresses and cares that are so, so much worse, for as long as their sponsors decide to keep them there.