whipping – Page 2 – Contemplating the divine

Imperial leather

More captions from a bygone age. Several bygone ages. But all featuring enchanting unfairness from the fairer sex.

Curiously, as a result of these two ladies taking their roles slightly further than he had anticipated, the ‘genleman’ in question was late for a meeting of the British Cabinet at which a fateful decision was taken that, had he been able to attend, he would have counselled against and thus avoided the siege of Khartoum and all the unpleasantness that stemmed therefrom. But Luce and Eliza got paid and that’s the important thing.

Forgive her Father, but not just yet if you don’t mind.

Albert, of course, died tragically young – an outcome for which the young queen was in no way responsible. So please don’t ask her how he actually died, she prefers not to think of the night in question. Nor was it in any way connected to the form of penile implant that was subsequently named after her late consort. Historians are quite clear on that and to suggest otherwise is technically treason, even today. Interestingly, the practice of ‘queening’ may well have been named after Victoria, although the suggestion to rename it ‘queen-empressing’ after 1877 never really caught on.

I think Kitty might need to comfort her quite soon, as she seems quite affected by the sight, the poor delicate thing.

Not compensations every time, but certainly compensations.

There’s no pleasing some people

I’m glad to say.

The rating scale goes up as high as ‘adequate’ but unlike many such platform rating systems, most clients don’t hand out the highest rating as a matter of routine.

Since he’d gone to the trouble of bringing it, she did give him a quick twenty with the stupid thing, before sending him back to get the right one, in order to start the punishment proper. Plus the extras for wasting her time, of course.

It’s funny, because the next day she had a client who found her socks *too* stinky. Unlike this situation, she didn’t send him away straight away: instead, he stayed the night tied up on the floor, face down in a pile of laundry, as I understand it. But he had to apologise expensively too.

If he misbehaves, he’ll certainly experience days when he is much *less* happy – and not just over the next two weeks.

Nubbin has a giantess fetish and they each have a ‘making love to my girlfriend while this sad little guy remains locked in chastity’ fetish, so they’re very well suited to one another.

She’s a professional so she’ll castrate you anyway, even if she doesn’t enjoy it or see the point. I think that kind of dedication is to be celebrated, don’t you?

NB, nursenicoclinic appears no longer to be operating (pun intended) but if anyone can find someone to whom I should be crediting the image of this lovely if occasionally rather malpractising lady, please speak up.

Hypnotized by you if I should linger

I will listen hard to your tuition.

‘Hmmm’ as in ‘Mmmm…hmmm…’? Or as in ‘Hmmm!’ ?

I always switch my phone off before a session, And the location thing too. Once, visiting the delightful Mistress Servalan in Sydney, my own phone ran out of battery just before I was due to call her to tell her I was on the street outside and I had to call a dominatrix on my work phone. That was briefly stressful, but Mistress Servalan managed to bust my stress almost immediately.

C’mon, give her a break, for goodness’ sake.

C’mon: be a man. A very submissive, cringing kind of man, ideally.

She won’t use the shock collar on him either. Says it’s cruel.

The divine Miss Chambers, from Cruella. Oh that nose…

But don’t get *too* close. 1.5 to 2.5 metres, remember? And always behind her, which can be a problem if she turns around suddenly. A problem for you, I mean. She doesn’t mind.

Soothing lullabies

Some nursery rhymes to help you relax and go to sleep. Everything will be fine.

Oh, you didn’t realise that I wrote poetry?

Louring ladies

Don’t worry, lots of bridegrooms… no, hang on. Do worry.

This is her ‘girlfriend experience’ service and if you ask me, it’s startlingly realistic.

I used to think I was my own worst enemy, but my SO managed to wean me off those self-loathing thoughts by listing all the people (or at least, the top twenty among our close friends) who loathe me even more.

You don’t need motivating, as you’ll be strapped down and helpless.

They serve coffee too – and water to help settle the boys’ stomachs, but most Mistresses prefer them unsettled.

Pain points

These ladies like to emphasise them.

Probably best to clear two hours, there’s no point in rushing these discussions.

Oh well, if it’s complicated probably best not to inquire further. Anyway, you’re paying for this time. Let’s play!

For the avoidance of doubt, I am sure that in real life Goddess Lady Skotia plays safely and delightfully, so the widow’s fascinator (such a lovely word) is just part of the outfit. And she does look very fetching in it.

“I am her Highness’ gimp at Kew, pray tell me Sir, whose gimp are you?”

It’s Mike I feel sorry for. *She* might not be bothered where her shots end up but he has to run to fetch the bolts back. A fully cocked crossbow fires them at several hundred miles per hour, so they go a long way if nothing gets in the way to slow them down.

Miss Chambers from Cruella a long time ago… such a pretty nose.

That’s a bit unfair. I frequently get quite close to girls who are having real sex, sometimes under the very bed where it’s happening.

Winners focus on winning. Losers focus on winners.

It isn’t what we say or think that defines us, but what we do

You will, of course, have recognised the title from the divine Jane’s Sense and Sensibility and thus have girded your loins (or had someone else firmly gird them for you) for another chapter of this blog’s longest running theme: period femdom. Like period drama you see, only…

What? No, not that kind of ‘period’. Pervert.

Anyway, here come the hot chicks in empire-line dresses, bustles, cropped bodices and suchlike.

They needn’t worry. The spirit of Chrstian mercy burns fiercely in their Aunt’s breast and she would greatly prefer to see the lad thrashed – several times, ideally – and retained in her service.

In the last county fair, the whippiness and suppleness of the birches produced on her estate received high praise.

As Marx tells us, social relations will be revolutionised by technological and economic developments. Yes, industrialisation may regrettably make slavery obsolete, but it will bring in new possibilities too. Electric cattle prods, for instance: unknown in pre-industrial society but today it is hard to imagine married life without them.

I have made a careful study of the good Baron’s oeuvre and may yet publish a scholarly monograph on it. Sadly, some of the pages in my only copy of his greatest work have become stuck together, so publication will have to wait.

To Sally’s disappointment, he describes nothing of the lives of the women of this exotic tribe and how they manage, left to their own devices without men. She takes a keen interest in that kind of thing. Perhaps when or if he writes another letter, she’ll learn more.

Don’t imagine that in saying ‘I’m sure you received worse thrashings in school’, she is merely speculating. She takes a keen interest in boys’ education and is on the board of governors of three local charity schools, so she is very well acquainted with the topic.

It’s the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud

Who loved a lord and who laughed aloud
At the moan of the merryman, moping mum
Whose soul was sad and whose glance was glum
Who sipped no sup and who craved no crumb
As he sighed for the love of a la-dy.

I used to wonder how girls could spend so long washing their hair. Then I found out.

Air stewardesses often like to have a sub waiting for them on arrival. After a long flight, they really want someone else serving *them* drinks and food – and if there’ve been any rude, arrogant passengers on the flight it’s still more important to have access to someone on whom to let off a bit of steam.

There are also consequences for remaining silent when she’s asked something, as well as for lying. So it’s all covered, really.

I hope this jokey little caption doesn’t contribute to that hurtful ‘castrating lesbian’ stereotype. Actually, survey data show that lesbians are, if anything, slightly *less* enthusiastic about castrating males than are heterosexual women, although there’s only a few percentage points in it.

Ooh… I hate job interviews. Like, I went to one where the interviewer asked me how I’d react to being slapped across the face and she didn’t even let me finish my answer! I did get the job, as it happens, but frankly that turned out to be a mixed blessing.

Fans of the ‘strict governess’ style of femdom might be interested in skipping to exactly 49 minutes into this 1970s British movie (NB, Russian site if you worry about such things), to reach the section which is about Theresa Berkley, of whipping horse fame. The movie is mostly in that 1970s British sex comedy style (oo-err, Missus, gwarn show us yer knockers!) but this bit is, I think, done quite well as it features the slow scolding build-up and anticipation (a theme I tried to convey in one of my few serious pieces: Waiting). Weirdly enough, although most of the film is knockabout farce, towards the end it takes on the tone of a public information film and features the then living, famous and very serious dominatrix, Monique van Cleef, in a short bit starting at 1:15.45. The 1970s were odd. But then, so are we, aren’t we? Extra trivia: the narrator is Charles Gray, narrator of Rocky Horror (where was his neck?) as well as being the best Blofeld, and Mrs Berkley is Carmen Silvera, who later dominated René in Allo Allo.

Whips and whims

If love is there, honouring and obeying should come naturally. And if they don’t, I’m sure she can find an alternative means to encourage them.

He has… but here’s only so much misbehaviour you can get up to, muzzled and on a leash.

Don’t worry: she won’t whip you any more than necessary.

My SO finds it very upsetting when our cat catches a mouse and plays with it so cruelly. As she says, there’s a 50% chance the poor little thing is female.

It’s a future-proofed profession, because although technology obviously could automate the basic function of shit-carrying, it could never provide the same satisfaction forcing a male to do that provides to the onlooker.

Just wrap me up in chains

I’m not thinking of escape.