Stories and pictures themed around female domination and male subjugation and servitude. Unsuitable for children, for alpha males, for hard-core practitioners with an interest in the politics of bdsm and the mechanics of complicated rope work. Of interest to perverts like me, basically.
So do stop arguing, hmm? It’s very tiresome.
With thanks to a commenter below, I’ll note that the smiling lady is Mistress Mona Rogers, whose pinned Tweet (X?) reports “it is time to announce my retirement”, alas. I wish her well and hope she still has a great deal to smile about.
Just another one of those captions that became so long it wasn’t really a caption any more so I’m calling it a story.
Your princess? Really, am I? Aww… that’s nice.
Maybe you’d like to hear your princess tell you a story, hmm? Don’t worry: you can keep doing that. Right between the toes: there’s a good boy.
Once upon the time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in far-off Milton Keynes. She was so beautiful and so talented that men from far and wide fell in love with her. Princes, knights, rich merchant bankers… even footslaves so ugly she had to make them wear latex masks, who loved to lick her sweaty toes. They all fell in love with her, but she really didn’t give a flying fuck, as long as they paid her and gave her presents on special occasions.
Like her birthday: that was the specialest occasion of all. The princess hated it if any of her ungrateful and moronic worshippers forgot her birthday. No – don’t stop doing the foot thing, slave. I’ve got something else planned in a moment, but you can keep doing that for now.
So, at the end of one birthday the princess made a little list of all the slaves who hadn’t fucking bothered to give her a present – who couldn’t even extend her the basic courtesy of an email or something. You know: to take, like, one minute out of their day to wish a happy birthday to the lady they claim is the light of their sad little fucked-up lives. And she decided that the next time each of those nasty little ingrates sessioned with her, she’d give them a really hard pain session, that went way beyond their ‘limits’. Like, for example, her pathetic little footslave who was ‘really not into pain, Mistress’: she decided she was going to clamp his nipples and bollocks with tight, tight clamps and attach heavy weights to them, then whip him raw. Maybe finish off with some electric shocks or ball-busting. Or both.
Of course, the princess realized, it would have to be consensual. But the self-centred bastards who’d forgotten her birthday would be given a choice: consent to the pain session the selfish little sods so richly deserved, or never see Mistress and her beautiful feet ever, ever, ever again. Either way, she thought, next birthday she’d have presents from all her slaves: any who didn’t consent would be living sad lonely lives without her and the remaining ones would be too fucking terrified to forget a second time, after the sheer hell she planned to deal out to them.
Now… I want you to help me write the end of the story, slave. Not the very end, that’s “And the princess lived happily ever after.” It’s the bit just before that. What do you think is going to happen?
No, you can stop licking my foot now – maybe that was for the last time, isn’t it exciting? – and I’ll go and get the bondage cross ready, while you have a think.
The part of the princess in this tale was played by the very lovely and delightful Tiffany Naylor, who does indeed hold court in the magical land of Milton Keynes*, where I once encountered her and very lovely and very delightful she was. Naturally, none of the actions of the fictional dominatrix depicted here should be attributed to the real Tiffany Naylor, although I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets cross if her regulars forget her birthday**, as that’s perfectly normal (and normally perfect) dominatrix behaviour.
* For Americans or other foreigners unfamiliar with this place, Milton Keynes is one of the most historic towns in England. You can easily spend several days there, just strolling around the medieval streets, drinking in the scenic beauty of the old town and swapping stories with its charming inhabitants. Wisely, the local authorities have avoided the excess tourism that has damaged the charm of some other historic English locations, like Stratford on Avon, by ensuring there is little to be found on the Internet about the rich history and architecture of this unspoilt gem, but those in the know regard it as being on the must-see list for any visitor seeking to explore England’s historic treasures.
** 3rd of August!
It’s the best kind.
This is the magnificently magnificent Gigi Allens. Who also makes vanilla porn movies – which is a sad waste of a powerful talent, but at least shows us what we are all missing and always shall.
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| Scurry scurry scurry… |
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| In practice a lot of the psychological elements flow fairly naturally from the pain and from the dread of it, |
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| Coding’s a valuable skill in today’s economy but getting the coffee that helps keep the coding girls focused is vital too. Not as well paid – obviously, as a traditional male occupation – but there’s more to life than money and the satisfaction of a menial job done adequately cannot really be priced. Plus, a really good coffee boy might have a shot at a tampon boy position, should one become available. Better than sitting in front of a computer staring at boring old code, amirite? |
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| So brave she bought a weekly pass enabling her to see any show she pleases. But watching Mark will be special for her, obviously. |
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| This picture in welts was just chance but some dommes take pride in their artistic skill with the whip. My SO likes to do Mondrians on me, for instance. I don’t mind the lines, it’s the areas of uniform flat colour that really sting. |
A happy Cruella shoot, of course, with all three participants enjoying the balmy British summer.
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| Ooh! A potential ally. That’s rare: so few women take men’s lib seriously. |
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| You can’t put a price on job satisfaction. |
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| Don’t worry, I’m sure she can’t trace your IP address. Just keep reading Contemplating the Divine… everything’ll be fine. |
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| He doesn’t need to renew his vows to her, of course. I mean, she’s not going to release him from them, or anything. |
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| Oh well. No real harm done. You do look a bit like No. 23, actually – I don’t know whether anyone else has ever mentioned that? But then we all look near-identical… hence the numbers, I suppose. |
…with apologies for the unusually awful pun in the title, even by the standards of this blog, we happily present more femdom captions from a time before those words even existed. But there are some timeless verities and female superiority is one such.
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| Hmm… maybe Karen Gillan was wrong. |
Another totally forgettable song from that pointless 80s guy, having his career saved by the goddesses in his videos. Is it just me, or does the goddess annoyingly hidden by his left shoulder (reminder for male readers: his left is our right) at about 3.30 look like she’s thinking about something else? And the goddess on the second row far left (our left, boys… not that difficult) just looks embarrassed throughout.
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| Oddly enough, if you really understood her plan, you wouldn’t be worried about the animal in the middle there, but about the teddy bear to the right. I don’t want to spoil the surprise – just consent, and you’ll find out soon enough. |
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| There’s also ‘lucky dip’, where he gets to spin a wheel marked with the numbers one to five at the start of each week. But – shhhh! – if his patroness wants that spin to result in a particular outcome… well, that’s doable, if you know what I mean. |
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| Some people are like that – they’ll just drop everything if someone else asks. She can actually be quite assertive, so don’t assume this is typical. She’s no doormat. He is, but that’s more a literal description than a judgement of his character. |
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| Ungrateful little sod. You’d think he’d be pleased to get out and stretch his… his… well, whatever part or parts of his anatomy are about to be stretched, I suppose. |
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| Try to be worthy of the honour. |
… and elegant savagery too. Both are good.
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| She’s being remarkably patient with you, but patience has its limits you know. |
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| I’m not sure it’s entirely sensible to assign such an important task to someone who is obviously completely unqualified and inexperienced. Those plants need just the right amount of water: too much and they drown, too little and they dry out. |
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| He’ll have plenty of opportunity to think about it, which is just as well, given he is male. |
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| Poor Treasure… I’m sure she is wracked with paroxysms of guilt. Maybe she needs a kiss and a cuddle, hmm? |
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| Girl talk… good thing the guys have got more important things to be getting on with, than sitting around listening to her prattle on. |
