whipping – Page 6 – Contemplating the divine

All is vanity, nothing is fair

As no doubt the quote from a nineteenth century novel in the title will have forewarned you, Contemplating the Divine once again takes a step back to the gentler, but no less unkind, femdom of regency days*. It was one of the first themes ever to feature on the blog, and remains to this day one of the most thoroughly unpopular, with few if any readers ever having a good word to say about it. But then if I got off on compliments, I wouldn’t be a humiliation freak, now, would I?

Either that, or I’m too stupid to take a hint. Whatever… here come the hot chicks in empire-line dresses yet again.

* and before anyone rushes to comment that at least some of these scenes are clearly from the early Victorian period, I should point out that I am – of course – using ‘Regency’ to indicate a general focus on period drama and costumes, rather than strictly confining the topics to the years between 1811 and 1820. OK? Goodness, femdom porn sites like Bitches with Whips or StraponSquad don’t pay so much attention to these historical details, I’m sure, and I don’t suppose they get that kind of abuse.

Domestication

Actually, the silver brushes are worse – just ask your future father-in-law while you’re doing chores.

It’s not fair to expect her to whip you every time something needs doing, now, is it?

It’s good they’re talking about money, though: many couples don’t and it can lead to a lot of pain in their relationships.

He thought that a biology-class themed session would be all about sex, but instead he’s learning lots of useful facts.

I find that having a pair of electrodes nestling lovingly against my skin helps keep me closely in touch with her feelings. I wouldn’t have it any other way, even if I could.

Dressed to oppress

Pookie’s thoughts are mostly elsewhere, to be honest. Which is just as well, as her questions are rhetorical.

You could try telling her that even Leicester is a tropical paradise when lit up by her divine radiance…?

The first time’s very special, isn’t it?

He had an imaginary friend as a kid. She used to beat the crap out of him too – maybe that’s where he gets it from.

He has some pretty intense CP fantasies… I hope they’ve got the stomach and the stamina for it.

Just realised I actually did two captions of this lovely image of the lovely lady (Maya Sinn!) and Pookie (most probably someone with a name unlike ‘Pookie’, but you never know) so you might as well have both.

Getting through it

How you doing there? You OK? Breathe. No, really, come on: normal breaths. You need not to hyperventilate. And just relax on the bench there, let yourself go limp in the restraints. You’ve been pulling away at those straps almost since the start – bruised yourself almost as much as the whip did, I should think! Well… not really. But you’ll certainly have bruises around those wrists after all that writhing around.

Wow… you lost it a few times during that
session, didn’t you? I’m glad I had soundproofing
installed last summer – you were shrieking and begging so hard, someone would
have called the police on us, I reckon.

So!
So… No-safeword
session – pretty brave! Any
regrets? I reckon you had quite a few,
at times there, didn’t you? But you must be getting an amazing endorphin rush,
now, right? I can only imagine…. I don’t think I could ever take that much pain. But I hope it’s worth it for you.

You know, obviously I take consent
really seriously but this sort of no-holds-barred, no mercy, no-safeword
session has to be my favourite style of play.
I’ve got very few clients who’ve ever dared but … to take someone to
their limit… and then just carry on.
It’s an incredible rush: nothing like it. I mean, there’s a lot of stuff written in BDSM porn about ‘breaking’ slaves but until you’ve had someone desperately stuggling against the straps like that, begging hysterically, promising you anything, anything at all to make the pain stop… and I just keep whipping, criss-crossing the welts, enjoying the way the screams and gasps cut off each frantic babbled plea to stop…

Nothing like it. Nothing in the world. It’s not sexual, for me, I’ll admit – it’s more like the greatest rollercoaster ride ever, you know? I enjoy inflicting the pain, I enjoy the power even if I don’t get off on it, sexually. It’s actually better than sex: I’ll say that. Yeah: better than sex.

Do you know what my favourite bit
is? See: I like to start talking to them as if the session’s over. About how they feel, as if they’ve got
nothing more to worry about. When in
fact I’m less than halfway through. It’s a bit cruel, I suppose. But then, I’m a very cruel person, I suppose. And as they’re all strapped down, with no safeword
there’s nothing they can do about it anyway.
Except moan in fear, when they realise, obviously.

Yeah… just like that moan
there. Dawning terror. That’s the best rush of all.

I will show you games where the winner never wins

So lock away the childhood and throw away the key.

Probably best just to do it. Discussions about obedience can become very repetitive.

I think the best years of their relationship are ahead of them.

Like many subs, I find there are limits to how much pain I can take… but none to how much I can receive.

Frekke gutter som går av og oversetter bildeteksten under disse bildene, tar bloggen altfor seriøst.

If he doesn’t, they can always turn their attention to the so-called ‘best man’.

Traditional crop-wielding ladies

Not a problem: premium cat food doesn’t actually taste as nice as the adverts imply. In fact, in tests I understand eight out of ten slaves said they preferred to go hungry than be forced to eat it… but why should anyone care about that?

Which is odd, because women are supposed to be good at empathy.

Having said which, these two – while not exactly exhibiting empathy I’ll admit – are certainly very concerned to ensure fair treatment of all of the prisoners. Which is nice.

She does use him for sex, but only in a facilitative capacity.

And I’m very persuadable. I’ll even pay for it.

She’s right, you know

She just is.

My
SO once told me that it was on our honeymoon that I gave her the best
sex she’s ever experienced. Which is a bit of luck, really, as you
never know what you’re going to get when you’re in a foreign place and
you don’t know the escort agencies well.

It’s only fair: she took his electric razor, when they split up, I understand.

Got there eventually. Well done. Now let’s talk about ironing pleats.

Don’t worry: he won’t allow himself to be improperly influenced. Properly influenced, yes, certainly, possibly even vigorously influenced. But no more than that.

Women, eh? Sometimes you’re supposed to scream in agony, sometimes you’re supposed to stay silent. How are we supposed to know? I mean, unless they use ball-gags and stuff.

Remembrance of times past

The Other World Kingdom is mostly gone, at least in its original form, but its memory lives on. And so do the memories of those fine ladies who worked there, which by a process of entirely fictional thought transferrence have ended up inside the mind of the author of this blog. From where, after picking delicately around the piles of rancid porn and mounds of bad ideas that clutter that place up, they emerge to be shared here.

Or, to put it more simply: OWK ladies remember. Again.