Category: whips

View-halloo!

The title, obviously, indicating that it’s a special dedicated to that wholesome British country pastime, The Hunt. Vicious, brutal and non-consensual with no scantily clad ladies but lots of words. Those last two may well put male readers off, I know, but no one here cares what males think, so that’s fine.

Girls just wanna have power

That’s not strictly true – she actually does care. That’s why she does it.
Let’s hope Mistress is feeling forgiving. It’s not been known to happen often but there’s always hope.
Sounds ideal.
Right now, he’s thinking having to cope with her passive-aggresive behaviour is actually worse than being whipped. He’s wrong, but we’ll let him discover that for himself, shall we?
She didn’t really suspect him of having an affair. She has more confidence in his fidelity to her than that – an unshakeable confidence, actually.

Just look in to those eyes and say the first thing that comes into your head. What’s the worst that could happen?

Sorry the blog’s been a bit Joyless lately, but that’s fixable.

Someone to look up to

What she doesn’t realise is that I always do my best… it’s just usually rubbish, that’s all. Fortunately, I’ve had a lot of practice at scurrying.
She can resist anything except temptation.
At the OWK there’s always a bucket available, in case one of the slaves feels sick. Usually it’s just the bucket the food comes in, actually.
Of course, I don’t necessarily know that this is actually what happened behind closed doors, and I’m just imagining a scene that happens to fit what I would like it to have been. So… just like the actual series, The Crown, then.
His name won’t go down in the record books along with hers, but his scream will be what a lot of viewers remember, when watching the footage of that historic day. Plus, he got to attend the medal ceremony, curled up and sobbing on the grass by the podium. It did delay his trip to hospital but how many times in your life are you going to be the target of a world-record ball-busting kick?
I guess he was asking for it. But not paying… so unfair.

All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling

With grovelling apologies to anyone with even the slightest taste, it’s a special OWK poetry day! You see, I – no, come back! Really, it’s not that bad, and anyway at least there are pictures of –

Hello?

Anyone still here?

Oh well, just you and me, then. OWK poetry, anyway, all based on the kind of traditional British canon I learnt (but perhaps suprisingly given my interests did not actually have beaten into me) at school. More difficult than it looks, even done this badly, especially as there is essentially no one-word rhyme in English for ‘kingdom’, or for that matter ‘Owk’.

Just in case any of you are interested, puzzled or just entirely short of better things to do sitting there, as you are, in front of a computer with your trousers down around your ankles, the actual poems these are mangled from are, in order:

  1. How do I love thee?
  2. Jabberwocky
  3. The Tyger
  4. The Waste Land
  5. Elegy written in a country churchyard
  6. To his coy Mistress

Days of their lives

The OWK ladies once more reminisce to a fictional (but enviable) interviewer, about the best of the best of days. In fact, they reminisce at great length, at least in comparison to the space available for an ordinary caption…

Perhaps one day I’ll post the transcript of the whole interview here, if I ever get round to making it up.

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.

Cruelty is its own reward

…but you often still have to pay her for it.

I suppose there comes a point when, if she’s gradually cut away every piece of you that isn’t your genitals, there’s only the genitals left. But then isn’t that equivalent to castrating you? Interesting philosophical question, there, to help you while away the time as you dangle in mute agony.
She has a low boredom threshold, so best not to keep going on about it.
My pain tolerance level has increased slightly over the years but unfortunately so has my SO’s.

Sharp-eyed readers (or just those who spend a lot of time wanking on the Internet) will of course recognise the lovely Goddess Mina Thorne.

You’ll soon learn about what’s important to her and what isn’t.
When they talk later, I expect she’ll need to release a lot of that anger and he’ll need – will desperately need – to release other things.
Actually, in a sense he’s getting off lightly. He was sentenced to 35 years but he’ll actually only have done 34 years, 364 days and about 12 hours. Lucky bastard, I hope he appreciates it.

Memories, reposted for technical reasons*

Yes, it’s time for more of those highly inaccurate (and entirely made-up) reminiscences by the very first contingent of Ladies from the Other World Kingdom. Blatant homage or affectionate rip-off? Or should that be the other way around? You decide. Or don’t, if you’d rather not.

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* Apologies – not a new post. For a long time I have been getting 4-5 obviously automated and spammy comments per day, all of them on this post which was published on June 15th. I don’t want to restrict commenting, so I have been deleting them manually. But it’s getting worse and today I got about 30. All on the one post… which is pretty f***ing stupid even for an algorithm.

Some of the generic messages are actually quite funny, given the content of the blog and the post below especially. e.g. “My co-workers think I’m wasting too much time reading this blog, but it gives me so much useful information for my life.” I’d certainly like to have seen the spammer who designed the algorithm spend some time in the OWK

Dressed to suppress

You should stop asking… makes you come across as kind-of obsessive, and needy, you know?  Just play it cool, say nothing and I expect she’ll make sure it happens when you really need it – and maybe even when you least expect it.

 



Looks good on her, but then she’s not attached to the wall by a chain clipped to her genitals, desperately gasping for short breaths.

Hah – actually the investment bank of which he is finance director has investments in several app developer start-ups.  So I expect he knows all about it. And if not, there’s nothing like a sequence of electric shocks to to the cock to help you learn something quickly, believe me.

 

 

They’re just redistributing the wealth. From each according to how much she wants from him, to each according to whatever the little fucker deserves.

 

 

 

Good thing she had a humiliation session booked later the day she discovered the putrefying remains. 

 

 

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