Category: whips

Facts are stubborn things

… a bit like donkeys, then, and males. Today we have OWKFacts! Ages since we had any OWKFacts… this blog will be in danger of losing its reputation as the femdom blog of record and its obsession with accuracy and verisimilitude (oh, thank the Goddess for spell-checkers) if I don’t put some more facts out there.

Relentlessly romantic

And it makes her life easier too – she can focus her disciplinary efforts on gratifying her own sexual desires, instead of constantly having to make you scream for mercy over simple household tasks inadequately carried out.
You don’t want to make it her problem, believe me. She employs very effective problem-solving techniques.
Well she could look a bit more interested! I mean, here you are, ready to scream your guts out as you thrash around in agony for everyone else’s pleasure…
I can date to the very day – almost to the very stroke – the moment I reached the same realisation, in my own blissfully happy marriage.
She’ll get the hang of it. You can’t make an omelette without breaking a few kitchen slaves, am I right?
Actually, she’s unfairly disparaging* AFM’s technology section here. Just in the last few issues they’ve reviewed all the latest electronic air fresheners – focusing on how easy it is to change the scent they disperse – they’ve had some fascinating pieces on the microfungus ecologies that thrive and provide such rich aromas from even the cleanest armpits and they have tested out all of the latest AI models with a carefully standardised prompt crafted to induce them to describe a particular activity (can’t remember what it was) in as much detail as possible. Plus reviews of shaving technologies obviously.

*But then, Ms Palvin is very welcome to disparage me unfairly as hard and as often as she wants. I live for the hope that one day she will.

Whip smart

Just to cite one possibility, at random, among so many.
The Honourable Dogbreath-Twattington takes his role very seriously and never reaches a decision without careful thought about the possible consequences of getting it wrong.
Some prefer candles and soft music but they’ve discovered through much experimentation that this is what works for them.
He’ll thank her for it eventually, you’ll see.
Oh, I hate playing the ‘guess what I stepped in’ game. Surprisingly enough, for instance, beetles and slugs taste very similar, despite actually coming from entirely separate phylla of the animal kingdom.
Oooh kerosene play! Quite edgy if you currently have quite a lot of body hair, I understand.

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.

Verified by MonsterInsights