Nonsensual BDSM





Of course, it’s more effective to kill mens’ lib off with kindness and reasoned argument.  But not nearly as much fun.









I suppose a blowjob is out of the question? You might as well ask… it couldn’t hurt.

Thank goodness she gave you a safeword.  OK, she’s gagged you and also forgotten it.  But I think that demonstrates her commitment to responsible play.

Oh, nobody still beats her own husband in this day and age do they?

Goodness, what a long one, as no one in the history of the planet has ever said to me.


Beneath contempt

… but I’m working my way up and maybe one day.



Or both?

I think she’s going to bring a lot to the team.

Hmmm. That interview reminds me of something. Oh yes.

It’s great that she’s actually going to shoot me, because I’m terrible at pretending. If I wasn’t screaming in actual agony, it wouldn’t be convincing at all. Women – they think of everything, huh?

Don’t worry, it doesn’t control your brain or anything like that. It’s just a way of improving the feedback loop between disobedient thoughts and unpleasant consequences.


Pertinent

I always try to be.

You could try combining the two?




She should really increase your housekeeping allowance, you know.  I think you should take a stand on this.  Be a man, you know?

Just a joke, OK?  If you’re religious at all, please be reassured that I have the utmost respect for all religions.  I uphold your right to worship your god, whatever you call Her.

She’s really making an effort to satisfy your fetish here.

Hmm.  Looks like they didn’t read my email about my likes and dislikes in session.  The corset is supposed to stay on.  Plus, I’m pretty sure I didn’t request the whole plastic sheeting, knives and blood thing. I’ll have to have a word.


Ladies who leash





Seven days in already, so counting down the  days from 21 that’s only 14 to go? Or 83 if it’s 90.  Whatever.

Oh, I think – with all due respect – Madame Sarka is being unduly harsh on English, here.  But then, she’s really good at being unduly harsh.

Actually, the taste depends a lot more on what it had to eat a few hours earlier.

Sometimes she fills the bag with ice, so as he’s sweating in the heat there, he gets some lovely cool drips of water. Usually, though, she doesn’t.

I’m not worried. Just terrified.


Contemplating the Devine

Impressively, one of the top search terms from visitors to this blog is a spelling mistake.  So this is a special post to celebrate the tens of thousands of pageviews by ‘readers’ who cannot spell the word ‘divine’. 

Welcome, guys (I think we can safely assume the gender balance of this particular sample swings heavily male). Just thought I should give you a shout out…you’ve been slowly typing the wrong word into Google for so many years now.  Yay!  Morons.


I’m aware of course that many of my ‘readers’ may not be native English speakers, so calling these people morons is unnecessarily insulting and might not be entirely fair.  But – DUH! – this is a blog for males who enjoy being unnecesarily insulted and treated unfairly – remember?  Morons.

Hey, guys, you know you should try booking a schoolboy session with one of those severe English schoolteacher dommes some time?  You’d be really good at it. Take some cold cream for the journey home.  


On with the devine imiges…



Oooh!  ‘Not as bad as it just conceivably might have been’?  Wow, that’s the nicest thing any woman’s ever said to me after sex.  Usually, they just say something along the lines of “Sorry – would you mind moving a bit further down the carriage?”. which I find very hurtful.






Males don’t really need lobotomies, truth be told.  Still, if it makes the little woman happy, you might as well let her have her way, hmm?


In the end, she just went for a more direct approach.

Yum.

Whimper.


My company was charming

Well, what am I supposed to do with the other 38 seconds, then?








Thank goodness she’s looking out for me.




Don’t try to argue or plead your way out of it – it’s one of those Mars/Venus things, you know?  She’s got some emotional issues that need to be worked out and until Gerald arrives, you’re the only one she can turn to.






In the femdom community, athlete’s foot is considered an STD.






You’ll notice she hasn’t put the surfboard on the fire yet. Another Mars/Venus moment, yeah?  Any ideas why ? Hmm?  No? Sigh…because she’s waiting to see if you’ll do it yourself without being specifically asked, you unfeeling brute. Obviously, this relationship is going to need a lot of work.


Future (im?)perfect

I know you all prefer the visions of a matriarchal future under the loving but firm hand of the divine Anne, but this blog is merely a place to record the facts and my time viewing device thingy does seem more and more often to indicate the coming of an altogther darker time. 


That said, this future is only dark, bleak and brutal for males.  So as far as human rights for actual humans are concerned, things are looking pretty good!

Miss-judged



I’ve been a very bad wolf.

Actually, there’s a funny story about this one.  It turned out there were no fewer than three Miguels on the beach!  So as you can imagine things got a little embarassing – and of course we soon ran out of condoms and beer, so I had to run back to the shop. Still, it all worked out OK in the end.

You can cary an orgasm donor card, you know: ‘I want to help someone come when I die’?  Not that it really makes much difference, but prior consent is a thing with some people.

I think he’s looking at her funny now.  Some men never learn, huh?

And the evening, and the next day too, if need be. One wrist can outlast a great many bottoms, as any schoolmistress will attest.


Beaten senseful


She’s got a very playful personality.








This blog does like to feature male doms and sadists from time to time, in the interests of balance. 
Oh not the legs as well!


 When ‘the mess’ has been tidied up I’m going to be launching a formal complaint.  Think she’s in trouble now? Just wait.



Don’t tell her that Mistress Hilda’s new boy has been branded with her initials… you’d never hear the end of it.