Contemplating the divine – Page 173 – 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.

Pre-nuptial agreement

Ah, there
you are, darling. Now have you written
that note?

No? Well why not?

Oh don’t be
ridiculous, darling. It’s just a
precaution. I mean, we both love each
other now, of course we do, and I fully expect that we’ll both love one another
for ever. But just in case – just on the
off-chance – that something happens and our marriage isn’t working any more…
well, then it’s useful to have arranged something like this beforehand, that’s all. Isn’t it?

What do you
mean, you don’t know what to say? It’s
pretty simple. You don’t have to worry
about getting the wording exactly right or anything. I mean if you really were committing suicide, you’d
be a bit distraught, wouldn’t you? You’d
probably just put down any old thing.

Just say –
you know, that you can’t take it any more, you hate your life and you’ve
decided to put an end to your worthless existence. That sort of thing. Oh – and probably best to say you’re sorry for any pain you’ve caused me, but that you think this is the best thing for both of us.

Hmm? No – best
not to specify any method. We don’t know
whether you’d be co-operative if I ever needed to use it, so I think I’d better have to improvise whatever I can at the time. If I ever need it.

Are you
writing it now? Great. Well, when it’s done, give it to me and I’ll
put it somewhere safe.

And then I can
tell you all about the plans for the wedding!

There must be an angel

(playing with my heart)

It’s amazing what you can achieve with a little thoughtfulness and the daily touch of a razor-sharp blade.

When the cat’s away, the mice will.. well, do their chores and write lines, by the look of it.

Sometimes these things are just, well, involuntary aren’t they? It’s not that she wants to burn your hand with the iron – she just feels a compulsion.

She’s probably joking. Don’t you think she’s joking?

There are more hot chicks in empire-line dresses right here, if that’s your thing. According to Google, though, I’m the only person in the world for whom “hot chicks in empire-line dresses” is a thing, so maybe not.

Forensic examination

Ah, Mr Sandwick. How are you feeling?

Yes, well no bones were broken, fortunately.

It was a nasty crash, though. You had bruises all over.

Now – we’re going to need your help with something. The police need us to put together a full report on the injuries you sustained, so they can determine what happened in the crash. Obviously, your chin got that horrible gash as the dashboard crumpled upwards, and there are bruises around your shoulder, where you jarred against the seatbelt…

…but there’s some quite severe and sustained bruising on your buttocks that we’re trying to understand.

Any thoughts?

No, well I suppose you were losing consciousness at the time. Not really fair to expect you to remember! I just thought, maybe…

Only…it’s odd, because there are two quite distinct patterns of bruising, on your buttocks and upper thighs. The majority of the bruises – and we think these were sustained first – are consistent with some sort of heavy, but soft and flexible object repeatedly impacting your buttocks horizontally. Like – I don’t know. Maybe like a leather or a rubber belt. But probably heavier than a normal belt. Was there anything like that in your car that could have caused your injuries? Maybe a fan belt from the engine, next to the driver’s seat? I mean, it seems unlikely it could whip about repeatedly like that, but…

No? No, well that’s what the police said too. Very hard to understand.

And then there are some really nasty bruises from something long and straight and thin – six of them, almost perfectly evenly spaced across your buttocks, starting on the upper thighs and going up. Those look very sore. I expect you can still feel them when you sit down. Any thoughts how those might have happened? It was probably after the first lot of bruises. Oh – and we’re pretty sure your buttocks were probably stretched taut at the time of the impact. As if you were doubled up… or bent over.

No? Well, it is a mystery, isn’t it? We’ve been discussing it, here on the ward, and none of the doctors or nurses can make head or tail of it. Everyone’s fascinated. Quite the little medical mystery – just like a TV show!

Do try to remember, though, if you can. We’ve been wondering if you might – perhaps – have been doing something before you got in the car, that caused you to sustain these bruises? Some kind of activity that might have involved the kind of repeated impacts that I just described?

No? Can’t think of anything at all? Oh well.

Only the other car’s driver is disputing liability for all of the injuries, you see. So I expect you’ll be asked about it as a witness in the court case. In court. Under oath.

What’s that? Oh good lord, no, you can’t just drop charges now, I’m afraid Mr Sandwick. The insurance companies are involved, and they’ll want to make sure they’ve got to the truth.

Anyway, I need to take some photos. If you could just pop your pyjama trousers down? That’s right. And if you wouldn’t mind – it’s better if you stretch a bit, so it’s easy to see everything. So if you could stand here – that’s right – and then bend over with your bottom up in the air. That’s right. Don’t worry about the pyjama bottoms, down there around your ankles is fine.
Ooops! Silly me – I forgot the camera. You just wait in that position. I won’t be a moment. If anything jogs your memory about what might have happened, you will say, won’t you? Only it’s probably better now, than in court.

Just looking

What? Oh God,
no. You don’t have to do anything like that. He can’t cope with real women.

We just have to stand here wearing these
for half an hour while he watches. Then we go and get changed and leave him the
underwear. God knows what the little
pervert does with it – puts it on or wanks into it or something. Easiest money you’ll ever make.

No, don’t worry about that.
He gets off on humiliation. You
can say what you like.

Can’t we, pervert?

That’s right.

By the way, pervert, after this, we’ve got an appointment with a real
man. He wants to fuck both of us all
night, and we’re charging him less than a tenth of what you’re paying for half
an hour!

Isn’t that funny?

Hmm? No, he never speaks. Just sits there and watches. Kind of creepy, isn’t it? Still, probably better that he does this than going off to watch girls in the park, or something.

How are we doing for time? This is the first time I’ve had someone with me. It’s good to have someone to talk to, instead of just me and the creep. He got very excited when I said I was bringing a friend – didn’t you, pervert? Asked if we could kiss, and maybe cuddle a bit.

And what did I say to that, pervert? Do you remember? Oh but you don’t say anything, do you? You just sit there, drinking in the humiliation. Well, I’ll tell you again. I told you to fuck off, didn’t I? There’s no way you’re going to see us doing any lesbian stuff. Not for you to get off to, anyway. Actually, we really are lovers, in real life. I’ll probably kiss her the moment we leave your apartment. And then we’ll probably fuck each other in the threesome. But you wouldn’t want to see us fucking anyway, pervert. That’s real sex you see, between two real women. It’s not like those pictures of straight girls gently stroking each other in pristine underwear, wearing lots of make-up and glancing back at the camera. That’s just porn for perverts. The real thing would scare the shit out of you. Probably leave you impotent for days… if you’re not already.

In fact, fuck it, you don’t deserve the full half hour. We’re leaving early. Come on – let’s go and get changed. He’ll just have to sniff extra hard.

Oh – and pervert? Next time you book us? You’re only getting fifteen minutes. Same price. And we’ll decide what time to arrive – you can just wait for us all evening, if we’re running late.

Now you can call us a limo.

Fedmom capyions

Just for all those of you too excited at the thought of all these pictures of dominant ladies to type into Google correctly.

One of the most common search terms for people finding this blog is “Contemplating the devine”. No. Just no. Write it out correctly 500 times, and then go and see Miss Hardcastle, boy!

On we go.

Where else could you be?

Clue: the right answer is “Yes” or, better, “Yes, Mistress”. Don’t worry – you can always borrow the money if you haven’t got it!

Men say the oddest things sometimes. That’s why sensible wives don’t let them speak without permission.

The safeword is your credit card number.

You have laugh really, eh? All those bitter tears of loss… Over someone else’s balls. Funny. Isn’t it?

By the way, I shall be on holiday for about the next two and a half weeks. The blog will continue to update itself twice a week via the magic of ‘scheduler’ *. But if I don’t respond to your comment for a few weeks, it’s not because I am rude, or too lazy to do so**, it’s just because I’m not really here. But I’d like you to keep commenting anyway…

*actually, to tell the truth most of the captions and stories these days are produced using an AI script anyway, which is why they are so repetitive and formulaic. The real ‘Servitor’ died of shame about six months ago. Nobody cared.

** unless of course you are a representative of the ruling gender, in which case my failure to reply is a sign of laziness and rudeness, and I hope you’ll be taking appropriate disciplinary measures to deal with this disgracefully impertinent behaviour.

Happy thoughts

Morning honey! Hey – I was wondering – did you talk to George at he party last night? Sally’s George?

Yes, I thought I saw you the two of you. So… did you notice anything different?

Yeah? He does seem happy, doesn’t he? Much better than he was. And they make such a lovely couple now – don’t you think? They’re both really happy. I’m glad you noticed that.

Well… Sally let me into a little secret last night. Apparently, she had him fitted with a ThoughtTrainer about two months ago! Isn’t that amazing? Yeah – those things they use on criminals.

Anyway, apparently it’s set to train his thoughts to be more attentive to her. So it makes him happy when he’s obeying her – and it hurts him a bit if he has disobedient thoughts.

Yes, that’s probably why he was having all those headaches last month. I expect he was still getting used to having to think obedient thoughts all the time. But it looks like he’s cracked it now! And that’s why she decided finally to tell us – I can’t believe she kept it quiet for so long.

No, apparently he can’t tell anyone. It’s set to block him saying anything about it. Apparently you can set it up, so it prevents any expression at all of some thoughts. So he can’t disagree with her – that kind of thing.

But he seems really happy. Don’t you think he seemed happy? He had a kind of smile on his face the whole evening, didn’t he? And especially when she gave him little jobs to do. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so eager.

I guess they’re kind of a perfect couple now, huh? Because she used to hate it when he disobeyed – do you remember? She’s always been like that. A bit like me, I suppose!

Oh – and Julie said that maybe she’d have one fitted onto Trevor. Now he really needs it – don’t you think? Imagine! Grumpy old Trevor as a happy little helper for his wife. I’m looking forward to seeing that!

I hope they’ll be as happy as Sally and George. Don’t you? I’m sure they will be. Lucky old Trevor. I expect it’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Don’t you think so?

Right.

So….is there anything you want to say to me?

No?

Oh.

OK.

Well, I guess you’d better get on with your chores, anyway. I’m going round to see Sally. A few of us girls are. I’ll probably be late back, so don’t wait up, OK? Unless there’s something you want to talk about, when I get back.

OK, bye then!

Shut up, she explained

I always find her explanations entirely convincing.

Oooh – that’s a nasty sensation, isn’t it? When you really have to go but… On the other hand, arguing with her can lead to much nastier sensations, so probbaly best just to go with it. It’s not as if she’s giving you a choice.

Femdom means always having to say you’re sorry.

I bet she can, too. Or I would, if I were allowed money.

She’s a bit squeamish about that sort of thing. Best to just swallow it straight away.

Ermmm…..

Unpleasantries

Fair point. It’s quite hard to travel internationally without money too. Or clothes.

Madame Sarka. Of course. Need I say more?

I expect they’ll just agree to keep it our little secret, don’t you? In exchange for total obedience, obviously.

From St Mackenzie’s, a site that (in the previews at least) has lots of wonderful shots of schoolmistresses looking stern, and schoolgirls looking dangerous… but then disappointingly always seems to have them take their clothes off and look ready for vanilla sex. I mean, who wants to see that? There are some real weirdos out there, no?

This is kind of autobiographical. I really hate the actual feeling of being beaten, so although in the weeks leading up to a session I’m all excited, in the hour or so before there’s just this “oh fuck, pretty soon someone’s going to be hitting me with a leather strap and it’s going to hurt!”. Out of all the fetishes there are, why this one, hmmm? Why not cuddly toys, or something? Or ballooons. I’ve tried…and balloons do nothing for me.

This is from Cruella. You could tell even without the tag, right?

Go on – surprise her!

No idea who this is. Doesn’t matter, though, as after tonight I expect she won’t be seeing you again.

Yes, you’ll always have those memories.

Through the window

Oh, hi Mr Travis!

Are you leaning out just to say hi to me, or are you –

Oh dear. Again? Oh poor you. I think it’s awful the way she makes you bend over the window sill like that when she’s going to beat you. It must be so humiliating! I guess that’s part of the punishment, huh?

So what did you do this time?

Did you? Oh. We girls are quite particular about the way we have our dresses ironed. Ask your lodger next time – I might be able to give you some advice. Pleats are hard, though.

So is it the paddle again? I had a friend who used to get the paddle from his dad when I was a kid. He used to say it hurt like hell. One day his dad caught him saying that and paddled him double for profanity. Kinda fair, I guess.

No? Oh. I thought you got the paddle. What are you getting then?

A what? A “quirt”? What’s that?*

Oh. You mean, kind of like a whip? Oh boy, that sounds pretty rough. You get that just for messing up the ironing? Gee, you get whipped just for pleats not being straight. Your wife is kinda strict, huh?

Second time? Oh, OK. I guess you got the paddle last time, huh? Well, didn’t that make you kinda take extra care, this time, – and –

Yeah. Well, pleats are hard.

OK. Well anyway, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I mean – I guess you’ll feel uncomfortable enough pretty soon! I’ll just swing here for a bit. I’ll try not to look at you, when –

Oh, hi Mrs Travis! How are you?

Yeah, pretty good. Isn’t it great that the sun’s out again? I could just be out here all day.

Hmmm? No, no he hasn’t been round with the lawnmower for a while. Well… yeah, he did say he would. But it’s OK. I quite like the grass this long. Any time’s fine.

No really, I don’t mind! I’m sure he had other things to do and – well, all right. I guess he’s your husband, huh?

Oh – and if he’s coming round anyway? Do you think he could cut back some of the bushes, going back to the garden house? Only they’re growing over the side and it’s… Well, I guess I could just ask him. But I thought I’d check with you first, because – oh wow, is that the ‘quirt’? Boy, I’m glad that’s not for me. Wow, that’s pretty serious, huh? What’s it like when it –

OH!

Oh my god! Did you just – ? Wow, that was a real crack, like a – oh my god. Are you sure he’s OK? He looks kinda – oh are you gonna do it agai – Oh MY GOD!

(Hurriedly) OK, well, I can see you guys want to get on with it so – OH! Wow! Three. That must really hurt! – yeah, I’ll just… actually, I left my book inside. See you!

The end

* this:

Pretty mean

Pretty girls can be so mean,
don’t you think?

I knew this girl in high school,
for example. She was pretty and cute, and she hung out with all of the cool
kids. So of course, I was amazed when she asked me round to her place one day.
I suspected she just wanted help with her homework, you know, but I couldn’t
control my hopes that she might be sweet on me, and my heart was pounding out
of my chest when I rang her doorbell.

But wouldn’t you know it, as
soon as I was inside, she knocked me out and I woke up in a dark cellar, where
over the course of that week, she and her friends subjected me to the most
unspeakable tortures and sexual humiliations, then locked me in chastity and
condemned me to a lifetime of chained servitude as her male maid! Girls, eh?
True story.

Well, except the bit about being
in high school. I’m British. We don’t really have them.

But every word of the rest is
true. Honest.

Onwards…

Worship…devotional prayers…human sacrifice – whatever she wants, really.

Oh don’t be ridiculous. Of course she’s not going to fry up his balls! What a suggestion! She’s going to lightly glaze them with cardamom-scented honey, and serve on a bed of sauteed mange-tout with polenta.

It’s generally not a good idea to let your manager and your dominatrix work together. But once they do, the best thing to do is just to accept the situation. After all, you have no choice.

Awww. Isn’t that sweet, to think of your comfort like that? That’s why you’re marrying her, right?

Therapy can help, too. For example, I discovered that my fears of sexual inadequacy stem from being sexually inadequate. I owe my therapist a great debt, which I’m paying off in monthly installments deducted directly from my salary.