You’ll just have to imagine the headline, because this is something like the 30th ‘turning points‘ post and I’m afraid I’m all out of ideas.
You’ll just have to imagine the headline, because this is something like the 30th ‘turning points‘ post and I’m afraid I’m all out of ideas.
Contrary to what many people ill-informed about femdom relationships might imagine, I am not oppressed by my SO, in fact she actually makes a point of bestowing small freedoms on me. For example, she grants me a financial allowance out of my earnings, quite frequently permits me to speak as long as that privilege is not abused and even (speaking of abuse) permits occasional sexual release. I’m very lucky that way, as I often find myself compelled to tell her.
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Like many submissive men, I find arguing with my SO can make me feel quite uncomfortable – sometimes immediately, sometimes over an extended period of time. |
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It’s the dreading that’s the worst part, I understand. |
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Whatevs. |
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Teasing and denial. |
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It’s the little things in a relationship that really define it. |
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I usually find that my main thought during ‘thinking time’ is ‘I think I can’t stand this much longer’ but my SO says it helps and I don’t like to contradict her. |
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I think she’s over-reacting. First rule of army life: ‘stuff goes missing’, amiright? |
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They do other things too. But mainly that. |
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I think you’re about to make two lovely ladies very happy. |
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I’ve managed to give up quite a few little vices over the years – turns out, you don’t really need willpower, or rather you can rely on someone else’s. |
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My SO likes to speak hypothetically, for example when describing ever more elaborate situations in which she might allow me an orgasm. |
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It’s like any job, except that no domme has ever been known to assert that the customer is always right. |
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Mmmm… No, no. |
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21/05/2021 12:31
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Even a highly professional operation like Contemplating the Divine gets it wrong
sometimes. As this blog is more than ten years old, I thought it
might be fun to open the vaults and find a few of the captions and images that
ended up on the cutting room floor – when things didn’t go according to plan!
Creating a captioned image involves bringing together lots of different things:
the photo, the characters, the situation, the witty plot twist and, of course,
the grammar to keep Tom Allen at bay. It’s a difficult balancing act,
requiring great skill to produce a polished finished product, so it’s no surprise
an incompetent little twerp like me never succeeds in that. Even churning out the tired,
derivative and shoddy captioned images that usually adorn these posts, though, there’s
much that can go wrong… as we shall see.
Now, our first example today shows how even the most professional performers can get it
wrong. A castration shoot, obviously. I can’t recall the planned caption,
maybe it was something to do with him asking for all those weights to be removed
as quickly as possible. Anyway, a professional submissive model down
there, coping manfully (i.e. squealing his little head off) with the weights on his genitals, self-same genitals
feeling the razor-sharp edge of a pair of professional bolt-cutters, wielded by
a beautiful lady from Cruella. Proper bolt-cutters, mind – beautifully
made so that a smooth and easy pressure on the handles translates through the
power of physics and leverage ito an unstoppable pressure as the blades
remorselessly close… just the thing to give our readers a little thrill, in
the safety of their darkened bedrooms.
A perfect set-up, you’ll surely agree. So what went wrong? Well,
just at the moment this picture was taken, just when the caption was about to be
added to the finished product, a low-flying RAF training flight created a sonic
boom up and down the remote valley where the shoot was taking place, the poor
lady jumped out of her skin and… the rest was history. Or biology perhaps…
rather messy biology too.
It was no one’s fault. Everyone was as sympathetic as they could be.
The fighter jet pilot was horrified when she found out, the cameraman did his
best to help, the Cruellan lady was… OK, she wasn’t enormously sympathetic if
I’m being entirely honest, but she did mutter ‘Soz’ as he was taken off in the
ambulance. The shoot wasn’t a complete write off: I actually managed to
get some rather gruesome captioned images done,
but so far my innate decency and a profound desire not to be arrested have
prevented me posting them. And don’t worry: the guy is still a guy, you
know? Still very much a man. Since the Gender Recognition Act was passed,
all he had to do was self-declare as a male and so he is treated as a fully
functional man for all legal purposes. Almost all, anyway. So…
just one of those things, I guess.
Ah, now this one was my fault, I am afraid. Very much my fault. I
apologised to the lady concerned and still do, on a regular basis. The skirt was
a write-off, the shoot was abandoned… what can I say? Fortunately, my SO
has since come up with a solution to prevent this happening ever again.
So… the shoot has gone off perfectly, the images of the lovely ladies and
slug-like men are all saved on the encrypted hidden drive and a caption has been
created. Nothing left to go wrong, right? Well… you’ve still got to get
the caption onto the right image. In the two pictures below, someone (with
a name beginning with S) didn’t manage to accomplish even that simple
task. Two pictures, two captions, Servitor – and you had one job!
Well, this mix-up resulted in not one but two captioned images that fell
well below this blog’s normal standards of coherence and had to be
abandoned. For which the management can only offer Servitor’s heartfelt
apologies.
I do! After a miserable rainy May, we now have bright sunshine chez elle (i.e. where I live) and I thought I’d do a sun-drenched special to celebrate summer’s balmy days. Admittedly, I myself haven’t yet seen the sun, as there are no windows in the part of the house where I live (not a problem, of course – after all, what would be the point, this far underground?). But she’s promised to break out the summer sweaters and the heavy rubber gimp suit, to take me out into the garden this weekend to where the treadmill awaits, bathed in sunshine. So that’ll be a nice change. I’ve also just booked a romantic stay for two at a beach resort for later in the summer, but I wont divulge the details as she hasn’t decided which boyfriend to take with her. They get so jealous – especially a certain old bull I won’t name! *
Anyway, here we are: summery captions.
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It’s great. Yeah. I’m getting quite good at never having any sexy thoughts at all, as long-term readers of this blog will know only too well. |
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Oh… don’t mind me. |
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She likes long walks in the country, getting caught in the rain and keeping up with the latest developments in applied metallurgy. |
* Regular readers shouldn’t worry. There’ll always be a place for Raoul in her heart – and in her vagina, mouth and anus, too of course.
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Hmm? Oh. Sure. |
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I don’t see why she would be so sure of that. Just on this occasion he’s the expert, after all. |
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It’s hardly their fault – boys break so easily, just when it’s starting to get fun. |
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That’s the thing about crush fetish play – it’s only fun for a short time. |
Ohh…kay. I’ve heard
enough and I’m ready to render summary judgment here?
So, first off, obviously the claimant has suffered a loss
and associated trauma. This court – and
I think all parties to this case – acknowledge his suffering and I am sure I speak for everyone in this room when I say we sympathise
deeply. It was a terrible, terrible
thing to happen.
Equally, terrible things happen. That’s life. The medical profession makes mistakes, as do we all. The apology the hospital issued was
short, admittedly, but “Sorry we castrated you by mistake.” is at least simple
and clear. Brevity is a virtue: I see no reason to doubt the
sincerity of the apology offered. The
hospital administrator has assured me that the additional comments added to
that email, referring contemptuously to the size of the material removed, were
never intended for publication and they do not know which of the nurses or
doctors – if indeed it was a member of the hospital personnel – was responsible
for that, or for the subsequent wide dissemination of the comments on social
media. And also of course the photographs, which the claimant understandably found acutely embarrassing, not least because the
women’s undergarments and the ‘humorous’ positioning of the sex toy seem to have been placed on him after
the administration of general anaesthetic.
Should the perpetrators ever be identified, they should suffer
consequences – a significant financial penalty at least – as this was a serious
breach of medical ethics. As was the
medically unnecessary and inappropriate use of the enema. These things should never have happened.
However, the hospital administrator has made strenuous
efforts to discover the perpetrator – or perpetrators – and failed.
All three of the medical personnel who had the opportunity to have carried out these hurtful acts have testified in this
courtroom it wasn’t them. I have considered but here reject the claimant’s
lawyers interpretation of Nurse Taylor’s repeated giggling on the witness
stand. Her subsequent comments on
Twitter, while hurtful in the extreme, do not in any way constitute evidence of
guilt. Similarly, the fact that the bought the underwear in which claimant was so wrongly dressed up, while unconscious, and that the photographs were found on her phone, both constitute circumstantial evidence at best. Another nurse on duty testified that Nurse Taylor is conscientious to a fault and I found the claimant’s counsel’s suggestion that this witness’s long-standing lesbian relationship with Nurse Taylor – and indeed her participation in a lesbian dating ring’ with the other two hospital staff who might have been involved – might in some way have influenced her opinion… well, I just find that suggestion to be offensive beyond belief. I will note at this point that I myself am a lesbian, counsel, as it happens and I hope that you would not dream of suggesting that my opinion in a case in which three lesbians are alleged to have unnecessarily castrated a male and then exposed him to ridicule on social could in any way affect my judgement. My comments complimenting Nurse Taylor on her appearance were simple courtesy, nothing more. I shall be pursuing this matter further, counsel, believe me.
Where was I? Oh yes.
Anyway, I think we just have to conclude we’ll never know. I am satisfied the
hospital administration was not at fault and the apology is there, so that’s
that. Just one of those things: claimant
needs to move on, as Nurse Taylor so fetchingly put it.
Turning to the matter of compensation, of course some
financial settlement is due. Claimant
has suffered a loss and deserves compensation just as would someone – say – whose car
had been unnecessarily crushed. To pursue the analogy, however,
it would obviously not be just to award someone compensation as if they had
lost – say – a brand new Ferrari, when the vehicle of which they had been deprived was in fact an old two-door hatchback that won’t start without being given a push. Or a rusty
bicycle with wonky wheels. The compensation has to be commensurate with the value of what was lost – in this case, claimant’s genitalia. Can we even put a monetary value on such a loss? Many would find that distasteful, but the law requires us to try.
In that context, I am therefore going to admit the evidence
adduced by the defendants. Although I
recognise that the claimant’s existing embarrassment has unfortunately been
enhanced by the sequence of witnesses who have been former sex partners – mainly paid sex workers – testifying
to his sexual prowess, or rather the lack of it, I am convinced that this is
relevant evidence. Indeed, from their testimony it is hard to see that the
claimant’s ability to engage in what he considers sexual activity has been
harmed in any way by his loss – after all, he still possesses a tongue and the
streetwalkers downtown still have shoes and toilets. Certainly, there seems to be no likelihood at all that the claimant has been deprived of anything that a normal person would describe as ‘sexual intercourse’ as – with all due apologies for any embarrassment this must undoubtedly cause him – he is thoroughly unattractive as he is and was probably still more so, when he had functional genitalia still attached. Defendant’s counsel has suggested that ‘creepy’ is the word that springs to mind on first meeting the claimant and I have to concur: that was precisely my thought on the very first day of trial. This observation – undisputed by claimant’s own counsel who appears to avoid any close contact with him even here in court – seems highly relevant to the matter of compensation.
I am also aware that any financial compensation he receives could be used to further his disgusting pursuits, although obviously that consideration can play no role in my decision.
Nonetheless, claimant suffered a loss and I am therefore
here ordering that the hospital pay him the sum of two hundred and forty-five dollars and thirty-five cents in compensation. Plus interest. Let that stand as a statement of this court’s firm disapproval of the negligence the hospital showed in this case. I don’t want to see you back here, so don’t do it again.
Right.
Now, turning to the question of costs, these have run into
many hundreds of thousands of dollars over the course of this rather disturbing case.
Claimant had every right to seek justice – but equally, the hospital has
a right to its defence. Lawyers are
rightly not cheap, any more than the sex workers who had to be paid for their
time testifying – at length – about the claimant’s physique and practices. Someone has to pay for all this. The question I ask myself, is whether these
costs should be paid from the funds of a hospital, devoted to saving lives –
recognising that any such payment could directly impede their ability to
provide patient care – or, to quote one of claimant’s emails to a sex worker, a
“disgusting little worm” who pays women to humiliate and abuse his “revolting
micro-dicklette”. Or did, before the
defendants did us all the service of removing it.
Not an easy decision, obviously. Nonetheless…
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Nurse Taylor’s the one on the left, in case you’re interested. She’s giggling beneath her mask, but don’t worry: that’s just a nervous tic she has. You’ll be fine. |
NB: in case you were wondering how come the judge uses lot of British language at times but the compensation is set in dollars, the explanation is, erm… it’s in Australia! Or New Zealand. Or somewhere like that, anyway, where all the legal terms are exactly as set out here. I mean, it must be. I don’t just make this stuff up, you know.
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You’d thing she’d at least bother to write a fresh one, instead of bringing out the same piece of paper every time. This is how marriages go stale, you know. |
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They’re probably thinking that with so many slaves to deal with simultaneously, it won’t be so bad for any one of them. They’d be wrong about that, but it’s a comforting thought while they wait. |
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If she has to say no, you have to wait. Or even if she doesn’t have to, but wants to anyway. |
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It’s good she’s stepping in to help with the scheduling. My SO sometimes says she despairs of finding enough time for all of the punishment that I deserve, but somehow she always manages, bless her. |
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She’s actually done quite a few things that – when he finds out about them – he will consider to be very easy to criticise. But he won’t be permitted to do so. |
They do say honesty is the basis of every successful romantic relationship – but brutality has its place too.
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Don’t worry – she has lots of equipment and techniques to help manage the pain. |
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They do say small ones have more pain receptors per square millimetre, which is actually quite a turn-on for a lot of ladies. |
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He’s the foundation of the building just behind her, by coincidence. |
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Time for the evil – sorry, what? I can’t say that word! |
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OK, well if the other two are totally straight I guess they won’t need licking clean, for a change, so that’s a bonus. |