Kept men

(we don’t talk about the discarded ones).



Another 2% fantasise desperately about it not happening, or at least not so often and not quite so hard.
Featuring the lovely and no-nonsense Miss Cassie Hunter, the Hunteress.
Right.  It’s about time all this nonsense stopped – I’m going to put my foot down. In fact, I’m going to stamp my foot – hard.  Several times.  And I’m going to to have a proper tantrum.  That should show her she can’t treat me like this.
Their faces usually fall again when she goes on to inform them that she will therefore proceed to the next thrashing, for the next item on her list.
I once asked my SO if she could feminise me, but she just laughed and said she’d love to, but I don’t have the IQ to make a convincing woman.
She cares a lot.



By the way, not ‘found femdom’ in any meaningful way, but over the break I’ve been watching episodes of 90s British sitcom Game On and perving ever so slightly to the lovely Samantha Janus and especially her relationship with the character Martin.  I watched it occasionally at the time it was broadcast and it’s as weird and spectacularly depressing as ever, as the basic set-up is that Matt – a neurotic, agoraphobic narcissist – rents out rooms in his flat to Martin (a wimp) and Mandy (a goddess!).  Martin is a virgin desperate for sex, while Mandy is frustrated with her life and hates herself for sleeping with so many men.  But (da-dum), the only men she absolutely will not have sex with are the other two characters.  With Matt, she refuses and pushes him away but with Martin it obviously never even occurs to her to have sex with him. There’s a lovely scene in this episode (intended to be the first ever, although they varied the order of broadcast), in which her latest boxer boyfriend takes up her whole bed, so she snuggles up with Martin, who lies there with an erection the whole desperate night.  Here, starting 16.22.  Ahhh…

So, yeah, not in any way femdom.  Except that Samantha Janus is quite literally a goddess and I for one intend to found a religion in her honour.

She is notionally Samantha Womack these days, but I’ll be hunting down Mr so-called Womack and forcing the blasphemer to change his name to Janus, as is only right and proper, so don’t worry about that.

New year, same old nonsense

Just, more of it than usual.

It’s not that special.  Chocolate log with a couple of profiteroles, basically.  I could do that. I don’t see why they need such a big carving knife for it, either.




There are few surer ways to keep the romance of marriage alive than doing your wife’s boyfriend’s laundry, and picking things up around his apartment.
And they say there are no jobs for men in the modern workplace!  There will always be shoes, I say and I don’t think we’re going to be seeing them cleaned over the Internet any time soon!
Probably.  Or some other reason.  Does it matter?

Don’t worry – they have a solar charger, so it’s very environmentally sound.  Anyway, no one could seriously consider it a ‘waste’ of electricity to shock a man’s testicles, could they?  It’s what electricity was invented for.



Mmm…. Sounds like there’s a heavy session in store!  And without even having to pay!  Well… not pay directly, anyway.
You can claim compensation from the airline, I expect.  Then get another one.  A nuisance but hardly the end of the world.  Except for him, obviously.

I’m hoping to develop a bead-sorting fetish.  Hasn’t happened yet, but there are many, many long nights ahead of me so there’s plenty of time.
I wish my wife would let me have a weekly allowance… imagine, money of my own to spend on whatever I want!  But she says I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility and she’s probably right.
Or maybe next year.

The delightful Mistress Eleise, the best view ever to appear through a periscope, here to round off this bumper holiday bonanza of… you can supply your own word beginning with b. 

And… just to finish off, a little found femdom starring the fabulous Emily Ratajkowski.
I recommend Mr Pinniped’s channel more generally, actually.

I hope all the female readers (OK, both the female readers) of this blog have a lovely 2019 and the rest of you have the miserable, soul-destroying time you so richly deserve and secretly crave.

Hurtful thoughts

I think writing lines is a ridiculous and pointless, tedious activity and there are few things I hate doing more than writing lines for hours at her command.  I told her that just the other day.  500 times, in fact.

I did an interview once. Check it out if you want to find out about the real Servitor, behind the leather mask.  Don’t read it if the thought of knowing the real Servitor makes you nauseous.
Ooh – looks like there might be a consciousness-raising session coming on!

There wasn’t much to begin with.
I often have ‘plenty to complain about’.  Regretably, I’m not allowed so it all goes to waste.


Happy Boxing Day, Paltego

Following a subtle hint in a reply to one of my comments on his wonderful Femdom Resource web site: here as a special, extra Boxing Day present for Paltego are some ‘turning point’ captions.  Of course, I’m not doing this just because Femdom Resource is a leading source of traffic for this blog.  It’s one of two leading sources, about equal with Google.  So Paltego’s blog is no more important than Google.  Hope that puts him firmly in his place.

Turning points.   Here are some more.

I hope this has worked out better than my subtle hints to my SO about what I wanted for Christmas. Oh well.  Maybe next year… or there’s my birthday.

 
















Ho ho ho

It’s that time of the year again!  A time for family, for friendship, songs and laughter…


… and here you are looking at porn on the Internet!  Lovely.  Well, have a merry Christmas anyway.  Try not to make a stain on the floor under the computer, hmm?

 




Naughty or nice?

Time for a seasonal game here at Contemplating the Divine.  No, not charades… not monopoly.  Nor even ‘pin the tail on the donkey’s testicles’, which can be a lot of fun for almost everyone taking part.


No, this year the game is to guess what Tumblr considers to be porn.  I have a Tumblr, or at least I did at the time of writing this, and it’s even less interesting than this blog because it only ever publishes stuff that has already been displayed here.  Nonetheless, Tumblr has decided that certain of my posts have to be suppressed as being too depraved for human eyes to look upon, and has therefore kindly taken it upon itself to protect the world by hiding them.  So no one will ever be corrupted by them again, thank goodness.  Unless they follow the many links from that blog to this one, obviously.  Or download the entire blog, including ‘hidden’ images using tumblrthree.  But Tumblr knows that’s not at all likely, so – phew, we’re all safe.  

Well… except you lot, who are here.  You’re going to hell, despite Tumblr’s best efforts to save you.


Still, before you go why not look at the images below, all of them published on my Tumblr blog, or queued up to be published, and see if you can guess which are OK with Tumblr and which are porn.  I know – this is something lots of other people have commented on too.  This blog is nothing if not derivative, OK?  But it’s Christmas… so: naughty or nice?




Nice!  Nothing wrong with this one.  Tumblr blocks images of sexual activity.  And this is just a lady dressed in leather who has recently whipped a naked man raw.  Good wholesome stuff.

Naughty!  Very, very naughty indeed!  Look at these shameless hussies… why they’re practically naked, underneath their clothes!  And if you look really, really closely, it might be that the trollop on the right’s nipples can almost be discerned through that near-transparent nightie she’s wearing. I understand one of Tumblr’s censors had to stare at that top for almost ten minutes, just to maake sure of that, but he did it so you don’t have to, thank goodness.  And they’re touching in a way that almost suggests lesbianism and we’re certainly not having anything like that on Tumblr, thank you very much!

Nice.  Oh thank goodness, after having to see that dreadful dreadful image of two ladies wearing not quite enough in close proximity, to encounter this wholesome image. This lady is NOT wearing a see-through nightie and you definitely can’t see her nipples.  No sex here: just a lovely image of a lady in military uniform heating a metal prod with a blow-torch.  She’s probably about to use it for some kind of wax sculpture or other artistic endeavour, I expect. This is the kind of thing that Tumblr wants to spread around the world, instead of ladies’… well, naughty bits .
Yeah, this one’s fine too.  Tumblr doesn’t object to images like this, which are absolutely and totally suitable for a family oriented site. In fact, why not print this one out and discuss with your kids what you think the gentleman in the picture might have done wrong, to be put into such a position?  Or – if they’re a little older and you’re talking to teenagers about possible careers – how much he paid to have someone do this to him. Whatever  – Tumblr says it’s all good.
Oh dear.  I am so sorry you had to see this.  But you can visit my Tumblr site in perfect safety, because it has been hidden from there.


Nothing remotely ‘adult’ here, says Tumblr.  Why that man is dressed like a little girl.  And the lady’s obviously ‘his’ mummy.  So they’re family.  Moving on.


Yeah, Tumblr’s OK with this too.  I mean, they’re not, like, prudes, y’know?  No reasonable person would find this offensive, right?

…something which certainly cannot be said for this torrent of filth!  Oh my – this is almost as bad as the earlier one!  I mean, OK, this time all the clothes are appropriately opaque, thank goodness, but that hand is once again suggestive of… well, I can hardly bring myself to mention such a disgusting concept but… ladies who, erm… like other ladies, if you know what I mean!  And that skirt is showing way too much leg.  You are NOT going out like that, young lady!  Not on Tumblr, anyway, which has thankfully banned this horrific image.

So there we are.  How many did you get right?  What do you mean, you ‘just looked at the captions underneath without bothering to guess in advance’?  That wasn’t the point of the game, not at all.  Perhaps you’d rather spend the afternoon writing 500 lines, hmm?

And you can keep doing that until Christmas, when there might be a special seasonal post.  But be warned: it is just possible that some of the images might show young adult females, in slightly risque outfits.  If you still want to come and see the blog after that warning, well… may Goddess have mercy on your dark, perverted soul. 

Deeply indebted to her

…but she sometimes lets me off the monthly interest if I consent to one of the ‘special’ games she likes to play.  It’s quite an incentive to keep the payments up, actually.

Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve heard you can see the sea from the bar they’re planning to spend the afternoon in, so I’m sure they’ll notice if the tide comes a bit further up than they were expecting.


Hmmm… it’s almost like they’re in a – what’s the word?  Predicament.

What can it mean?  I don’t know… I just work here.
Consent is very important in BDSM.  My SO absolutely insists on it.

Ah well.  Nearly got a freebie there.  You know… I was playing SPH humiliation scenes years before I knew that was a thing.  I just called it ‘dating’.







Lovingly brutal


My SO has some lovely heavy rubber gimp outfits she likes me to wear.  But for some reason only in summer. This time of year I’m not allowed to wear them. Or indeed any clothing at all.  (I don’t count anything made of metal as clothing).






On the other hand, he does have to pay for it.  A sissy slave doesn’t, which is just as well as they’re rarely allowed much pocket money.

She’s Head of the family now that her mother has passed away, of course. I mean, her father’s still around, I think, but no one ever paid much attention to him anyway.
This is the magnificent Goddess Sophia, on whose dungeon floor I have occasionally had the honour to be an unsightly smudge.
I think it’s all a bit unfair, really.  I mean the hunters have trucks, high-powered rifles and female brains.








I think she wants creative control. And the biggest trailer on the set, with a soundproofed playroom too, obviously.






What a piece of work is woman




Hmm… well, I’ll give it a go, I suppose.  She needs to stop buying me so many books, though.  I still haven’t finished The Joy of Ironing and I haven’t even started Getting to “Yes Ma’am”






Men can be stupid like that.

Not seeing a breathing tube… she needs to think about her safety standards.  Burial play is a lot of fun, especialy on the beach where the tides give it that extra edge, but you need to play safe.

She likes simple things.  That’s why she keeps you around.

I’m sure their scientists have a lot to teach us.


Verified by MonsterInsights