Monday, January 31, 2011

New endings for some old favourites

Sometimes the endings of fairy tales need a little modification, to bring them into line with modern conceptions of male/female roles...

from Snow White and the seven dwarves

My my, such a dear little house, but you really don’t clean it properly, do you?” said Snow White.

“Would you like me to help out around the place and get it all spick and sparkling span for you?

“Yes, yes!” chorused the seven dwarves, even Grumpy forgetting himself enough to join in with enthusiasm

“Well then, here’s my dear little whip!” said Snow White, with a merry laugh.

“Now, start cleaning up this mess and if it isn’t spotless by suppertime, well, there’ll be seven darling little beaten bottoms at bedtime, now, won't there?”

from Beauty and the Beast

“So if your true love kisses you before the last petal falls, you resume your true form as a handsome prince? gasped Belle, staring at the wilting rose.

“Yes” replied the hapless beast.

“One kiss and all of this castle and kingdom will be restored as it was before I was enchanted, and I will assume the throne. But if the petal falls first, I remain a beast for ever, without even the power of speech that I have now.”

The two gazed at the rose, in its glass case. Having perhaps been disturbed by their footsteps on entering the room, the last petal drooped gently down, hanging on to the stem by the merest thread.

“A beast for ever…” murmured Belle, absent-mindedly stroking the collar and leash that she held in her hand.

She started tapping the glass case gently with the end of her riding crop.

“But still rich, right?”

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Sunday's dilemma

femdom caption mistress with riding crop considering punishment

Saturday femdom captions

femdom caption blonde dominatrix with riding whip

femdom caption mouthsoaping toilet training punishment

femdom caption brunette dominatrix goddess black leather riding whip

Femdom story: A normal marriage (part 3 of 3)

The story so far: Christopher, following a sheltered upbringing, has been taught by his wife that sexual intercourse consists of her beating him until she reaches orgasm.  After a couple of years of marriage, Janice has started spicing up this vanilla sex life with toys such as canes and bondage gear - because being tied allows him to 'hold on' much further, as the pain of the beating builds up.  Lately, Janice's friend Paula has taken to staying over.  Silly Christopher worried that they might be having intercourse, but after a night tied tightly in their room, he is reassured that no beatings or other forms of sexual intimacy are going on: just tickling, licking and so on...

Now read on.

Then one Sunday something appalling happened.  He was cleaning Paula’s house, as usual, and was standing before her, as she angrily pointed out a spot he had apparently missed on the carpet.  Her eyesight-  or standards of cleanliness – was more acute than his, and he stood in confusion thinking that the carpet looked pristine.
“Look at it – just there, look closely!” she had insisted furiously, and he had bent down to observe better (and indeed, could then see to his shame, a small patch of dust that had previously escaped his attention.  He was about to get up to present his testicles for the inevitable kicking, when he was startled by Paula’s hand raising his skirt, followed by the ‘crack’ of her other palm impacting his upper thigh, in the gap between his stockings and his panties.  He froze in shock and the hand descended again, slapping him over and over and driving his face into the carpet where he knelt.
He knew afterwards that he should have protested at the very first stroke.  But in confusion (and perhaps lust?) he remained kneeling for the entire thing, only then rising, his face crimson and backing away towards the door.  In his confusion and shame he had run from Paula’s house in full maid’s uniform, and as he clattered home in his high heels, he was well aware of the sight he must be, in his disshevelled uniform, with tears pouring down his face.  But he didn’t care, and once home (Janice was out) he ran upstairs to the spare room, as he could not bring himself to enter the marital bedroom, his heart pounding and his vision blurred.
How could he?  With her best friend?  After all she had done for him, introducing him to the sacred mysteries of the rod and the whip, after so gently dealing with his fears about sex, even – especially – after taking the trouble to show him how harmless and innocent her little games with Paula had been?  How could he have allowed her best friend to spank him?  He was an adulterer, a cheating husband, he told himself in misery and panic.  Even if it never happened again, even if his relationship with Paula stayed strictly proper, as Mistress and maid, Paula would always know.
And worse…he would.  And so, surely, would Janice.  They had never had secrets from one another.  They shared everything.  Early on, Janice had even explained that many wives kept their monthly period from their husbands, but that because she knew their marriage should be completely open one, she was going to trust and permit him to buy, apply and dispose of her tampons.  She wanted them to share every aspect of their lives, and now he had betrayed her.  Christopher sat on the edge of the bed in misery.
When Janice came home, there was no point in pretending.  Quite apart from his inability to control his emotions, there was the fact that he was home in the middle of the afternoon.  Normally, his chores at Paula’s house kept him there well into the evening.  In fact, Sunday night was a favourite for a sleepover, so Paula was often already tucked up in bed with his wife, by the time he returned with aching arms and sore knees from the day’s labours.
“Christopher?  Darling!  Whatever’s the matter?”.  She rushed to the bed, and held him in her arms.
And slowly, through sobs and long pauses, Christopher explained to his wife what had happened.  At first, she seemed simply confused, but as understanding dawned, her expression hardened and the arms around her sobbing husband seemed to stiffen.  When he had finished his explanations, she pushed him away wordlessly and his dress rustled as he squirmed in his place.
“I need to talk to Paula” she said, flatly, and left the room.  Christopher took off his dress and wondered what he should do.  He did not have to wonder long.  Janice came back carrying bondage gear.  Clinically and efficiently, she tied him up – his hands behind his back, his knees and ankles securely fastened and a hood with gag over his head.  Before tightening the gag, she had paused and said “I need to know, Christopher.  Do you still love me?”
“I love you, Janice!  I love only you, and always will” he had sobbed, with heartfelt devotion.  Then the gag had tightened in place and the hood was placed over his head.  From inside the darkness, he heard the door slam behind her.  Later, he thought he heard raised voices from downstairs, but he could not be sure as the hood muffled most sounds very effectively.
He lost all track of time, lying there on the bed.  He later discovered it had been just over 15 hours, and he had a raging thirst and (to his shame) had wet himself and the bed by the time he was released.  Janice removed his hood (but not the gag), and unfastened his hands.  She looked down in disgust.  “Clean yourself and this up – then I want to talk to you downstairs.”
Christopher was able to remove his bonds and tidy up the mess, then got dressed and went downstairs to face his wife.  She was sitting in a chair in the living room, reading a magazine, and glanced up as he approached.  “I said I wanted to talk to you, I didn’t say I wanted you to talk” she said.  “Go and put that gag back on right now – and take those ridiculous clothes off.”
Four minutes later, naked and gagged, Christopher stood in front of his wife.  Had he been able to speak, he would have begged for forgiveness, would have offered anything – anything – for their marriage to be as it was.  Instead, he simply had to listen in silence.
It was worse than any beating he had ever experienced.  She explained, calmly and without emotion, that he had betrayed her, as had Paula.  She described how hurt and insulted she felt, how none of the relations between the three of them could be the same again.  And when she had done this, she set out how things were going to work in the future.
Quite clearly, neither he nor Paula could be trusted.  She had been allowing him too much personal freedom, and now her trust had been abused, she understood that she could not be so liberal.  He would be kept under much closer control in future.  As for Paula, she had started their conversation last night determined never to see her again.  But Paula had cried and apologized, and Janice had simply decided that she could not lose her best friend and her husband both at the same time.  But she needed to keep an eye on Paula, too.
So: this was how it would be in the future.  Paula would move in with them.  Christopher would give up his job, and would be kept permanently supervised in the house.  On occasions when Janice was out, Christopher was to be locked away (a cupboard could be adapted for the purpose, Janice thought, or she might purchase a cage from the bondage catalogue).  He would not be permitted clothes or speech, would eat leftovers after the ladies of the house had finished their meal and would do nothing but perform the most menial household tasks.
And so it has been ever since.  Christopher lives in a cage, wears a mask and gag all the time and is only allowed out in Janice’s presence – and then on a chain.  He eats scraps, liquidized in a blender and sucked up around his ballgag through a thick straw.  An electric shock device has been fitted to his testicles, to which both ladies have a control.  The device is quite robust, though, and is not usually dislodged by even the most vigorous beating on his testicles.
She sleeps in the master bedroom with the forgiven Paula, unforgiven he sleeps alone in his cage.  Occasionally, the two ladies introduce other women or even men to their tickling games, and on these occasions Christopher is kept well out of sight.  He cleans up afterwards, and more than once had had to deal with what he now knows to be the ‘milky fluid discharge’ from a stiffened male penis.  He shudders at the thought, and prays silent thanks to the loving wife who made sure he never had to experience such a horror.  The stiffening in his own penis has long since ceased, something Janice’s nursing friend put down to the now daily applications of the hairbrush to his testicles.
He has not spoken a word since the profession of love for his wife on that day of shame, and perhaps he never will.  Yet that is all he needed to say, all that he knows, all that he is.

Do not pity Christopher.  He still has a very full sex life, as his buttocks are whipped by his wife (or occasionally – Christopher suspects from inside his hood – by Paula) and his chores fill his days with meaningful work.

Whatever the future may hold for him – and it is unlikely to hold anything very different – he knows that it is because his wife loves him so much that she cares enough to subject him to this lifetime of penitence.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Captioned images of dominance and beauty

femdom caption leather miniskirt fishnet stockings sitting on cage

femdom caption cane boots punishment
The incomparable Madame Sarka, originally of OWK but now, I believe, independently lethal

femdom caption beautiful lingerie teasing spiked chastity

femdom caption dominatrix schoolteacher with cane

femdom caption caged husband

Femdom story: A normal marriage (part 2 of 3)

The story so far: Christopher, following a sheltered upbringing, was inducted into the sweet mysteries of sex by his lovely wife, Janice, on their wedding night.  He now knows that sex consists of the woman beating her man until she achieves orgasm.  Initially, Christopher’s penis got in the way of their love-making, but the application of a lockable medical device solved that problem.  Their love life is therefore entirely normal.  But now Janice has started trying to spice it up...

Sounds kind of kinky
On day, Janice suggested introducing bondage into their lovemaking.  At first Christopher had protested.  He had caught sight of one or two articles about this, and was sure that it went well beyond what normal people got up to in the bedroom.
“You’re such a prude” she had laughed, when he’d objected.  “If it wasn’t for my making you try new things, we’d never do anything but the missionary position” (the ‘missionary position’, he’d learnt, was the proper term for their usual lovemaking position: she sitting on the edge of the bed, he draped over her lap having his bottom spanked).  So he had consented, and soon found himself tied over a chair as Janice applied one of her ‘love toys’ to his bottom.
They immediately discovered a wonderful effect of bondage – that it could allow them to go further in their love-making than ever before.  Previously, as Janice vigorously engaged in sexual intercourse – especially if she was using an implement to do so – Christopher would find himself unable to lie still, or to keep quiet.  She was good at holding him in place, especially when he lay in the missionary position across her lap.
But there had been more than a few occasions on which Christopher had began howling and thrashing around under the blows, and although this behaviour did seem to excite Janice to approach her orgasm more quickly, it was not unknown for them to have to terminate the love-making before she had reached an orgasm, as Christopher involuntarily struggled free, or the noise seemed likely to annoy the neighbours.
Janice explained that breaking free like this was called ‘coming too soon’ – when the man reached a pain level under the spanking that he could no longer take, before the woman was fully satisfied.  It made Christopher feel deeply ashamed, after all the effort Janice put into beating him, that he could not always hold on long enough for her to reach orgasm.
Bondage supplied the answer.  When Christopher was securely fastened over a chair, or simply tied to a bed-post, there was obviously no danger at all of his scrambling away as Janice laid into him with the chosen implement of the day.  The shrieking and howling could have become even more of a problem, but fortunately Janice decided, soon after they had started to experiment with bondage, to replace the ropes and cords they had been using with proper equipment.  She sent off for a catalogue, and was delighted to find in it a selection of gags to control noise as well as straps to control movement.  They tried a few, and soon selected a ball-gag that was able to stifle most of the shrieks.
With this in place, Janice could happily thrash away with whatever instrument she liked, with complete abandon, until fully satisfied.  Sometimes she would even leave him secured between bouts of lovemaking, returning to the fray when rested and recovered from her own orgasm, and further applying the loving caresses of her whip (it was around this time that Janice had brought a riding crop into their lovemaking) to his already well-flogged bottom.
The gag allowed nothing to emerge but little moans and shrieks.  On a weekend at a country hotel, however, they had become concerned that even this might be too much, as they had no desire whatever to be asked to leave for over-loud love-making.  Janice had suggested a wadded-up bit of cloth, and Christopher had immediately produced his handkerchief.  Janice, though, had been concerned that this might be too rough for his mouth, and had instead produced her own panties.
Her husband had begged her not to waste her own clothing just to make him comfortable, but his loving wife had insisted and he and soon found himself tied tightly down on the hotel bed, his wife’s balled-up panties firmly secured inside his mouth with a strap, very effectively suppressing the screams that would otherwise have disturbed the other hotel guests.  That night had been almost a continuous session of love-making, and although Christopher found he could barely walk for days afterwards, the glow of sexual satisfaction on his wife’s face made it all worthwhile.
Since then, she had on several occasions insisted that he be gagged with her panties again – even though less expensive and personal alternatives existed – for old times’ sake, as she put it.  Christopher had once bought a pack of panties so that he could take clean ones in his mouth (he hadn’t wanted to mention anything to his wife, out of embarrassment, but from the very first occasion he had been able to detect a distinct taste of pee, and more recently the stains had been visible and the taste pronounced), but she had laughed and said this would be wasteful and that it was better for her to wear the new ones, and to use old ones that had become stained beyond further use when gagging him for a bout of silent sex.
Christopher helps out at home
Early on, they had fixed upon Fridays as the regular weekly slot for love-making.  Christopher often found movement difficult the next day, and after being asked a few times at work why he was wincing, they had agreed on this. Saturday was no day of rest, though.  Janice was (as she put it) a proper little homemaker, and as Christopher was out at work most of the week, at the weekend the housework was his responsibility.  Feeling relaxed and drained after the agony of the previous night’s orgasms, Janice loved to wake up to breakfast in bed on a Saturday morning, and it was the greatest of pleasures for Christopher – if he had been fully untied from the night before – to scurry downstairs and prepare it for her, before commencing his chores (cleaning the house from top to bottom).
When doing this, he wore a maid’s costume.  He had protested when this had been produced, but Janice had patiently explained that the maid’s uniform, being designed to the purpose, was perfectly suited to doing housework.  He had asked whether he could not wear overalls instead, but Janice had giggled and drawn him closer, before whispering that she might want quickly to bend him over and make love – perhaps with a paddle or a ruler – while he was engaged in the housework ‘to spice it up’.
Generally, Christopher found on a Saturday that he had had just about all the lovemaking that his poor bottom could stand, but he knew that her sexual drive was stronger than his and so of course he consented to her request.  The costume stayed on all day, from the early-morning chores, through serving his wife her mid-morning coffee, right through to the inspection of his work (Janice was quite particular) and maid-service at Saturday dinner.  He was taught to curtsey and call her “Mistress’ because, as Janice pointed out, if he was going to act as her maid, it would be such fun to do it properly.
Janice and Paula...
His friend had warned him to watch out for other men after his wife, so sexy and beautiful was she.  In truth, Christopher had very little idea how he would react were any man seriously to make eyes at Janice.  It put him in a flush of red jealously just to think of it.  As it happened, though, the only time he had had any real suspicions had turned out to be a ludicrous misunderstanding – and not with a man, but with another woman!  Janice had introduced him to Paula, with whom she had been at boarding school.  The two ladies did everything together, and Paula frequently came round for the evening.  On an early one of these occasions, she was still there at 11.30, and Janice had suggested that she might like to stay over.
“Ooooh yes – it can be just like a sleepover at school!” Paula had giggled.
“We used to cuddle up to one another in bed after lights-out” Janice explained happily to her husband.
“Just talking and joking, and sometimes tickling each other and so on.  It would be lovely, just for old times sake….would you mind terribly sleeping in the spare room tonight, darling?”
And “darling” had done as he was asked, happy that his wife was reacquainting herself with old friends (and thrilled to be married to a lady with such a playful, girlish outlook on life).
Since then, Paula had stayed over more and more frequently.  Friday nights were off-limits, of course, but otherwise Christopher found himself in the spare bedroom two or even three nights a week.  Despite his best intentions, he found himself becoming jealous, and even felt an awful suspicion forming.  Could the two of them be…well, might it be a bit more than girlish hi-jinks and ‘tickling’?  They couldn’t be making love in there could they?
Hating himself for it, Christopher took to creeping out of his spare room and listening quietly at the door.  This was mostly quite reassuring.  He could hear lots of giggling and muffled little shrieks of glee.  Nothing that sounded like the regular slapping sound of a hand on a bottom, or any of the other sounds he associated with a loving beating.  He took himself back to his room and went to sleep, contentedly.
But over the next few weeks, he could not resist going back more and more frequently.  In amongst the laughter, he thought on occasion he could hear Janice making some of the sounds of orgasm, and he could frequently hear Paula making noises that were rather different but…could they be her equivalent?
Of course, he was found out.  Paula had opened the door, on her way downstairs to get a drink of water, and had shrieked at the sight of her friend’s husband jumping back in shock.  Wordlessly, he had run back to his room, and sat on the bed, quaking in fear.  It had not taken long for Janice to appear, the bondage gear in her hands.  She had said almost nothing, just quietly instructed him to lie down and proceeded to secure him tightly to the bed, the ball-gag firmly in place.  He knew very well that this had nothing to do with love-making, and this was confirmed the next morning when she appeared with a hairbrush in her hand and proceeded to spank him in the one place that they had discovered so early to be completely unrelated to any sexual pleasure – his testicles.
Later that day, when he had recovered, they talked.  At first, Christopher could do nothing but apologise profusely, crying for forgiveness, while Janice was coldly furious and kept slapping the hairbrush against her palm meaningfully.  But as Christopher confessed his fears, Janice slowly put the implement down and began to listen.  She smiled, and stroked his cheek, and soon all of Christopher’s deepest fears and jealousy were pouring out.  The conversation ended with him sobbing in her arms, as she patted him gently, murmuring “You silly, silly boy.”
When he had recovered enough to listen, Janice calmly explained how baseless his fears were.  She described some of the little games she played with her old school friend – how they tickled each other, and tried to get the other to shriek with surprising little bites and nips.  The loving couple talked and talked all morning, and in the end Janice decided that the best thing was for Christopher to see for himself.  He begged her not to bother, explained frantically that he believed her, that his fears had been laid completely to rest.  But she was implacable, determined that not the slightest hint of suspicion should taint their perfect marriage, and she went off to phone her friend.
Christopher learns the truth
Paula, it seemed, was still furious at the intrusion into her privacy, and it had taken Janice a while to calm her down.  She insisted that he pay some penalty for his actions, and although mollified by the account of the hairbrush applied to his testicles, she obviously felt that more was required to reflect the seriousness of the situation.  Janice had therefore had to agree that Christopher would receive a monthly dose on the same day for the next six months.
With Paula in a calmer state of mind, at this thought, she had introduced the idea of his observing their night games.  This had immediately put Paula right back into a fit of fury, but Janice knew her friend well and was eventually able to talk her round.  Finally, it was agreed, as long as Christopher was completely unable to move or speak throughout the entire thing, and as long as Paula herself could supervise a really firm application of the hairbrush to his testicles at the start of the night and again the next morning.
Furthermore, Janice promised that Christopher would clean Paula’s house every Sunday from now on, and that Paula herself would be permitted to apply the hairbrush, or just a firm knee, if anything were unsatisfactory.  On this basis, Paula gave her consent.
It took Janice about ten days to obtain some additional items from her bondage catalogue, because she knew how concerned her friend was that the immobilization of her husband should be complete.  She also bought an additional maid’s outfit, so that Christopher could be clean and smart on both days of the weekend.  During this time, she went to Paula’s house whenever it was a sleepover night and so, of course, on the Sunday, did Christopher.
Paula seemed reluctant to really acknowledge his presence, and gave him his instructions rather impersonally as “The maid will do this”, “The maid will ensure that…” and so on.  With the Sundays dedicated to housework as well (and, as they shortly agreed, a trip to Paula’s on the way home from work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, to do the washing-up), Christopher was now spending almost 25 hours a week in domestic service.  But it was worth it, for his wife to keep her friendship with Paula, and her love for him, as he told himself.
The night finally came.  Janice very carefully secured Christopher to the posts of the great four-poster bed in their room.  He was tightly encased in a rubber suit, his mouth firmly gagged with just his eyes visible behind holes in his mask.  The rubber suit had a hole for Christopher’s genitals to emerge, making him wonder once again whether other couples incorporated testicle-spanking in their normal lovemaking.  It seemed hardly conceivable, the pain was so great.  He thanked his lucky stars that his wife’s desires were so normal.
The hairbrush was produced, the penis-tube was lifted neatly to one side and Janice applied the implement vigorously to his dangling testicles, noting with satisfaction that not a squeak could be heard emerging from the tight gag.  Then she nodded curtly, and went downstairs to join her friend.
A few hours later, they came up, both obviously a little tipsy and Paula especially so, perhaps Christopher thought, out of shyness at having their girlish games observed.  Paula checked his bonds, and also gave him a few firm kicks, perhaps again to check out the effectiveness of the gag, as without it Christopher was not in the slightest doubt that he would scream for mercy.  Satisfied, the two women started to remove one another’s clothes, slowly and with little giggles.
At first, Paula especially seemed understandably inhibited.  But as she got into it, she perhaps forgot the looming presence of the tied-up man over the end of the bed, and concentrated on playing the tickling games.  These were indeed, Christopher thought (with a great sense of guilt over his unfair suspicions) entirely innocent and non-sexual.  For a start, Paula was naked in front of him as they bounced on the bed together, and he could see clearly that her white bottom had never felt a firm slap from a hand, let alone anything more directly sexual such as the strap or the cane.
Christopher felt tears welling up in his eyes yet again (he had cried twice already tonight, during his wife’s and Paula’s respective attention to his testicles) as he thought how her tools of lovemaking – excitingly visible hanging on the wall to the left of the bed, were reserved for him and for him alone.
What the two ladies got up to was in no way related to any of the techniques for sexual intercourse to which Janice had introduced him since that first time on the night of their wedding.  There was no beating, no one was tied up, indeed there seemed to be no pain involved at all.  Christopher settled himself to enjoy the sight of his wife and her friend playing their girlish games.
It was – as she had assured him all along - just tickling.  Mostly, they tickled one another between the legs, although they also kissed one another a lot and stroked and tickled each other’s breasts.  Later, the tickling took a surprising turn, as first Janice and then Paula wriggled down to place her head between the legs of her partner and tickled their wee-hole orally, mostly by licking with the tongue but occasionally also sucking and even gently biting between pursed lips.
Christopher felt relieved that Janice didn’t want to play such games with him, as it looked distinctly smelly.  I’ll never complain about being gagged with stained panties again, he thought.  The use of the mouth must have been particularly ticklish, as each lady rapidly found herself hysterical with gasping laughter quite soon after experiencing it.  That must have been what I thought was an orgasm, Christopher thought to himself.  And indeed, it did sound similar, so he chuckled inwardly at how foolish he had been.
Later in the night, the games took an even stranger turn, as the ladies produced a black rubber object, and proceeded to insert it into one another’s wee holes.  Christopher wondered how they could possibly stand the feeling – it must tickle even more than the licking, he thought.  But the ladies seemed not to mind too much, although they could barely control their gasping sobs of laughter as it moved smoothly in and out.
The activities ended with Janice kneeling above Paula’s face, in what seemed to be a competition for who could stand the tickling longest.  Paula was using her tongue, while Janice was applying some kind of buzzing device between her friend’s legs.  Both became almost hysterical with giggles, but eventually Janice seemed to win, as Paula struggled for mercy shrieking “Yes!  Yes!  Yes!”, and Janice rolled off and allowed her to recover.
After switching the light off, the two friends fell asleep in one another’s arms, and Christopher hung from aching wrists in the darkness, thinking once again how lucky he was to have a wife such as Janice.
To be continued...

Thursday, January 27, 2011

More femdom captions

Reblogged - Blogger received a complaint about copyright and removed the original of this posting.  I am very happy indeed to remove anything that anyone has copyright on, of course.  Unfortunately Blogger can't seem to tell me which of the captioned images was affected, so I have removed all of them, and replaced with brand (spanking) new ones.

If you are the complainant, do please let me know directly, as I don't mind at all, and that way I can avoid using images from your site in future!

...and if you just got here for the first time, from a search engine, welcome!  This is a very old posting. Just click on the banner up there to go to the very top.  There are over 300 posts now, over a thousand images and perhaps 50 or so stories.  So why would you ever want to go anywhere else...?

Femdom wife with a strap
Sounds fair...
I love it when dommes don't have to fake the contempt.  I'm lucky in that respect - because it happens to me all the time.
Actually, I have to report that the idyll ended after this, as she divorced his son, and threw them both out penniless onto the street.  Still, you can't have everything, eh?
Chastity cold turkey
My Significant Other often has to be strong enough for both of us.  Fortunately, she always is.  Very determined too, I've noticed.
Anna decides your punishment
Anna has to make a decision here...but you know, she's such a softie, what's the betting she just lets both of them get what they want?  She's kind like that.

Femdom story: A normal marriage (part one)

Christopher hurried home through the drizzling rain.  It was Friday, and that meant just one thing: making love to his beautiful wife.  As so often on the days set aside for sex, she had called him teasingly at the office in the afternoon.  He’d hoped that none of the other staff could see him going crimson in his cubicle, as she’d outlined some of the things she would be doing to him, and giggling at his stammered, coded responses.
His wife, Janice, was beautiful, sexy, intelligent and…so creative in the bedroom.  Christopher sighed. He knew how lucky he was.  Other men would kill to have a wife like that – and he’d often caught his colleagues looking longingly on the occasions she came into the office, sashaying across the floor with the confidence that only a beautiful woman can muster.  Yes, he was very lucky.  It was just that…he found that perhaps he didn’t always enjoy having sex as much as he had imagined he would.  Sometimes, to be honest, he would rather just watch TV.
His first time
It had started on his wedding night.  Christopher had had a very sheltered upbringing.  Brought up in an all-female household, and educated at home, he had been carefully shielded from inappropriate and vulgar material.  He knew nothing of sex, although he was aware it was something to be experienced only with a wife – and where was he to find one, as he never left the house?  His mother had therefore been delighted when the niece of an old friend of hers had taken an interest in her lad at the tender age of seventeen, and after a brief courtship they had married two days before his eighteenth birthday.  She was eight years older, and when – in perhaps the most excruciating conversation of his life – Christopher had stammered out that he was still a virgin, and knew nothing of lovemaking, she had simply laughed, taken his hand in hers and told him that she knew precisely what to do.
By the time Christopher and his lovely bride reached the bedroom after all the wedding festivities were complete, Christopher was in a state of intense excitement – while still almost entirely ignorant of what was supposed to happen.  “Don’t worry” she had whispered.  “I’ll just do everything this first time.”  And she had slipped off her bridal gown, to reveal her lithe young body clad only in sophisticated lingerie in pure, innocent white.  And beckoning to her virgin husband, she had gently tugged at his belt until it came free, slipped his trousers down and hooked both thumbs over his shorts before sliding those slowly and deliberately down around his ankles. The she looked up at his panting face, smiled and breathed “Over you go” and Christopher had felt a hand in the small of his back, pushing firmly, and he found himself lying there, across the warm bare thighs of his bride.
She made a few adjustments to his position, stroked him slowly up the inside of the thighs and then the sexual intercourse had begun.  Christopher’s first time.  He smiled now to remember how much noise he had made, as the flat of her hand came down first on one cheek, then on the other, cracking down in a steady pace.  ‘So this is sexual intercourse?’, he’d thought to himself.  It was a strange sensation.  A lot more uncomfortable than he’d expected, as his buttocks turned red under the relentless slapping of her palms.
By the standards of their later love-making, it had been very mild.  She had used only her bare hands throughout, but still Christopher, after an initially brave start, had found himself first wriggling, then bucking about as he tried to keep the tears welling up in his eyes from falling to the floor.  He was yet to learn that it was no shame to weep during their trysts – indeed these days, it was a rare encounter that did not result in tears.  It had seemed like an age across her lap, the blows coming harder and harder and faster and faster, as she also began to pant in rhythm until…just when he thought he must scream and beg for release from the pain, she began to make some extraordinary gasping noises, then little cries and finally an almost roaring sound of release…then pushed him hard to fall on the floor, and lay back on the bed, panting and murmuring to herself.
This, she told him when she had caught her breath, helped him up and they were discussing the extraordinary event that had just occurred, this had been an orgasm.  Women had them.  Men did not.  The culmination of love-making for the woman was the orgasm, while for men it was the bright red, sore bottom that he had just received.  She had laughed when he asked nervously whether the orgasm hurt – and told him that it was an agony that he could barely begin to conceive of.  “But in our shared pain – my orgasm and your whacked bottom – we become one and celebrate our love.” she had said.
He had always wondered what sex was like.  That night he discovered, and was grateful to his lovely wife for teaching him. 
They had made love twice more that night.  On the second time, almost exactly the same thing had happened. Of course, Christopher’s bottom was already sore when the love-making started, so after just a few strokes he had begun to yelp, and to beg pathetically for mercy.  Fortunately, soon after he had started to plead in this way, the panting and gasping had begun – it seemed that nature had designed things so that when he was brought more rapidly to a state of agony, her orgasm would come along more quickly.
When she had teasingly asked if he was man enough for a third time, he had experienced an uncontrollable sense of fear, and sobbed – while being lovingly cuddled in her arms – that his poor bottom was in too much pain.  So she had introduced him to what she called a ‘hand job’.  Positioning herself in front of him, she had instructed him to hold his hands out – palm upwards – and while smiling sweetly into his eyes the whole time, she brought out a short leather strap. 
“Ready?” she breathed, and without waiting for a reply swung the strap down hard, making him yelp in pain and surprise.  The pain was different – in many ways worse – but at least it gave his aching bottom a rest.  And, as she pointed out afterwards, the advantage of the hand job was that they could make love face to face, staring lovingly into one another’s eyes as she gradually built up the pattern of welts across his palms and lower wrists.
After this third bout of love-making, they had gone to sleep, cuddled in one another’s arms.  Christopher had been confused – and very much in pain – but he also felt more in love than ever with this woman, who had introduced him to the sacred mysteries of sex.
He just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.  Did all men find it that difficult, that painful?
Getting used to it
He found it almost impossible to talk to any of his friends about sex.  But one evening, in the pub, with his oldest and closest friend, he had nervously ventured onto the subject of sex.  “Janice is” he had coughed “very active, you know.  Very forceful. In bed.”
His friend had simply congratulated him, in a beery way, and made a rather crude remark about his luck and needing to watch no one else took her away from him.  Swallowing his distaste, Christopher had pressed the point.
“Only” he had whispered.  “I was wondering.  After a really hard session….is it normal for me to feel, well…a little sore?”
His friend had stared at him.  “I mean down there.” He whispered urgently.
His friend had roared with laughter, and told him that it was perfectly normal to feel sore after a heavy bout of lovemaking, if you were lucky enough to get one.  Sometimes, he said, ‘down there’ could be left so sore it could be sensitive to the touch for days.  Christopher had been reassured, as he often found after making love, that his bottom was so bruised that he could hardly bear to sit down for, as his friend rightly said, days at a time.
“And er…well, about orgasms, you know” he’d gone on, wondering whether he would ever be able to speak to this person sober again (he could not, it turned out).
“She, well she usually screams when she, you know and er…” 
“And you scream as well, I’ll bet, you lucky devil.” His friend had laughed, digging him painfully in the ribs.
“Yes, I frequently do.  I scream a lot.” He’d admitted candidly.
“Gets you pretty hot down there, does she?” his friend had embarrassingly continued, and Christopher had mumbled that yes, indeed, he often felt burning hot during a bout of intercourse and left it at that, mortified at how far the conversation had gone, but reassured that their love-making was ‘normal’.
A troubling development - and Janice's solution
There was one aspect that was not.  From the wedding night onwards, the newlyweds had noticed a peculiar development during their lovemaking.  Christopher’s penis had a tendency to go stiff, usually just at the point at which they were about to begin.  During the intercourse itself, as the blows came thick and fast, it would usually go down again, but sometimes the stiffness would return soon afterwards when, with reddened bottom and tears in his eyes, he lay beside his panting wife on the bed.
He had been summoning the courage to go and talk to a doctor about the little problem, but fortunately one of Janice’s friends was a nurse and she had been able to raise the issue with her on their return from honeymoon.  It seemed quite a number of men were afflicted with this complaint, although it was so embarrassing that it was never discussed in public.  Apparently the stiffening was essentially harmless, but Janice’s friend had said that if it ever progressed to a discharge of milky-looking fluid it was important to take measures, such as suppressing the stiffening by encasing the penis in a metal or plastic tube.  Christopher had not liked the sound of a fluid discharge at all, so when Janice had pointed out that the stiffening – even if harmless - impaired their lovemaking, by getting in the way when he went over her knee, he had readily agreed, and had been fitted with a medical device that very night.
He was relieved to have the thing locked away, as it reminded him of an excruciatingly humiliating conversation on the third night of their marriage, in which his total ignorance of sexual matters had been exposed.  He thought he had heard from somewhere that the penis could also be involved in lovemaking (although he had no idea how) and had shyly suggested this to his wife.
“What – you mean the dangly thing you pee out of?” she had asked, taken aback.
He was hastening to reassure her that he must have misunderstood, and she should forget the idea.  But she had shrugged and said that she’d try anything once.  With some difficulty, he had positioned himself across her lap facing upwards, his penis embarrassingly stiffer than ever.  It had taken only the first few spanks across his penis and – especially – his testicles, to convince him that whatever he had read about the role of these organs in love-making, he had somehow got completely the wrong end of the stick.  He had shrieked and pleaded with Janice to stop, but she had said that it was worth trying to go through with it, and did, eventually, manage to reach orgasm, finishing up with a firm sequence of swats on his testicles.
Christopher had never mentioned the ridiculous idea again, and was most relieved that his penis was locked away in its tube.  Occasionally, Janice’s love-making did extend to a few swats on the testicles, but he never again had to experience such a full-on, passionate spanking applied to them.  Christopher did know from reading that some men apparently used their genitals in love-making all the time.  It made him shudder even to think about the pain it must involve.
Becoming more adventurous
It was now two and a half years since that wonderful wedding night, and the spark had not left their marriage.  Janice was a great believer in spicing up their love-making, and barely a month went by without her producing one or other new sex toy to experiment with.  They now had a fine collection of paddles and straps, each producing a slightly different sensation and sound, each quite satisfactory in its own way in working his bottom into a state that made Christopher cry with pain, and his wife cry in ecstasy.  On their first wedding anniversary, she had produced a cane – which had taken their intimacy to a whole new level.  From the very first stroke, Christopher had screamed in shocked agony, and he had begged for mercy, for relief from any more such awful blows.  The pleas had been to little avail, but fortunately the cane, while producing ferocious angry weals on his bottom, also seemed to excite Janice immensely, and after ‘just’ six strokes, he had heard the cane clatter to the floor, above the sound of his wife in the throws of rapture.
Since then, the cane had been kept for special occasions.  Janice seemed to understand that he needed sometimes to make love at a lower intensity, that the pain from the cane was not something that could be inflicted every single week.  But he would often see her looking longingly at the feared instrument where it hung on the wall, and would take the greatest possible pride occasionally – when he could bear it – in murmuring shyly “perhaps you’d like to cane me tonight, darling.”  Anniversaries and birthdays brought the cane, and on one occasion Janice had had an exceptionally bad day at work, and was waiting for him cane in hand, when he arrived home.  Without formalities, he had bent across the kitchen table and she made love to him right there, with nine searing strokes of passion.
Not all the ‘spicing up’ had reached such passionate heights of pain, though.  Once, she had gigglingly asked him whether he thought corsets were sexy.  He had readily replied that he did, and was charmed when she delved into the department store bag in front of her and brought out a heavily-boned, red lace-up contraption.  It had taken a while to get him into it, and as she pointed out, when he bent over to receive the blows of their love-making, it did seem rather to cut into his stomach and restrict his breathing.  But it had nonetheless become an important part of their sex life, and he had learnt to love the feeling of the heel of her shoe in the small of his back as she strained to pull the laces to achieve the greatest possible constriction.

(to be continued...)

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Some captioned images

femdom caption blonde goddess with whip

femdom caption kneel before her and open wide

femdom caption blonde dominatrix PVC dress giving you the look

Femdom story: The unkindest power-cut of all

Mistress Persephone was playing with Her slave in Her dungeon, and had just attached the electric clips to his nipples.

“Here we go slave“, She said cheerfully.  “This should make you think again before dropping any of my ash onto the floor.”  And with that, She turned the dial up to eight and pressed the red button.

The slave shrieked, and jerked hard against his restraints, just as expected.  What was unexpected was the way the cry died away almost as soon as it had started, and all the lights went off at the same time, leaving Mistress Persephone and slave in the dark.

After a moment, Her friend Lucy knocked at the door, holding a torch.

“It’s out all over the house”, She said.

The two ladies went over to the window, opened the blinds and gazed out.

“Well, the lights everywhere else seem to be on”, remarked Mistress Persephone.  “Seems to be just us.  Let’s go and have a look at the electrics”.  Lucy led the way with the torch, as the two Ladies left the dungeon to go downstairs.

“We’ll soon sort this out - don’t go away”, Mistress Persephone called distractedly over Her shoulder, to the slave standing in the darkness, strapped firmly to the dungeon cross.

In the utility room, the two Ladies could see that the main circuit-breaker was down in the off position.

“Look - you just need to flick the master switch back up” said Lucy and pushed it up.  The lights came on again and there was a brief shriek from upstairs, then once more the room was plunged into darkness.

“Hmmm.  It’s turned itself off again.  We’ll have to try each of the circuits individually”  She flicked each of the smaller switches to off, and then turned the master switch back on.

Then Her finger ran along the line of smaller switches, from left to right, flicking each up in turn. 

“Ah - we have light.” She said with satisfaction, as the fourth switch stayed up.  “Not upstairs yet”, Mistress Persephone replied, glancing out of the door and up the stairs.

“No, these over here are the upstairs circuits”, said Lucy, and started to flick each of them up in turn.

When She reached the third switch to the right, there was once again a shriek from upstairs, and the switch immediately snapped back down again.

“Won’t stay up.” She said, trying again - with the same result: a howl of pain cut short as the circuit breaker firmly snapped back down.

“Let me try”, said Mistress Persephone, pushing the switch hard with an elegant finger.  “Aieee!!” – came the sound from upstairs - but it wouldn’t stay in position for Her either.

“Silly thing”, She said in irritation, flicking it up (“Argh!!!“) and down, up (“Arrghhh - oh please!“) and down, up (“Oooohh!“) and down, up (“Aiiiiee!”)...  She could keep the power on by holding the switch up with Her finger (“Aaaagh nono, please!!”), but then it would always switch itself off again the moment Her finger left it.

“Reminds me of that slave who calls himself 'servitor'”, She remarked.  “He can’t keep it up without my help either.”.  She pushed the switch up again (“AiEEE!”) and held it in place thoughtfully, as the shrieks faded away into sobbing.

”Be careful, you’ll damage it!” said Lucy.

“Oh don’t worry, they always make that sort of noise.”, Mistress Persephone replied.  “Doesn’t seem to do them any lasting harm.”

“No, no - I meant the circuit breaker.”, explained Lucy.

“I suppose you’re right”, Mistress Persephone sighed, and left the switch alone.  “I expect it’s the electric box I’d just started to play with.  Let me just go and check.”

She went upstairs, back into the dungeon.  The slave on the wall was hanging by his wrists, breathing heavily, with his eyes closed, but he opened them in terror as his Mistress entered the room. She went straight over and flicked the switch on the box (the slave flinched, before realising with relief that it was to the off position).

“Try it now!”, She called downstairs.

“Yes, it’s OK now” came the reply.  “Do you want to try switching the box back on?”

“Oh no, please no!” gibbered the slave, but Mistress Persephone reached down and switched back on again.

“Aaaaah!” came from the cross and “No, gone off again!” from downstairs.  Mistress Persephone sighed, and switched the box off again.

“Please, Mistress”, gasped the slave, “Please don’t, can you not…”

“Oh do be quiet!”, Mistress Persephone replied in irritation, picking up a ball gag from the shelf.  “Can’t you see I’m too busy to play just now?  We just have to sort this out, then I’ll come back and see about you.”

She gagged the slave tightly.  “That’s better.  Could hardly hear myself think for all that racket.”

Back downstairs, the two Ladies tried to remember whether they know anyone who might be able to fix the box.  “Well, there’s footslave dave“, Lucy reflected.  “I think he’s some kind of electrician.”

She went off, and reappeared with the phone to Her ear two minutes later.

“Says he can be here on Thursday morning, some time between ten and two.”

“Give me the phone”, Mistress Persephone replied.  “dave?  If you’re not round here, with your tools and a bright helpful smile on your face within one hour, you’re spending the weekend chained to the wall with clamps on your nipples, weights on your balls and a red hot chillie up your bum.  It’s now…4.43, so the deadline is 5.43.” and She hung up.

“It’s so hard to get decent customer service these days”, She reflected.

“Oh well, he’s not going to be here in time for what’s his face up there, is he?  We’ll just have to do something else.  And I was just getting into that.  How annoying.”

She went back upstairs, and looked at the sweaty slave strapped to the wall, whose staring eyes met hers with mute pleading.  She looked down, at Her favourite electric box.  “No more electricity today slave”, She said regretfully, and the slave’s breathing slowed noticeably and his head gently rocked forward in relief.  “That box is definitely broken.”

“In fact”, Mistress Persephone said, brightening up a bit.  “Come to think of it, it only broke when I attached it to your nasty little nipples, didn’t it slave?” The man nodded, doubtfully.  “So what does that mean?”

Unsurprisingly, no answer emerged from the ball gag.  “It means, slave, it means that you broke my favourite toy.  Didn’t you?” And ignoring the frantic shaking of Her slave’s head, Mistress Persephone moved over to Her toybox, happily musing.

“And I think there should be some consequences to that…shouldn‘t there?”