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.
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
Brand awareness
But how silly, darling! Is that why you haven’t wanted to play bondage games lately?
I told you at the time, didn’t I? I just wanted the branding irons in my initials as a symbol of your submission to me. I wasn’t planning actually to use them!
And I can see if you were thinking that already, that you might find it a bit worrying when I got those workmen in, to unblock the fire in our bedroom.
But I just thought it would be sexy sometimes to have a real fire going, you know? Just imagine the reflections of the flames on my shiny leather or latex, hmm?
And don't the branding irons look awfully nice fixed to the wall above the fire, like that?
Really, though, I can’t believe you thought I might burn my initials into your flesh without consent! I mean, after all that fuss you made when I tried to play just a little with a lit cigarette against your skin? Do you remember? I've never heard such a noise! Imagine if I held a hot iron to your buttocks for a slow count of three. You’d scream the place down wouldn't you? And we’d have the neighbours calling the police!
Well, unless you were really, really tightly gagged, obviously. Like with a couple of balled-up panties under that new muzzle gag I got you.
Or the inflatable gag, I suppose. That would be OK. And you'd need a harness, so you couldn't struggle much, so the letter comes out nice and clearly.
But anyway, it doesn't matter because I'm not going to do it, am I? So can you stop being so paranoid, and let your goddess wife start tying you up again, hmm?
Look – I’m wearing your favourite outfit. How about you let me tie you up tightly, just like I used to - OK? And do terrible, evil things to you.
Tell you what – I promise not to burn my initials deep into your quivering, naked flesh if you can get me to come three times! Deal?
Joking! I’m joking… Good grief, darling. Try to keep a sense of proportion, OK?
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How delightfully horrible. It's like I was there.
ReplyDeleteIf you were there, I suspect you'd have a little memento to prove it. A permanent memento...
Delete"Delightfuly horrible" is a lovely phrase.