Tuesday, October 29, 2019

Her whip, her rules

She could well be right.  Early on in our relationship, my SO visited a therapist who told her to try dealing with her feelings frustration by beating the living daylights out of me.   Worked.

You get health benefits too - mostly regular exercise and a healthy diet.

I guess we're both disappointed about the whole situation.

That's a museum ship, by the way: HMS Belfast.  Worth a visit, if you're in London, but the guns obviously can't fire any more and all the seamen left a long time ago. 
 The lovely Mistress Sidonia, of course. Oddly enough, I understand she began her career as a submissive, but she has amply paid back the male sex in the years since.

My own car just stays locked in the garage all the time, these days. I don't know why I bother to keep it, really.

Monday, October 28, 2019

Back-room girls

A true herstory from World War M.

Oh yeah, this lab did a lot of war work. I mean: I don’t want to claim that our contribution was the same as those of the front line troops, OK?  Those girls risked their lives.  We were in a safe female-led environment the whole time.

But scientists were important in the war too.  Men are physically stronger than women, right?  So to win, we had to use our other advantages like our superior intelligence, judgment, balance, wisdom, perception, creativity, social skills, memory - all those things.

Quite early on, we’d been working on some basic male control drugs?  Really crude compared to the kind of stuff we have today, but with so many of the more committed femsupremacists fighting at the front, the government was worried about all the males back home.  The more masculine ones were kept on chain gangs, obviously, but the streets were full of all these supposedly submissive males and I don’t think more than - oh 25%? - of them were really believers in male inferiority, you know?  Fifth columnists, even when all dressed in frillies.  It wasn’t like it is today.  So we were developing these basic obedience drugs: sissy pills, IQ reduction treatments, willpower suppressants, that kind of thing.  But it was a bit hit and miss - and there were side-effects.  You’d think it wouldn’t be a problem for a guy to be ‘too obedient’ but we had cases whose egos had been too smooshed by the chemical cosh for them even to chew food without an order from a woman. Kind of funny, but we needed guys working in the factories and fields to support the girls fighting patriarchy at the front.  Can’t do that with a wimp who’s too scared to eat.

So the development of the brain clamp was super-important.  We didn’t invent it here, but we did all the initial testing.  We’d been working on pain receptors in male brains, so we were the obvious lab to try out the first batch of implants.  

And at first, you know, everyone thought it wasn’t working?  The first set of test subjects screamed continuously because their clamps just fired up those pain receptors and kept going.  The engineers were kind of pissed, because they’d done a lot of work to ensure all it would do was pick up sexist and derogatory thoughts about women. I guess we’d expected we’d see them being shocked occasionally, then they’d get it under control within a few hours?  Took us a while to realise that men think those things, like, all the time.  We didn't know that, back then.  There were lots of things we didn't know about men, because we hadn't really been able to experiment on them properly, under the patriarchy.  I guess if women had understood more about what men were really thinking, we wouldn't have had all that feminist nonsense about trying to build a society based on equality between the sexes.  We know better now.

So, yeah, that first batch, we turned the clamps off after a few hours because we thought there must be something wrong with them.  Pulled out the implants and the engineers went off to recalibrate.  Then strapped the males back down again, shoved those implants back in – and it was just the same.  Room full of guys screaming their heads off.  I guess talking about it now, that sounds like quite a turn-on but the war wasn’t going too well at this point, so we were too focused on the work to enjoy it.   

The engineers were going crazy trying to work it out.  What was going wrong with the implants?  It's hard to understand, now - I mean, really, which was more likely?  That something was wrong with a piece of female-designed technology or that something was wrong with the entire male population of the planet? Nowadays, we'd obviously go straight to the second of those hypotheses, but we weren't as knowledgeable then.  Femsuprem science was just getting started and we were still throwing off the shackles of the patriarchal past, and beginning to think about ways to develop new shackles for the matriarchal future.  Metaphorically, I mean: I'm not talking about actual shackles, you understand.  Other labs were developing those.

It was Karen who first suggested just leaving them on to see what happens.  Karen Lucysdaughter – you know?  She got the Nobel Prize for it later.  She put a batch of brain-clamped guys into a secure facility and hooked them up to, like, intravenous feeds and stuff and left them to scream.  It went on for days.  Most of us gave up.  To be honest, we thought Karen was just getting revenge.  Most of the test subjects were former senior scientists and lab administrators and Karen had been an intern - obviously, she had some issues she wanted to work out.  But it turned out she was doing science down there: making notes on a little tablet while these guys just shrieked and struggled in agony hour after hour, day after day.  She wasn't just waiting.  She'd done her PhD on male screams, so she was taking careful notes on that.  She wrote the standard textbook on it, later.  There’s all kinds of different screams and it turns out you can tell a lot about what a guy’s going through from the modulation and the frequency of the screaming, you know?  Not just the loudness, although that's important too, obviously.  Pretty interesting stuff.

Anyway, on about day 4 she got the breakthrough she’d been looking for. One of the guys stopped screaming.  And she knew immediately he hadn’t – like - died, you know, ‘cos he was whimpering and pleading and all that.  But for a moment there he wasn’t thinking sexist thoughts, so the clamp was giving his pain receptors a rest.  And Karen went over to him and when he saw her, I guess he must have thought something bad, because he started right up again. But over the course of the next day or so he and a couple of the other subjects started to have moments not being in agony.  They were learning not to think patriarchal thoughts!  The brain clamps had been working just fine all along; it just takes a lot more pain to persuade men to start thinking the right thoughts than anyone had ever believed possible.  Except for Karen – she’s such a visionary. 

Matter of fact, the Nobel Prize committee asked just last year about the guy. The first successfully brain-clamped male.  They have a museum in Stockholm with memorabilia relating to the prizewinners, apparently, and they wanted to put him on display.  I don't know if they were going to keep him as a live specimen or have him stuffed or whatever but it didn't matter in the end, because unfortunately the lab had sold him off a couple of years before.  We tend to have more males than we need, because you often have to use fresh ones for the experiments, so we have a clear-out from time to time: sell the less damaged ones at bargain prices.  Maybe he's still out there - some lucky girl owns a piece of living female supremacist herstory, and doesn't even know it, I guess.

Anyway: you know the rest.  Brain clamps went into full production.  It’s hard to imagine the modern world without them, really, isn’t it?  Imagine if men could just think disobedient or disrespectful thoughts without agony.  The first production batches went straight to the front, of course.  They didn’t bother too much with controlled experimental conditions there: captured enemy soldiers got the implant and were typically just left to work it out for themselves.  If they managed to get their thoughts straight before dying of starvation and stress, they’d get a collar and a lock on their cock (those who hadn’t had their trophies taken) and sent to the rear. Those who never really got it… well.  They actually tried extracting and re-using the implants at first, but pretty soon as the factories started churning them out by the millions, it was cheaper not to bother.

Of course, nowadays with boys brought up to be obedient, they don’t usually suffer so much when they first get clamped.  But the older guys – wow, some of them never get it.  You know, we’ve had an experiment running since the war, to see how long it would take some of these sexists to start thinking straight?  There’s guys down there who’ve been clamped for over a decade and still can’t get through a single waking hour without a jolt.  Of course, they’re very polite and obedient to us when they get a chance to speak – I guess you would be after ten years strapped in agony to a gurney – asking for a merciful death and stuff.  But you can’t hide your thoughts from the clamp, so we can tell it’s all just a sham.  You’d think they’d get wise – start to recognise sexist thoughts forming and learn to replace them with healthier, obedient ideas instead.

I guess they’re just too stupid to do that.  But I suppose we shouldn’t mind that males are stupid, should we?  

After all: that’s why we won.

Girls!  Inspired by this story?  Ever wondered where the ordinary male-control gadgets and torture items you use every day got started?  Try visiting the R&D section of your local male control facility and prepare to be amazed.  And the work goes on.  Female supremacist science is just getting started - we're just scratching the surface of how we can put the laws of Mother Nature to work in developing new ways of oppressing males.  There is so much out there yet to be discovered!  Maybe you can be part of the continuing story - think about a career in science.  Because men deserve so, so much more.

 Readers interested in how science can help make our world a less pleasant, more terrifying, place may want to check out the stories about Serena and Alice, from this blog's very early days.  Torture porn with a scientific bent - but also a rather sweet love story running through them, as you'll see.

Friday, October 25, 2019

When you're spoken to

... it's just bliss.

It's always my favourite reason!

Gabriel's pretty smart, for a boy.  You could even imagine him ending up as one of those high-end executive secretaries.  Unless some girl just comes along and sweeps him off his feet.

In a rare instance of the comics taking ideas from the fandom, I've heard that Marvel's next superhero is called 'Laundryboy'.

She's a generous tipper.  If you put out.

I once suggested to my SO that I might be better at blow jobs if I'd ever experienced one. She just laughed and asked whether I'd be better at ironing shirts if I'd ever been ironed.  So we tried that instead. She's very practical like that.

Tuesday, October 22, 2019

Painful conversations

Lots of men don't realise that 'mere' words can cause pain.  There are words that I have spoken on occasion that have led to quite astonishing amounts of pain, sometimes almost immediately.

See: this is just the kind of thing I'm talking about. One minute you think you're having a pleasant conversation, and..., I dunno, maybe there was something that upset her or something, but when you wake up you're naked and gagged, upside down in a canvas sack bumping along a country road to goodness knows where...  I guess it's a Mars/Venus thing.

When they next see Trevor, I expect they can ask him how the special effects wizards manage to make the torture and murder look so realistic.

Thank goodness all that's behind me.

Poor thing.  I expect he has no idea how much pain she's been going through, the heartless bastard.

Yeah 'trodden'. It is a ridiculous language, actually. Perhaps Gal could give me a few Hebrew lessons.  I'm sure I'd be a very conscientious student.

Friday, October 18, 2019

Professional services

... this week, the blog presents a slightly more realistic take than usual, on some of the activities we so much enjoy.

Actually, this doesn't much happen to me.  Not during cage time.  What does happen is that I am about to be tied across the whipping bench, with much menace and sense of danger... and I ask for a quick bathroom break before we start. 'Fine'... she sighs, tapping the crop in irritation and off I toddle. Perhaps I should stick to adult baby play... there the whole situation is already in-scene and conveniently portable.

Shameful clothing?  How awful!  Oh no... no... please don't do that, Br'er Zoe!

The first 30 seconds are the best, I find...

...but sometimes we don't get there at all.

Yes.  Please.

Tuesday, October 15, 2019

Domestic tyranny...

... domestic bliss.

They say old age can be like a second childhood.

My SO and I tried something like that but it turned out my boss was gay!  Quite an embarassing situation, as you can imagine, but he saw the funny side and actually since then, our working relationship has been closer than ever.

We are.

OK.  But always with dignity, yeah?

I think'darling' must have misread the signals.  I don't have that problem any more, because we only ever go out with my genitals wired up to the electrics. Of course, I don't get heavy shocks in public but a few little reminders - or an instruction to go off to find a bathroom cubicle for a good zapping - keep me nicely in line. In fact, she's considering learning morse code.

Friday, October 11, 2019

Cos everybody knows

she's a fememe fatale...  Herrin Nico, of course.  

What - I have to find my own stick?  Do I have to do everything around here?

It's amazing how many there are.

That sounds very fair.

It would.

It makes no fucking sense at all, but we keep going back.  Don't we?

Tuesday, October 8, 2019

The radical alternative

I don't know why this always happens but no sooner had I put up the latest post detailing the loving matriarchal embrace of President Hathaway's administration, than another pile of posters that seem to indicate a very different political future awaiting us appeared in my imaginary time machine.  

Is it a warning?  A promise?