First footing

This is a British - mainly Scottish - custom, which might not be understood by readers from the rest of the world.  It refers to the first foot-worship session of the new year (or, in the rougher parts of Glasgow, the first ball-busting session of the new year).  

It is considered a great sign of good luck to first-foot a domme, having previously negotiated her complicated booking form and waited for several days wondering whether or not it would be appropriate to send a respectful reminder.  If granted an audience, and having sent the deposit at least a week before and a text confirming, on the day, the first-footer arrives precisely two minutes before the time of the appointment bringing gifts - sometimes Champagne, gifts of expensive lingerie or other stuff that she has identified on her wishlist (but not anything else) - and also, most crucially, an unsealed envelope stuffed with cash. 

Traditionally, the first-footer is greeted warmly by the domme, while stuttering in embarassment, and proceeds to a session in which she makes sure he gets at least some, but not all, of the rather random stuff he wrote about in his email or on her booking form. Foot massaging will take place in the last half hour or so, and she pretends he's actually surprisingly good at it.  Then the session is brought to a close, in perfect time to finish on the dot, even though she did not look once at a clock. He gets dressed again, offers to help clean up and is politely declined, and makes stilted conversation for a bit, wondering why on earth he was so nervous when he arrived.  He then heads off into the night, thinking it a bit weird to be walking among vanilla people with his sore bottom, feeling edgy and decadent, and wondering what they would say if they knew.

So... yeah, OK, it's not all that different from a regular foot-worship session, to be honest.  Unless I forgot to mention the haggis?

Anyway, new year same old... oh, I've even done that joke before.  Ninth year of the blog!  Bloody hell.  Don't any of us have anything better to do?

Kinksters might occasionally be surprised by how ready vanilla folks might be to indulge them in their fetish.  I think it's fair to say, for example, that every girl I've ever had a date with has totally been into the idea of chastity play and orgasm denial.  In fact, I don't recall any of them permitting me any sort of sexual activity whatsoever.  Guess there's more kink out there than we assume, huh?

She doesn't get a lot of repeat business.  That's why she has to charge so much.

It's important to understand that it's not gay to give another man a foot massage. Or a blow job. 

Wag wag wag wag wag...

You can do anything but don't come on her brown suede boots.

Downton on your knees

Sorry about that.  I find it hard to resist a pun, no matter how bad. If only there were someone who could mete out painful consequences for such lapses of judgement on my part... whom I could pay to judge me, find fault and punish me. But obviously no such profession exists, so I suppose I'll just carry on.

Anyway, Downton day today!  I won't say where I got the photos. You might recognise the sytyle, I've used similar before.  The photographer has a lot more on his web site and I'm sure you can find it but probably best not to jump there straight from this site as I doubt he would appreciate this particular use of his images.  I wouldn't want to have to take this post down ... ton.

P.S.  Nothing at all to do with Downton but Oh My Goddess  look at this! 

You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot

My favourite Christmas lyrics. Of course, I hear that phrase all through the year, but it means so much more to me in this very special season.

Let me take this opportunity to wish a very merry Christmas to this blog's handful of female readers, and I hope the rest of you have the miserable, bleak and pitiful time you all so richly deserve - and secretly crave - you revolting little creeps.

Goodwill to all women

It's that very special time of year.  The holly and the ivy... both actually almost as unpleasant-tasting as all the pine needles I have to eat off the floor, but it's a tradition and I can't argue with that.

Nothing particularly Christmassy about today's captions, though - just the usual rubbish.

I'm going to have a go at writing some snip-lit some day.  They say write what you know.

When we engage in medical roleply, my SO likes to use actual medicines.  She gets a friend who works in a hospital to give her stuff that they're throwing out because it's near its expiry date.  Says it makes it more realistic.  I don't suppose there's any harm in it.

My wife came multiple times on our wedding night, I'm told.

 

She read somewhere that husbands and wives should always agree on financial decisions, so she wanted to make sure he was OK with it first.

The video basically just consists of cut-scenes.  (Sorry, sometimes I can't help myself)

Snivelling

I do a lot of snivelling.  I feel it is an under-rated and much-maligned activity; you rarely see the word used in a positive context.

It is truly better to give than to receive, my SO always says, a particularly relevant thought to bear in mind in this festive season.

Go on then... let's get it over with...

Which nice things to buy, maybe?

He always wanted to be considered 'statuesque'. Now he will be.

To experience an after-life you have to have had a life, so I don't think this is what my future looks like.

Service oriented

Once again, it is time for this blog to salute the heroines of World War M.  They fought for freedom - and slavery as well, obviously.  Honour them, remember them. They served so that we can have a long and happy future of service, too.

If you liked these (and if you didn't, why are you still here - are you one of those weird masochists, or something?), you might also like this.  And if you're from a really small country with a tiny, insignificant little army, you might also want to consider declaring war on the Netherlands.

Spankable moments

If the other maids don't mind, why should you?

 

Paying €200 per hour only enhances the humiliation of line-writing or corner time, I find.

And don't forget that a spit-roast is charged at anal rates at both ends.

They say size doesn't matter, but even fully lubed up I find that it does.

It's symbolic of something or other.  Most things are.

The day she bought the cane

And you know I feel no sorrow.  (Warning: video is SFW and unrelated).

Sounds like there's a good mutual understanding here of what's important in the relationship.

Sequentially or concurrently?

I dunno... when I do a schoolboy session I can barely concentrate on maths enough to count to six.  Which is unfortunate, because I usually have to do that quite a lot.

Raoul likes to take his time over things. Not like me - I'm very quick to get things finished, if I'm given the chance.

She used to be a dominatrix - the pay was better but there's so much more job satisfaction this way.

Isn't that a lovely spanking bench, by the way? Ages since we featured one of those here.

Dark-hearted commentary

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.  And so do hunger, cold, discomfort and terror.

It's actually the sign of a really considerate, thoughful guy not to protest when his date decides to fuck someone else whose more attractive.  Sweet guys like that are the ones that the really hot girls all want to settle down with, eventually. I'm told.

They taste much the same.  Don't wriggle quite as much while you're waiting for permission to chew, that's the only real difference, I find.

He has ambitions to be a Junior Housemaid's assistant, but I suspect that's beyond his reach.  Still, one can dream.

If it's sunny, he'd better wear a hat. Fortunately he has lots of hats: it's almost the only kind of present he ever gets.*  Everyone seems to think it's such an original gift idea... it would be heartless to tell them - and despite everything, he's not a bitter man.

* Thank you Iain M Banks, Use of Weapons.