Tears are not enough

But they can help.

BBWs go well with SIMs - scrawny, insignificant males.

Andy wasn't very likeable but Janet very much enjoyed his company, towards the end.

A well-equipped playroom, I see.

I was once taken in by a policewoman strippergram that someone had arranged as a surprise at my 18th birthday party - I actually genuinely thought I was in trouble with the law!  How we laughed when I was released six months later.

Kitten likes to keep the conversation focused on things that are important.

Textual humiliation

Scamper scamper... wag wag wag.

 

 

She's not, like, a pervert or anything.

 

 

 

Mistress's boyfriend actually, so a bit of both you might say.

 

 

Personally, I just feel more comfortable wearing stereotypically female clothing, because when I try to sneak any male clothing on I invariably get found out and beaten.

 

 

One fewer thing to worry about, then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Who loves the sun?

I do!  After a miserable rainy May, we now have bright sunshine chez elle (i.e. where I live) and I thought I'd do a sun-drenched special to celebrate summer's balmy days. Admittedly, I myself haven't yet seen the sun, as there are no windows in the part of the house where I live (not a problem, of course - after all, what would be the point, this far underground?).  But she's promised to break out the summer sweaters and the heavy rubber gimp suit, to take me out into the garden this weekend to where the treadmill awaits, bathed in sunshine.  So that'll be a nice change.  I've also just booked a romantic stay for two at a beach resort for later in the summer, but I wont divulge the details as she hasn't decided which boyfriend to take with her.  They get so jealous - especially a certain old bull I won't name! *

Anyway, here we are: summery captions.

 

 

I doubt that.  I have actually become quite good at accurately judging women's weight. But sometimes you have to tell them little white lies - bless them. The number of times I've had to control my breathing carefully to say 'no, no - light as a feather!' without gasping...

 

 

It's great.  Yeah.  I'm getting quite good at never having any sexy thoughts at all, as long-term readers of this blog will know only too well.

 

 

Oh... don't mind me.

 

She likes long walks in the country, getting caught in the rain and keeping up with the latest developments in applied metallurgy.

 

Actually, I brought a spare myself.  I always do, just in case.  I mean, imagine how awful it would be to run into Gal by chance and not have a leather belt or similar implement on you... a lifetime of regret would await.

* Regular readers shouldn't worry.  There'll always be a place for Raoul in her heart - and in her vagina, mouth and anus, too of course.

Good harmful fun

 ...and nothing wrong with that.

They take pain management very seriously.

It's best to double-check these things.  I've been on at least two dates which ended up in an argument relating to a confusion between inches and centimetres - and on one of them my so-called 'date' actually beat me up.

Obviously, we should be trying to encourage more women to go into STEM subjects.  Because technical progress and science are important - so best not left to morons.

That's a relief.  I was worried.

It just shows I'm a red-hot lurrve machine, surely?

She's right, you know

 She just is.

My SO once told me that it was on our honeymoon that I gave her the best sex she's ever experienced.  Which is a bit of luck, really, as you never know what you're going to get when you're in a foreign place and you don't know the escort agencies well.

It's only fair: she took his electric razor, when they split up, I understand.

Got there eventually.  Well done.  Now let's talk about ironing pleats.

Don't worry: he won't allow himself to be improperly influenced.  Properly influenced, yes, certainly, possibly even vigorously influenced.  But no more than that.

Women, eh?  Sometimes you're supposed to scream in agony, sometimes you're supposed to stay silent.  How are we supposed to know?  I mean, unless they use ball-gags and stuff.

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.

Desperate househusbands

Oh dear... the guys are sure to laugh at me now.  I mean... 'LUT'.  Doesn't mean anything does it?  How ridiculous.

I'm told that masturbating to porn can seriously diminish the male libido over the long run as well, so you just keep on doing what you're doing, 'k?

Actually, only one of them is going to be kissing in a very special place. Just after this conversation, the Mistresses decided it would be one orgasm between them, not one each.  But no jealousy, sissies - play nice!

My SO is very good at dealing with feelings of guilt, too.

Edwardian femdom. There's not enough of it about, in my opinion.

My company was charming

Well, what am I supposed to do with the other 38 seconds, then?

Thank goodness she's looking out for me.

Don't try to argue or plead your way out of it - it's one of those Mars/Venus things, you know?  She's got some emotional issues that need to be worked out and until Gerald arrives, you're the only one she can turn to.

In the femdom community, athlete's foot is considered an STD.

You'll notice she hasn't put the surfboard on the fire yet. Another Mars/Venus moment, yeah?  Any ideas why ? Hmm?  No? Sigh...because she's waiting to see if you'll do it yourself without being specifically asked, you unfeeling brute. Obviously, this relationship is going to need a lot of work.

Miss-judged

I've been a very bad wolf.

Actually, there's a funny story about this one.  It turned out there were no fewer than three Miguels on the beach!  So as you can imagine things got a little embarassing - and of course we soon ran out of condoms and beer, so I had to run back to the shop. Still, it all worked out OK in the end.

You can cary an orgasm donor card, you know: 'I want to help someone come when I die'?  Not that it really makes much difference, but prior consent is a thing with some people.

I think he's looking at her funny now.  Some men never learn, huh?

And the evening, and the next day too, if need be. One wrist can outlast a great many bottoms, as any schoolmistress will attest.