They think it odd and Sodom and Gomorrah-ble

Isn't it delectable?

My SO can be scatterbrained like that.  Just last week was supposed to be my annual orgasm and the silly thing forgot it completely!  How we laughed when she realised the next day why I'd been looking so anxious. She still smiles when she thinks about it...

Abusive behaviour can develop slowly - or can be quite quick, starting almost as soon as one hands over the bag containing the champagne and the envelope with the tribute money. 

Tried it.  What now?  Hmm?

The rules can be quite strict.  I tried to change my name to my wife's and they wouldn't allow it. Isn't that ridiculous - in this day and age?  Apparently "Mywifes" is not an officially recognised christian name.

 

Well, I hope she's prepared to let him stay for the whole session, even if he did underpay.

All that she wants

... she gets.

Best not to argue.  You don't want to end up with your allowance stopped again.

You would.  Well, you can't shoot a smoking scene with unlit cigarettes.  Looks like they're going to have to revert to plan B: ball-busting.

And we all know how slowly that can be.

She's going to get their top saleswoman award this month. Quite remarkable, with only one client.

Anyway, she's got a bunch of medical gear, so if it goes wrong she's well-prepared.

I was so upset that I cried

... all the way to the chip shop 

(trigger warning: video is unrelated to the subject matter of this blog, although I suppose those with a really really strong cuckoldry and insult fetish might just about find something in it).

 

And she'll hold on to that very special key, just to make specially sure.

It's true, actually.  There's nothing that drives away mild discomfort quite like agony.

A bit foolish, really.  She could easily claim pro-domme rates for acting as his slavemistress and then where would he be?

I eventually got round to asking my wife whether my performance in bed was OK or not.  I was a bit worried, but actually she was very nice about it.  Said it was so long ago she'd completely forgotten after all these years and why would it matter to anyone anyway?  I was so relieved.

Silly wasting money on a bus when it's only eight miles anyway. Think how good you'd feel putting the bus fare into the fur coat fund instead.  Every little helps.

Leashed to a frenzy



It's nearly time for your next session anyway.  Might as well just stay.



 

 

 

She loves him really.

 

 

 

Won't be saying that again.  Or anything else, I imagine.

 

 

 

Poor thing.  Still another 20 minutes of the session to go.  Her hand must be so sore.

 

 

 

I wonder what she does with them all? It's only a small apartment.

The sound of one hand clapping

...while the other holds you firmly across her lap, obviously.


Before we start with the captioned images of female domination, a big thank you to Bob (or possibly BOB), for all of the thoughtful, enthusiastic and just plain deviant comments he left over the last few days, on posts going right back to the start of the blog.  I'm not going to reply to each one, but I do really appreciate people leaving comments, particularly positive ones (from male readers - those whose genetics are not ruined by the presence of y-chromosomes are very welcome to leave contemptuous abuse).  Thanks Bob (or possibly BOB)!


Here we go then:

There's something that doesn't seem quite fair about the prospect of displeasing her through 'getting whipped too hard'.

Mistresses Sidonia and Darla, of course.  Extraordinary ladies.  And just little old you to keep them amused.  Good luck with that.

Fortunately there's plenty.  If you don't get this, maybe you'll recognise the socks and underwear you've got to wash.

Just look at that expression.  Aren't you glad you're not Mark?

No, nor am I.  Lucky sod.

Well, she doesn't exactly say how many orgasms that was.  It might just be one. 

To err is male, to chastise divine

It's some more captioned images of female domination.  I really ought to write some more stories, but it's difficult with only one hand free.  Perhaps I need a strict schoolteacher standing over me...well of course I do.

Mistress Darla, of course, for whom the word "divine" is inadequate (a word that comes to mind often when I find myself contemplating her image).

The hounds haven't been fed, and he's going to be rubbed down with dog food first, so it should be a fine chase, while it lasts.

I think it's a bit risky.  Start letting him choose the washing powder, and who knows what liberties he'll take?  One way or another, I'm pretty sure this will all end in tears.

At the moment this photo was taken, I believe he'd just heard himself utter the word, but wasn't sure whether her English was up to understanding it.  Rather a tense moment, as you can imagine.  Let's hope it turned out all right.

My view on this picture is...well, irrelevant and unimportant I suppose.  Sorry - I'll be off now.