Archive for March, 2009

Every Picture

Often, we encounter photosets that appear to tell a story. It can be difficult, however, to decipher exactly what that story is supposed to be. In these cases, it’s useful to have a friendly Dominatrix and blogger to interpret them for you.

Here are three from Nylon Femdom:

1. Mistress Bakerboyhat had decided on a weekend break in the Peak District. She could pose for some glamour photographs in the rented cottage, perhaps play some vinyl records on the gramophone, take up the violin, shoot herself in the head, or just recline on some pieces of antique furniture and fondle her own breasts. Yet one of the pieces of antique furniture (the fidgeting one made out of skin) kept on slobbering all over her shoes. Being a professional, she carried on modelling and tried to pretend that nothing was awry. What a trooper.

2. It had been an exhausting day, and Helen could think of nothing better than curling up and going to sleep. If only she hadn’t sold the bed to pay for that laptop! After drowsily failing to get comfortable on the sofa or the man on the floor, she remembered that there was an inflatable mattress folded up on top of the wardrobe. Now, if she could just find something to stand on, and reach up far enough…

3. The gorgeous Mistress Tattoolegs was relaxing in her dungeon, when a distraught submissive approached her, claiming that he had lost sight of his own penis and wasn’t entirely sure if it was still attached. Mistress Tattoolegs rolled him over, kicking him around until she found the offending appendage, then advised him to lose a bit of weight off his frontage. In the meantime, she offered him a stocking to tie around his waist. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it’d have to do for now.

Pegs

Ms Slide has a leisurely chat with a gentleman on a cross, whilst attaching clothespegs to all his extremities, caning him, and laughing like a scary, peg-wielding hyena. 12:55, 23.5 MB

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Scottish Porn Ban

Article from John Ozimek of the Register here.

You’ve Got Male

I get a lot of messages from gentlemen. Most are delightful, polite, and a pleasure to read. Apologies for being so inept at replying to the majority of these, as they tend to get lost under the barrage of spam, abuse, and general drivel that every Domme finds her inbox flooded with on a daily basis. I’m disorganised. Always have been. When I inevitably fail to respond to an email, please don’t take it personally (unless you’ve sent me a copy-and-pasted list of demands, some hollow boasts about the size of your penis, or a misspelt racist joke, in which case do.)

As with any internet forum, especially one dealing with a person’s most intimate feelings, arguments often ensue on IC over women who don’t reply to men’s emails. One chap reminded us how lucky we are to live in the age of the internet. Others decried the loss of those innocent days of penpals, landlines, and handwritten letters. Those are times that I found I’d forgotten long ago. After all, humans must have had to find some way to talk to one another before they could do so at the click of a button. With the ease in which we can communicate now, have we taken the art of communication itself for granted? Who knows. Anyway, back to the classics to investigate…

From Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen:

“With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, Elizabeth opened the letter, and, to her still increasing wonder, perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter paper, written quite through, in a very close hand. — The envelope itself was likewise full. — Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began it. It was dated from Rosings, at eight o’clock in the morning, and was as follows: –

‘Lol. Hello. Ur fitt bitch. Iv a nineinch cock yousuk it pls.’ There was also a picture of an upturned winking face constructed of punctuation marks, and a blurred photograph of some male genitalia.

If Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter, did not expect it to contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of its contents. But such as they were, it may be well supposed how eagerly she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they excited. Her feelings as she read were scarcely to be defined. With amazement did she first understand that he believed any apology to be in his power; and awas she persuaded that he could have no explanation to give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal.”

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