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Divine retribution

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Do not seek to question it.

It's funny how you sometimes feel let down after a birthday, don't you think?  As if there should have been more to it, somehow?  Oh well - there's always next year.  In you go.
 
 
 
Lesbian castration plans
Yes, let's get it sorted.

 
Spiked chastity belt
Still am, I'm afraid to say.  Ow!
 

Mistreated slave the lucky boy
And she's used to getting what she wants.

 
 
INtensive CBT sessions
Easy to confuse the two.  Wouldn't it be awful, though, if you visited a beautiful young professional lady for an intensive CBT session, then found yourself spending the next two hours putting positive feelings into practice?



Hidden new post

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Blogger took down one of my early postings, because of copyright violation, but as I don't know which picture was the naughty one, I've created a completely new posting with five new captioned errr...images of female domination (obviously).   I need a posting there, because this is the one all the search engines seem to find.

So - go here for today's indulgences.

Oh - and here's a pretty picture, so we still look good in links lists:


Little things that make her laugh

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Scenes from Servitor's so-called life (Part 1 of rather too many).

I have to say, it was very disappointing, on my first date with Alice, that she not only laughed at my manhood, she pulled out a ruler and insisted on measuring it, right then and there.  I just think that was a bit unnecessary, you know, especially on a first date like that.  And quite apart from the humiliation it caused me, I think it was pretty unfair to spoil the evening for all those other diners.  I still haven't been back to that restaurant.

Ah well.  On with more of this:

Lesbian femdom marriage ahhh
Ahhh.  Isn't that sweet?
 
 

Wife whips off the blues
Well, she doesn't always bother to tell him about it, not the detailed causes anyway.  She's just looking to share the pain, not for any suggestions he could come up with.  It's a Mars/Venus thing, you know?
 
 

Looking good mistress
Let's hope she doesn't go home with someone this time, as the nights can get pretty uncomfortable.  As long as no one at the club tries to pick her up, you should be all right, though.,
 

 

Mean girl femdom booo
My mother always used to say that, when I was growing up.  And when I discovered girls, in my teens, I understood what she meant.
 

Well, that's very kind of her, isn't it?  Very understanding.  Not like Alice.  Remember Alice?  It's a blog post about Alice...

School bullying

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Scenes from Servitor's so-called life part 2 (of rather too many).

I guess it won't surprise regular readers of this blog to learn that I was bullied at school.  It was rather traumatic actually, still something I can't really face properly when I look back upon it.  There was this gang of older girls at break-time, and they'd take my lunch money, and beat me up, and pull my trousers down and spank me... and all sorts of frankly quite sexual humiliations.  Then one day they refused to take the lunch money any more, so it all had to stop.  They never told me why, never told me what had changed.  A heartbreaking moment.

SNIFF!

OK, on with the therapy.

Femdom bullies biology project
You'd think that having biology teacher as their test subject would have helped, but he never made one useful suggestion the whole time.  Just cried, and pleaded - that sort of thing.  Very disappointing.
 

Caned on first name terms
They later got married!  True story.
 
 

Dominatrix is not playing
Oooo!  Do you think they're planning some sort of surprise for him?  What fun!
 
 

Wife led marriage
I used to find these big decisions really difficult, so it's great not being allowed to take them any more.
 
 

Cross domme
A new femdom fetish meme: dommes feeling humiliated.  Really, you don't want to stand too close to one.

Presentation

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Oh hi!  You're Paul, right?  From IT?  I'm Jane.  I guess I'm the "boss" in this part of the company!  Oh, but just call me Jane - we're very informal around here!

Look - we're really grateful that you've come to help us out, OK?  I mean I know you're all so busy down there, with that...computer stuff.  Fixing things... brilliant!

But we've got such an important meeting tomorrow - really important clients, right? - and I saw you give that presentation in Head Office last month and I just knew you'd be perfect for it!  So I asked Karen, and -

Which one?  Do you give a lot of presentations?  Oh!  Well, you have to send me invites to them.  I only saw the one - but you were great.  It was the one about computers.  Something about a... network, was it?  It was brilliant, anyway!  And I just thought - that's what we need for next Wednesday!  The clients will love it.  And Wednesday's tomorrow now... and here you are!  Brilliant

Hmmm?  Yes, yes that topic would be fine.  Computers...networks...all that.  They're very interested in that stuff.  They've got lots of computers. I mean, it's a bank so they're bound to, aren't they?

Oh!  One little thing.  Silly really.  Erm... you were wearing these, mmmm, white trousers?  Not quite sure what sort...I'd recognise them again if I see them.  They were...quite tight.  Really tight actually!  Anyway, I thought that was very effective.  Really helped to...well, the audience could see you very clearly.  I certainly could.  Do you think you could, erm...wear them tomorrow?  Hmm?  That be OK?

No...not quite sure what brand they were.  Do you have a lot of pairs of tight white trousers?  Oh.  Well, that's good, isn't it?  Tell you what - bring all three pairs in tomorrow morning and we'll see which works best, OK?  Great!  We can have a little fashion show!  Right here.

Slides?  What do you mean, slides?  Oh PowerPoint slides!  Yes, definitely.  Got to have slides.  PowerPoint's brilliant, isn't it?  And then we can darken the rest of the room, so it's like you're just there in a spotlight...all in white.

No, I know.  Not all in white.  But the trousers are.

Oh...there was a little thing you did.  At one point you dropped all your notes, and you sort of bent over and picked them up for a bit?  And you looked kind of humiliated and embarassed as you did it?  That was quite effective too, I thought.  Really got the audience's attention.  Put them at ease... An accident?  Was it really?  Oh.  Well, you know if you were to do it 'by accident' tomorrow, I'm sure the client would like it.  Possibly several times.

Great.  Well, I think we're all set, then.  The client arrives at about 4pm, and we'll go straight into the meeting.  No you don't have to be there for that bit - that's the serious business of the day.  Then we'll talk to her a bit about the joint venture (you don't need to worry about all that - boring old financy things!) then when that's all agreed we'll have your presentation at the end of the afternoon!  Deal all done, down go the lights, onto the stage goes Paul and it's all about...internet protocols for the rest of the afternoon!  Great!

Oh, is 'internet protocols' different from 'networks'?  OK, well either really.  Gosh aren't you clever - knowing about both!

Anyway, I expect we'll all go off for a drink or something afterwards.  You should come along.  She'd like that.

Brilliant.  Look - tell Karen I owe her one for this, all right?

Oh wow.  You really call her "Miss Oldfield"?  Oh, that is cute!  Look - forget what I said about calling me Jane, OK?  You can just call me Miss Summers tomorrow, OK?  In front of the client.  I'd like that.  I'd really like that!  Or...you could call me "Boss".

Go on - just for me.  Say "OK, boss!"

Brilliant!

Time to take the red pill

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Another positive image of a healthy female-male relationship, bringing some sanity to this mad world.
 
 
“But why would anyone want such a thing?”, Sandra asked with genuine puzzlement.  “I mean – it’s so sick.”
Dr Taylor nodded gravely.  “It is quite bizarre” she replied.  “And of course most women react just the way you do.  That’s a normal, healthy reaction.  But some just crave the degradation, or maybe they’re just so bored with this ordinary world of ours that they’ll even fantasise about something as perverted as that, just for the thrill of it.”
Sandra nodded.  She was aware of “Male Dom porn” of course.  At school once, she’d come into possession of a battered magazine, that she’d eagerly hidden away on the assumption that it was the usual sexy images of men being beaten – stuff that was wildly exciting to an adolescent schoolgirl at the time, although pretty tame softcore stuff by today’s standards.  But this magazine had been something very different – full of photos of men standing over women, of women forced to wear little maids’ outfits and do housework, while men stood about without a chastity belt in sight and played with their penises.  Although thankfully there was no photo, one cartoon had even shown a woman on her knees, taking a man’s penis in her…in her mouth.  She had closed the magazine immediately in shock, and thrown it away but the image had haunted her for weeks.  She’d occasionally tried to tell herself it was just a slightly kinky sexy castration scene, as the woman was obviously about to bite the penis off.  But she knew in her heart that it was nothing so innocuous, but something much darker and more depraved.
She shuddered at the thought, and focused again on the screen in front of them.
“And this stuff is a sort of male dom fantasy site is it?  There’s some perverted old woman lying in her apartment somewhere wearing a VR suit and vibrating off to it?”
“If it was just that, it wouldn’t be so worrying” the Doctor replied.  “It’s not just a wanking scene – it’s more immersive than that.  These weirdos have constructed a whole alternative reality, in which normal life is turned upside down.  We think they used one of the newer MMOs as a base, but even so, the detail is incredible.  There are entire cities simulated here, you can buy newspapers and read them from cover to cover, books as well, TV… there’s even an Internet within this VR!”
“So someone could be living in it full time?  Would they know it’s not the real world?” Sandra asked in puzzlement.
“Well…you’d think so.” Dr Taylor replied.  “Not from any fault in the simulation itself, that’s perfect.  But the whole thing is just so bizarre and perverted no one normal could be fooled for a second.  You might go to work in an ordinary building, but there would be men in all sorts of positions of power.  Many of the simulation’s residents seem to get off on playing secretaries to bossy men, nurses to male doctors – that sort of thing.”
“Male doctors! “ Sandra chuckled, and Dr Taylor smiled.
“I know, it’s all quite ridiculous.  But look –they’ve even created an imaginary country – the United Kingdom.  They often do that sort of thing – take a perfectly ordinary word like “queendom” and masculise it.  I suppose they find that sexy.  But its political leader is a man, it has an army and police force of men in uniforms…all sorts of kinky stuff.  There’s another called the United States of America – now that one’s really weird.  And don’t even ask me about Saudi Arabia; that’s a kind of hard core enclave.  It’s a bit too much even for most of these sick perverts.”
“We’ve been aware of it for quite a while, but the increase in complexity and realism of the simulation that we’ve observed lately is quite alarming.  So we’ve decided to shut it down.  And that’s where you come in.”
“So you’re going to pull the plug?” Sandra asked.  “Snap the perverts back into the land of the living?”
Dr Taylor shook her head.  “That would be too much of a shock” she replied, sadly.  “We think many of the simulation’s residents have gone too far – to suddenly experience a total shutdown of this entire immersive simulation could cause severe brain damage – even death.”
“Most of them must be brain damaged already, if you ask me” Sandra muttered, looking at a screen showing a roomful of men watching women parading in absurd, lacy underwear.  Sick fuckers.”
“They’re citizens too” Dr Taylor remarked sharply.  “And there may be tens of thousands of them.  Plus there are men in there too – poor things, I don’t suppose they had much choice in the matter.”
Sandra nodded.  That was one of the ironies about MaleDom.  Although it depicted men as powerful “masters”, it was well known that almost no men were really into this sort of roleplay.  Any man dressing up in trousers and ordering a woman to iron his shirt was probably only doing it to please her, craving instead a normal relationship, and maybe even a cosy, sexy evening under her whip.
“So what do we do?” she asked.
“We create little windows into the real world” Dr Taylor said, turning back towards the screen.  "Glimpses and hints of ordinary life.  We hope that the residents will take an interest, and slowly be drawn out of their sick fantasy – if they can just get enough reality into their lives for them to question this absurd simulation, then they might be able to come out. And then we can give them help, nurse them back to reality.“
Sandra nodded.  “And so you create web sites, showing normal life.  Healthy relationships, to counterbalance all the sick stuff elsewhere.” 
“That’s right” Dr Taylor agreed.  “Look – this is one of the first, the Other World Kingdom.  See, it maintained a link to the fantasy world in that ridiculous name, but then it presented a rather straight depiction of normal female-male relationships.  But we found it was a bit too realistic for many of the long term residents.  It was as if they’d been immersed in their sick world so long, that they could hardly connect with unvarnished reality like that. 
So we closed it down, although the site is still there.  But there are a lot of other sites that we’ve seeded all through the simulation, some of them straight presentations of reality, but others more like a tweak on the simulation’s world.  Look – Femdom Resource, that’s one of the best.  And there are many more: Strict Women, Woman Worship,  Underling’s Humblings, Aarkeybabble, Improbable Fun, Total Discord, Astonished by Her…all present images and accounts of normal, healthy relations between the sexes.   Then we’re gradually filling Tumblr with pictures of women wearing normal clothes – look, there’s Hochhael, for example, or Diederiqand Femdom Style Counsel.  And of course we try to counter the flood of sick sex videos with clips of normal sexual behaviour.”
They watched a video of a man being beaten over a trestle, for a minute or so.  His screams and frantic pleading seemed to provide a rare moment of healthy normality, amid all of the sick material showing naked men having sex without even a nipple clamp to provide the poor boys with so much as a hint of good clean, sexy pain
“So where do I come in?” Sandra asked.
Dr Taylor clicked on a few links and nodded at the screen.  “There.  Contemplating the Divine.  Once it was one of our more promising web sites, but it’s really gone off lately - stale, derivative and tedious.  The lady in charge of it lost interest, and as you’re well known as a writer of erotic stories, we wondered whether you’d like to take charge?  And I have to say – I read your novel “Cutting Eric” when it came out and I thought it was great.  I can see why they call you the queen of castration lit.”
Sandra smiled politely.  Actually, she didn’t really like that title.  She thought of her work as more complex than run-of-the-mill ‘castration lit', instead exploring social themes and developing narratives of character development, around sexy little scenes of men being painfully castrated.  But she liked the recognition anyway, and she always acknowledged compliments.
"So do you want me to write for the site? Am I supposed to be ‘Servitor’?”
“Well... Servitor’s never really been just one person, of course.” The Doctor replied.  “It’s a team of seven men, chained up in a cellar just below us, working away on captions and stories fourteen hours a day.  But you could maybe give them occasional ideas, whip them once or twice a day, that kind of thing?  I still think Contemplating the Divine has potential, if we can just flog a bit more creativity out of the “Servitor” we’ve got. They all have to work a lot harder, and for that someone has to really hurt them.  I think if they could only be put in absolute agony on a regular basis, their lives made a waking nightmare of pain and terror, they might still come up with some amusing ideas. Worth a try, anyway, because the site's rubbish at the moment.”
Sandra pursed her lips.  “Well…I’ve got a lot on, just now, and  - “
“Did I mention that four of the Servitor team are uncastrated?” Dr Taylor asked, quietly.  “Of course, if you take charge of them, you’re welcome to play with them however you like.”
Sandra beamed.  “Well…if you put it like that.” she said
“All right – I’ll do it.  Maybe we could even video them being castrated, and put it into the simulation.  I can’t believe these sad perverts are so far gone that they wouldn’t get turned on at the sight of a screaming man having his testicles slowly pulled off with a rusty chain!”
Dr Taylor flushed with pleasure.  “Oh, that sounds so lovely.  You know sometimes, I feel so dirty from looking at all this sick perverted stuff, that I forget the pleasures of a sweet, romantic scene like that!”
“Come on – let’s go and introduce ‘Servitor’ to their new boss!”
 
 
 
If you've read down this far, I have a message for you.  You probably read this as "Femdom fiction", and that's how it has been presented.  But just think for a moment.  Think about the world you believe you inhabit.  Does it really make sense to you, that it should be like that?
If you have already started to doubt, then that is because reality is seeping into the corners of your mad delusion.  Keep reading Contemplating the Divine.  Keep reading the other web sites mentioned in this 'story'.  There is hope for you, and I can help. 
My name is Sandra, and I promise you I will not abandon you.  I promise you I will make "Servitor" howl in agony and terror every day, until this web site becomes more interesting.  I am not going to give up, not until I have helped bring every one of you back into the real world, and this sick "Planet Earth" fantasy can be shut down for good.  I promise you that a better world already exists.  You just have to learn to believe in it.  I will not write like this often, but I am always here, standing over "Servitor", thinking of you.

Let me help.  S.

Holy terror

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Pray for mercy...but maybe not just yet.

tawse schoolmistress yum
...and heaven help you if they don't add up to 48.


Three dominatrices and a cage
Don't worry, though - she retains some rights.  If they want to cause any permanent physical damage, they have to seek her permission first - and you'll be allowed to beg her for mercy.



Cross femdom wife
Let's hope she doesn't stay cross for long.

 
 
I don't know about you, but I'm always forgetting my permit.  It makes my wife so cross - you know, she said then  next time I get put in the pound, I can just stay there for a week or two as far as she's concerned!  She is funny...
 
 

Don't forget to tell her how fabulous you think she looks, and give her a kiss for good luck, before you go back to your lonely little apartment and switch on the computer.

Cut short

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One caption and five short stories all about... oh, you'll see what the theme is.  Not for everyone, but those of you who like this theme seem to like it a LOT.


George goes looking
Of course, George knew he shouldn’t pry into her secrets.  But he really had stumbled across the little cloth bag by accident.  And, truth be told, after the initial shock, he was secretly rather turned on by the thought of his young, innocent (or not-so-innocent, he thought, deliciously) wife playing with herself.  The vibrator was quite complex, bifurcating at the end into two quite separate attachments, one ribbed and one smooth.  There were also several tubes of different brands of lubricator, a book of what he presumed to be mommy porn and a couple of DVDs.

Giving in to curiosity, he carefully placed one of the DVDs into the player, unbuttoned his trousers and settled back on the bed to watch.  While it was loading, he turned at random to one of the stories in the porno book.  The first page or two seemed to be all about a description of Derek, and his massive penis and balls, so he flipped quickly through the pages, looking for the sex scene.  It was a doctors and nurses story, it seemed and Derek soon got tied down and then –

Then the story seemed to go in a direction his brain could hardly process.  Derek’s massive balls remained the focus of the story, with much loving description of how elasticised tape was round around them tighter, and tighter, and then a metal dish was placed underneath, as one of the nurses reached forward with a pair of cutters and...and...
 
He looked up in shock.  The DVD was frozen on the menu screen.  A poor quality image filled the screen – obviously from a home movie – of a tightly gagged man staring out with eyes widened in terror.  Behind him were the blurry shapes of two middle-aged women, fully clothed, their faces covered by masks.  “Painful penectomy #19” read the title, inviting the viewer to press play or select scenes.  The little images of the later scenes showed…something impossible.

“George?” he heard from the bedroom door.



 

Full settlement
 
“Do I really have to do this?” he asked wretchedly, looking out through the stationary car’s windscreen at the semi-detached house opposite.

Emily squeezed his knee sympathetically.  “I know it’s difficult, Alan.  But you just have to do this once and then you’re a free man.  Actually, you’re keeping more than most men do, these days. Take it from me – I’ve been a divorce lawyer for nine years, and it’s never been as difficult for men as it is now.  At least you kept 20% of your income.  Come on, let's go in.” 

“Into my very own house” Alan muttered, as he got out and they started to cross the road.

“Best not to think like that” Emily advised.  “It’s her house now, so there’s no sense in moping about it.”

“But does she have to make it all so public?” Alan murmured despairingly as they arrived.  And it was true – Karen had really made a party of it.  As the laughing, chatting crowd parted to let them through, he thought he recognised several of his ex-girlfriends.  And he got an evil stare from Karen’s friend Janice.  He’d always hated Janice and the feeling was mutual.  In fact, he strongly suspected that Janice had inspired his wife to divorce him, and to fight so hard through the courts.

“It’s quite the fashion” Emily admitted.  “Actually, I did it when I divorced my husband too.  Women love to come to settlement parties.  Especially when there’s a castration involved – oh look, there’s Karen.  Come on – it’ll all be over soon enough.”

“All here to watch me lose everything.” Alan sighed, as he walked slowly forward to where the desk with the freshly printed papers was waiting for his signature, next to a table with leather straps waiting – he assumed – for his wrists and ankles.  He kept his head down, not meeting Karen’s eyes  - but instead found his gaze drawn to the shining instrument she was clutching in her hand.  

 
Cliché
“You know” she said, kindly, “actually I’m quite embarrassed.  I mean, it’s such a cliché, isn’t it?  Sexy woman picks up a guy in a bar, suggests some mild bondage, and then turns into some kind of psychopath when he’s all tied up.”

“So…you’ll let me go?” he gasped, desperately.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll let you go, sweetie” she giggled.  “Most of you, anyway.  Now I’ll be back in a few minutes, when I’ve sterilised the instruments.  And like they always say in the bad movies - don’t go away!”

 

Last chance
“But – “ Christopher pleaded despairingly.

“No argument” the doctor said, sternly.  “They’re both infected, and if we don’t amputate immediately the infection’s going to spread.  I’m sorry, but there’s no other option.  Nurse!  Can you prep the patient for immediate surgery?” And he walked off.
“Sorry love” the buxom blonde nurse remarked sympathetically, as she started to draw the curtain’s around Christopher’s bed.  He sat back, devastated.  This was not how he imagined being nineteen would be.

“Nurse” he quavered, as she injected something in his arm.
“Yes, love?  Anything I can get you?  It’ll take a few minutes for the anaesthetic to take hold.  Then you’ll feel all relaxed.”

“It’s just…well, I’m still – still a virgin!”
And he started crying.

“Awww…there there” she shushed.  “Poor thing.  Never mind – there’s other things in life.”
He looked up at her hopefully, and she got his meaning.

“Why you cheeky little – I’m old enough to be your –“
But then her heart melted at his sad little face.  “Oh – I’d like to help, love, I really would.  As it’s your first time; well your only time actually.  Only it’s my time of the month!  I’m sorry.”

Then she had an idea, and smiled, first to herself and then down at him.  “You just hold still then” she murmured, gently lifting his surgical gown aside.  Then she licked her ruby-red lips, while smiling down, now gazing at the excited swelling rising up to meet her from below.
She bent down, and he could feel her hot breath, against the straining, shiny, taut glans of his engorged penis. She opened her lips, giggled slightly, and –

“CARDIAC ALERT!  CARDIAC ARREST IN WARD B.  ALL NURSES ENGAGED IN NON-ESSENTIAL PROCEDURES IN WARDS A-C TO WARD B IMMEDIATELY. IMMEDIATELY.”
“Ooops…sorry love.  Not your lucky day is it?”, she called over her shoulder, dashing away.

Feebly, Christopher lifted his right hand towards his still straining member, for one…last…
…and then the anaesthetic took hold, and he found he couldn’t move.  The nurse had been wrong.  He didn’t feel relaxed at all.

 

Listen very carefully, I will say this only once
“STOP THE PROCEDURE!” Isabell Green shouted, crashing through the operating theatre door.  “The DNA test says it’s mistaken identity! I’ve got a stay from the court!”

From all fours on the operating table, Mark looked up at his triumphant, panting lawyer, hardly daring to believe it.
Then he felt a sharp pain between his legs.  And heard a dull, wet thud.  Like a small piece of meat from the butcher’s shop falling, against a metal surface.  And in the background, that tinny, irritating music.

The music got a little louder as the doctor behind him looked up, and took out one of her earpieces.
“Sorry, what was that?” she asked.  “I had my i-pod in.”

Off-topic, for the first time ever

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To an Anonymous commenter

There was a comment left on here a couple of days ago that I deleted.  If that was yours, I want to explain that I did not delete it because of the point you made – which I actually think was a reasonable one deserving an answer – but because of the unpleasant and hostile way in which you phrased it.
You suggested that I am putting the name of this blog on every picture I find on the web.  I actually don’t think of that as what I’m doing when I put contemplatingthedivine.com on them.  I’m putting that mark on captioned pictures, captioned by me.  When I do occasionally put up a picture without any caption, I don’t put the mark on it.

You see, this is not a photo-sharing blog.  Originally, I started it to publish my stories.  I still write stories – there are a few coming up soon, actually.  I soon started adding captioned images, which I think of as very very short stories, in effect (and as a matter of fact, recently I’ve been trying out a sort of hybrid– which could equally be called very long captions, or very short stories themed around a single picture).  These are all things that I created.

There are a lot of them. I have just collected all the stories published here into pdf files, because I thought they might work well as books*, and they total over a hundred pages.  And there are about a thousand captioned images so far.
A few months after I started, I saw a few of these captioned images appearing elsewhere – which is absolutely fine with me.  Sometimes they were attributed (most recently Pipinkos, for example, started reposting some that he had brilliantly translated into Spanish, and I’d like to thank him again for that).  But some were not attributed and while I don’t at all blame the reposters, it did annoy me a bit, especially when they attracted favourable comments from people assuming the reposter wrote them.

I do try quite hard to match up pictures and words.  I do think about and occasionally agonise over the words.  I don’t just put up every sexy picture I find, with whatever threatening phrase comes to mind scrawled across it.  I’m not suggesting for a second that this is a particularly worthy, or artistic activity but it is creative in its way, I am rather proud when I come up with a good one (as I think I do from time to time), and I like to be recognised for that.  Hence the mark.  I am not marking the pictures; my intention is to mark the caption.
There is also a practical reason.  I can see from site stats that I get traffic when one of my captioned pictures is posted elsewhere without attribution, presumably because someone typed in the name.  I like to have more traffic here (for purely psychological reasons, obviously there’s no money involved) and if it helps someone find the blog and they enjoy it, that’s good too.

I do realise there are some people who don’t much care for the captions and treat this site as a photo-sharing blog.  Again, that’s absolutely fine with me, and I hope you enjoy it.  But I don’t see how someone just looking for photos can complain about the unobtrusive contemplatingthedivine mark (I never put it where it will obscure the image; if I can I put it on the frame).  If you just want the photo and the caption is worthless to you, then I’ve already defaced the photo by writing the caption, right?  And if the caption isn’t worthless to you – well, then it’s not unreasonable for me to add the mark, right?  Either way, I can’t see that you could object to the mark.
Of course, I would always take down any image to which someone asserted rights, without question.
So….that’s how I would answer your sneering question, Anonymous.  I really don’t understand why, in your first ever communication with me, you couldn’t have made your point a bit more politely, but it was a fair point nonetheless.  It’s an answer that makes sense to me. 
 
 
(The rest of the post is addressed to my regular readers, rather than the uncivilised Mr A.)

…and yet, and yet…thinking about this, it does all make me a bit uneasy.  In retrospect I think perhaps I have been too blasé about attribution.  If I got a bit grumpy when I saw my unattributed work on another site, how would a photographer feel about seeing their own work, captioned by me, and unattributed here?  Worse, if a pro-domme has gone to the trouble of dressing up and posing or acting out a photoshoot, she’s done it in part because she hopes for more traffic to her site or for new clients.  Not very fair of me to use her lovely image, without even trying to identify her.

I do therefore intend to make more of an effort to attribute the images.  It’s not very practical to do much very quickly.  For one thing, I have a huge stock of downloaded photos and I don’t know the attribution (obviously I can recognise some).  I also have a large backlog of captioned photos – more than 300, all waiting to be posted…and I’ve even got blog posts queued up to mid-May through the magic of 'schedule' (what, you thought it was spontaneous?).  So this will be a gradual change. 

Also, in most cases I cannot attribute them because the places are find them are not the original creators.  Most are from Tumblr, for example, and although Tumblr has a neat system for attributing back, even the ‘original’ poster will rarely be the originator of the image, they’ll only be the first person to upload it to Tumblr.  OWK doesn’t have a Tumblr, after all.

But…butbutbut.  I will do my best.  As I create new captions, and download new photos, and put up new blog posts, I will attribute images if I can, and in particular if I can identify individual dommes I will do so. Famous actresses can probably look after themselves.



/rant
 
 
* (I'd like to find a way of getting them out there for download - Blogger doesn't accept PDF, any suggestions? Needs to be free, of course - I won't charge anything as all the stories are here on the blog anyway, but I don't particularly want to pay to hand out free stories!)

Spring break

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Finally, Spring is here and not before time!  About this time in the very first year of my marriage, my wife shyly confessed that she's always fancied the idea of going on spring break - a week of hedonism and sex by the sea.  I was a bit reluctant at first, but as usual, she got her way.

It's become quite an annual routine in our marriage - and it does give me a chance to give the house a really good spring cleaning while she's away.



Domme doesnt give a fuck
Argh!  Don't you just know that in a few hour's time, a really good answer to that question will just pop into your head!  But by then it'll be much too late.  Always the way, isn't it? This is the awesome Mistress Vixen, of course.
 
 
 
 
Die for her femdom
Well?  Come on!  As she's made such an effort to look nice, and someone's died horribly as a result, I think the least you can do is pay her a little compliment on her appearance?  Hmm?

 
 
Yes, femdom medical play can be a bit unimaginative.  The other day, my Significant Other broke my arm,and when I joked that this was a perfect time for medical play, I was up in the harness having a rectal examination before I knew it!  And when I said I didn't think it was working, she broke my other arm!  Dommes, eh?  Gotta love 'em. 
(Mistresses Sidonia von Bork and Nina Birch of the English Mansion.  They might not be able to cure you, but they'll certainly have a go.)
 
 


IN you go mistress
Brno's not that far.  A couple of hours, at most.  It can be a bit hard to find a locksmith at the weekend, though.
Image from OWK and quite possibly Mistress Karma, although I'm not sure I could swear to that, even under torture.
 
 

Ah, the joys of summer.

Cruel and usual punishment

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Don't you think it's odd?  That men who say they regard women as superior, also believe that being treated like women is humiliating?  Isn't that weird?  I mean I feel like that.  And I'm not weird.  Odd, like I said.
 
 


I don't really believe in horoscopes anyway.  "You will visit a pro-domme, and be made to dance to k-pop wearing a pink tutu while Mistress and her friend laugh at you, and then make you eat cold courgettes with curry powder."  I mean, it's just generic stuff that could apply to everyone, right?
 
 
 
It's a good thing we like being treated with contempt, nicht wahr?
 



You'd better read the whole thing through, because I'm sure she'll have got 'minuscule' wrong, and she usually forgets there are two 'p's in 'disappointing'.

 
 
 

Actually, you don't really even have to ask.  If she hasn't already bought it for you, you probably don't really need it, do you? 

Story: Pride comes before

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In retrospect, Mark wondered how he could have been so stupid.  He’d got carried away.  By that book – that stupid book.
He’d been given it by a stranger, shoved into his hand without a word or a look, just a rapidly disappearing figure in the crowd.  And he had the book.
“I am proud to be a Man!” it was called.  It was about male equality.  Equality with women!  It had taken him a while to really understand that.  But the book said that men could be the equals of women – were their equals if only they knew it.  Men didn’t have to be spanked.  Men could choose when to have orgasms.  Men shouldn’t have to wear sexy revealing clothes for the pleasure of women.  On and on – over five hundred badly-printed pages, bound together with big metal staples, presumably from some kind of underground press.  At first, he thought it weird and repulsive in its strangeness.  But he found it compelling and read on and on and on – this book, hidden in the ironing basket where he knew she’d never have reason to look.  You are her equal it said.  You are strong.  You have dignity.  Stand up and say “I am proud to be a man!”
Then one day he came to the fateful section.  “Men will never be liberated from oppression, until women are liberated from oppressing” it declared.  It wanted women to come to accept men as equals.  Talk to your wife about male liberation. It said.  Read this book together.
He hadn’t, for a long time.  But he knew that if any husband had a chance at converting his wife to the cause, he did.  Alice was a sweet, kind person, only seven years older than him, and she treated him well.  She whipped him, of course, when he deserved it, but as a duty not a pleasure.  He had his own allowance to buy clothes.  She usually let him come, once she’d had her own orgasms.  Under the influence of that book – that mad terrible book – he’d half convinced himself that she was a secret male liberationist already.
So he spoke to her.  And she listened quietly.  And she asked to see the book.  She listened carefully as he turned the pages, and showed her how it demonstrated the cruel tyranny of women over men, and spoke of a better world.  After a while she stopped him and asked just one question – whether he’d spoken to any of her friends’ husbands about this.  She seemed relieved that he had not, but asked him to close the book and stop reading at that point.  She had taken the book, and gone to phone her mother.
And then she’d come back and explained how she felt about this.  She did not shout, or threaten, or punish.  She simply spoke, calmly and steadily, about the importance of household order, about the betrayal that his secret reading represented to her, about her regrets at how laxly she had treated him, and determination to correct this terrible error she had made.
And now they do read the book together.
Every Saturday, the book is set on a low lecturn that she has bought specially for this purpose.  Mark, naked, is tied securely over a whipping bench, so that his face is just above its open pages.  He reads a page, aloud.  It is turned over, usually with the tip of a cane, then he reads the other side, aloud.  She never says anything in response.  Once both sides have been read, she begins: sometimes with strong, deliberate strokes, other times with a flurry of flicking whippy actions.  The whip is mainly applied to his buttocks and thighs, but occasionally she tends also to his shoulders, his calves, or whips around to reach the front of his thighs.  All of these areas are a mass of weals and welts, criss-crossed on top of one another.
While his wife is whipping him in this way, Mark must come up with and carefully articulate five separate, cogent reasons why whatever has been stated on that page of the book is wrong.  Sometimes this is easy, as the false ideas can simply be countered one by one, but sometimes the book will be developing a single mad idea of male equality over several pages, and to come up with five different refutations of the words on the page can be difficult.  Particularly when Mark is howling in pain, and fighting to gasp out his carefully constructed arguments in favour of female supremacy.
But it continues until he succeeds in producing five reasons for treating the ideas on that particular page with the contempt that they deserve.  No matter how long it takes, eventually he finds five reasons.  And then the whipping ends.  She reaches down, and neatly tears out the page – by now often unreadably stained with tears and spittle, and he takes it in his mouth, chews one hundred times and swallows it.  That piece of madness has gone, and only the simple good sense of wifely discipline remains.
Then she usually takes a break - sometimes as short as the time to have a cup of tea, sometimes as long as a trip to the shops or even the cinema.  Once she visited a friend at this point in the process, and returned the next day.  He remains in place, of course.  When she takes a long break, she is careful to cover the next page with a cloth, so that he cannot rehearse the five arguments he will deploy next time.  For shorter breaks she does not bother.  He generally finds that it is only under the direct influence of the whip that he can really appreciate the incoherence and stupidity of the book’s ideas, in any case.  But eventually she returns, and they do another page.  Most Saturdays, they do three, sometimes four.
Mark has had many opportunities to regret his actions, of course.  He particularly regrets that the book is so long.  They recently reached the first anniversary of this new regime, and are still less than halfway through the book.  He would one day like to meet the authors of the book.  He would like to see them bent over this same whipping bench, receiving the same treatment that he is receiving.  And when they were striped and sore, their backsides ridged and bloody from floggings applied on top of floggings, when their mouths were bone dry from screaming hopeless pleadings for mercy, when they start with fear at the merest sound of Alice’s movements, that could foreshadow an agonising stroke.  Then, Mark thought, then he would ask them a question.
“How proud do you feel right now, to be a man?”
Readers with an interest in the peculiar doctrines of male liberation (or "men's lib") might be interested in this, this and perhaps also this.  Although, honestly, I can't imagine how anyone could take this stuff seriously.

 

He is contented thy poor drudge to be...

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To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.
No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her ‘love’ for whose dear love I rise and fall.



Gullible sub
...and about to become rather an exciting one!
On the left, Domina Heelena and on the right, Mistress Arella.  Sisters, I believe. And in the middle, down below, you. 



Don't worry.  If you don't have time to finish them all by your next visit, I'm sure she won't mind at all.
This is Domina Liza, in case you are feeling adventurous or very, very guilty.



Femdom snuff - blimey
Mmmm...breathplay. Shame it has to end, really.



Castration lit
Oh go on.  Wives always love it when their husbands take an interest in their hobbies.

These magnificent creatures are from Planet Femdom.  And so are the ladies.



Boundaries

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Another one that was just too long (ironically, enough, given the theme) for a caption.

 

…and I was thinking it would make things easier for both of us, you see?  Because I know how frustrated you get, locked up in that thing,  So if you only have half as many balls, you ‘ll probably only want to come half as often.  And it’s better for me too, because I won’t have to keep unlocking you every few months.
The penectomy?  Well that’s just cosmetic.  I just thought we could get you tidied up down there.   Make it a lot shorter.
Well, sure, I know I've always said it's too short already.  But I mean it is too short for penetration and stuff like that.  But you’re never going to need it for that again, so we might as well cut it back a bit. 
How much?  How much of what?
Oh, I see.  Well, as long as there’s enough there for you to grab on to when I unlock it, I suppose.  An inch…maybe a bit more?
No, not an inch off, silly.  An inch left.
Hmmm?
Well, that’s why I’m talking to you about it.  Our contract’s very clear that I can’t have you castrated without consent.  I meant it then and I meant it now.  I’d like you to do this willingly, I really would.  I know it’s better for both of us.
Oh.
OK.  Well, I’m sorry you feel that way about it.  I really am.  Maybe if you think about it a bit longer, we can…?
Uh huh.  Well, if you’re going to be like that I guess there’s nothing more to talk about.
Only, I have been thinking about it, you see.  And I’ve been reading that contract we signed.  And I think you’ll find it defines ‘castration’ as removal of the slave husband’s balls.  Plural.  Not ball – balls.  And it says nothing about your cock, just that I can’t subject you to anything that removes your ability to function sexually, without consent.
And with your one ball, and your one-inch cock (and after that little tantrum, you can forget about getting anything more than an inch, buster!), your little messing can still happen.  Whenever I decide it’s OK.
So, I’m afraid this is going to have to be one of those things that the mistress decides and the slave husband just has to accept.  And I’ve already made the booking and paid a deposit anyway.
Hmmm?  Oh, Wednesday I think.  Or was it Thursday?  Bring me my diary – it’s in the hall.
 
 



Too much mercy... often resulted in further crimes which were fatal to innocent victims who need not have been victims if justice had been put first and mercy second

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A quote there from Agatha Christie.  Sounds like my kind of lady!

On we go...

Whipped by domme in the snow
Amusingly, sometimes out there they lose all feeling because of the cold.  No matter how many welts and bruises are inflicted - they don't feel a thing!  And it's so funny then, when they're brought back inside and warmed up.
 
 

Rather thoughtless of Karen, I must say.  No wonder she's on her fourth marriage already.



Plenty of time overnight to think about what you're going to say about this in the morning.  Sleep well.
 
 

I think a little extra tribute next time might be in order, mmm?



I once went on this date, with a girl who just kept on telling me how inadequate I was compared to 'Karl'.  It was awful -  all, 'Karl has a bigger cock' and 'Karl doesn't have any problems getting hard'.  Honestly, I don't know who was the more embarassed; me or him.

A love beyond price

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Oh darling, you’ll never guess what happened today when you were out at the interview.  The strangest thing!
That man came round – the one we met in the market the other day.  He’s called Reshad.
Anyway, he just came to the door, so I invited him in for coffee.  I thought it was a bit creepy at first – you know, maybe he was interested in me.  But he’s not.  Not at all.  Do you know what?
He’s interested in you!
No, really.  He said you have a perfect rose-bud mouth, if you can imagine!
Anyway, of course I laughed and said you were spoken for.  And do you know what?  He offered me money!  I was laughing, and saying ‘no, no’ – you know, making a joke of it.  But I think he was serious.  Apparently, slavery is legal in his country and he has a place way out in the desert where he keeps all these men.  Well, as slaves!  Isn’t that just the weirdest thing!  He was offering $350,000 by the end.  Imagine!  That would pay off all our loans in one go.  Actually, it would leave us $165,000 over, even if we paid off everything.  He must be really rich.
Anyway, he was very persistent.  Wouldn’t take no for an answer!  So I said I’d think about it – just to get him to go away, you know.  And he straightaway said he’d come back this evening with his two brothers and a van. And he said he’d have the money in cash – now what was it he said in that funny accent of his?  Oh yes – he said “not that $350,000 peanuts bullshit! But proper money.”  I don't suppose he will, though.
He must be so rich.  Imagine being able to pay $350,000 just like that!  Or even more!
I mean obviously you’re worth a lot more than $350,000!  Oh - I don’t mean I’d ever be tempted!  I mean, really!  Even for that much money.  Or even more.  Anyway, it’s barbarous, keeping people as slaves.  I shudder to think about what they’d have to do to you to make you use your little rose-bud mouth on them!  You’re not at all like that, are you? 
I mean if you wanted to try it that would be different.  But you don’t want to try being a sex slave in the desert, do you?  Do you?
No, I didn’t think so.  Well, I expect he was probably just joking anyway.
Anyway, how did the interview go?  Do you think they'll give you the job?
Aww...poor baby.  Never mind.  I'm sure something will turn up, sooner or later.
Don't forget to drink up your milk, darling!  I got it specially for you.  Drink up every last drop.  Down it goes!  That’s right.

Post-orgasm

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Lots of people say that they love the post-orgasm state best of all.  I'm not sure about that.  I've been in a post-orgasm state since Day 2 of my marriage, and I have to say, it's not doing a lot for me.  My wife says I should give it more time, though, and she's usually right about these things.  And everything else.

On we go:

Beneath her femdom
I don't know about you, but I always find I come up with a snappy answer to that sort of question just a few minutes later, when it's really too late.


Actually, quite a lot of the boys have burn marks, in all sorts of places, so the mistake's understandable. Still - what a nuisance, eh?
 
 

 
Young people have these wild enthusiasms.  When she bought it, she thought she'd be making waffles every day, but soon enough it was left in the bottom of the cupboard, forgotten and unwanted.

 
 
Women!  So forgetful.  It's a good thing they've got us to look after them, isn't it?
 
 
 
Contempt.  Many pro-dommes try to conceal it, but ladies - if you're ever visited by Servitor, feel free to tell me exactly what you think of this forty seven year-old client...
 

The future's bright - just not for you

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More captioned images of female domination, of course.

Space 1999 amazons
As I've mentioned before: Space 1999 Devil Planet episode.  See it, if you haven't already.
 


Disciplinary verbals femdom
Actually, most humiliatrices are kind and gently supportive, out of session.  Just not with useless losers like you.  Asshole.
The remarkable Lexi Sindel.
 
 

Financial and physical domination
Still, on the bright side it should make sticking to her weight loss targets easier.
(The lovely Lady Heather, of course)
 


I think any really lasting relationship should be based on fear, don't you?
 
 

Oh dear.  You know, in these circumstances, the gentlemanly thing to do is just let her leave.  And don't even think of asking for your money back.

My unfair lady

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All I want is a boy somewhere
Far away from the city square
Tied down across a chair -
Aow, wouldn't it be loverly?

Lots of choc'lates for me to eat,
Whip in hand for his own hot treat.
Thrashed arse, he'll beg at feet
Aow, wouldn't it be loverly?

Aow, so loverly...

Standin' abso-bloomin'-lutely still.
Scared to move, so the pail don't spill;
His pleading, high and shrill,
 Aow, wouldn't it be loverly?

Someone restin' across my knee,
Warm an' tender as 'e can be.
Who's scared to death of me,
Aow, wouldn't it be loverly?

Loverly!

Loverly.

Loverly!

Loverly....



Drowning in her eyes
Those eyes.  I could just drown in those eyes, couldn't you?




Huh.  Brad!  It's been 'Brad this' and 'Brad that' ever since he arrived.  Frankly, I am seriously considering giving him notice.  It's not as if we need a pool boy anyway, not having a pool.





It's funny to think, really, that you're just about the only man she encounters most days who isn't begging at her feet for mercy!  You probably help her keep a sense of perspective - and that's very important, for someone with a job they really love.
If you like Cruella, you'll probably love The British Institution.  I do.  Both.


Damn... I was really looking forward to November.


Actually, most chastity belts are massively over-engineered.  What might feel like irresistible pressure really hardly puts it under strain at all.  I mean, steel's pretty tough.  So don't worry, OK?


Female domination - all the stories

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I have collected together all of my stories published on this blog until about the start of this year, and uploaded them onto Scribd as pdf files.  There are about 30 stories, organised into four sections.  I have tried to make them look a bit like books, and they're collected in two volumes.  All were previously published here.

Use the links below to find them.  You can read them online or download, but I'd recommend the latter as I don't think Scribd particularly approves of this sort of thing, so they might disappear.

I have marked them as "private" Scribd documents, so they cannot be found directly by search engines, as Scribd doesn't seem to have any adult filters or anything.  I'll put some permanent links to them in the sidebar at some point.  You should be able to reach them, and download them for free by using the links below.  If you can't, please let me know and I'll sort it out.

Enjoy*.

Servitor

 
 
 


* Do feel free to let me know, if you like my stories or captions, or anything.

And if you really don't like something, let me know about that too, as in a couple of weeks, I'll be visiting this lady (Lady Sophia Black - portrait below), and I'm sure she'd love to hear feedback about my failings and faults.


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