Tag: Humor

Things to be grateful for

The latest War and Peas comic captures a fun looking take on a quarantine situation. Reading, eating, masturbating and kinky board games seems like a pretty good combo to me.

It makes me wonder how many people have taken this opportunity to do longer term scenes. On one hand it seems like the perfect setup, given isolation and no chance of surprise guests. On the other hand, the necessary ingredients will be hard to come by. You need the right people together, the appropriate dynamic, the emotional stability, the space to do it in and the right equipment. Personally I’d love to shut my brain off and use kink to space out of this world for a few days. I just lack approximately all of those necessary ingredients.

From this tweet.

Satana

Yesterday, while I was hiding at home from a worldwide pandemic, I was first hit with an earthquake (not in my State, but I certainly felt it) and then, just minutes later, an intense hailstorm. Meanwhile, over in Africa, they’re being swarmed by locusts. Can we please figure out what we’ve done to piss God off and fix it? Personally, I’m betting that it’s evangelicals letting Trump get away with identifying as Christian. That has annoy the almighty.

Alternatively, if God has decided to take a vacation, can we figure out the next supernatural entity inline and cut a deal? For example, I bet there’s no end of guys willing to be sacrificed to Satana. Particularly if she’s wearing that outfit. Just don’t let any of the current idiots in charge do the negotiation, or we’ll all end up burning in a lake of fire in return for 2% off the top rate of tax.

F-cking Magnets, How DO They Work?

In a totally non-kinky aside, I enjoyed this story about a man’s misadventures with magnets. Apparently it’s possible to simultaneously be a very smart Doctor of Astrophysics and have all the common sense of a five year old with a nostril sized toy. I particularly liked the attitude of his partner, who took him to the hospital where she worked on the basis that her colleagues would all enjoy a good laugh.

His description of the scene reminded me of the magnetic ball clamps that can be used to create similar but more deliberately painful effects. My experiences with them in the past engendered a certain degree of sympathy to his plight. If anyone out there really enjoys really severe pinching and tight clamps, I’d recommend investing in the magnetic variety. Just don’t get them anywhere near your nose.

Finding images of femdom featuring magnets proved somewhat tricky. So here’s Mistress T adopting a slightly more old fashioned approach to applying a squeeze.

Hanging on the Telephone

Here’s a final post in my short series on making connections with pro-dommes in the pre-internet era. This is a photograph of what I’m sure was the expectation/hope in every submissive’s mind when he plucked a card from a phonebox and got up the nerve to dial (quite literally) the number. A fabulous domme clad in full fetish gear, whip in hand, just waiting for his call. That’s very different to today of course, where the submissive assumes the domme will be checking her email, while clad in full fetish gear, whip in hand, just waiting for his message.

I’m afraid I don’t have any background on the image. I found it via this tweet by mrunderheel. I’d guess it’s from the late 70’s or early 80’s.

In Olden Times

Yesterday’s post reminded me of two excellent blog posts from 2019 on meeting pro-dommes in the pre-internet era. This one by the UK based Sardax (complete with some lovely illustrations) and this one from the New York of Irv O. Neil. I think both give a fascinating glimpse into what was obviously a tricky and fraught process.

My favorite tale from those days was one that I remember reading on MaxFisch years ago. I can’t find the original post, or remember who wrote it, but the details stuck in my mind. The submissive in question had set up a session via a phonebox card and ended up in a dingy London basement with a lady who didn’t in any way resemble her ad. Nevertheless, he persevered through a lackluster session, which was supposed to culminate in a golden shower. The lady had insisted on a blindfold for this, which obviously wasn’t too effective, as he spied her taking a teapot and trickling the warm contents over his head. Now pee does have certain tea like tannic notes, but I’m not sure that a pot of PG Tips was exactly what the submissive in question was paying for.

If tea must be involved in kinky play, this is clearly a far superior way to do it. The artwork is by the aforementioned Sardax in a piece commissioned for Mistress Diana Von Rigg.

Snow and the 7 Submissives

This fairy tale is brought to you by the artist Ludwig Van Bacon. I think he does a great job of translating the various personalities while adding a kinky slant. I particularly like Grumpy, with his butt plug tail. The nipple tape crosses are an interesting if odd touch. Gimp suits, leashes and chastity devices are fine, but nipples must be covered?

You can see and buy more from the artist at his site and twitter feed.

A Stroppy Server

Apologies if you tried and failed to access the site in the last day or so. All the tiny electronic wizards that carry my wise words down to your phones and computers went on strike. I did file a ticket with my hosting company, but I guess that one of their customers sites being totally offline doesn’t rate as an important issue. Presumably I’d need my server to actually explode and burn down their data center to get a timely response on a weekend. I finally managed to get the tiny wizards back into line by rebooting everything, so we’ll see how long that lasts.

Talking of frustrating and annoying situations – it’s tax season in the US. Even a masochist like myself struggles to eroticize that kind of pain. However, I was happy to see this article in the NY Times about Mistress Lori the Tax Domme. She specializes in tax preparation for anyone in the adult industry. While the US government might do everything it can to make life difficult for sex workers, that’s still not going to stop them demanding a share of their earnings. They really should change the motto on the dollar bill from ‘In God We Trust’ to ‘Fuck you. That’s why.’

Oddly enough, while I don’t use Mistress Lori for my tax returns, I do use an accountant recommended to me by a pro-domme. I figured if they could handle her complicated returns, they should have no problem with mine. So far that logic seems to have worked out pretty well. I just wish I could figure out a way to write off my session tributes. Medical expenses maybe? They do feature a lot of needles, sutures, electroshock and prostate exams.

I’ve never actually met my accountants, as everything is handled over email, but this is definitely how I picture them when I send in my paperwork. Given my horrible financial organization, this look of scorn, pity and disappointment would not be unwarranted.

This is from Femme Fatale Films, featuring Mistress Eleise and Mistress Miranda. It’s from a scene called ‘Not Good Enough.‘

Valentine Splat

Call me Mr. Grouchy, but I really hate Valentine’s day. If you’re in a new relationship it’s a pain to figure out what the right thing to do is. If you’re in an established relationship then it’s a fake event designed to artificially force romance. And if you’re not in a relationship, then it does nothing but make you feel bad about that fact. It’s up there with New Year’s eve as an overly hyped event that nobody enjoys as much as they think they should. Like I said – Mr Grouchy.

This image from Bakerman at least looks like a fun way to celebrate it. I’m not into sploshing or food play, but I’d happily take a cake in the face from a kinky lady over an evening jammed shoulder to shoulder in a restaurant charging twice their usual rates.

This was originally published by Bakerman for Valentine’s day in 2017.

Scene Stealer

I’ll finish this nostalgic review of my last decade of kink with the story of the strangest thing that happened to me in a session – the time I did someone else’s scene.

I’m not going to reveal who the domme was. I’ll just say that this wasn’t my first session with her and this was some years ago. Our pre-scene negotiation over email had been, as is usual for me, pretty short and simple. I don’t remember my exact words but the gist was that medical play with staples and needles might be fun. What unfolded during the session itself was a little different.

In hindsight, putting all the pieces together, it was fairly obvious what went wrong. Before I arrived the domme had opened her email folder and clicked on someone else’s session request. I obviously never got to read the original email, but based on what transpired, I’m guessing it went something like this:

“I love lots of bondage with straps and rope, particularly if you keep adjusting and tweaking it, as though you can’t quite find the perfect way to hold me. I want a heavy caning and I think it’s really sexy if the domme is very vocal about how excited and aroused she is by the marks she’s leaving. Oh, and I’ve got a thing for hair, so if you could work that in somehow that’d be great. Thanks!”

Given this email slip-up, there was obviously a fairly significance gulf between  between what I was expecting and what I was about to receive.

The first thing that struck me as weird as we started the session was that the domme seemed to have developed an OCD issue with bondage. I couldn’t figured out why she kept screwing around with it. She’d mutter about needing to get it exactly right, I’d carefully suggest that it was actually fine, and she’d still keep reworking it. Then there was all the sexy moaning and dirty talk to go along with the canes she was wielding. We’d done corporal play before, and I didn’t remember my ‘hot as fuck’ marks having quite this effect on her. Finally, why did she keep touching her hair onto my back and butt? I mean I like hair, I think it can be very sexy, but it seemed an odd thing to intersperse between cane strikes.

My initial assumption was that this was just an unusual warm-up to our medical scene, but as the time ticked past the halfway mark, it was obvious something had gone awry. Should I stop it? Given we were already over an hour in, it seemed awkward to do so. Plus, I was feeling pretty buzzed from the endorphins and she seemed to in the zone and having fun with it. I figured it was easier to roll with it and I’d only yell stop if things got a little crazy. I wasn’t about to get fisted or vomited on for the sake of avoiding awkwardness. Fortunately it turned out that my unknown scene choreographer hadn’t put in a request for a spectacular finale.

The post-scene discussion – after I mentioned what I thought had happened – was an amusing one. The domme was torn between apologizing for the mistake and expressing incredulity that I hadn’t said anything. My answer of ‘well, you seemed really into it…’ got a laugh and the response that my bruised butt was therefore my own fault.

I did wonder what happened later, when she did the scene again with the original client. Did she tell him? Or did he just get a really awesome version thanks to the  dress rehearsal I’d filled in for?

I think this is technically a birching rather than a caning, but this artwork by Jay Em still feels appropriate for the post.

Delicious!

At first glance this seems like a perfectly ordinary photograph. Just an attractive masked lady drinking a can of La Croix in a kitchen while a naked man with strange headgear cooks in the background. I’m sure that counts as any Tuesday in Domina Yuki’s world. However, if you look closely, very closely, at the can in the original fullsized image, there is an subtle hidden message. For anyone whose device doesn’t let them zoom effectively, I’ve done the work for you here. There’s absolutely no danger of ever having a shortage of that particular product.

From this tweet in Domina Yuki’s twitter feed.