Fall Into Line 🖤

“It seems your son has inherited all your filthy predilections too.”

Well here was the thing. You loved your goths, and you loved powerful women.

The ongoing warmth of the summer may be seen as a hindrance to the Domme and her enticing array of strict attire.

The Lady Liza is weighing up your options.

You were dragged from the car and toward the private plane. Escape from the Slave Institute was never going to be permanent was it?

You’re too valuable a commodity to let wander off, and let’s face it……your recent indiscretions would ensure that your royal family would have to agree. So, let’s go, your highness.

“Were you looking for my boots, cousin? Don’t think I haven’t seen you sneak in to my room and hump them.”

Despite the warnings, Madam Katya was still awaiting your service. I don’t think you need to be reminded that her glacial Eastern European temperament can rise to incendiary levels most rapidly.

Life was sometimes just about the simple pleasures. A chilled glass of excellent fizz, a beautiful pair of boots with a killer heel, and a dominant lady utterly satisfied by her place in the world.

The inimitable Madame Catarina.

This latest trend of tagging other (apparent) Dommes in my posts will not be tolerated. The useless fucking cunts who slavishly try and impose these nobodies in my work would do well to recognise who you’re dealing with.

If you want humiliation. I’m the gold fucking standard. You don’t believe me? Try me, or @madam-bridget for size.

This dragon snake etc shit doesn’t fly.

You always wanted to visit Africa.

“You are absolutely fucking useless, Robert. I’m bending over, offering myself to you….dressed like a whore.”

In the lair of the Huntresses. The faded bloodstains of your predecessors still stained the floor.