Illustrations
Apologies to my faithful readers. They've been distinguished here by their absence.
It's been prose alone since the beginning. Notwithstanding my fervent efforts to make it enthralling, exciting, and interesting as I possibly can ... this narrative requires fine illustrations in both art and photography. Perhaps especially in this genre, not to mention the many people and variegated activities, and venues I write about.
The excellent "Harriet Marwood, Governess" has merely two main characters. I've always thought it would be even better with a talented artist.
One example that doesn't even involve Discipline. Miss Marwood arrives as Richard is bathing himself. To his consternation and outrage, Harriet promptly rolls up her sleeves and takes him in hand, attending with particular care to his genitals. Expertly, decisively, commandingly.
The mundane action began Governess' regime of Taming, Training, and Reformation. It's necessary for every properly cared-for, well-behaved male. Harriet rightly understood, as we do, life begins in the bathroom. Tub, toilet, bidet, vanity table, enema bench and all the rest.
Life. Women and girls sustain it with manifold duties, responsibilities, and total authority. Proper gender relations and male deportment. Affectionate yet stern supervision of male life and actions. Normal life begins every morning in the bathroom, with cocks held by female hands to pee in bidet.
As a man, I can only attempt to imagine my namesake's misbegotten life until Harriet stepped in to save him. She was hired to cure Richard's (shudder) self-abuse. When I was approximately his age, the very thought of it made me gag.
Partly because of my tender care and strict upbringing from Mother, Adele, and female relatives. I was a good boy.
But Mercy! Sometimes they caught me (always an accident, honest!) touching, scratching or adjusting my penis or testicles. Girls and women call That "self abuse"! But it's no comparison to what Richard Loving did!
Female readers are probably chuckling. They've heard it all before, and handle the same situations. They know what happens next. It's not a terrible thrashing - that comes later.
I'll never forget this one. I was young, but old enough to know better. Sideways on Adele's lap, arms around her neck, nose between her titties, blissfully kicking my bare feet up and down. Sneaking glances down to her muscular calves, bare feet in heels, toes still glistening from my slobby sucking. My erect cock twitching, precum running between her thick muscular bare thighs. Mercy, I'll never forget it.
Suddenly. Cockhead itch. Underneath, in that little furrow where the ridges meet. That place is sooo sensitive! And it's always so sudden! I scratched without thinking. A moment later, I realized my Sin. As you know, Male Self Abuse is a serious sin.
Adele lifted me off her lap, stood me up barefoot. My nose reached the top of her deep titty cleavage, mouth at protruding pink exposed nipples, bared during our kissing session. I looked up to her eyes, so high above mine. I shivered. My mouth went dry. Her face was scary-stern.
In 4-inch heel sandals, Adele was 10 inches taller. Strong, statuesque, with wide shoulders, hands so big my grapefruit testicles fit nicely in her palm. Young as I was, she'd already given me countless spankings. So naturally, my heart went pitta-pat with fear and lust, my cock twitched precum on her legs and feet.
I was a fully matured but fledgling youth still in my teens. Intoxicated by dreams of fearful lust for girls. Hysterical and submissive. Ever-erect penis and lush juddering fanny. Both of which I was extremely conscious of at that moment. Then Adele said the dread word. Enema. My rubbery knees buckled. I half-collapsed, half-fainted at her feet. I peed in terror.
Ladies, as far as you're concerned, pre-Discipline enemas are reasonable and practical, and that's that. Even Triples. That day, Adele gave me a Triple. 90 minutes of gut-griping, bowel-boiling, molten misery. Followed by a 30/11 screaming spanking that only she can deliver. I started howling bloody murder by the tenth stroke (only 320 to go!).
Through endless tears, kicking and screaming (literally!) my head below Adele's left knee, I peered at her feet. Primly close together, arched seductively in heels, they were objects of my desire more than ever before. I yearned to lick and suck them, because my spanking would finally be over.
I always had a foot fetish. All males do, to one degree or another. But the constant requirement to study female feet during spankings quickly worked its magic. With me, and every boy I knew. We rendered O with erections so hard and dripping, they nearly matched those we got greedily slurping into female bottomclefts.
After all that, Salve, cuddles and kisses on Adele's lap. Soon enough, I desperately needed to cum. She pumped jetting geysers of my whitish goo, spurt after spurt, until I collapsed in her arms. Several ounces, my biggest cum yet.
It's funny. For years, all I could think about was my poor (or cock-hungry) self. Today, big merciless termagant beauties 40 years my junior put me through similar ordeals. I spare some thoughts for them now.
The entire process can take 3 hours. Females accomplish, comprehensively and skillfully, all the care, work, and loving. Males merely obey, suffer, and endure.
And golly, when Adele's spanking ended, she was sweating like a racehorse. I barely noticed. Sweating heavily myself, snot running, fanny sizzling and swollen. It was hard to render O properly through my sobs.
Only in Nursing College did I learn the truth. Adele, like every girl, needed a lengthy period of study and practice before I got her first spanking! Not to mention all the other modes of Discipline. And Triple Enemas. And all the rest of my care.
Plus, she works out hard - weight lifting, exercise, sports. Ooh, I loved when she took me to the Girls' Fitness Center! Must write about that soon.
Know how much training and education I needed to GET spankings and enemas? Silly question.
First spanking: I stood fingers laced behind my neck, legs apart, while Adele undressed me. She sat on a Spanking Stool, hiked up her skirt, flipped me across her lap, tucked my hard cock between her thighs. I screamed and cried. Study time: zero.
First Triple: Adele undressed me in the bathroom, strapped me prone to enema bench, fanny bolstered up. Her middle finger, drenched in rectal grease, went full into my rectum. Then the fun began. I screamed and cried. Study time: zero.
For a teen boy (as I was) or a man with teen grandchildren (as I am now), the messages of pre-Discipline enema(s) are terrifyingly unmistakable.
It says, with perfect clarity: 1. Imminent Discipline will be horrific. Even a spanking will be endless utter agony. 2. SHE mistrusts your self-control. 3. Bluntly, you'll probably lose control of your bowels. 4. Therefore, you need one or several enemas first.
Actually, from my long experience, item 4 is misleading. It's almost always a terrible Triple. I'll add item 5. Triples leave bowels and rectum fully clean. You will Still fart obscenely and aromatically. Due to fearful hyperventilation, choking sobs, and excruciating pain.
That reminds me. I must amend an old saying. "Poop and farts don't stink on the page. They stink in real life."
That's usually false, at least for females. Take this morning's T&T under my new bath girl, Tina. A strapping 6+ footer, barefoot in a long tee shirt, russet hair in a pageboy. The dimpled angel face looked younger than her body.
I always get constipated with new bath girls, especially when they're extremely pretty and voluptuous. This morning, my anus was firmly, almost insolently, shut tight. Crap, it's galling when a teen beauty puts me on the toilet and says, "Now poop for me." I'm old enough to be her grandad!
Ironic thing was, I dearly wanted to. Heavy supper last night. Tina lifted me up, ordered Hands on Knees. I squealed like a little boy when she inserted a greased finger. Sandra had recently taken me to the Mens Clinic for "Virgin Therapy". Every second month. Heavens how it hurts!
But she loves to screw me with gigantic dildoes several times a week. By the week of our appointment, my anus and rectum are so thoroughly reamed, I sometimes need a diaper. We rarely see a doctor on those visits. Usually, a Nurse and a pretty young candy striper do it.
They strap me prone to an examination table. A padded bolster under my groin rises, pushing my fanny up hard and high. I scream, but Sandra's used panties stuffing my mouth makes it sound like a low moan.
My torso and head are tilted down. I can only see the bare white tile floor, but I know what's happening. The nurse or aide inserts a dark brown oily cylinder up my rectum far enough I can taste the vile thing.
It looks like a very large turd - in color, length, and shape Much larger than a suppository, it works the same way, melting into my rectum and anus. It feels just like Genital Ointment, only in my fanny.
It burns, itches, bites, scratches, irritates, and causes general misery for about an hour while dissolving. Agony. It's worse than virtually any Discipline. Just like Genital Ointment, which I endure every 3 weeks for 80 minutes.
And with both, a paradoxical thing happens. Enormous erections, and filling testicles. With both, I can literally feel the spermatic fluids pumping my ballsack to bursting.
But at least during VT, as opposed to Genital Ointment, my Domina (who might be any female in the family - Sandra is too busy to take me to every appointment), or the nurse aide, have the option of soothing my distress by fondling my genitals. It's their choice. Lucky me, I work at the Men's Clinic, and most of the nurse aides like me.
There's no worry about an errant cum. Chemical and hormonal compounds in the Virgin Therapy cylinder (it has a fancy scientific name I won't burden you with) make ejaculation impossible.
This last time, my dear wife fondled me the first 35 minutes. Diane, one of my favorite nurse aides. She's a hefty dark brunette, homely pleasant face, deep tasty bottomcleft, and fondling fingers that drive boys crazy.
Since I'm a Discipline Nurse who sometimes handles Virgin Therapy, men often ask me - Why does every medical treatment that's "good for us" always hurt so bloody bad? VT. Genital Ointment. Every darn thing?
I answer - It's supposed to. It's part of your therapy. Smile, obey, and submit with good grace - you may be rewarded. Don't - and I may be picking cane splinters out of your fat fanny.
So I got my suppository from Tina. 12 minutes later I pooped and farted my guts out. Wet slabby sloppy sounds as they worked their way out of my deep sweet bottomcheeks. Rank, rancid odors that embarrassed me.
Messy too. Tina had to wipe my fanny several times. I apologized for the stink as she carried me to the tub.
"Stink? You think? Really? Men are so funny. It smells nice and healthy to me. Ooh, almost forgot. Sandra said you get spanking after poop."
It's true. For over 40 years now, since the 2nd day of our honeymoon, I've had a severe spanking every morning. My darling wife still does most of them, except when she's on vacation or away on business. Sigh. No wonder I cry like a baby when she's gone. No wonder I love her so much.
Harriet Marwood was a Domina from that tradition. She must have been shocked and appalled by young Mr. Loving. Imagine. He did his own T&T, absolutely no Discipline, masturbation, misbehavior ... sauntered like a savage, bereft of female supervision or authority. Nothing like Isle World.
From that first moment when she bathed her charge's genitals in her bare hands, Harriet began molding her charge. It's not confirmed in the slim book. But I firmly believe that forever after, her own Richard lived the rest of his long life under Isle World principals, customs, and traditions.
That's why I'd love to see that classic work illuminated by fine art. Perhaps one day, it will be.
Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty Trilogy has a much higher population. It's a shame they're not depicted in art that would enhance her marvelous writing.
I don't claim the genius of, say, Charles Dickens or Mark Twain. Those literary titans were quite happy to work with artists. I am of humbler status than they. But I continue to seek a fine artist for these writings. Less for my own gratification. But rather, in honor and respect for the proud and honorable community of enlightened people I write for.
Until that aleatory moment, I've decided to soon begin inserting appropriate art and photography from the free, open, public commons. With the goal of, in however humble manner, illustrating the beauty, rightness, and glory of Isle World.
The initial categories will be:
* Iconic Images (Dominas, symbols, and such)
* Toilet & Toilette
* Young female family & friends
* Lesbian Ladies (Isle World females are, naturally, bisexual)
* Male Fannies
* Male Genitals
* Scenes of Submission
* Lovemaking
* Medical
* Worshipping Female Bodies (rendering Obeisance and other oral ministrations)
* Media Stars & Mavens
* Feet & Heel Sandals
* Discipline Preparation
* Kneeling Male Perspectives
* Dominas in Public Spheres (work, sidewalks, shopping, dining, et.al.)
* Males in Public Spheres
* Domestic Life
* Girlfriends, cousins, and friends
* Dating
* Promenades & Elegant Graces
* Sports
It's been prose alone since the beginning. Notwithstanding my fervent efforts to make it enthralling, exciting, and interesting as I possibly can ... this narrative requires fine illustrations in both art and photography. Perhaps especially in this genre, not to mention the many people and variegated activities, and venues I write about.
The excellent "Harriet Marwood, Governess" has merely two main characters. I've always thought it would be even better with a talented artist.
One example that doesn't even involve Discipline. Miss Marwood arrives as Richard is bathing himself. To his consternation and outrage, Harriet promptly rolls up her sleeves and takes him in hand, attending with particular care to his genitals. Expertly, decisively, commandingly.
The mundane action began Governess' regime of Taming, Training, and Reformation. It's necessary for every properly cared-for, well-behaved male. Harriet rightly understood, as we do, life begins in the bathroom. Tub, toilet, bidet, vanity table, enema bench and all the rest.
Life. Women and girls sustain it with manifold duties, responsibilities, and total authority. Proper gender relations and male deportment. Affectionate yet stern supervision of male life and actions. Normal life begins every morning in the bathroom, with cocks held by female hands to pee in bidet.
As a man, I can only attempt to imagine my namesake's misbegotten life until Harriet stepped in to save him. She was hired to cure Richard's (shudder) self-abuse. When I was approximately his age, the very thought of it made me gag.
Partly because of my tender care and strict upbringing from Mother, Adele, and female relatives. I was a good boy.
But Mercy! Sometimes they caught me (always an accident, honest!) touching, scratching or adjusting my penis or testicles. Girls and women call That "self abuse"! But it's no comparison to what Richard Loving did!
Female readers are probably chuckling. They've heard it all before, and handle the same situations. They know what happens next. It's not a terrible thrashing - that comes later.
I'll never forget this one. I was young, but old enough to know better. Sideways on Adele's lap, arms around her neck, nose between her titties, blissfully kicking my bare feet up and down. Sneaking glances down to her muscular calves, bare feet in heels, toes still glistening from my slobby sucking. My erect cock twitching, precum running between her thick muscular bare thighs. Mercy, I'll never forget it.
Suddenly. Cockhead itch. Underneath, in that little furrow where the ridges meet. That place is sooo sensitive! And it's always so sudden! I scratched without thinking. A moment later, I realized my Sin. As you know, Male Self Abuse is a serious sin.
Adele lifted me off her lap, stood me up barefoot. My nose reached the top of her deep titty cleavage, mouth at protruding pink exposed nipples, bared during our kissing session. I looked up to her eyes, so high above mine. I shivered. My mouth went dry. Her face was scary-stern.
In 4-inch heel sandals, Adele was 10 inches taller. Strong, statuesque, with wide shoulders, hands so big my grapefruit testicles fit nicely in her palm. Young as I was, she'd already given me countless spankings. So naturally, my heart went pitta-pat with fear and lust, my cock twitched precum on her legs and feet.
I was a fully matured but fledgling youth still in my teens. Intoxicated by dreams of fearful lust for girls. Hysterical and submissive. Ever-erect penis and lush juddering fanny. Both of which I was extremely conscious of at that moment. Then Adele said the dread word. Enema. My rubbery knees buckled. I half-collapsed, half-fainted at her feet. I peed in terror.
Ladies, as far as you're concerned, pre-Discipline enemas are reasonable and practical, and that's that. Even Triples. That day, Adele gave me a Triple. 90 minutes of gut-griping, bowel-boiling, molten misery. Followed by a 30/11 screaming spanking that only she can deliver. I started howling bloody murder by the tenth stroke (only 320 to go!).
Through endless tears, kicking and screaming (literally!) my head below Adele's left knee, I peered at her feet. Primly close together, arched seductively in heels, they were objects of my desire more than ever before. I yearned to lick and suck them, because my spanking would finally be over.
I always had a foot fetish. All males do, to one degree or another. But the constant requirement to study female feet during spankings quickly worked its magic. With me, and every boy I knew. We rendered O with erections so hard and dripping, they nearly matched those we got greedily slurping into female bottomclefts.
After all that, Salve, cuddles and kisses on Adele's lap. Soon enough, I desperately needed to cum. She pumped jetting geysers of my whitish goo, spurt after spurt, until I collapsed in her arms. Several ounces, my biggest cum yet.
It's funny. For years, all I could think about was my poor (or cock-hungry) self. Today, big merciless termagant beauties 40 years my junior put me through similar ordeals. I spare some thoughts for them now.
The entire process can take 3 hours. Females accomplish, comprehensively and skillfully, all the care, work, and loving. Males merely obey, suffer, and endure.
And golly, when Adele's spanking ended, she was sweating like a racehorse. I barely noticed. Sweating heavily myself, snot running, fanny sizzling and swollen. It was hard to render O properly through my sobs.
Only in Nursing College did I learn the truth. Adele, like every girl, needed a lengthy period of study and practice before I got her first spanking! Not to mention all the other modes of Discipline. And Triple Enemas. And all the rest of my care.
Plus, she works out hard - weight lifting, exercise, sports. Ooh, I loved when she took me to the Girls' Fitness Center! Must write about that soon.
Know how much training and education I needed to GET spankings and enemas? Silly question.
First spanking: I stood fingers laced behind my neck, legs apart, while Adele undressed me. She sat on a Spanking Stool, hiked up her skirt, flipped me across her lap, tucked my hard cock between her thighs. I screamed and cried. Study time: zero.
First Triple: Adele undressed me in the bathroom, strapped me prone to enema bench, fanny bolstered up. Her middle finger, drenched in rectal grease, went full into my rectum. Then the fun began. I screamed and cried. Study time: zero.
For a teen boy (as I was) or a man with teen grandchildren (as I am now), the messages of pre-Discipline enema(s) are terrifyingly unmistakable.
It says, with perfect clarity: 1. Imminent Discipline will be horrific. Even a spanking will be endless utter agony. 2. SHE mistrusts your self-control. 3. Bluntly, you'll probably lose control of your bowels. 4. Therefore, you need one or several enemas first.
Actually, from my long experience, item 4 is misleading. It's almost always a terrible Triple. I'll add item 5. Triples leave bowels and rectum fully clean. You will Still fart obscenely and aromatically. Due to fearful hyperventilation, choking sobs, and excruciating pain.
That reminds me. I must amend an old saying. "Poop and farts don't stink on the page. They stink in real life."
That's usually false, at least for females. Take this morning's T&T under my new bath girl, Tina. A strapping 6+ footer, barefoot in a long tee shirt, russet hair in a pageboy. The dimpled angel face looked younger than her body.
I always get constipated with new bath girls, especially when they're extremely pretty and voluptuous. This morning, my anus was firmly, almost insolently, shut tight. Crap, it's galling when a teen beauty puts me on the toilet and says, "Now poop for me." I'm old enough to be her grandad!
Ironic thing was, I dearly wanted to. Heavy supper last night. Tina lifted me up, ordered Hands on Knees. I squealed like a little boy when she inserted a greased finger. Sandra had recently taken me to the Mens Clinic for "Virgin Therapy". Every second month. Heavens how it hurts!
But she loves to screw me with gigantic dildoes several times a week. By the week of our appointment, my anus and rectum are so thoroughly reamed, I sometimes need a diaper. We rarely see a doctor on those visits. Usually, a Nurse and a pretty young candy striper do it.
They strap me prone to an examination table. A padded bolster under my groin rises, pushing my fanny up hard and high. I scream, but Sandra's used panties stuffing my mouth makes it sound like a low moan.
My torso and head are tilted down. I can only see the bare white tile floor, but I know what's happening. The nurse or aide inserts a dark brown oily cylinder up my rectum far enough I can taste the vile thing.
It looks like a very large turd - in color, length, and shape Much larger than a suppository, it works the same way, melting into my rectum and anus. It feels just like Genital Ointment, only in my fanny.
It burns, itches, bites, scratches, irritates, and causes general misery for about an hour while dissolving. Agony. It's worse than virtually any Discipline. Just like Genital Ointment, which I endure every 3 weeks for 80 minutes.
And with both, a paradoxical thing happens. Enormous erections, and filling testicles. With both, I can literally feel the spermatic fluids pumping my ballsack to bursting.
But at least during VT, as opposed to Genital Ointment, my Domina (who might be any female in the family - Sandra is too busy to take me to every appointment), or the nurse aide, have the option of soothing my distress by fondling my genitals. It's their choice. Lucky me, I work at the Men's Clinic, and most of the nurse aides like me.
There's no worry about an errant cum. Chemical and hormonal compounds in the Virgin Therapy cylinder (it has a fancy scientific name I won't burden you with) make ejaculation impossible.
This last time, my dear wife fondled me the first 35 minutes. Diane, one of my favorite nurse aides. She's a hefty dark brunette, homely pleasant face, deep tasty bottomcleft, and fondling fingers that drive boys crazy.
Since I'm a Discipline Nurse who sometimes handles Virgin Therapy, men often ask me - Why does every medical treatment that's "good for us" always hurt so bloody bad? VT. Genital Ointment. Every darn thing?
I answer - It's supposed to. It's part of your therapy. Smile, obey, and submit with good grace - you may be rewarded. Don't - and I may be picking cane splinters out of your fat fanny.
So I got my suppository from Tina. 12 minutes later I pooped and farted my guts out. Wet slabby sloppy sounds as they worked their way out of my deep sweet bottomcheeks. Rank, rancid odors that embarrassed me.
Messy too. Tina had to wipe my fanny several times. I apologized for the stink as she carried me to the tub.
"Stink? You think? Really? Men are so funny. It smells nice and healthy to me. Ooh, almost forgot. Sandra said you get spanking after poop."
It's true. For over 40 years now, since the 2nd day of our honeymoon, I've had a severe spanking every morning. My darling wife still does most of them, except when she's on vacation or away on business. Sigh. No wonder I cry like a baby when she's gone. No wonder I love her so much.
Harriet Marwood was a Domina from that tradition. She must have been shocked and appalled by young Mr. Loving. Imagine. He did his own T&T, absolutely no Discipline, masturbation, misbehavior ... sauntered like a savage, bereft of female supervision or authority. Nothing like Isle World.
From that first moment when she bathed her charge's genitals in her bare hands, Harriet began molding her charge. It's not confirmed in the slim book. But I firmly believe that forever after, her own Richard lived the rest of his long life under Isle World principals, customs, and traditions.
That's why I'd love to see that classic work illuminated by fine art. Perhaps one day, it will be.
Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty Trilogy has a much higher population. It's a shame they're not depicted in art that would enhance her marvelous writing.
I don't claim the genius of, say, Charles Dickens or Mark Twain. Those literary titans were quite happy to work with artists. I am of humbler status than they. But I continue to seek a fine artist for these writings. Less for my own gratification. But rather, in honor and respect for the proud and honorable community of enlightened people I write for.
Until that aleatory moment, I've decided to soon begin inserting appropriate art and photography from the free, open, public commons. With the goal of, in however humble manner, illustrating the beauty, rightness, and glory of Isle World.
The initial categories will be:
* Iconic Images (Dominas, symbols, and such)
* Toilet & Toilette
* Young female family & friends
* Lesbian Ladies (Isle World females are, naturally, bisexual)
* Male Fannies
* Male Genitals
* Scenes of Submission
* Lovemaking
* Medical
* Worshipping Female Bodies (rendering Obeisance and other oral ministrations)
* Media Stars & Mavens
* Feet & Heel Sandals
* Discipline Preparation
* Kneeling Male Perspectives
* Dominas in Public Spheres (work, sidewalks, shopping, dining, et.al.)
* Males in Public Spheres
* Domestic Life
* Girlfriends, cousins, and friends
* Dating
* Promenades & Elegant Graces
* Sports
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