I offered my body to science and science said …

Many people state in their last will and testament that they’d like to donate their body to medical science after they die and that is indeed a most noble gesture. Without such generous people, medicine would still be insisting on daily enemas, applying leeches for everything and slapping slices of cold tripe on our buttocks to fight cellulite (please tell me it’s not just me who does that last one)!

My only problem with this, is the whole being dead thing. I mean, you miss out on all the fun. You get stript naked, handled, prodded, poked, things put in you, things taken out of you, all whilst being rather dead. Where’s the fun in that?

Which is why I occasionally donate my body to medical research by undertaking either drug trials or donating my body to research projects. For instance I’m soon to have an MRI scan of my heart, because they want to look at some healthy ones for a change, just to remind themselves what they look like I suppose and a few years ago I took part in trial for a new synthetic anthrax vaccine, giving me the unique advantage of having a 50% survival rate should I get infected. Obviously I won’t actually know which 50% I’m in, until I get infected. Then I’ll either die or live. It’s very exciting waiting.

It’s a submissive’s wet dream. I mean, it involves being asked to get naked, to lie still, to be invaded and have things done. It’s a very submissive encounter. The fact that these things are usually staffed by lovely nurses is merely a bonus.

So yesterday, after having been selected as being suitable for a particular drug trial, I went along to the initial screening session. There I was subjected to all manner of tests and procedures, all recorded and monitored by a state-of-the-art computerised drug trial screening system.

It gave several screens of results, all of which pointed to me being a fine specimen of a human being and almost certainly being suitable for this drug. The final summary screen however obviously has a bug, for there, on the big screen, for all the research staff (and me) to see, it proudly declared :

>Gender undefined.
>Probably normal.

I may demand a second opinion … but then again, that’s probably the best I can hope for.

The Naming of Dommes

The Naming Of Dommes
by SaintSeverin (with more than a little help from T. S. Eliot)

The Naming of Dommes is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your grovelling games;
You may think at first I’m as thick as a paddle
When I tell you, a Domme must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the sisterhood use,
Such as Empress, The Lady, Domina or Nell,
Such as Portia or Genevieve, Guinevere or Madge–
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the bitches, some for the queens:
Such as Madam, Pertunia, M’Lady, The Goddess–
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a Domme needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can she keep her singletail poised,
Or spread out her floggers, or cherish her canes?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Mithtweth, Queeny, or Domme of the Seas,
Such as LeatherBoundLady, or else Miss Understood-
Names that never belong to more than one Domme.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human submissive can find–
But THE DOMME HERSELF KNOWS and will never confess.
When you notice a Domme in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
Her mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of her name:
Her ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

HNT – My Valentine

Click for bigger.

For our first Valentine’s day together I wanted to do something for her which I have never done before. Something different that would be unique to us.

Roses and chocolates and cute teddy bears are nice and every girl likes them, but on this occasion I wanted to do something a little more intimate.

So after massaging her with coconut oil, I drew her a bath and whilst the water was running I placed candles around the edge and then sat and plucked the petals from a bunch of pink roses. Some of these I scattered on the carpet to create a pathway from her bedroom to the bathroom, the rest were sprinkled onto the surface of the water. In the candlelight it created a beautiful setting. For a beautiful girl. I think she liked.

Full HNT slideshow here.

The ass, the sweetcorn and the two Presidents

Click for bigger (but really, why would you)?

Now I’ve now idea why anyone would actually want to do this, but apparently if you do a Google image search for “man with sweetcorn up his ass”, this (or similar) is the screen that you get. One of those pictures is me.

So thanks to my deeply perverted Domme and her blog, I can now share the same page as two world leaders. I’m still trying to figure out whether I should feel pride or shame. Feel free to comment.

HNT – Cold Chain

Click for bigger (but really, why would you)?

Because sometimes, she needs me to feel the chill of cold chain.

Although her favourite shot from that scene is this.

Full HNT slideshow here.

So boys and girls ARE different

Ever since Sally Parsloe crawled underneath the toilet door to watch me having a tinkle in the boys’ toilet at school when I was four years old, I have suspected that there might be one or two subtle differences between girls and boys. I mean, why else would she want to watch me having a tinkle?

Well years have passed, much water has flowed under the bridge and many more clichés have come and gone. But I think I’m getting somewhere.

You see, sex education was non-existent at school and whilst for one brief period when I was the only boy at a girl’s school I learnt a couple of things (mainly that breasts were soft and comforting but that you got spanked if you tried to eat one) I was pretty much left in the dark. Sex education at home was even less evident. I didn’t even have a sister to peek at / sniff / finger or generally examine in order to satisfy my curiosity. But I think I’m getting somewhere.

Thankfully I am now getting a proper sex education and it is courtesy of those fine people at Marks and Spencer. You see, for a while now, I’ve been going to see my girls. They’re always there, in fact I think they look forward to my oh-too-regular visits. They always wear something different for me, sometimes it’s short, sometimes it’s see-through, but it always lets me know that they’re sluts and mine if I want them. They’re dirty girls, teasing me, luring me towards the show window, making me want to lick the window and wank in front of them.

Anyway, sorry, where was I? ……

Oh yes, my education. Well it’s now complete. I can now categorically proclaim that I finally know the difference between girls and boys and it’s something very simple …..

Boys, always leave their socks on!

End of Year Report

I do love a good set of statistics and graphs and charts generally. So at the end of this my first year of WordPress blogging, I thought I’d look back and gather a few bits of information.

Number of blog posts I’ve published this year :	94 (including this one)
Most prolific month :	March (17 posts)
Number of different referrers :	144
Most referrals came from :	adultbloghub.com
Number of search terms used to find blog :	301
Most common search term used :	dr pepper pants
Searches that include “pepper” :	54.8%
Top post of the year :	The Prized Dr. Pepper Pants
Most clicked link :	My new pink lead
Most used tags :	Submission, Nudity, HNT
Most commented recent post :	HNT – In sync

All completely meaningless really, but fun nevertheless. So let’s see what strange numbers 2012 brings. In the meantime, a very Merry New Year to you all.