Saturday, 3 December 2011

The weaker sex........

With the rarest exceptions, most of the men I know thoroughly enjoy being men with all that implies, and for one reason at least I can see why. Having an appendage that can switch from being vulnerable and flaccid to hard and majestic in a moment must be a lot of fun. And certainly after a lover has spanked me and asked me if I’m going to be a good girl from now on, the sight of that that quivering rod of authority pointing at me accusingly certainly adds something to the moment.

I know that on those occasions when I am taking a firm line with some sweet young thing resulting in her receiving a spanking across my knee, that is the one time it might be quite fun to have something to impale her on during that wonderful moment of sexual mingling that happens afterwards.

But moments like that apart, I do so love being female and feminine, particularly when it comes to matters sexual. When it comes to sex and seduction, we girls have such unfair advantages I’m surprised there has not been a government enquiry into it. Subtle or blatant, in the workplace or the bedroom there are so many ways we of the fairer sex can light men’s fires, if I tried to list them, young as I am I would be dead before I finished.

Starting nowhere in particular, men love looking at girl’s legs,

and despite the fact that this is common knowledge, we females are allowed, not just at parties or intimate dinners, but in the office or in the street to make an exhibition of our legs in heels and stockings and tiny skirts creating havoc as we do so.

It’s all too easy to perch and pose so that they are shown off to their incendiary advantage, all the time knowing that male pants are being anointed with leaking arousal, and images stored up for private moments alone. “Oh dear, can you see my stocking tops!” We purr with open innocent eyes. “I hadn’t realized!”

Oh yes we had, and if the man we are beguiling suddenly snaps and we find ourselves across his knee with lowered knickers while our upturned bottom is thoroughly pasted , then how can we possibly complain?

Not that we want to as of course most of us love paying the consequences of our naughtiness!.

And then, all to obvious to the garage wall fraternity, we have been given breasts.

These ripe swells of temptation have been carefully situated on the upper part of our rib cage so that wherever we are or whatever we are doing they march in ahead of us, an up thrust focal point fighting to burst through skin tight tee shirts and carefully designed to make men want to extend an exploratory hand and feel their firm shape and kiss their inviting tips.
But they are not allowed to, at least not in public, so yet again the poor things are forced to spend their days in throbbing frustration, so inevitably should you maybe go one tease too far, “Darling, I’m so pleased with my new bra, all the men at the office love the uplift it gives me!”

It’s hardly surprising that you could well find yourself paying a penalty across his knee.

And don’t expect any sympathy from me. You know asked for it!

But then again, asking for is yet another of the endless weapons in our erotic armory. Men love it when we play the naughty little girl, the “I’m so sorry, Daddy, you might have to punish me!” game that, whoever we are we all indulge in from time to time.

It doesn’t matter that you might be an educated high earning professional, in the bedroom fantasy is King, and if pulling down your own knickers and being made to touch your toes gets your joint juices flowing, then where’s the problem?

It may be that it’s you who is in receipt of a thorough spanking over his knee, but if it was your feminine wiles that contrived to get you there, and of course all the wonderful places and positions that happen afterwards, then who in fact is the one in control?


  1. L

    ha, well there you go again - perhaps you just can't control yourself

    er, thank goodness


  2. And in that last comment, you reveal the greatest of powers that you women have over us men. The power of passive control. The attributes you listed (as well as the many others in your arsenal) all come together in ways that you have undoubtedly passed on secretly from mother to daughter. We are but putty in your hands, even when you are over our knees.