You will do as I say.

And please, dear. Do be quiet.

((This is an independent RP account. Sometimes cute, sometimes silly, sometimes extremely NSFW. Please read with care. If you tag me, please tag thewomanirene, as tumblr doesn't like dashes.))

via: asksylar
source: batman-gothamknight

When people are asking anyone to RP with them… I just automatically assume they are talking about everyone but me… 

batman-gothamknight:

via: soontobedoctorwatson
source: the-woman-irene

Welcome Home 

Irene chuckled at the compliment - unnecessary, the way she’d formed the question, but given the circumstances, not worth punishing. “I thank you, pet. I’m rather fond of my crop as well, as I’m sure you’re painfully aware.” She traced the head of the crop over the welts before pulling back, stepping over to the table and pressing the length of leather to its surface. “I think we’ll try something new, now. Something to solidify those markings.” She lifted a thick leather paddle, with her initials etched in its surface. “Shall we?”

Gasping and whimpering, he stood on the balls of his feet when he felt an end of the crop touch the new welts. He bit his tongue to keep from begging for more when it disappeared, his head pleasantly swimming with the pain, mixed with his body’s release of endorphins. But in answer to her question, he nodded wordlessly, “Yes please.” And he eyed the paddle, smiling softly.

Irene nodded, pleased, and gestured to the bed. “I’ve a much more comfortable position in mind for you - this one may make it difficult for you to stand, so let’s help you, shall we?” She led John to the four-poster, indicating that he should get onto it, on his hands and knees. She pulled ankle restraints from the base of the bed, fastening them and forcing his legs open about shoulder-width - which, for him, was actually rather wide, give his broad chest and shoulders. “Tell me, pet. Is that comfortable?” She left his hands free, more of a test of his own restraint than anything.

via: formertimeagent
source: the-woman-irene

formertimeagent:

So I’ve been told. And do you receive a lot of compliments, Miss Adler? Because you are very deserving of them.

Pretty far away, actually. Not even in this era. 51st century to be exact. And I’ve got a certain job location nearby, so I occasionally take the time to visit.

I do, as a matter of fact. It gives me more of an appreciation for the unique ones I hear.

51st century? My, that is far. How dull 21st century London must be to you, if you’ve been there.

via: armydoctorassistant
source: armydoctorassistant

armydoctorassistant:

the-woman-irene:

Yes, darling John?

You look absolutely beautiful today, I must say. Completely…wow.

I often do. Though I must say, you’re rather more forward than your usual.

Something happen, love?

How sweet of you, Jim dear.

Irene loved her fireplace. It was actually 18th century French, restored and moved to her home a few months after she herself moved in. She ensured that it was polished every day, varnished when it was required, and generally taken very good care of. At the end of an arduous day of work, she enjoys curling up in the chair beside the fire, letting it burn down to the coals, and enjoying a glass of wine and a book - usually something light, like Wuthering Heights (she does love the twisted adoration depicted by the Bronte sisters).

Many of the more elegant pieces in her home are antiques like the fireplace, though none quite so old. The coffee table, for instance, was her mother’s - she had it relocated to her own home after her mother’s death; it even still had some of the marks from her childhood, as well as her mother’s final months, in which she walked with a cane. This, too, was polished often, and kept in pristine condition, more to preserve the memory of Irene’s idol than anything else.

Irene was an only child, in the traditional sense. That is, she had no other living siblings. But her mother hadn’t lived the most careful life before she gave birth to Irene. 

A woman of high society, Irene’s mother enjoyed being wined and dined just like the next woman, but one night she’d let it go too far. The man had taken her back to his place, and they’d both had too much to drink. They forgot to take the proper precautions, and both walked away from that night none the wiser.

A couple months later, Irene’s mother went to the doctor, worried for understandable reasons. She was informed that she was pregnant, and it scared her enormously. She had no idea what she wanted to do - she couldn’t contact the man who had contributed, she had no way of supporting this child on her own with a loving environment. It simply wasn’t going to happen.

She decided to give the child up for adoption. During the next 7 months of her pregnancy, Irene’s mother experienced much in the way of ridicule, shunning, and other consequences of the company that she kept. To be pregnant out of wedlock in that society was inapropriate, and she was given no reprieve.

The child was born, a healthy baby girl with raven hair and bright blue eyes. She was given a name - Andrea - then the papers were signed - neither Irene nor her mother would ever see the child.

When Irene’s mother finally married, she was prepared to have a child. She gave birth to Irene a year and a half after the wedding, and her well-being was the only thing her parents could agree on not too long after that.

via: the-12thdoctorisin
source: theruthlessautomaton

Put a Word in my Askbox and I’ll hand write a headcanon about my character using that word 

via: armydoctorassistant
source: armydoctorassistant

armydoctorassistant:

the-woman-irene replied to your post: M!A —- You are a giant flirt (and slut) for the next 12 hours… good luck!

Irene, dear.

Yes, darling John?

via: sniper-in-your-window
source: sniper-in-your-window

The Unexpected Client 

sniper-in-your-window:

the-woman-irene:

“Well then, Mr. Moran, please - follow me.” Irene lead the way to the sitting room, pulling Kate to the side once Seb took a seat. The maid left quickly, returning in just a minute with a tray with a pot of tea, two cups, cream and sugar. Irene played hostess, pouring each of them a cup before handing Sebastian his. “Fix it however you’d like, dear.”

Irene settled into the chair beside the couch, crossing her legs and observing her new client. “I understand that you wish to learn. What is it you had in mind?” 

Seb followed her and sat down. Once Irene poured him a cup, he added cream and sugar before taking a sip and consolidating his thoughts. 

“I want to learn some of your profession. I want to learn how to dominate someone…There is some need for that in my relationship and I often find myself coming up to a blank.” Seb looked down at his teacup. Admitting his shortcomings was rather embarrassing. “I heard that it was best to learn by experiencing it firsthand, so I would know how it felt for the partner.”

Irene arched an eyebrow. Well, now. This was interesting. “Your relationship…with Jim, I presume? No, it doesn’t matter,” she waved off her own question. “Honestly; everyone’s the same.” She wrapped an arm around her waist, taking a sip of her tea.

“Indeed, it is most easily learned by experiencing. Nearly every dominatrix has her own mentor at one time or another, for, while the inclination towards domination is inherent, the skills to do so are not.” She examined Seb’s expressions - he was ashamed. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed by, darling. Everyone has to start somewhere.”

via: king-of-napoleon-crime
source: king-of-napoleon-crime

Whipped | [ Jim & Irene ]  

king-of-napoleon-crime:

He heard the quiet fall around him as she walked through the main dining area towards the bar in the back of the restaurant and smirked. Not turning around he heard her before he saw her, about to respond he turned around and was rendered speechless by her appearance.

After a brief moment, ” I must say, I think you’ve outdone yourself this time around my dear” he twirled his finger in a motion, ” spin for me.” And when she did he darted his tongue across his bottom lip.

He was absolutely drinking in her appearance from head to foot, and nearly forgot others were in the room. Looking back to the bar, finding the bartender with his mouth practically on the floor, ” another for me, and whatever this lovely lady desires.”

Irene smirked when Jim turned around, inclined to tell him he should close his mouth, lest he catch flies. She really had done well, she knew, and she’d already won a part of this game. The first impression was hers, and all she had to do was follow through.

“Thank you, dear,” she said, twirling slowly to allow him to admire the dress fully. She examined his expression, pleased to see he was quite impressed, to the point of distraction. She slipped onto a bar-stool next to him, crossing her ankles and dropping her clutch to the polished surface of the bar. “Surprise me,” she purred to the bartender. “Nothing terribly girly, if you don’t mind. And not too strong, please.” The bartender stumbled back to the wall of alcohol, mixing Jim’s drink first, then slipping a scotch and soda in front of Irene. She raised an eyebrow, but took the drink.

“Now then, darling,” Irene turned back to her companion with a smile. “You look rather dashing yourself. Though I am disappointed - you planned for the occasion. You’ve given up already, given that this is one of your older suits.”