What was one of my favourite site themes on Tumblr has now appeared on BDSMLR, I am so pleased to say.  while-doing-something-else.  bitch-boy informed me he found it while he was doing his BDSMLR tease chore as he knew the theme is in my top 3.

It so sums up, I think other Dommes will agree, the atmosphere of REAL LIFE, long term, live-together,  Domme/sub relationships. So much time is spent with the Domme enjoying whatever she wants, excluding the sub, while the sub toils  in the background on chores somewhere or toils between her thighs, or while she sunbathes, or he is a foot-rest, or his face is a seat. Particularly while the Domme is; applying make-up, drying/fixing hair, talking on the telephone, watching TV, reading a book or magazine, eating a meal, doing one’s nails, on social media, engaged in a pleasant craft activity, chatting to a visiting female guest, ‘who is in the know’.

I have of course had bitch-boy re-blog many of the images to my BDSMLR site.

So different to the majority of Femdom images on the net where the Domme (usally a professional dominatrix), is having to focus all her attention on the male sub. Not that I have a problem with the dominatrix profession. Wonderful women!

Obviously I have to ignore the images of fucking and cock-sucking and male climaxes on this site. A girl can’t have everything!

On the topic of my BDSMLR site I now have 4,800 followers. Nowhere near the 20,000 on my old Tumblr site, but it grows steadily which I adore. I adore because so many people share the REAL LIFE tastes I have.

Almost no PVC or latex, or warehouses or dungeons or abandoned buildings. Domestic scenarios in the main, and only the women getting the pleasure and the thrills. Of course the males getting their submissive contentment when their head hits the pillow every night, even if there is little or no sexual satisfaction in their lives.

I love to see the pro Dommes who have what appears to be their own, long term sub. Despite the income earning nature of their output, you know they are REAL in a REAL relationship. Bojana the Balkan Brat, Mistress Elaine and sissy maid Vicky, Melanie the Barefoot Princess, Cruel Sarah and her cuck, Kelli and her cuck, Louis Margot and her cuck, Princess Perfect and her sub, etc.

What I sometimes wonder about is whether some of the deliciously cruel pro Domme women who regularly appear in videos and photo shoots with many DIFFERENT subs, have a long term male sub at home? A male sub at home who suffers a regime in keeping with the cruelty these delightful women show with the subs in their videos? (And do any of them read this blog I wonder ???)

For instance, any of the women from; Miami Mean girls,  from the Brat Princesses, from Men Are Slaves, etc. And women such as Empress Jennifer,  Mistress Cindy, Mistress Elise, Brat princess Christina, Miss Barnes, Goddess Amadahy, Cybil Troy, Sarah Eve, Karin Von Kroft, etc.

Might some of these women have a full time sub at home who they do not want on video? Or do they have a vanilla male because they get all their sadism and dominance out when making femdom videos?

Just something I sometimes ponder on.

Below I provide details of my new guide for beginner Dommes. Linked to my alternative blog and, possibly unique, as it is specifically written to avoid frightening a vanilla wife or girlfriend away from trying an FLR relationship.

Below are four comments I have received over the last month from a slave in Italy who is lucky enough to serve full time an amazing Mistress. If you fastidiously read all comments, you will have read the first three, but the fourth has never been published as a comment. You will not have read that.

The regime imposed is serious, eclectic and I find it very hot indeed! Involvement of the Mistress’s mother and, cuckolding, with chastity and denial, and male maids are firm favourites of mine! Sissy Slave M is writing in a second language so I am sure you will forgive him if the English is not perfect. Or as I do admire him for writing in a second language!

COMMENT 1

Honorable Mistress,
On Monday morning, May 11th, I returned to work for the first time since 9 March, the day on which the lockdown was made in Italy.
Luckly I got a fairly well-paid job in the public administration sector and so Mistress have not suffered negative consequences from an economic point of view.
My thoughts go to the many who, on the other hand, this pandemic is tragically leaving in difficulty.
Obviously this is not the right place, but I must say that the Italian government, despite many mistakes, is managing this crisis quite well.
Going back to what I meant, on Monday I left the house for the first time in more than two months and the feeling was, for me, much, much stranger than for my fellow citizens.
Given my condition as a slave sissy, the lockdown was, for me, quite intense.
First, for the whole period I was always in the feminized version of myself.
For years the Mistress has allowed me men’s clothes only for work and for some inevitable ‘vanilla’ circumstance reduced to the bare minimum.
If You consider that many relatives and friends of the Mistress know about our relationship, You can understand how what remains of my male being is truly reduced to a minimum.
Never, however, had I lived as sissy and in sissy clothes for over two consecutive months.
In addition, for her amusement, the Mistress forced me to remain tied in one way or another for the entire period.
When the Mistress did not impose more restrictive and elaborate forms of bondage on me (which happened for several hours a day) I always wore a high, almost postural collar, bracelets and anklets.
A short chain (30 cm) connected bracelets and anklets and bracelets was connected to the collar by another chain that did not allow me to lower my hands below the waist.
The Mistress firmly believes that a sissy must be seen and not heard, so I was gagged most time of the day.
Even for a sissy like me used to sissyfication, bondage, punishment and everything else, experiencing this total continuity 24/7 for over two consecutive months was very hard.
Normally I wear the chastity belt 24/7/365 even at work and my underwear is always sissy, however the effect of total continuity of submission has been devastating.
The Mistress, then, was even more rigid, severe, sadistic, uncompromising and cruel than usual for the whole period.
For her, in fact, rightly accustomed to her freedoms, her friends, her interests and hobbies and her lovers, imprisonment at home, even a beautiful house with a garden, was very frustrating and she vented her frustrations on me .
Not a day has passed without me being subjected to the most cruel keystrokes.
I spent endless hours completely immobilized in bondage or wildly fucked by the big strap-ons of the Mistress (she loves the pegging on her slut, as she calls me in these cases) or humiliated in long video calls with her friends.
Many times, at the height of humiliations or punishments, I collapsed, I burst into tears and I implored even just a little of pity.
And obviously I haven’t received.
In the same time I noticed that the Mistress was getting great relief from making my condition of submission more extreme and this helped me a lot to overcome the most difficult moments.
Furthermore, the absence of any pause, even the slightest, to my sissy slave ménage had the effect of making the Mistress’s mark on me indelible and my love and my total devotion and submission are, if possible, further increased.
It is as if this total coexistence had extremized our awareness of our respective conditions in the world. and when on Monday morning I was totally unbound for the first time in over two months, the partial relief was enormously overcome by a feeling of lack.
As if part of me had been removed.
And when the Mistress, before I left the house, showed up at the door in her dressing gown and wearing a pair of incredible slippers (similar to the ones you wear on the cover of volume 12 or volume 8 of your juornals) I threw myself to her feet, desperate and tearful, unable to move away from her.
Only when she kicked me out assuring me that she would always be my Mistress and that her cruelty was yet to grow a lot, I finally managed to go to work.
humbly
Sissy slave m.

COMMENT 2

I don’t know if it can be defined as shaming but of the cruelest clothes that the Mistress sometimes imposes on me is this hessian underwear that you can see in this link.

https://www.sissyheaven.com/index.phproute=product/product&path=1112_1127&product_id=9372

It is made to measure and, often, Mistress requires me to wear it under a maid uniform while doing housework.
In particular, she likes to make me wear it when her fun of the moment is to have me as a lower level scoundrel.
In these cases, I must wear the hessian underwear.
Above of it, in addition to the inevitable corset (which makes contact with the terrible material even harder to bear) the most worn out of my maid uniforms, full of tears and of mending, at the foot a pair of equally worn domestic slippers, a disheveled and deformed wig.
She impose me a very heavy metal collar, wristbands and anklets joined by heavy chains and a heavy ball to the foot.
To this she adds a penis gag and in this humiliating estate I have to do the housework without the aid of model tools and, therefore, sweep and wash the floors on all fours, wash the laundry all by hand and so on.
Hessian underwear is terribly uncomfortable, stinging and annoying and working on it in chains, it becomes absolutely intolerable after a very short time. Then often the Mistress canes my ass before getting dressed and then the terrible material rubs on the red skin and becomes even more unbearable.
It often happens that the Mistress has me in this way and then I go out with my friends leaving me to my sufferings.
Often during those long and tiring days I happen to burst into tears for my condition but, even more, for the unbearable feeling of hessian underwear.
When the Mistress comes home and see me in chains dressed as the last of the servants and exhausted from fatigue and suffering, she gets excited to masturbate almost always.
Once she cums, she enjoys humiliating me for a few hours before finally taking off my cruel underwear while I, despite the sufferings she imposes on me, thank her humbly by licking her shoes and swearing my eternal love and eternal submission.
Humbly
sissy slave m

COMMENT 3

Honored Mistress Scarlet,
I thank you immensely for your noble answer.
Of course you are totally right and I offer the most humble and submissive apologies for the precious time that I have wasted you with my pathetic comment.
I understand that the description of the game rules alone have been of little interest to you and I will also try to explain the dynamics behind the game.
Firstly the game is my only chance of having an orgasm.
My condition is of total chastity 24/7/365 and total submission.
This makes me perpetually excited and frustrated to the point of despair.
As a consequence of this, my veneration and submission to my Mistress are infinitely amplified.
Not if it’s the same for everyone. In my experience, the absolute cruelty of the Mistress in imposing such a severe chastity regime has meant that my total love for my Goddess increased day by day.
I believe it is the result of my innate submission, but every humiliation, punishment and cruelty of the Mistress, however absolutely infernal to bear at times, produces in me a feeling of devotion and attachment and love and, at the same time, of awe that they make of my status as a slave is the only one possible for me.
So even though living a condition of slavery and sissyfication that many would consider hell (and sometimes I also consider it as such), I also live in an atmosphere of absolute and perennial excitement and absolute devotion to Mistress.
In the days immediately preceding the game, of course, my anxiety and expectation grow uncontrollably, as does my fear that my mistake or a whim of the Mistress will blow up the possibility.
It does not happen often, because the Mistress likes the game, but it happened that without any reason the Mistress, just because she can do it, postponed for days, but also for weeks, a game session and I confess that, while I kissed the Mistress’s shoes to thank her, I couldn’t hold back the tears.
At the same time, just before the game starts, another and different anxiety arises in me.
While, in fact, my frustration and my desire lead me to hope with all my heart that the drawn card is lucky, on the other hand, my submission makes me almost torn about it.
I find myself thinking about the fun, if not the pleasure, that my suffering and frustration bring to the Mistress and, therefore, receiving the orgasm seems to me almost a lack towards the Mistress.
When the game finally begins, the Mistress makes me kneel in front of her after making me undress leaving me in stockings, suspenders, corset, heels, wig and maid crest.
She ties my hands behind my back and stands before me.
I have to start begging her to let me try the game, trying to be convincing in humiliating myself and exalting her because there is always a possibility that she will think again.
She looks at me, depending on the mood, with absolute indifference and contempt or with cruelty and fun.
When she is satisfied with the pleas, she gags me and takes the cards.
The moment before the discovery of the card is incredibly emotional for me.
After an often very long period I finally have a chance, even if not too high!
And I wish with all my heart that the card is of hearts, possibly a J a Q a K or the ace!
And at the same time, despite being terrified of it, I think the pleasure of the Mistress when a card unfavorable for me comes out, above all the two spades,and my soul of submissive almost hopes to have to receive the cruelest card to satisfy the sadism of the Mistress and for to feel even more the adoration for her that is born in the moments of greatest suffering and humiliation.
And then the card is turned …
If it is a card that does not give me orgasm, as often happens, the Mistress immediately passes to the punishment provided, cheerful and amused, while I suffer my destiny with resignation but also, in some way, with the relief of knowing that the my frustration and suffering are pleasing to my goddess.
And if it is a card that gives me ruined orgasm, instead, the Mistress immediately applies a condom to my cage and, with a vibrator, stimulates the chastity cage from the outside insulting me and spitting me in the face or slapping me. She bring me on the edge and then remove the vibratori leaving me to my wretched ruined orgasm. So she takes my gag off and feeds me on my seed before going on to punishment.
The rare times, however, that the paper gives me a full orgasm, I see the Mistress a slight disappointment and this, in the euphoria of those rare moments, is a cloud that obscures my pleasure. Then, after I have had these rare orgasms, Mistress becomes even more sadistic in punishment, that are more difficult to suffer after I came.
I can’t deny that, all in all, my real hope is to draw a card that will give me ‘ruined’ orgasm, in order to still be able to experience a little miserable humiliated relief while still remaining in my desperate conditions of continuous chastity.
As for the ace of hearts, which would grant me freedom to enjoy at my leisure, it only cames out 3 times.
And all three times I could not help but beg the Mistress to decide my destiny and she, incredibly magnanimous, tied and gagged me and masturbated mi with her hands.
They have been the only times since I know her where the Mistress gave me direct sexual contact for my pleasure
I love my Mistress, my bondage and chastity and our relationship.
I hope I have explained things better and I still humbly ask for forgiveness for the stolen time.
Slave and sissy maid M.

COMMENT 4

Honored Mistress
June 2, in Italy, is a national holiday and this year was even more important because it was the first national holiday after the lockdown.
For me, pathetic sissy slave, it was also the day when I could try my luck with the card game that I described in a previous comment on this post and that is my only chance to have an orgasm.
My last unspoiled orgasm dates back to August 18, 2018 while my last wretched ruined dates back to November 2019 so then you can imagine my despair.
Sunday 05-31 Mistress informed me that on June 2 she had invited her mother, sister and two best friends to lunch, all four fully aware of my condition, and I should have served them as a sissy maid. In the afternoon the card game would take place in the presence of all the guests on condition that my service was impeccable.
Devastated by the prospect of humiliations and sufferings that five sadistic and ruthless women could impose on me, I tried to plead with the Mistress, obviously receiving a severe beating and, therefore, I waited resigned and anxious for my destiny.
On June 2, therefore, I awoke at 5:00 A.M. to wear my short sissy maid uniform, which leaves partially visible both my chastity cage and the but plug that I wear. Black stockings, suspenders, corset, shoes with 10 cm heels, wig, make-up, crest, collar, bracelets and anklets joined by chains (more symbolic than restrictive this time) completed my outfit.
So I started preparing lunch for the guests and cleaning the house.
I brought my wife breakfast in bed at 10:03 A.M. and I received 30 cane shots (10 for every minute of delay) before I could continue the food preparation for lunch. My mother-in-law was the first to arrive. As ordered, I cheerfully greeted her at the door with a humble reverence. At one of his gestures I humbly kissed her shoes and, at her order, licked the soles. Then I made her a drink and I continued cooking and similarly answered the door as each female guest arrived.
By 11:30 A.M., they had all arrived and, while they happily chatted about their business on the patio in the garden, I attended to drinks for them as requested while continuing, in the meantime, the preparation of lunch.
When lunch was ready, I served the ladies at the table and several times the ladies asked to eat while the pathetic sissy slave licked her shoes under the table.
All the time none of the ladies paid me the slightest attention and in fact they totally ignored me, talking happily to each other and simply turning to me with orders: “sissy! wine!”, “Water, slave!”, “Lick the soles worm! “,” the coffee cockroach! ” or commenting amuse my miserable condition and the huge difference in status between them and the miserable servant.
After I served lunch, I collected part of their leftovers in a dog bowl, from where I was supposed to eat them later, and, upon Mistress’ order, I had to go to each of the ladies while each one spits on my miserable meal.
So ladies retired for more chatting and other women’s games and I retired to the kitchen to do dishes and scrub the kitchen floor. I had to make the kitchen spotless, in between serving drinks and snacks to the ladies.
After I completed cleaning the kitchen, I was summoned to them for direct service.
First, each of the ladies gave a rating from 1 to 10 on the quality of the lunch and my service.
For every vote below 10 I would have suffered 10 lashes on my bare butt.
The Ladies expressed their judgment one at a time: Mistress’s friends assigned me 9, the Mistress’s sister and Mistress 8 and my mother-in-law 6. In total 10 votes less than the maximum and 100 lashes on my poor ass.
They then made me lean forward on the patio table, tied ankles and wrists and whipped me in turn, amused and excited by their sadism and my suffering which resulted in constant pleadings and tears.
After the punishment I had to stand, in waiting, with snack trays and drink trays in hand, to be ready for any snack or drink request made or for direct service doing foot massages or other services for the owners.
Then the Mistress announced that it was time for the card game.
She then undressed me, leaving me with only the shoes, corset, but plug and wig on, tied my hands behind my back and ordered me to beg each of the guests for permission to play.
One after the other I had to prostrate myself in front of the ladies, tell and affirm my condition as an inferior, useless sub human, confessing my state of BAV and, at the same time, to swear my absolute love to my Mistress precisely for her cruelty and how to be his sissy slave is my only possible condition and, in conclusion, to implore their permission to try my luck with the cards
One after another they laughed at me, they had fun slapping me to tears, spitting in my face and mouth, before granting me, one after the other, the coveted permission to play.
The humiliation and anticipation, the pain of the recent punishment and fatigue of the long day of service had thrown me into a condition of total prostration and physical and mental suffering and, at the same time, of desperate excitement.
The Mistress, therefore, shuffled the cards, positioned the three chosen cards on a small table and invited me to choose.
With my heart racing, I chose a card and waited for the Mistress to turn it over.
K of hearts! My head exploded with relief and joy!
It meant being able to masturbate licking Mistress’s shoes! Heaven for every slave! I must do with the but plug in ad after I will receive, as per the rules, the due punishment! But nevertheless, it was an orgasm at the feet of my goddess! A real orgasm! Tears of joy have started to cross my face again!
The Mistress then moved away and returned, after a few minutes, wearing a pair of black patent leather slippers with 10 cm platform and 20 cm heels. The dream of every slave. My dream. In her hand she held the key to my chastity cage.
When she was about to put the key in the lock, however, my mother-in-law intervened. I can’t say if everything was planned or if it was a cruel inspiration of the moment.
My mother-in-law said hard and annoyed that it was incredibly selfish of me to accept that card! That it was inconceivable that an unworthy slave sissy like me agreed to receive an orgasm while his Mistress, for the previous three months, because of the lockdown, had not been able to devote herself to her pleasures and hobbies and, above all, had not been able to see her lovers!
It was an incredible proof of lack of training and insubordination on my part the fact of placing my pathetic pleasure before that of the Mistress!
Not only the Mistress had to give up an important part of her sacrosanct sexual pleasures, but now she also had to witness her pathetic sissy slave who masturbated with the most selfish of pigs!
The other ladies immediately agreed with my mother-in-law and, on the Mistress’s face, I immediately saw a sadistic smile light up.
I, devastated, had listened to my mother-in-law’s words, grasping their inevitable cruelty and injustice (after all, the Mistress had always orgasmed, even in these months, over and over again every day and at her complete pleasure while my last cum was rising months and years) and at the same time the words of my mother-in-law seemed full of fairness! If the prolongation of my suffering and frustration helped the Mistress to better endure the limitations of the lockdown, now just finished, and to resume her life with greater serenity, how could I be so selfish to accept an orgasm!
Yet my frustration was too strong.
The Mistress, amused, replied to her mother that it was true, that she was right, but that the rules were the rules … therefore, turned to me, she asked me what I thought of it.
Desperate, split in two, I began to stammer apologies about my despair and pleading for the card to be respected.
But she then decided to use her secret weapon. Started teasing me and licking my nipples.
Perhaps also due to the fact that my cock is always in the cage and is practically never stimulated, my nipples have become, over the years, ultra-sensitive. Real mini sexual organs whose stimulation produces a devastating, almost painful, and incredibly frustrating excitement given the presence of the chastity cage. Furthermore, it is a kind of excitement that further nourishes my submissive nature and makes me desire with every drop of my existence to be increasingly cruelly subdued by my divine tyranny.
Among the laughter of the other mistresses, therefore, the Mistress led me to a state of distressing excitement in which my whole body trembled uncontrollably and wept with despair and mumbled phrases without complete sense.
When she thought I had reached the right cooking point, the Mistress returned to ask me what I thought of the issue.
And my slave soul, before my body and my mind could intervene, was licking the Mistress’ shoes and begging her with all my soul not to consider the card but to exchange it with the 2 of spades (which means three months before the next attempt and a cruel punishment made of blows and bondage from immobilization).
With tears in my eyes, desperate but in love, I heard the Mistress agree among the roaring laughter of the others and, after the Mistress left me magnanimously licking her divine shoes for a long time, I immediately underwent the following punishment in total sub space and I spent the rest of the day and the whole night painfully in bondage until the Mistress released me this morning to send me to the office.
Now I am writing right from the office for the urgent need to describe this incredible experience of mine and to thank my Mistress for her cruelty and for the abysses of submission in which she sinks me daily with increasingly cruelly.
I apologize for the long post
humbly
Sissy slave m

For info on my own BDSM manual, in several formats, click on an image below.

I posted on 4 June some comments from sissy slave M on the regime he endures under the dominance of his Mistress. Well we now have the privilege of hearing from that Mistress. The amazing Mistress Francesca.

Below are three very recent comments from Mistress Francesca. You may have read the first two if you read comments on this blog; but you will not have read the third.

I then add a comment from sissy slave M on degrees of cuckolding humiliation. It was left as a comment on 19 May. Having read of the style of dominance of Mistress Francesca, I reread sissy slave m’s words about levels of humiliation of cuckolding in a new light!

From Mistress Francesca.

Dear Scarlett
As you know, sissy slave led me to your blog and one of the many main reasons why I find it splendid is that it treats with clarity and competence an aspect of Femdom that does not appear habitually, that is, that of a relationship truly based on its essence to the total domination of the Mistress over her slave. Unfortunately, what you see in most sites is about erotic fantasies where domination is a way of having sex like any other. The man meets the woman, they have a BDSM session, after the session they cums and then they return to normal; maybe with the woman who goes to deal with some household affairs and the man to watch the game on television.

Obviously I have nothing against those who do this and I have nothing even against the look of the dominatrixes in the mainstream sites (on the contrary I confess I have always loved a very aggressive look and I don’t mind wearing very fetish clothing at all, especially shoes and corsets)

The reason why I like your blog is that it treats those who live Femdom as a true lifestyle and as true form of total female freedom. In my daily experience, in every ‘vanilla’ relationship, partners must necessarily give something to each other and, normally, for a thousand reasons related to social conventions, the one who gives the most is the woman.
I have never been able to tolerate this. It will be a form of selfishness, but above all I have always placed my absolute and total freedom to choose for myself in life and sexually without having to give an account to anyone.

Furthermore, I have always loved to dominate, command, be served and revered and adored. It is in my nature. That’s why when I discovered Femdom, I was fascinated by it!
Then I met Marco (the real name of sissy slave m) and his natural submission magnified my hedonism, my innate sadism and my desire for absolute power over him.
And today, therefore, ours is a symbiotic relationship in which I take everything, and he undergoes everything. I am fully satisfied, and I become crueller every day, while he, judging by how he swears his love in the tears of his sufferings and humiliations, still seems to be certainly in his place.

Coming to the content of your post on enduring domination sessions, I fully agree on the great pleasure that comes from subjecting the slave to long, interminable torments and repeating them again and again, more and more cruel, with the passage of time.   In our relationship, as my pathetic sissy husband wrote, the ‘vanilla time’ is practically absent and, therefore, the time he spends directly under my yoke is very very long.

I divide it into three phases (obviously it is a very general division that cannot describe the entirety of the relationship)

1. THE BDSM SESSIONS
Obviously, I love practicing long BDSM sessions in which I torture, humiliate and subdue (even sexually – I love the strap–on against his chastity) in an intense way and with the utmost cruelty. I enjoy immensely his acute and extreme suffering. My sessions are frequent and long but, obviously, they last only a few (sometimes many) hours.
BDSM sessions are fun and exciting but satisfy only the most outward and “bloody” part of MY sadistic and cruel nature as dominatrix.

2. SERVITUDE
All the time, then, and I mean – all the time, sissy slave m has to serve me as a queen and a goddess. Everything in our home and in our life is organized according to my cravings and my desires and my preferences and sissy slave m. is responsible for everything (housework, bureaucratic aspects of life etc ..). For my enjoyment, then, sissy slave m. must ALWAYS serve me in one of his uniforms as a servant or maid, always completely feminized and always with some bondage element.
This satisfies my hedonism, my narcissism and my desire for absolute supremacy.

3. FREE CRUELTY
When sissy slave m. it is not directly in service and I am not using it in a BDSM session. I ALWAYS submit him to what you call tedium – humiliation torment. I leave him for hours and hours locked in a cage, or in a closet or keep him for hours in the Sensory Deprivation Bondage.

Or I make him do some housework with particularly restrictive bondage or in humiliating ways (cleaning the bathroom floor and sanitary ware with his tongue, polishing the soles of all my shoes with his tongue).

Or I force him to repeat humiliating rituals again and again in my absence (walking back and forth in a room with increasingly high heels performing predetermined gestures of humiliation – practicing receiving in the mouth or in the ass fake cocks and dildos).

Or I use it as an inanimate object at home (tied and immobilized to serve as a footrest or chair – tied in the bathroom with a hood and a funnel in the mouth to serve as a toilet – food tray – lamp holders and the like).

I like to indulge in these activities literally for hours and hours, totally ignoring sissy slave m or going to him from time to time to torture him directly or humiliate him or, given his desperate abstinence, tease him to tears (just playing with his nipples).
These activities, combined with the many occasions when sissy slave m. is dominated by third parties, perhaps they satisfy the deepest nature of my sadism and cruelty. It is the pleasant context in which my life as an absolute dominatrix and mistress takes place, like sweet background music.
Just the beauty and gratification that can be drawn from this third type of activity makes different the relationships your blog talks about, from all the others and makes our life splendid and that of our slaves a hell (just to say that I feel wet). A hell from which they would not want to escape even if they could.
Best wishes
Mistress Francesca

A fantastic comment Francesca! I loooove it. Thank you for the kindness of suggesting my blog has a unique element.

Humiliation – tedium linked with partial ignoring is I agree exquisite and it is amazing what a turn on it is given almost nothing is happening. I think it is the sheer cruelty of it that provides the visceral power rush that simply seems to be at a continuous peak level.

When you announce such an activity is about to be imposed, does sissy slave m beg and plead?

Do you use a baby monitor when you force him to repeat humiliating rituals again and again in your absence (walking back and forth in a room with increasingly high heels performing predetermined gestures of humiliation – practising receiving in the mouth or in the ass fake cocks and dildos)?

Thanks Scarlett!
Your blog is truly exalting me!
Yes, sissy slave m. pleads and begs when I announce one of these activities … and I love hearing him beg and please and than slapping him or spitting in his face and imposing what I want on him. He must also thank me! (it’s amazing to hear him as he desperately thanks me for the treatment I’m going to subject him to).
Before, I used a baby monitor. Now I use an old mobile phone connected to an application on my smartphone. Sissy slave m found the app. I’ll let you know what it’s called.

Now I am writing to you from a SPA where I am with my mother and sister. sissy slave m. is at home in chains, doing weekend cleaning. I think when I get home he will undergo one of my treatments … I will keep you updated …
a warm greeting
Mistress Francesca

Update
Dear Scarlett
Me, mom and my sister went home around 5:00 PM happy and relaxed. To welcome us sissy slave m. submissive and subjugated as always, dressed in his sissy maid short dress and in chains, as I had left him this morning, only much more tired.
He was waiting for us standing by the door, as I trained him to do, and when we rang the bell he opened and greeted us with reverence. He did not expect mom and Maria (my sister) and seeing them he emitted a deep sad sigh.
You understand it perfectly Scarlett, it is precisely these sighs of impotence before the prospect of something terrible that is about to happen that give me a real power rush and excitement. My eyes shone with sadism.
He humbly licked the soles of our shoes and then I begged mom to check the quality of the work of sissy slave m.
Knowing that control would be done by the mother the poor slave sighed again looking at me with a pleading look, which I ignored laughing.
While Maria and I sat in the living room, mum and sissy slave m. went around the house to check the quality of the work done.
Obviously mom found several mistakes (actually trifles, but the best is expected from a sissy servant).
We went to punishment (20 cane strokes from each of the three of us) received by sissy slave m. pleadings and in tears.
At the end of the punishment he thanked us by licking our shoes again.
Mum and Maria then went away amused and I prepared my sissy for the evening.
Today the television broadcast a marathon of the season 5 of outlander, a series that I love. So I announced the sissy that I no longer needed him and so until 02:00 AM he had to devote himself to what I call “the path of humiliation”.
I saw the panic on his face. He pleaded on his knees, desperate, crying. I let him plead for some times and then, hard, I told him not to get me bored and to follow me to the attic of my house, very hot in summer and very little ventilated.
I put him in a postural collar on which I hung a pair of handcuffs with a padlock, in which I imprisoned his wrists. Handcuffs also to the ankles, in order to limit his steps to a ridiculous wobble. In addition a large but plug.
I have prepared his path: on three sides of the room are three small altars. On the first is a pair of my shoes, on the second a bowl full of my golden rain, on the third a large and realistic dildo.
He trembled like a leaf, desperate and in tears.
He implored me to shorten the duration of his punishment. I slapped him and ordered him to begin his journey.
“It is now 19:00. Start your path pathetic subspecies of slave! Know that the application is active and I can see and control you! At 02:00 AM you can stop and free yourself with the keys of the handcuffs that are down in your bedroom. I want to be woken up at 10:00 tomorrow morning. The usual breakfast. Start worm!”
With tears in his eyes he replied “Yes Mistress, Thank you Mistress!” and walked.
Staggering he reached the first altar, he took the shoes and then and recited his mantra:
“This useless sissy slave is unworthy of licking the mistress’s soles! Thank you Mistress for letting your sissy lick your noble shoes!”
So he licked each sole five times and moved on.
In front of the second altar he took the bowl with my golden shower and recited the second sentence:
“This useless sissy slave is just worthy of being the human toilet of the Mistress! Thank you Mistress for letting your sissy be your living toilet ”
Then he drank a drop of golden rain.
In front of the third altar he took the big dildo and recited the third sentence:
“This useless sissy slave is just worthy of being turned into an unworthy cocksucker! Thank you Mistress for letting your sissy be an unworthy cocksucker! ”
Than he has to deep throat the dildo 5 times
I can’t describe the feeling of power and supremacy that I felt and leaving him to its long seven hours of ordeal.
As soon as I got off, I confess, I took my favorite vibrator and I masturbated to two splendid orgasms. I then had dinner with the light cold dinner that Sissy Slave M had left for me in the fridge and I dedicated myself to my Outlander evening.
Every now and then I got an eye on my cell phone, from which I checked the misery of my pathetic slave … a great saturday Scarlet!
Now I am writing to you comfortably lying in my bed, happy as a million euros, while sissy slave m is gong on with his ordeal.
I guess I’ll masturbate again before sleeping…
Goodnight my new friend!

From sissy slave M

Honorable Mistress
As I wrote in other comments I am a 39 year old Italian sissy slave and I live a 24/7/365 relationship of total submission to my Mistress and wife.
Total chastity, born again virgin, and almost total sissyfication are some of the keys to my condition and, in this context, I am also subject to very intense forms of cuckolding and forced bisexuality.
I know you don’t practice this kind of cuckolding and if you think this post is not suitable for your blog I ask you for forgiveness and I will understand it perfectly.
For me cuckolding with male lovers has more than four stages and it’s for me the most intensely humiliating and emotionally hard practice. Especially when I have to be directly submissive in front of other men.
It may seem strange for an almost totally sissyfied slave, but direct sexual contact with other men has always been a taboo that I have never completely overcome. Serving men and having sexual contacts with them is the most devastating and humiliating thing I’m forced to endure in my slavery regime.

Stage 1: a different location
Mistress leaves me at home alone, with a list of chores to do or in some kind of severe bondage. I often have to help the Mistress get ready. Often before going out she apply a nice deterrent punishment. On her return I may have to clean her cream pie.

Stage 2: at home – the bull does not meet the slave
I am tied and gagged in the closet while the Mistress makes love with her bull.

Stage 3: a different location – the bull meets the slave
Similar to stege 1 but the bull comes home to take the Mistress. I have to open the door dressed as a maid, respectfully great the bull and communicate him that the Mistress will soon be ready. I must also humbly thank the Bull for sexually satisfying the Mistress.

Stage 4: at home – the bull meets the Slave
I welcome the bull as in stage 3, then serve him and Mistress something to drink or the dinner. I remain available in the living room while they ‘warm up’ with foreplay. When they are ready the Mistress binds me as in stage 2. Before the bull goes away I have to thank him for the pleasure he gives to my Mistress.

Stage 5: at home – the bull meets and dominates the slave
Like stage 4, however, during the foreplay part of the fun of the Mistress consists in a BDSM session, the Bull also actively participates in dominating me.

Stage 6: gagged ad bound in the same room
Like stages 3 and 4 but later I am tied up and gagged in the room to helplessly watch the Mistress’ sex and to be dominated and submissive again when they are finished.

Stage 7: in the same room helping serving and being humiliated
In the same room, unbound, totally passive. I have to pass to the lovers towels, condoms or sex toys. I have to excite them with humiliations such as licking their feet or putting myself in positions that excite them (for example while fucking doggy style I have to lie down with my face in a position to see the cock of the bull that penetrates the Mistress).

Stage 8: fluffing and forced bi.
If the Mistress finds a bull that likes it I am used to ‘prepare’ the bull by stroking and licking his cock, I have to put on and take off his condom when they use it and I have to clean it after they are done. It may happen that the Mistress has fully enjoyed her sex and has no more will of continuing. Then it is up to me to ‘finish’ the bull, usually with the mouth.

Two special cases:

CASE 1. BEING THE BULL WHORE
It may happen that the Mistress does not want sex or same kind of sex (for exemple Mistress don’t like anal and don’t’swallows) In those cases the Bull can use the slave sissy. Usually I am made to dress like a very cheap whore and used for bulls for their pleasure in any way they want. If they do not declare themselves satisfied, I am also severely punished.

CASE 2. FORCED BI WITH OTHER SLAVES
It may happen that the Mistress has fun with a BDSM session with some other submissive and let him have an orgasm. Or can happen that the slave of some friend if Mistress has the right to cum. Often in these cases it is up to the sissy slave to make them cum. For them, being straight, it is still humiliating that it is another male to make them cum. For me, the humiliation of forced bi is increased by the fact that those who cum are not even a bulls but another slaves. I remain chaste, of course!
It is, by far, the most degrading and humiliating thing to which I am subjected.
humbly
Sissy slave m.

For info on my own BDSM manual, in several formats, click on an image below.

On the well rehearsed basis that many of you do not read the comments on blog posts, and I understand why, I set out below some comments that I found fascinating and hot!

Mistress Francesca

Dear Scarlet,
I had yet another confirmation of something I have always been convinced of and on which, I believe, you can agree. That is, the fact that my cruelty and ruthlessness towards sissy slave m has a twice beneficial effect.

The first, and most important, of course, about my personal satisfaction and my general well-being; the second also on the slave, who becomes better with the growth of the sufferings and humiliations to which he is subjected. Last night I had further evident proof of it.

Sissy slave m. he had, in the first days of this week, a couple of shortcomings in his service (which of course I immediately punished). When asked about it, he apologized and told me that he was having a very complicated week at work, with several issues of particular importance to be resolved under his full responsibility. Obviously, I did not accept his apology and punished him severely on the spot.

Yesterday, then, I realized that he had forgotten to sweep some crumbs fallen from his leftover bowl under the table. So I decided that a proper punishment was needed to put the sissy back in place. As soon as he got home and took off his ridiculous man clothes, I dragged him by the ear and kneeling in our dungeon and the party started.

First, I whipped him on the back with a painful single-thing rubber whip to the point of tears of despair. Then I made him take off his collar and, tied his feet. I caned again and again the soles of the feet excited by his pleading for mercy. All without any kind of semblance of eroticism and without restlessness. Simply a cruel punishment.

Then it was his thighs to be hit again and again with the cane and, to finish, his butt had  a mix of paddle, whip and stick like few other times. He was screaming desperately and writhing in his bonds as a few times before, while an incredible excitement grew in me.
So I took my beloved strap on with the double dildo.

It has a vibrating dildo that fits into my vagina, stimulates both from inside and outside, and then has a big and realistic dildo that I use to fuck the slave. I demanded then first a blowjob, receiving the first orgasm, and then I fucked the slave for a long time enjoying again and again and feeling him crying desperately and in tears.

I then spent the next hour alternating on his nipples, torture with clamps and wax and erotic stimulations with tongue and fingers leading him to the paroxysm of excitement and pain and frustration. Too excited by his desperation and imploring, I had to cum again before using him as a toilet and locking it for the night in a small cage locked with a timer lock.

For the entire punishment, few times so hard and ruthless and devoid of any empathy, the slave pleaded and pleaded. I know he is not a masochist and I know how much he actually suffered. But when he kissed my boots in thanking me before entering the cage, he had in his eyes a light of resignation and love, as well as fear of me.

When he left the house this morning I was still asleep but a little while ago he sent me a WhatsApp message in which he thanked me for the punishment received yesterday and apologized for his bad conduct and of the past few days. Then he advised me that today, at work, he has easily solved some problems that in the past few days seemed impossible to him and that he will probably have a reward at work. I am sure that he succeeded also and above all for the cruel hardness with which I treated him. In his enormous suffering, he satisfied his intimate nature as a slave and freed energies to give his best on the job.

In conclusion, I believe that the more the slavery to which these wonderful kind of men is hard and cruel and humiliating and inhuman, the better they work in the few activities that are required of them in the ‘vanilla’ world. And this is for the benefit of the slaves and doubly for the benefit of the Mistresses. So in conclusion, be as cruel and sadistic as you can and as much as you want! It is good for everyone!
I greet you with affection
Mistress Francesca

Wow Mistress Scarlett!
When I discovered your blog I immediately understood that you are an extraordinary Mistress! An example for all of us and constant inspiration! I’m sure your email BAV email slave is aware of his incredible luck and will never cheat on your rules!

I think I will steal the ideas of ​​the toilet girlfriend and of the orgasm under the soles and apply them to the pathetic poor sissy slave m. for when he’s lucky with the card game …
J, Q and K of hearts the toilet girlfriend and A of hearts the sole of my shoe …
I’m sure sissy slave m. will be affected …
I’ll think about the details … i have a lot of time to think… the next chance for sissy slave m. it’s September 2 …
With all my admiration
Mistress Francesca.

Next July 9 will be the 15th anniversary of my wedding with sissy slave m. and one of my favorite lovers should be in town that week …
Two great opportunities for fun for me and cruel humiliation for my sissy slave …
I thought I’d share these experiences with you and your readers if you like.
p.p.s. if you prefer that I don’t describe cuckolding with my lover just tell me!

Mistress Francesca.

As you may know, sissy slave m. wears a chastity cage 24/7/365 and his only release possibilities are through a card game. In summary, in a deck of 52 more wild cards, if a card of hearts is drawn between 2 and 10 the slave can have a spoiled orgasm, if the J, Q, K or A of hearts is drawn, the sissy can have a true orgasm, for all other cards no orgasm. The game details, according to the card drawn, after how long the slave can try again and what punishment he must receive.

Of course, I always have the right to refuse sissy to play, but usually I like to let him try.
Applying the rules of the game, the shortest period that the sissy can hope to see between an orgasm and the next try is a week if she draws the A of hearts (it has happened only three times since I began with these rules), otherwise it varies from 32 to 40 days.
The longest period that the sissy spent without a ‘real’ orgasm was 3 years and 3 months (August 2009 – November 2012) during this period, however, he had some spoiled orgasms. The longest period without even spoiled orgasms was 13 months.

Now his last real orgasm dates back to August 2018 (he had extracted a k of hearts on June 2 this year but he ‘voluntarily’ preferred to give up orgasm) and his last ruined orgasm dates back to November 2019. The next possibility to play his card game is scheduled for September 2.

On average, I think it that sissy slave m receives a ruined orgasm every 3/5 months and a real orgasm every 10/14 months. This chastity regime makes the sissy very frustrated and suffering. Consider that he constantly lives as my sissy slave and, being a true submissive, it creates constant and enormous excitement, frustrated by my chastity regime. At the same time, feeling frustrated and suffering makes her more obedient and focused on service.

In my experience, the peak of despair frustration is reached after 3 or 4 months while in the following period despair increases more slowly. This is why, as the abstinence period continues, I love to subject the sissy to long sessions of teasing and denial, torturing her poor sensitive nipples. As for the rest, sissy slave m. never becomes ‘whining’ although he sometimes begs desperately. I love these pleadings and I love, after having listened to them for some time, to deny him any mercy.
Mistress Francesca

Dear Scarlett,
it is obviously a pleasure and an honor to answer your questions.

No, normally I don’t give the sissy slave’s penis direct stimulation. His nipples have always been incredibly sensitive and even just touching them produces a devastating excitement effect in my poor sissy. He has repeatedly confessed to me that the stimulation of the nipples is for him a stronger sensation than anything he has experienced and is incredibly frustrating because the very strong erection that derives from it is confined by the chastity cage and because, however strong and growing the excitement, he can not reach an orgasm. In addition, this type of excitement develops in the slave the deeper fantasies which are, of course, those of ever more extreme submission.

Teasing him through the nipples is therefore the maximum. (to which is added the humiliation of knowing that his penis is NEVER stimulated by a human being …).
Because the sissy ‘voluntarily’ renounced her orgasm on June 2, he told you himself in a comment you posted about his strict regime.

(SEE BELOW)

In practice, while I was ready to let him masturbate while licking my shoes, my mother (who was present with my sister and two dear friends) suggested that it would be very selfish of it to cum immediately after the lock down, given the restrictions that I had to endure over my sexuality because I could not meet any lovers.

We all agreed on this and the sissy (and helped by the fact that I started licking his nipples, the sissy ended up begging to exchange its card for the worst card in the deck: 2 of spades, to show its subjugation to us.

As for cuckolding, there is no precise cadence. I go with other men whenever I feel like it and when I meet a man I think who’s worth it. I have some lovers that I see more regularly and others that are absolutely occasional maybe met on the same day. Let’s say that, pre COVID, I had a sexual encounter with lovers more or less every 10/15 days.
Obviously not all lovers are aware of the slave and / or participate in his domination, however I always try to introduce the topic and I would say that in the end almost all lovers come at least to see my sissy maid when they come to pick me up at home.
As I anticipated, one of my favourite lovers will be in town on Thursday … updates soon .

.
.

Sissy slave’s M account mentioned above.
‘………………….One after another they laughed at me, they had fun slapping me to tears, spitting in my face and mouth, before granting me, one after the other, the coveted permission to play.
The humiliation and anticipation, the pain of the recent punishment and fatigue of the long day of service had thrown me into a condition of total prostration and physical and mental suffering and, at the same time, of desperate excitement.
The Mistress, therefore, shuffled the cards, positioned the three chosen cards on a small table and invited me to choose.
With my heart racing, I chose a card and waited for the Mistress to turn it over.
K of hearts! My head exploded with relief and joy!
It meant being able to masturbate licking Mistress’s shoes! Heaven for every slave! I must do with the but plug in ad after I will receive, as per the rules, the due punishment! But nevertheless, it was an orgasm at the feet of my goddess! A real orgasm! Tears of joy have started to cross my face again!
The Mistress then moved away and returned, after a few minutes, wearing a pair of black patent leather slippers with 10 cm platform and 20 cm heels. The dream of every slave. My dream. In her hand she held the key to my chastity cage.
When she was about to put the key in the lock, however, my mother-in-law intervened. I can’t say if everything was planned or if it was a cruel inspiration of the moment.
My mother-in-law said hard and annoyed that it was incredibly selfish of me to accept that card! That it was inconceivable that an unworthy slave sissy like me agreed to receive an orgasm while his Mistress, for the previous three months, because of the lockdown, had not been able to devote herself to her pleasures and hobbies and, above all, had not been able to see her lovers!
It was an incredible proof of lack of training and insubordination on my part the fact of placing my pathetic pleasure before that of the Mistress!
Not only the Mistress had to give up an important part of her sacrosanct sexual pleasures, but now she also had to witness her pathetic sissy slave who masturbated with the most selfish of pigs!
The other ladies immediately agreed with my mother-in-law and, on the Mistress’s face, I immediately saw a sadistic smile light up.
I, devastated, had listened to my mother-in-law’s words, grasping their inedible cruelty and injustice (after all, the Mistress had always cums, even in these months, over and over again every day and at her complete pleasure while my last cum was rising months and years) and at the same time the words o my mother-in-law seams full of fairness! If the prolongation of my suffering and frustration helped the Mistress to better endure the limitations of the lockdown just finished and to resume her life with greater serenity, how could I be so selfish to accept an orgasm!
Yet my frustration was too strong.
The Mistress, amused, replied to her mother that it was true, that she was right, but that the rules were the rules … therefore, turned to me, she asked me what I thought of it.
Desperate, split in two, I began to stammer apologies about my despair and pleading for the card to be respected.
But she then decided to use her secret weapon. Started teasing me and licking my nipples.
Perhaps also due to the fact that my cock is always in the cage and is practically never stimulated, my nipples have become, over the years, ultra-sensitive. Real mini sexual organs whose stimulation produces a devastating, almost painful, and incredibly frustrating excitement given the presence of the chastity cage. Furthermore, it is a kind of excitement that further nourishes my submissive nature and makes me desire with every drop of my existence to be increasingly cruelly subdued by my divine tyranny.
Among the laughter of the other mistresses, therefore, the Mistress led me to a state of pain excitement in which my whole body trembled uncontrollably and wept with despair and mumbled phrases without complete sense.
When she thought I had reached the right cooking point, therefore, the Mistress returned to ask me what I thought of it.
And my slave soul, before my body and my mind could intervene, was licking the Mistress’ shoes and begging her with all the soul not to consider the card and exchange it with the 2 of spades (which means three months before the next attempt and a cruel punishment made of blows and bondage from immobilization).
With tears in my eyes, desperate but in love, I heard the Mistress agree among the roaring laughter of the others and, after the Mistress left me magnanimously licking her divine shoes for a long time, I immediately underwent the following punishment in total sub space and I spent the rest of the day and the whole night painfully in bondage until the Mistress released me this morning to send me to the office.’

For info on my own BDSM manual, in several formats, click on an image below.

Another insight into the life of the wonderful Mistress Francesca. There are previous insights HERE and HERE. I do not often  post about cuckolding involving a male ‘bull’ because it is not something I would ever do. When reading about or looking at images of cuckolding involving a male ‘bull’, in my mind, I like to replace the male’bull’ with a female lover. Cuckolding bitch-boy with a female love is something I TRULY ADORE! Especially if the lover has a nice cruel streak aimed at bitch-boy.

However, I think a full insight into the life of Mistress Francesca and sissy slave m is fascinating and arousing, hence this post.

Dear Scarlet,
Sam is one of my recurring lovers. He is a true tireless stallion and, although he is not very much in to BDSM, he enjoys dominating sissy slave m with me.

Being exposed and submissive to my lovers is the thing that sissy slave hates most of all and when I announced that Sam would come to see me, I saw on his face and in his eyes, the true, deep and indelible despair; a mixture of terror and discouragement and imploration and resignation; and this excited me enormously!

Thursday, Sam’s arrival day, I had the slave take the day off work and, from 6:00 in the morning, I used it to polish the house to perfection from the attic to the basement used as a dungeon, and to prepare dinner.

He brought breakfast to me in bed at 9:00 am and his appearance excited me incredibly.
You know, Scarlett, what a power rush it is to be awakened in bed with a splendid breakfast by a devoted sissy slave who has been working as a servant for hours, just to prepare the evening for the Mistress and the her lover. The look of sissy slave m already tired and pleading, and at the same time adoring, immediately put me in a good mood and I masturbated with my vibrator to a very strong orgasm.

I then wandered around the house before washing and getting dressed while the sissy continued her work. At around 12:00 the sissy had finished the preparation and I was ready to go out for lunch with my sister. I closed sissy slave m in the dark broom closet with hands tied behind his back, on his knees and with a short chain attached to the collar and a cock gag in his mouth. I looked him in the sad and pleading eyes and spat straight in his face
“You are just a useless miserable subspecies of sissy slave and your only role in the world is to suffer and be submissive!” Another spit in the face, followed by a five light kicks to his balls and I closed him inside, excited by his sad sighs of despair and his sobs of humiliation but, I’m sure, also of desperate and frustrated excitement.

I returned home around 03:00 PM, satisfied and excited, waiting for my bull but, first, I pulled my poor sissy from his closet. What an exciting and decadent vision Scarlet! The sissy had a desperate look, totally defeated and subjugated for the three hours closed and in chains, for the hours of work in the morning and for what still awaited him! Yet when I took the gag from him, his thanks and his oaths of love and obedience were sincere and very truthful!

Seeing him in that state made me completely wet and I had to masturbate again. I let the sissy lick my shoes, including the soles, and adore and worship me, before bending him on a stool and whipping him with the belt of my pants, for no reason but the fact that I wanted to. I gave my golden nectar to the sissy to drink, for which he thanked me with great emphasis. Then I brought it to his dressing for the evening.

On the way to his room, he looked at me imploringly, terrified of the kind of outfit I would impose on him. Terrified with reason! I decided for a particularly humiliating outfit, in a splendid pink PVC. I had him stripped naked except for the chastity cage and I started dressing him:
Pink corset, very tight closed, delightful pink PVC Panties, with a rear open welcome-hole and an opening at the front to let the chastity cage pass and make it evident. Special suspender straps start from the panties to which I hung her shiny pink PVC stockings
So her pink pvc maid uniform with cute, short, puff-ball sleeves, and with wide lace trim.
The dress is elasticated just under the bust, which gives it a typical prissy sissy look. With a full skirt, which has wide contrasting, lace trim at the hem of the skirt. the full skirt sits on top of a beautiful little underskirt that has layers of netting that pushes the skirt up and out, and every layer is trimmed in lace. On top, a white PVC apron. All so short as to leave the chastity cage partially uncovered. On the feet are a pair of shoes with 15 cm heels and 3 cm platform in pink color that on the top features a frilly lace design.

So the bondage: wrist cuffs in shiny PVC pink color with a wide lace trim at both ends of the wrist and cute satin bows, at the ankles, instead, a sexy pair of wide ankle cuffs shiny PVC that have an adjustable buckle strap that goes under the heel and ensures that shoes cannot be removed. A high pink PVC collar with wide lace trim at both ends.
On the head there is a blonde wig with a permanent 50s housewife style and a pair of long false eyelashes.

So I joined the anklets with a chain of about 30 cm and I did the same with the wristbands, which I then joined to the collar so that the hands could not go under the waist. Throughout the dressing, the sissy trembled with despair and tried to beg me not to impose that type of clothing on her, yet every time that, insulting him and slapping him, I ordered him to keep quiet, I saw his chastity cage jump because of a desperate erection attempt .

Wonderful creatures are the slaves! They are about to be subjected to what much more they hate in the world, and yet their body reacts with incredible excitement to an insult or a cruel gesture from the Mistress! I find it beautifully exciting!

Seeing herself in the mirror, the sissy sighed subdued, and she kept repeating obsessively “please Mistress no! Not so Mistress! Pity Mistress! “, and I, delighted, started another mind fuck, which I love. I told him how ridiculous and pathetic he was dressed that way to wait to serve his Mistress and her lover, how inferior was his condition compared to mine and how much that his life was destined only to become more and more harsh and humiliating 
To every affirmation he answered with a sigh and with a convinced “Yes Mistress, thank you Mistress”

My excitement was now beyond the guard level and I therefore decided to secure the sissy for the wait and go to get ready. I took the pathetic sissy back to the closet and made her kneel. I stuck a big fake cock with a sucker on the wall and I ordered him to hold it in his mouth and to remain so until my return. To his submissive “Yes Mistress! Thank you Mistress! “, said with a look full of desperate humiliation. I closed the door and went to get ready, not without having first masturbated for the third orgasm of the day.

I washed and perfumed myself and wore a pair of black mules with a 15 cm heel and 5 cm  platform, black lace underwear and, above, a black silk dress, with suspenders and just five or six centimeters below my cunt. My long loose black hair and sexy but not excessive makeup. Once I was ready, it was now 18 and the bell rang, Sam had arrived.

We hugged and kissed with passion and desire and, rubbing against him, I felt his erection. He held me in his arms and, with one hand, he held my butt getting more and more excited, just as I was very excited. He left me a beautiful bouquet of red roses (I love them) and immediately asked me where my sissy husband was. Amused, I took him to the closet and together we opened.

At the sight of the pathetic sissy on his knees, Sam started laughing out loud telling me how diabolical and terribly exciting I was! I, jokingly but not too much, warned him not to provoke me because a mistress like me could subdue even a man like him! So, laughing, we brought out the poor slave sissy, trembling and desperate.

Sam slapped him for not paying him homage immediately and the slave, with real tears in his eyes, prostrated himself to kiss the shoes of the man who was about to fuck his wife! A terribly humiliating and exciting thing!

Obviously, I was not satisfied with the humiliation of my slave and therefore I demanded that he devoutly lick Sam’s shoes and soles, in the meantime thanking him for such honor.
I swear to you Scarlet, when I hear him say, between the sobs of humiliation, “Thank you Master Sam for the honor of licking your shoes by this pathetic sissy”, I had to take Sam and drag him to the bedroom immediately!

From the stairs, I ordered sissy to prepare dinner for two and to put his bowl with yesterday’s leftovers on the floor near the dining table. Now beyond all humiliation, the sissy replied “Yes Mistress” and started in the kitchen while Sam and I went up to the bedroom!

I missed it Scarlet! I love dominating the sissy and I cum immensely from doing it but, from time to time, I really like a good fuck and in this period I really missed fucking! First, I made Sam kneel to give me a light kiss to my shoes and feet (after all I am always the Mistress) and then he went up to lick my pussy. Then, I made him put, with his surprise, the condom and we start fucking!

I had two orgasms practically simultaneously because while I was just diminishing the first one I had the vision of sissy slave m. in the kitchen alone humiliated and desperate and, immediately, I had another orgasm! So we went on until Sam reached a very strong orgasm which caused another one to me too! Satisfied for the moment, we rinsed and we got off, not before I had removed Sam’s condom and kept his seed.

We went down to the room and were greeted by the sissy with a curtsy. We had dinner served and, between courses, I announced to the sissy that Sam had a surprise for her and I emptied the condom on the pathetic leftovers from the day before they made up the sissy dinner. With a desperate sigh of humiliation sissy slave m. saw that I was emptying Sam’s condom on his leftovers and, resigned, humbly thanked my lover.

We then watched laughing at the sissy meal which, between sobs of disgust and humiliation, still had to eat to the last crumb and thank his superiors. So Sam and I continued our splendid fish dinner served to perfection by the sissy, which we totally ignored except for cold orders and, once we had finished dinner, we retired to the living room, where we ordered the sissy to join us. Here the real game started!

Sam and I started kissing and touching each other on the sofa, while sissy slave m had to stand at our feet to lick our shoes. We commented on the absolute power that we could exercise on my poor slave, destined to a whole life of total submission and frustration in the face of the total pleasure that we drew from dominating him!

When we had warmed up enough we decided it was time to get serious.
I tied sissy slave M. with legs upwards, so that his head and shoulders touched the ground and I positioned myself behind him with the cane in my hand. Sam instead sat on a stool at the height of the slave’s face and placed his shoes on his face. So I ordered the slave to lick the soles of Sam’s shoes with devotion while I started hitting his sissy butt with increasing ardor as growing was my excitement! I don’t know how many blows I gave him, certainly not less than thirty and, judging by the implorations of the sissy, they were very strong blows. Then, we untied the sissy and took it to the bedroom where we made him kneel and started fucking again.

After cumming for the first time in the missionary position, while the slave licked my feet, I put on doggy style and I had the sissy placed with his head under my pubis to watch helplessly Sam who fucked me and who, after another my sensational orgasm, cumms inside me. I had the sissy clean Sam’s cock and, therefore, I made him swallow my cream pie. So Sam and I rested a little while the sissy, defeated by fatigue, humiliation and frustration, sighed desperately on her knees at the foot of the bed.

By now we were exhausted! We then went to the bathroom where I used the funnel gag to use the sissy as a toilet and we took a shower, then went to sleep, not before I sent the sissy to fix the kitchen and not before I ordered him to wake Sam up at 7:00 AM the next morning. I saw sissy slave m come out of the room and look at me pleading and destroyed to complete his long day.

The next morning, therefore, I just saw the sissy waking up Sam, as ordered, at 07:00 AM then the slave got dressed to go to work. When I woke up I was in total ecstasy, completely satisfied both from the sexual point of view and, and more importantly, from the point of view of my total sadism and domination.

Sam sent me a message to thank me for the wonderful evening. As for sissy slave m, Upon returning from work, having given up his male costume, he literally threw himself at my feet swearing his eternal and unconditional and absolute love …

Truly a glorious day and night for me and in perfect symbiosis with my sissy husband!
Thanks for your patience Scarlet!
A big hug
Mistress Francesca

 A link to all my journals HERE, including:

Although I believe a little of what follows from Mistress Francesca’s slave-husband, sissy slave m,  is flawed, it remains a wonderful read. Following his wonderful comment, for the sake of a broad view, I will set out my thoughts.

Honoured Mistress Scarlet,
Some of Your blog followers define my slavery as strict and extreme. My slavery in probably strict but I don’t believe it is extreme.

I believe that a lasting stable relationship between a Mistress and a submissive and slave who is intimately aware of his role is never extreme (except of course common sense and the law): it should be exactly as the Mistress wants it. In my case it is so and this makes it perfect, however absolutely cruel and sometimes inhuman my condition may seem.

My relationship with the Mistress was born directly as a relationship with a BDSM background and was never in any way ‘vanilla’. When we met, the Mistress had already developed a strong interest in BDSM in an active role, which she manifested (more than now) also in daily clothing. We met at the college and immediately I fell in love with her and my BDSM fantasies (which I had since my adolescence) filled with her, whom I imagined as my cruel Mistress, almost always ending up masturbating by imagining myself at her feet.

We went out a couple of times and I showed myself as submissive as I could. At the third date she entered the topic by telling me that the only interest she had for me was to dominate me.

She was too independent and happy with her friendships and relationships to have a boyfriend and, as for sex, it excited her to dominate men but to get ‘fucked’ (she said just like that) only by real ‘stallions’ and certainly not by a guy like me. Obviously, I agreed to become her slave. Then began a relationship in which she called me only when she wanted to dominate me in a BDSM session. We met, she dominated me, cums and once satisfied, sent me home without even letting me masturbate.

I was more and more madly in love with her and begged her to allow me to see her more often and gradually she began to summon me to her house to do her housework and, starting from there, our current dynamic of total submission was triggered 24/7/365. A dynamic in which the Mistress saw her sadism, her absolute absence of scruples in inflicting the worst humiliations and tortures on me and the absolute absence of pity for me grows and I saw my deep submissive and slave nature nourish and grow as well.

She never allowed me to penetrate her, never gave me a blowjob and only three times, in the 19 years since I was hers, she masturbate me, on the three occasions when an ace of hearts came out in the chastity game of cards. However, I deeply believe that our relationship can be qualified as ‘love’. Certainly I love Mistress and I love her because she satisfies the deepest part of me that, since adolescence, has always longed to be subjected to a cruel dominatrix. (And mine was a wonderful childhood without trauma and between loving parents – if anyone wanted to know).

At the same time, the Mistress has shown me repeatedly that, while not hesitating in keeping me in constant and cruel submission under her heavy yoke, she cares about my closeness and my well-being. She supported and helped me in my studies and in reaching my professional position. She supported me when I lost my parents and when I was sick.
Moreover, even in the moments of the cruelest humiliation, while she is perhaps fucking her lover, I read in her gaze that, somehow, the lover passes by (to be replaced perhaps by another) while her slave, more and more submissive and increasingly humiliated, is destined to remain for her pleasure.

So I my slavery is strict, but i don’t think we can talk about ‘extreme’.

Of course, my mother-in-law, my sister-in-law and the two best friends of the Mistress are fully aware and involved in our ménage and, for them, I’m always and only the sissy slave; at the same time there are lovers of the Mistress who are often made aware of me (with my infinite suffering and humiliation and degradation). Furthermore, one of the Mistress’s pleasures is to leave me in particularly uncomfortable, humiliating, painful, boring or tiring conditions (or if possible all together) when she does not need me.

The Mistress then likes to invite ‘vanilla’ friends to the house and be served by me anyway, but in these cases I do it dressed as a man and the Mistress turns to me as, in the 50s, a husband would have turned to his wife who serves he and his guests devoted and smiling.

The Mistress, however, has total respect and consideration for my work and, on vanilla occasions with work colleagues, she behaves like a perfect lady and everyone is envious of me for my wonderful wife (if only they knows…)

Furthermore, while always remaining submissive and in a sissy and / or bondage version when we are at home, it may happen that the Mistress talks with me almost as a friend (a sissy fiend of course). Sometime (in rare occasions) she allows me some entertainment such as short surfing on the internet (now only on this splendid blog) or reading a book or similar.

The Mistress, does not subject me to the humiliating sessions of infantilism to which is subject, for example b.b. and, although sadistic, she punishes me in much less cruel ways than other Mistresses.

My condition of slavery, therefore, in not extreme. Is strict, is totalizing and is not at all easy to live. It is tiring, humiliating, frustrating and cruel; at the same time I am sure, every day that passes, that I cannot in any way escape the yoke of the Mistress and I adore her for her cruelty.
humbly
sissy slave m

So a wonderful account from sissy slave m, from his perspective.  I do think there are some flaws of logic such as when he writes, ‘………… believe that a lasting stable relationship between a Mistress and a submissive and slave who is intimately aware of his role is never extreme (except of course common sense and the law): it should be exactly as the Mistress wants it…….’ This is deeply flawed because there is no solid definition of what constitutes common sense. What is common sense to one person often is not to another, so common sense cannot be used as a yardstick or delimiter.

He also ends by saying that because he does not have to suffer enforced infantilism and he considers his Mistresse’s punishments not as painful as the most painful he reads about, his regimen is not extreme. Clearly this logic is obviusly flawed.

I think the huge flaw throughout is the sissy slave m, feels he must justify his regmimen is not extreme. But there is no need. Firstly no one who is worth anything is judging, and secondly as I wrote in an earlier blog post, ‘extreme’ is just about impossible to define.

So I am saying, sissy slave m, celebrate that as a true submissive you are under a regimen that  fills your soul and has you sleeping soundly every night, and care not one jot whether some judgemental others may label it is this or that. You do not have to defend or justify to anything to ANYONE! And, remember  there are thousands of unfulfilled submissives would swap places with you in a heartbeat!

Dear Scarlet, as promised I continue with the story of the celebrations for my 15th wedding anniversary.

On Saturday morning the slave woke me up at 7:00 as ordered. The heat of the last few days has led us, instead of a SPA day, to a boat trip (my mother’s idea). While at my home a specialized company had to assemble the altar in the garden for the renewal of the conjugal vows, the chairs for guests, the gazebo for the reception tables and the field kitchen. Not wanting sissy slave m to be seen by so many complete strangers, I decided on suitable accommodation for him.

I made him wear a big but plug, his hessian underwear, heavy tights, his new black spandex catsuit and a corset. He immediately began to plead wonderfully, understanding the torment of wearing these clothes for a long time and in the height of summer. I love these moments carnally! When he begs me with tears in his eyes, while I know full well that I will have no mercy toward him! Amused I slapped his face and continued his preparation.

I secured a leather hood on him, leaving his eyes and mouth visible. Then a posture collar. For his feet, ankle boots of almost two measures too small, with 18 cm heels; very uncomfortable and painful. Above, a long Victorian maid uniform with long sleeves. Rounding out all heavy chains on the wrists and ankles. So prepared, I posted him in the attic where I made him arrange the ironing board with the laundry of the last days to iron, including that of the mother, my sister and my friends. A really huge amount.

He tried to beg me not to leave him dressed like that, saying it would be so hot and unbearable. I enjoyed his entreaties and then silenced him and brought him something to drink during the day. Days ago, I left in a jug of tap water a pair of my dirty socks (used several times to play sports) and a pair of my specifically used panties. Saturday morning I brought the jug to the sissy explaining that from now on, this type of cocktail will be the only thing you can drink. I spat a couple of times into the jug and threw my just used, after urination in the bathroom, toilet paper into it. The sissy’s look of despair was priceless and cannot be described Scarlet! An incredible power rush, combined with an incredible sense of decadent cruelty and absolute power rushed through me. With tears in his eyes, he responded with a sad and desperate ‘thank you mistress’.

While I would be on a boat with my mom and the girls, he would have to iron all our clothes in chains, in the torrid attic. Once an hour he could go to the jug, fill his cock-shaped bottle with the contents and drink. He could only use the toilet in the attic once.
Once he had finished ironing he had to go to the corner and wait for my return. I let him lick the soles of my shoes and I left him, desperate, subjugated and dismayed at his sad job.

The day was splendid! The boat that Mum had hired took a splendid tour of some islands just off the coast. A wonderful day of sun, sea and beautiful female company, made even more wonderful by the thought of the poor sissy slave m. working in his humiliating state, suffocated by the heat and the cruel weight of his slavery regime and with only dirty water to drink!

Upon returning home around 04:00 PM, beaming, I found sissy slave m. in the corner of the attic, desperate, humiliated, tired, subjugated and submissive. Just the way I like it! Before freeing him I took a refreshing shower and rested for an hour on the bed in my air-conditioned room, leaving the slave in his cruel sauna. Only around 7:00 pm I brought out the poor slave. At my order to get out of the attic he threw himself at my feet to thank me with total and absolute passion.

So I allowed him to get out of his clothes and I took him to the bathroom, where I made him beg me to piss in his mouth and he had to take a freezing shower. The thanks of my poor slave, combined with his oaths of absolute love, devotion and submission, have shown me once again how symbiotic our relationship is and how poor that pathetic slave needs my cruelty to be free! Obviously I masturbated again!

I then checked the slave’s work and found 23 imperfections (few compared to the amount of clothes) that I rounded to 30, for 30 cane strokes.

I went into the garden, checking that everything was ready for the next day, letting sissy prepare a light dinner wearing only a short waitress uniform and low Mary Jane shoes (how much he thanked me for this, poor slave).

After he served me dinner, another surprise. In fact, I ordered him to throw the leftovers in the trash, instead of in his bowl, specifying that later, if I had been happy with his service, he could have recovered the leftovers from the bucket and eat them. Cowed by humiliation, he replied ‘thank you Mistress.’

So both me and sissy got ready for the evening. I wear only sexy underwear and beautiful very fetish mules with extreme heels and platforms. For the sissy, an outfit specially designed for the occasion. Obviously the inevitable corset, then a delicious pink satin sissy dress with a high lace neck with a cute satin fixed bow at the front. A very deep, double-layered glass-silk frill that starts at the front of the bodice then over the shoulders to the back of the dress. Over sized puff-sleeves of see through glass-silk and trimmed with double pleated wide glass silk. The waist-line that on the chest and a matching Prissy petticoat ensures a stunning prissy sissy look. The skirt is full and has an abundance of frills from the waist down, and shows a cheeky glimpse of matching pink panties and pink stocking tops. Wrists and ankles are connected by mincing ribbons made in shiny, soft satin, the wrist and ankles cuffs firmly locked, they also have sissy bells on the cuffs. On the feet a pair of pink slippers with frilly marabou cover. On the head is a fuchsia bob wig, very long false eyelashes and strong makeup. A perfect sissy!

The humiliation was not over yet! I put on his head a headband with small cocks that come out, a necklace made of fake beads interspersed with small cocks and a pair of earrings also in the shape of a cock. These are the items I mentioned to you bought on that site of fun accessories for hen parties… Unfortunately, the cock-shaped rings for me and the girls have not arrived …

Sissy slave m hates these additions, especially when she needs to serve more people in this way, and in looking in the mirror she had a deep sigh of humiliation, which obviously excited me a lot. I therefore enjoyed raging on him, reminding him of how miserable his condition is and how increasingly oppressive and heavy the yoke he is forced to carry is.
And here we are! I free and happy to live my life to my complete liking and he reduced to a pathetic species of sub-human creature, the last and most abject of slaves and sissies, whose living conditions are destined only to get worse.

In the meantime, it was 10 in the evening and the girls arrived. Tonight Mum wasn’t there. She is 65 years old and wanted to rest for tomorrow. After welcoming my guests with reverence and kissing their shoes and licking their soles, the evening began.

The girls went free, they too only in underwear and extreme heels, and we started chatting more and less to warm up while the sissy slave delighted us with back or foot massages, in the interval between which he served us delicious cocktails. All the while we have alternated towards the sissy, the most complete indifference with very heavy mocking of him and his miserable condition of slave in perpetual chastity and submission. After an hour the alcohol started to take effect.

The slave found himself subjected to more ‘intense’ attentions, given that at each service rendered, or even just on a whim, we all began to slap him, and to spit in his face and to cover him with the most cruel insults while he, the only sober, tried desperately to indulge his cruel tormentors. Obviously the evening was not over. At midnight, in fact, the show of the strippers began! An idea from my friend Aurora.

Five splendid boys with statuesque and wonderful physiques, who danced for a long time for us, undressing and leaving us blessed with their splendid bodies. We girls got very excited to see these splendid specimens, while sissy slave m. he had to watch the show kneeling on chickpeas, while the five boys laughed at him and, incited by us girls, insulted and humiliated him.

When the strippers left, we had the sissy slave m stripped and bent it forward on the sofa. So, in turn, we started whipping him and masturbating until we orgasmed at least 2 times each. We then said goodbye and made an appointment for the morning for the renewal of the marital vows and further adventures with sissy slave m.

Left alone with him, I offered him my hand to kiss and he, surprised by this honor, began to kiss my hand like a holy relic swearing to me his eternal love. Satisfied I said to him, with cruel condescension, “good sissy!” At these words he burst into tears and, throwing himself at my feet, he began to thank me with extraordinary transport.

So I ordered him to tidy up the room, clean the kitchen and eat my leftovers from the bucket. Then he could go to sleep in his (still for a little) room.
Tomorrow is another day…
To be continued

And finally Sunday has arrived. A long glorious day, of which I will try to give a more concise but faithful description that is possible. I apologize if this report is a bit long, but it was a long day!

15 years is a nice milestone for any wedding and it is a great satisfaction to see how strong the bond is after all these years and how sissy slave m. got used to my particular type of married life … certainly also helped by the training received previously! As anticipated, a small stage was set up in the garden of my beach house, with an arch of orange blossom and a red carpet.

My teacher of life and domination, Mistress Ingrid, carried out the celebration of the ceremony. Mistress Ingrid is a wonderful Mistress of German origin, who moved to Italy very young and was active as a professional dominatrix in my city for many years. She is now almost 70 years old and has long since retired to a private life with her slave husband, much younger than her (55 years old). She is a woman of such charm that anyone she desires falls to her feet, and this still at her age!

When I started venturing into the Femdom universe, I immediately started looking for who, in my city, could share this passion with me, which later became a lifestyle, and could teach me something. I started searching the net, on various ad sites, and, amidst many disappointments and some frights, I met her. She taught me a great deal about what I know and, even today, I have infinite affection, respect and gratitude towards her. Like a second mother. The guests, of course, besides Mistress Ingrid were:
My mother,
My sister Maria,
My best friends, whom you now know well, Aurora and Tiziana,
Mistress Carmen (a friend of mine, a Mistress form a city in southern Italy, where she lives as a queen with her husband / slave, wealthy businessman),
Mistress Laver, an active transsexual Mistress of Brazilian origin, known when I trained sissy slave m to forced bi, and with whom I stayed in contact,
Giulia and Stefania, two of my friends, known in ‘Vanilla’ social fields who have shown considerable interest in the Femdom universe, have started games on the subject with their husbands and have become, on my indication, assiduous readers of your blog and your manuals.

When all the guests settled in the chairs, Mistress Ingrid nodded and I made my entrance with the poor slave. I was wearing a splendid white silk dress, with a light train, very low-cut on the back and on the front, and with a very long side slit to fully show my long and turned legs. At the feet beautiful white braided sandals, with 10 cm heel. On the right hand a riding crop. Sissy slave m on my leash.

To emphasize his ex-male status, now totally feminized, and BAV, I thought of a sissy bride dress. On the site where I buy most of my sissy’s clothes I found this dress that is called, precisely, ‘virgin bride’.             https://shop.eblue.com/details/sat199?ref=thesissystore.com

(sissy slave m. was much more ridiculous and pathetic than the splendid model in the link!
Upon our entrance, the guests made a brief applause that accompanied us to the altar. I looked at the expression of Giulia and Stefania, the newbies, and I saw their surprise, but also their expressions amusing and not at all embarrassed! Of course, I had no doubts about the other guests! Upon reaching the altar, Mistress Ingrid ordered the sissy to kneel and the ceremony begins.

Mistress Ingrid, therefore, started: “Dearest Francesca, you brought your slave here before these witnesses so that your dominion over him will be formally consecrated again on the 15th anniversary of your marriage. You subdued, trained and enslaved this creature and consecrated it to the worship of Your dominion only, you deprived it of its original masculinity, humiliated in sissyfication and brought him back to the virginal state. So, with marriage, you gave legality and made its servile condition irreversible.”
“And you, useless pathetic worm, you had to undergo your total submission and deprivation of all rights by virtue of the superior right and power that Francesca has over your nature of sissy slave and you will have to live, for this, an existence of servitude, pain, humiliation and frustration!”
“Now, on the fifteenth anniversary of the legalization of your union, I ask Francesca to confirm her intentions and the sissy to take note of her condition again. Francesca, are you determined to keep this useless slave with you without anyone having forced you and fully aware of the meaning of your decision?”
“Yes!” I replied happy!
“Slave, are you aware that your will is irrelevant and that you have no chance to escape your slavery condition?”
“Yes Mistress!” The sissy replied humbly, aware of the irreversibility of her condition but, I think, also happy with this. So, at the invitation of Mistress Ingrid, I cast my vote:
“I Francesca, I confirm you sissy slave m., as my slave. I promise to dominate you and subjugate you and submit you, for my pleasure and your pain, for my joy and your despair, for my narcissism and your humiliation and for my lust and your frustration as long as I have desire!”
In turn, sissy slave m expressed his vow, with his head bowed, red in the face of humiliation and trembling with emotion but, I’m sure, also super excited, despite his cruel cage.
“Venerable Mistress, thank you for keeping this useless and pathetic slave under the yoke of your cruel rule. My whole existence is dedicated to submission to You, goddess and queen, and to suffer any cruel living conditions in order to remain in your divine presence!”

Sissy slave m, therefore, prostrated himself to kiss me devoutly and Mistres Ingrid said:
“I confirm you Mistress and slave! You may whip the sissy! ” At these words, with the riding crop, I dealt 15 symbolic blows on the slave’s butt.
A sincere applause started spontaneously from the guests to mark the happy conclusion of the ceremony.

So I got off the stage, with the sissy on a leash, and I dedicated myself to the congratulations of the guests. In Italy there is the tradition that guests kiss the bride and in this circumstance we have kept it, with a little fun modification.
The guest approached, congratulated me and we kissed each other on the cheek with a small hug. Then each addressed the slave with an insult of some kind (worm congratulations, cockroach wishes or the like) spat on his face or slapped him and, therefore, the humiliated sissy, kissed the feet of the guest on duty.

Mistress Laver, of course, demanded that the sissy also kiss her cock through the dress, for the greater humiliation of the sissy, while Giulia and Stefania, after an initial hesitation to insults, let themselves go without problems, amused by the situation.

After this phase, therefore, the guests and I went to the appetizers and sissy slave m, removed the veil and put on an apron and a maid’s crest, brought fresh drinks from the fridge and headed for the field kitchen to complete the lunch preparation. The company that assembled the kitchen yesterday had prepared the appetizers to be kept in the fridge, the sauces for the first courses and had set the second courses, as well as preparing the desserts. Sissy slave m, therefore, only had to cook the pasta (we are still Italian!) and the main courses and serve on the table.

While sissy slave was preparing lunch, we talked amiably about friends, and I especially noticed Giulia and Stefania hanging from Ingrid, Carmen and Laver’s lips … I fear that their husbands will have some surprises in the near future! When lunch was ready, sissy slave m served us on the table. Smoked salmon, seafood salad and prawn cocktail as appetizers.
Spaghetti with clams first. Baked sea bass and fried fish per second, with a side dish of salad and baked potatoes. Lemon sorbet, cake, fruit and coffee.
All washed down with Franciacorta sparkling wine ‘Ca del Bosco Rosè’ is wonderful Scarlet, it costs enough (less than a champagne of the same quality) but it is very good. A wonderful lunch, which we girls enjoyed, served by sissy slave m in chains and, of course, on an empty stomach.

During lunch several times we had a good time, between courses, to call him under the table to lick each of our shoes and soles (and I am sure, from his desperate expression, that Laver also offered him more to lick under the tablecloth). Even Giulia and Stefania, after an initial hesitation, took confidence and, more and more often, it was they who called the sissy to order her to fill their glass, or to have it at their feet or, after a short time, to spit it out in full face and humiliate him with gestures and words. Each of the girls, then, had received, on arrival, a small riding crop, with permission to use it on the slave during lunch.
Therefore, when lunch was over, when it was past 4:00 PM, we decided to take a walk but, before that, many of us had to use the bathroom. So I set the example.

Sissy slave m was stripped, with the exception of the corset, stockings and shoes (and of the collar wrists and anklets of course). I took him to the opposite side of the house, in the outdoor shower that is located there, where I made him lie down and, happy and satisfied, I pissed in his face, enjoying my power and my supremacy. I left him there, tired humiliated and defeated, and I told the girls that anyone who wanted could take advantage.

Aurora and Tiziana, of course, were the first, even together, followed by my sister Maria and Mistress Carmen. So Laver got up (and again, from her expression, I think the sissy had direct contact with his cock). Mistress Ingrid, who never loved pissing, passed and so did my mother (I think for the presence of too many people) also my friend Stefania declined, while Giulia, to my surprise (and my great pleasure) got up and went to make her first pissing on a slave!

I resumed the sissy, defeated by the humiliation, and brought it back to the girls, who had to thank for the honor. So I gagged and sent him to tidy up and wash the dishes and the kitchen, while we took a walk by the sea. Upon our return, around 6:30 PM, an exhausted sissy slave m awaited us for the continuation of the evening. We sat in the garden.

Sissy slave m was completely stripped and washed with a stream of cold water, then left on his knees to dry in the setting evening sun. Then, called back to our presence, he delighted us with splendid foot and back massages, while we discussed more and less, interrupted only when to insult, mock, humiliate or punish the poor desperate slave.

We decided to let Giulia and Stefania experience the joys of torturing a slave sissy. We went back into the house and, in the attic, we tied sissy slave m standing, legs spread by a spreader bar and hands tied above the head to the ceiling, and Mistress Ingrid and I started. Me behind with the flogger and Mistress Ingrid in front of torturing the nipples of the sissy with toothed clamps, tweezers and the like. All totally ignoring the pleadings of the sissy, soon tinged with tears, but turning to my friends almost novices as if the slave did not exist but was just an experiment dummy.

Little by little they took courage and took turns whipping the sissy and torturing his increasingly sore nipples. We went on for a long time, alternating with the flogger and the nipples, until the poor slave began to tremble convulsively in despair and, at that point, happy and excited, we stopped the torture to go down for a drink to refresh ourselves, bringing with us the poor slave on his knees.

It was therefore the moment again for the sissy to devote herself to the adoration of the shoes and feet of her superiors. The hour was beginning to be late and, therefore, my mother, accompanied by my sister, Mistress Ingrid, Mistress Carmen, Giulia and Stefania took leave, not before having asked for a humble thanks from the slave for the attention paid, and not before to have spit in his face and to have insulted him properly. We embraced and said parting words to each other happy and satisfied. Aurore and Tiziana stayed with us a little longer to relax with the slave to act as a footrest and then they left too. Last Laver, who asked me, before leaving, to be able to use the slave and, as you can imagine, I immediately consented, especially after the sissy began to implore me desperately not to do it!

Laver then brought sissy slave m into the guest room and left it after twenty minutes, visibly pleased, while my poor sissy slave followed her like a puppy dog, aching and with a very sad expression of despair and disgust. I also said goodbye to Laver and prepared the sissy for the final surprises.

First, I announced that I no longer considered him worthy of sleeping in a real room, not even the service room, and that therefore we would have obtained in the basement of my city house and in the attic of the house by the sea, two small cells, and that he would have slept there for the future, when it was not subjected to worse conditions. Exhausted from the day and aware that my sentences do not call for an appeal, he lowered the case and replied “yes Mistress”. So I took it to my bedroom and, after gagging it, I tied it to the ankles, above and below the knees, the thighs and with the hands tied to the wrists and elbows behind the back. So i made him crawl under the bed. After a short time Federico arrived. The skipper of the boat with which we made the trip yesterday, with which I celebrated my wedding night to the fullest, fucking him and cumming no less than 7 times, also for the awareness of the humiliating position of the sissy. Federico cumms twice very copiously in two condoms that, as soon as my lover left, sissy slave m, finally untied, had the honor of emptying.

Exhausted, satisfied and happy, I decided to let the sissy sleep at the foot of my bed and let him lick the soles of my feet to thank me for the evening and the weekend of celebrations. I slept with an angelic sleep, while sissy slave m. fell asleep after long sobs of fatigue, pain and humiliation.

The following morning, however, I received his whatsapp from the office.
I transcribe it to you in Italian, I’m sure you’ll understand it:
“GRAZIE PADRONA, TI AMO IMMENSAMENTE! IL TUO SISSY SCHIAVO”

THANKS MISTRESS, I LOVE YOU IMMENSELY! YOUR SISSY SLAVE

I affectionately embrace you and your wonderful readers!
Thank you very much and see you soon!Ciao
M. Francesca

A wonderful update from the amazing  Christine M. I think one element of her real life, which is very many submissives’ ultimate fantasy, (1),  is having zero option to negotiate, AND (2), zero leeway for failure to comply EXACTLY with instructions without serious punishment resulting.

I recall in the early days of bitch-boy introducing me to femdom, he talked about reading of this style of regimen as being very affecting. I confess I lack the attention to detail to apply such a regimen all the time, but on the occasional day I do so, I find it VERY AROUSING and I can see how deeply it pushes bitch-boy into subjugation and awe of me.

David has now been added to the BAV register.

Christine M – Latest Developments – August 2020 

I thought I would update your readers on David’s current situation which has been adjusted over the past few months.

Before I do, I would first like to address some of the concerns raised by a couple of readers. David is made of stern stuff. He is physically and mentally very strong. Yes, I drive him very hard, but I never push so hard as to ‘break him’. He is actually pretty unbreakable, and deep down he needs my ‘care’. I carefully observe his health and stamina at all times and pull back if he is too exhausted. This applies to punishments too. I am not interested in causing lasting harm.

I also make sure his career is never jeopardised. David is someone who has always thrived on less sleep than most people. Thus, the times when I might appear to deprive him of sleep, are well within his physical capabilities, if not those of others.

I might further stress, that when we introduced Linnex, we tried it on a non-sensitive skin area first. We then graduated to a small dab on his gristle. Over time this was increased to the level we are at today. One must always be careful. Everyone is different and one must always start with great caution.

It takes a very strong mental character, albeit a rather unusual one, to undergo a strict, life-style disciplinary regime. The submitting partner forgoes many pleasures, pleasures they still desperately yearn to enjoy. They would change many aspects if they could, but of course, they CAN’T. In a sense they choose these restrictions and though they often hate them, they know they need them. There is also the dichotomy, they are ‘excited’ to be in the control of a dominant partner, knowing they have no say in these matters. This latter aspect is a core value.

In my husband’s case, when we met, I doubt he was smitten by my looks, but he clearly needed a dominant woman in his life. He was, and remains, a handsome, athletic man who looks younger than his age. In those days, he was active and sporting; played golf (including the 19^th hole!), cricket and tennis; was a regular Scuba diver and loved to take part in anything ‘adventurous’ e.g. skydiving, bungee jumping, he’d done both. He was single and quite gregarious, he dated attractive ladies; and with me being significantly older than him, and far from glamorous; to his friends, I am sure it must have seemed an odd relationship.

He explained that he had an unappeasable ‘need’ to be strictly raised in a manner that might have befitted someone in an ultra-strict Victorian household. Our lifestyle evolved from him initially sharing his desires and detailing what he understood as ‘ultra-strict’. He fantasised about having to do exactly as he was told or be severely punished; which is where we are now.

The Victorians designed and patented many extreme devices to prevent masturbation and were equally fervent with their punishments for same. The latter included fiery chilli caps and hot mustard and bran poultices. We might also note that their punishments in general were most severe. I have never read of a teacher from those times asking whether a culprit would prefer if he whipped him a little less harshly! Punishments were meant to hurt and hurt they did. They also practised petticoat discipline and many a boy found himself in a velvet little Lord Fauntleroy suit!

Our regime is therefore innately safe and consensual. David is submissive only when in the presence of a truly dominant woman and he needed a relationship where he felt he had to submit, one in which he was dis-empowered. This has created a lifestyle that not many could cope with. Proverbially speaking, the line had to be drawn, and if he so much as stepped over it by 1 mm, he would suffer dire consequences. In our very early days if he was told to do something, he would be like a child at school. He needed to know that if he didn’t do it, he would in fact be punished. He quickly learnt!

For David it provides restrictions he loathes, but this is preferred to a life without domination. Consider the below aspects of what this entails.

With the above said, his recent Covid-19 regime changed after about 6-weeks; partly due to government restrictions being eased, meaning he goes into the office again, though there is still no air travel; but mostly the changes were made to suit me. Updating from my prior email in which I detailed this, changes are summarised as follows:

1.  His hard chastity lockdown has been extended for a further 6-months and will not be reviewed again before February 2021. He has now been in permanent chastity, without hope of release, for 6-months; and has at least another 6-months to go. This means no milking either! As I mentioned above, when we first met and explored his fetish desires, chastity was at the top of the list. He related tales of Victorian measures to curb onanism and even had some old copies of a magazine Scarlet has referred to before, Madame in a World of Fantasy. This had some wonderful letters on strict chastity regimes. I guess he should be really pleased that his past fantasies have been so well fulfilled, though I fear he is regretting such shares! Fantasy and reality can be so different.
2. The weekly cleaning routine for his appendage, followed by a Linnex application has stopped. This became a chore for me and, since the Linnex is so effective at encouraging good behaviour, it became obvious that I needed to reserve it for punishments only.
3. The scrub down of the toilets, laundry, porch and kitchen are now only required once a day, in the evening.
4. His muzzle is now only worn on my whim, it does not go well with his updated maid’s attire.
5. He is no longer confined to the house, but he may only leave when he is in my company or when going to work.
6. His previous daily written assignment is now only required on Saturday and Sunday mornings; though he may be excused if we are going out. It remains the same Latin prose. This is to make up for him ‘missing out’ on his written travel assignments.
7. When he returns home from work each evening, he must immediately change into his maid’s uniform. He is still acutely embarrassed about this.

The latter requirement has led to a changed dynamic in our relationship, since I have revelled in stripping him of his masculinity. He now wears his chastity device permanently. Last year, I changed him into a Lori 12a, in which a full erection is impossible, and I can tease him mercilessly and not worry about him accidentally ejaculating. He does get the occasional night-time emission, which I believe is more than enough to keep his ‘pipes clean’; and since this occurs in his sleep, there is no pleasure derived.

Since he no longer travels by air, he has been wearing this for a greatly extended time. I do hygiene checks and I am sure he would report to me if he had any issues. We have found it causes no chafing and that he can keep everything clean without removing it. So, it is rarely removed! As an aside, since he always looks so distressed when I do remove it; I find it amusing to tease him about how much comfort it must give him, before promising that he’ll soon be locked back inside it. Mind you, the only reason it’s been removed of late is for the Linnex!

To create a further disconnect, he now wears a pair of vintage-style, tight-fitting girdle panties at all times, even to bed. They are a long-leg, high waist design with a front and rear panel made of a thicker, non-stretch fabric (satin in some pairs). These panels flatten and smooth out the butt cheeks, and the frontal view! Coupled with the design of his cage, one does not see the slightest evidence of an unsightly bulge!

When referring to his appendage, he is required to exclusively refer to it as his ‘lickle winky tinky’. This he must do regardless of company (or avoid any reference to it at all). He knows that if I overhear him using any other term for it, he will deeply regret it. Of course, I laugh uproariously when he mentions his lickle winky tinky. It’s hard to appear manly when dressed as a housemaid and referring to one’s lickle winky tinky!

A final change has been for him to wear dark-coloured seamed stockings (no socks) during the day. He has to be careful when going out, or at work, to be decorous and not allow his trousers to ride up when seated. His daytime pantie girdles have six garters to hold up his stockings. These can show through his trousers or jeans, especially when sitting down, which he finds acutely unnerving.

He is of course frustrated beyond belief! I spend time teasing him every day, whether it be just a few strokes of his nipples, a gentle caress while he works, or a full-on teasing session in bed. This sends him up the wall. He describes it as the ‘sweetest torture’. He yearns for, and revels in, the teasing; yet it also drives him almost insane.

He explains that it leaves him with an absolute and totally encompassing NEED to come. His whole world simply becomes an intense mix of indescribable rapture, wrapped up in the most agonising torment of being unable to explode in a joyous release. I will also taunt him about his lickle winky tinky and wonder whether it will ever get to release again, or whether it might shrink from being locked up for so long. I fondle his groin and tease him about how I can’t feel anything at all, if he doesn’t have a stiff lickle winky tickle I can’t see what all the fuss is about.

He will tell me how he can’t cope, and he simply has to come! He can’t be denied for another minute never mind 6-months. I smile and take perverse pleasure in reminding him that we will only be reviewing the possibility of recommencing his release program in 6-months’ time, not giving him a release! On review, he might be provided with a further 6-months’ extension. And even when we do reconvene his release program, his spreadsheet currently only gives odds of a release every four months; so, it might still be four months or more before he draws a release!

He needs this teasing to maintain his deep reverence, and I enjoy teasing him immensely. He often sobs aloud since his craving to come actually becomes painful. Despite this, when I cease my ministrations, he always wants more, even knowing he’ll not be allowed a release. Regardless, I abruptly stop and advise, “That’s enough, it doesn’t look like your lickle winky tickle is going to rise to the occasion!” This is maddening for him given it is impossible for it to rise up in its prison. It is usually then time for him to slip down and pleasure me, his tears of frustration only serving to arouse me more.

A few comments from me before another update from the fantastic Francesca.

First, I will comment that Francesca’s lifestyle and equipment may seem unbelievable. But if (1), I had the funds and (2), I had no interest in the vanilla company of bitch-boy because I secured that mode of companionship from another, then I would be doing EXACTLY as Francesca, with zero guilt or mercy. These things are very, very arousing and satisfying. And bitch-boy is capable of all the constructions involved as it happens.

And the camera in every room and cell and slave hole; I would do and adore that. I use a baby monitor in several circumstances and the multiple feelings produced when remotely watching  the discomfort of the slave from a comfortable bed or sofa while watching TV or reading or on the phone are delicious. Decadence, wanton cruelty, relaxation, exhilarating pitilessness, languorous huge orgasms, contentment and satisfaction with life, unashamed depravity and perversity.

I have a demountable dog cage which is very practical as it folds down and can be stored under a bed. I have not used it for a long time now, preferring having bitch-boy in hours of total sensory deprivation bondage, plus Linnex, plus piss ice chunk in the funnel gag, watched by the baby monitor. But Francesca’s post has me thinking about covering the entire floor of the dog cage with coir matting. Poor bitch-boy would be naked except for some bondage and possibly a blindfold, so he would not even know if I was in the room in which he is caged.

I would occassionally glance in his direction and watch as he found it impossible to find a comfortable position on the sharp bristles of the matting and listen to the sweet background noise of his miserable, whining and desperate panicky pleading. But he would have to keep the volume DOWN! OR ELSE he stays in an extra twenty minutes from each time I tell him to lower his volume.  I would be reading a book, doing crafts, watching TV etc.  And he would become more and more and more miserable and emotional but have to maintain his controlled very low volume. 

Anyway, I digress! Here is Francesca’s fascinating and hot latest update.

Dear Scarlet
After a few days of hard work, finally, sissy slave m. finished building his new bedrooms and the two surprises I had in mind for him in the garden!
First, the slave bedrooms.
My house has a large basement (where is located my dungeon) that is accessed by a staircase. The area under the staircase was empty and was unused. I made sissy slave m. work there. As anticipated in a comment, the grandfather of sissy slave m. was a builder and had a carpentry hobby. When the sissy was a young boy, his grandfather took sissy with him and taught him a lot and sissy had later cultivated the hobby. So he’s pretty good at these things.

I made him build, set against the wall under the staircase, a series of shelves and uprights in board for constructions (quite resistant), as deep as the staircase itself (80 cm). At the center of the structure, at the bottom, I had a space 160 cm x 80 cm x70 cm left between the uprights and shelves, closed outwards by an aluminium jail door with bars, ordered from a blacksmith, which I said was needed for a big dog. This is the new sissy room/cell.
In addition to the lock, I added a sensor to the door connected to the home alarm, which has a dual function. It can be activated to sound an alarm if the door is opened or it can record the times of each opening and closing of the door. It is very useful because I can leave the lock open at night, so that sissy can get up to go to work, without fear of unwanted and unrecorded exits.

I also installed in the cell, and in every room of the house, micro cameras, also suitable for night vision, connected to my mobile phone with an app. (they are conveniently sourced on the Internet at no more than € 40 each). From now on, I will always be able to control the slave from wherever there is a signal for the mobile phone.

On the cell floor and on the inside wall I had some rings installed to which the slave can be chained. I left the floor in rough concrete, with only a thin rubber mat on it. I had coir matting made to measure to be used as a floor covering at my will.

The whole area under the stairs around the cell is equipped as a wardrobe with shelves and hangers to hold the few men’s clothes and the whole sissy and bondage wardrobe of sissy slave m. (very much). The whole wall was then closed with wooden doors and, from the outside, it looks like a common built-in wardrobe.

The wooden doors are made so that the one in front of the cage can be removed.
In this way, everything can remain closed, with the slave inside and in the dark, invisible from the outside, or, always leaving the closet closed, the slave’s cell, with its contents, can be left in plain sight. A similar job I had the sissy do in the attic of the house by the sea.

As for the garden, I had sissy slave m dig. a deep cube-shaped hole lined with brick and concrete. The dimensions of the hole are 100 cm x 100 cm x 100 cm. The top cover consists of a double door. One, below, with aluminum bars, and one above with heavy metal, like a manhole. The heavy one can be left open and let you see the bars and the poor contents of the hole.

Both have a round opening in the center through which the slave’s head can pass; to leave it with only its head sticking out. These doors were made by a different blacksmith, here at the sea, very intrigued by the hole in the center, but who dared not investigate further at my icy gaze.

The closures of the holes in the ground also have, in addition to the lock, the same alarm system as the cells and also inside the hole there is a micro camera. The upper opening of the hole is in the center of a small concrete platform, made together with the hole, round, 3 m in diameter. A synthetic grass mat the size of the platform can be put on to completely hide any presence of the hole.

Above the platform I put a small table (just coinciding with the hole) and 4 chairs.
Everything, seen from the outside and when the synthetic grass carpet is positioned, looks like a platform made only to accommodate garden furniture and I think it will be very fun to have neighbours or vanilla friends as guests, and entertain them right there, with the slave closed inside, gagged and invisible to all. 

The execution of the works was very hard for the sissy. During the week, in fact, he had to wake up before dawn and work until the time he had to go to work, before returning from office and work again in the evening. Over the weekend, however, he worked at the beach house from sunrise to sunset without interruption.

His work outfit was: his hessian underwear, a corset, a leather hood, a pair of old wedge boots with a 15 cm heel and a 5 cm platform and, above, to cover everything, a heavy work suit. Of course, the inevitable collar and chains on the wrists and ankles. To drink only tap water, left to heat in the sun, with the addition of my pee and my spit. All drunk from his humiliating cock-shaped bottle.

It was incredibly exciting to see him work hard, with the torrid fall of the Italian summer, in that miserable condition, while I enjoyed the cool of my air-conditioned rooms or sunbathed, half-naked, in the garden! Several times I approached him to incite him or insult him or slap him or simply to deride him for his inhuman and desperate condition, enjoying immensely his implorations and sighs and sobs of effort and despair.
I confess that I have approached the guard level of daily masturbations.

After completing the work, the slave moved his wardrobe into the closet and moved to his new room. For this first night, I also added the ‘coir matting’. I do not intend to always leave the coir matting, slave must be able to rest, even if in his cell, to be able to serve me better, but he did not know it and, knowing me, he had reason to fear the opposite.

Entering the small cell that will be his room from now on, the slave was in tears and sighed in despair. As usual, however, when I inserted in the cage my foot, shod in a splendid very fetish mule, the slave rushed to kiss and adore my shoe thanking me, swearing his love, desperate for devotion and excitement.

I confess to you that the first night I struggled to sleep because I continued to watch on my mobile the miserable slave who tried to find a comfortable position in his new room!
I masturbated twice! The slave, on the other hand, struggled a lot to fall asleep because of his painful condition and, at some point, he also burst into tears, certainly of happiness, judging by how he adored me with even more enthusiasm than usual the next morning!

As for the hole in the garden, for now the slave has only tried it for a short time, let’s say a trial stay. At the exit he was so desperate and terrified of both the hole and me that I believe the experience was truly cruel. And this, as you know, excites me to death! I believe that during the next summer holidays, (the sissy office is closed in August), sissy slave m. will spend a lot of time in the hole … I’ll update you on this and more!
A hug dear Scarlet and always thank you for your wonderful Blog.

A wonderfully detailed account of the first event of full-on domination and humiliation of David involving Christine’s sister. I need say no more but thank Christine for providing the account and say I am very much look forward to the accounts of the following two days. 

Hello Scarlet

As you can see, I took on so much of what you advised, including the make-up which I said I would never do! My sister also came up with the idea, and with your thoughts in mind too, I decided to give it a go. I must say, as I mention below, I relish now watching him apply it, squirming in ignominy! 

The dialogue is obviously not verbatim, but I felt writing this way better expressed events as they happened. I will write later what happened on the next 2-days.

Christine

xxx

My sister came for a weekend visit about six weeks ago. This was to be a very special day for my husband! She came Friday evening and left Sunday afternoon. 

I had kept her visit a surprise for my husband, since this was going to be the first time anyone else saw him dressed in his maid’s attire. Scarlet had privately provided me with some wonderful ideas which I put fully into practice. I had a very challenging weekend planned for my husband! 

He had the Friday off work, so he was required to complete his current written assignment first up in the morning. I left him writing for an extra hour, releasing him from his task at nine o’clock. He had completed three copies in three hours, so all was good. I then advised him that he needed to iron his maid’s outfit, and that I wanted the house cleaned from top to bottom. I also told him I would like all the linen in the guest bedroom washed and ironed, telling him it needed a freshen up since we had not had guests for a while. I then gave him a list of specific chores for the day. He tried to supress a sigh when he saw the tasks ahead, but immediately showed the good sense to thank me and set about his work with gusto. 

He has been taught to curtsey properly and, when dressed as a maid, he must now curtsey whenever I enter the room he is in, or if he enters the room where I am. He must also turn to face me and curtsey politely before he leaves the room, or if he sees me leaving. He finds this acutely embarrassing and I generally ignore him, but he knows he dare not fail to comply. 

He completed his chores shortly before five o’clock, with my sister due at six. He was looking tired and dishevelled, so I told him to take a shower and, since his uniform was looking a little worse for wear, he should change into a clean outfit. He should then come find me in my bedroom for his next task. He dutifully complied, ironed a fresh tunic and curtseyed politely as he entered my bedroom. (Yes, he shares it with me, but it is my room!) I was seated at my dresser and curtly advised him to stand in front of the full-length mirror and practice his curtseys. 

I left him to that for perhaps ten minutes while I got ready, smiling as I occasionally glanced at him through the dresser mirror. He still had no idea what was about to happen. Finally, I stood and walked over to him and told him, “I am going to call you Daisy from now on, when you’re dressed so prettily.” He winced but knew better than to protest. I smiled as I gently played with his nipples, “I forgot to mention Daisy, my sister is arriving soon. She’s staying for the weekend.”  

The look of horror on his face is something I will never forget. It left me damp with excitement. Grinning now, I advised, “And before you ask, No, you cannot get changed… You are going to greet her dressed as you are right now…. I wonder what she’ll think….Do you think she’ll still think you’re the man of the house? Or might she think you look sweet? Or perhaps cute? …Or just plain ridiculous?” I teased him, “I haven’t told her about Daisy yet.”  

He begged and pleaded saying that I couldn’t possibly ‘expose’ him dressed as he was, while inwardly it was clear he was quietly fuming. “Oh, but I can,” I smiled, “and I am going to! I want you to stand there and look at yourself in the mirror and think about what she is going to say when she sees you dressed as my maid,… curtseying in front of her.” 

He continued to beg and plead, saying I couldn’t possibly be serious, his male ego at play now! I simply laughed as I ignored his concerns. “I want you to remain here Daisy, practicing your curtsey. I want it to be perfect when you greet her!” He was physically cringing and pleading and beseeching me not to do this, tears were forming in his eyes and he was turning his head to try and avoid my gaze; willing the floor to disappear and swallow him up, anything to end this nightmare he was facing. I simply toyed with his nipples again, “It’s happening Daisy!

When he rather forcefully announced it was outrageous, I sternly advised, “That’s enough Daisy!” I watched him continue to squirm and tremble. He was shaking like a terrified rabbit, his muscles were spasming and twitching uncontrollably. He couldn’t keep his body still. He was literally shivering to such an extent that his teeth were audibly chattering! All his muscles quivered of their own free-will, or was it ‘trapped-will’?  

I was indifferent to his quandary, in fact, I rather maliciously advised, “It is probably going to be far worse than you imagine when she sets eyes on you. She’s probably going to wonder what type of a weak-willed pathetic excuse of a man you are, isn’t she? …After all, only a real pansy would let his wife dress and humiliate him like this. She’ll have no respect for you.” He was struggling not to cry, but real tears were forming at my cruelty. I left him teary-eyed, shivering, teeth chattering, and practicing his curtsey as I got out my wand and pleased myself.  

Finally, the doorbell rang, and I walked over to him smiling, but with a sharp edge to my voice, and warned him, “Now, if you know what’s good for you; you had better come out when I call you. I am going to go open the door and let my sister in… And when we are ready, I’ll call for you…  

Oh… and If you don’t come out when I call, I will be applying Linnex all day Sunday, every hour on the hour, and I’ll rub it into your balls too!” His final words as I left the room were, “Please, Christine, please… You can’t be serious. You are just joking aren’t you? Trying to scare me? Please don’t make me come out like this. You’ve never done anything like this before, please…” I simply ignored him. 

I let my sister in, and we settled down with a coffee, before I shattered his hopes of it not happening. I called out, “Daisy, stop what you’re doing and come and greet our guest!” I had to call three times, but the vehemence of my voice eventually brought him out. He knew he had no choice and slowly, trembling and shaking his head, he entered the room. He was shaking worse now, blushing profusely, and holding back tears. I had of course briefed my sister and she was well prepared to mock him relentlessly and treat him with disdain.  

Despite being pre-warned, she burst into peals of laughter, that turned into a girlish fit of giggles when he curtsied as instructed. It was a good minute before she finally controlled herself and, while stifling her giggles, started to tease him about how pretty he looked and how useful it must be for me to have a maid. He was crimson. She was still struggling to stop laughing as she contemptuously advised him to make himself useful. In her most aloof manner, she ordered him to bring her things out of the car. 

It was an awful ordeal for him as she bossed him about. It took several trips out to the car. He first brought in a large suitcase, which he was told to put in the guest bedroom. There were then four very large, white canvas bags, to go in the laundry; followed by a bag full of nibbles, and wine to go in the fridge.  

Daisy was then dismissed to set the dinner table, prepare dinner and serve. He ate later, by himself in the kitchen. After our meal, we retired with our wine to the lounge while he was left to clean up the dining room, wash the pans and dishes, and scrub down the kitchen. Once finished, he entered the lounge and curtsied to us both, as my sister shook her head patronizingly. Blushing he asked if that would be all. 

“Yes,” snapped my sister, “we don’t want you hovering around like a clown while we catch-up. You can have an early night. Early to bed, early to rise for silly little maids!” It was twenty to nine and he was no doubt physically and, even more so, emotionally exhausted. My sister then added, “Since you’re having an early night, why don’t you make an early start on your written assignment too? Christine tells me you usually start at six o’clock on a Saturday morning, so let’s have you starting at five o’clock. I’m sure you’ll appreciate the chance to spend an extra hour on your assignment, won’t you?” He wilted as he fought to hide his despondency, curtseyed again and thanked her. She frigidly responded, “I’d like to hear a little more enthusiasm Daisy, and more gratitude! Christine and I are going to have to check your work, and an early start means more work for us to check! I can always make it a four o’clock start if you’re not excited enough by a five o’clock start! Would you prefer that?” 

I struggled to keep a straight face as he thanked her profusely. My sister was so very good at this, I could tell he was really scared of her! 

I then took control again. I couldn’t have my sister appearing stricter than me! “There’s just a couple of quick things I’d like you to do before you toddle off to bed… Firstly, I’d like you to turn down the guest bedroom. Draw the curtains, turn back the bed covers, fluff the pillows, vacuum the carpet and polish the wardrobe mirror. Then take the clothes out of her suitcase and iron them before you hang them up in the wardrobe or fold them away nicely in the chest of drawers. We can’t have our guest-of-honour wearing creased clothes, can we?”  

He simply looked on in dismay as my sister commented, “I’m afraid I brought a few changes of clothes as I wasn’t sure what the weather was going to do. I hope you don’t mind having to iron so many!” 

I continued, “When you have finished in the bedroom, it would be nice if you scrubbed down the guest bathroom, top to bottom, so everything smells fresh and clean…  

“Please Christine, I did that earlier this afternoon,” he interjected. 

“Yes, I know you did Daisy, but I’d like it done again! This is part of the guest room turn down service that you’ll do whenever  my sister comes over.” I could see him struggling as he quietly replied, “Yes Christine… Christine, I know you’ll want the vanity basin, shower and toilet scrubbed, but when you say top to bottom… do you mean I have to clean the walls, floor, shower screen, and inside the cupboards again, as well?” he asked timorously.  

“Isn’t that what I just said? I hope you’re not trying to be a lazy Daisy?” I smiled wickedly, “and don’t forget to iron the guest towels and bath robe too.” Since he had done all this work earlier, I knew he was really simmering away at these chores having to be completed again! 

Dejected, he curtseyed, thanked me and was turning to leave when, as an afterthought, I added, “Oh, Daisy, before you go… Since you’re having an early night, I think it might be a good idea if you’re seated at your desk by no later four-thirty am. That will allow you some time to relax your body and clear your mind before you start writing. We’ll be sleeping in, so you’ll very likely be writing until much, much later than usual, so you’ll want to be feeling fresh and alert.” We then totally ignored him, leaving him with his bleak thoughts of what lay ahead. We simply went back to chatting together, though I watched out of the corner of my eye to make sure he curtsied again before he left. 

My sister and I turned in around a quarter to eleven. I washed my face, brushed my teeth and put on a long-silk nightdress and sexy robe to check up on him. It was one of his favourites and I knew he found it achingly alluring for me to wear this. I found him finishing up in the laundry. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he admired me in my attire. I could tell he was really anxious to finish and cuddle up together in bed, a little pleasure caressing me and the slinky feel of the soft fabric on my body. Indeed, I have no doubt, he thought I was wearing this to please him, when in fact it was purely to tease him. 

I gently tweaked his nipples and laughed lightly, “I thought you said you were having an early night! My sister is already in bed and I’ll be in my bed in a couple of minutes too.” I smiled further as I then totally dashed his aspirations of cuddling up in bed, “Well, I’m very tired, it’s been a big day, so I don’t want to be disturbed with you coming in the room late! Especially, since you’ll be getting up at such an ungodly hour. You are going to have to sleep by yourself on the metal bed in my office. 

My demeanour then turned to ice as, like a warrant officer, I tersely ordered, “Now, listen carefully to your morning timetable. I am not going to repeat myself and I am not answering questions. Step out of line tomorrow, and you will be thrashed with the Dragon cane in front of my sister. (When we first met and discussed my husband’s fetishes, he had shared how he was turned on by the idea of regimentation and attention to detail. Something that was alien to him in his then current lifestyle. Little did he know, ‘detail’ was my middle name. I have always been a stickler for details, precision and perfection. Which in the early days was painful for him!) 

“Before you go to bed, you need to put a load of washing on delay start, so it is finished by four o’clock. You are to take this out of the machine and put it in the dryer; then put another load in to wash BEFORE you sit down at your desk. I have set your wake-up call to 3-45 am so you have plenty of time. 

You have further alarms starting at four-thirty am. You are to be seated, hands on head, back straight BEFORE that alarm rings! YOU WILL SIT LIKE A STATUE THROUGHOUT YOUR MEDITATION PERIOD! I shall be fast forwarding the video footage, and if I see so much as a twitch, you’ll deeply regret it! (He is allowed no watch and there are no clocks in ‘my office’ nor in the laundry (or kitchen); so he has to make sure he is seated on time by ‘guessing’ how long he takes to do things. This places immense nervous pressure on him and usually means he is in place much earlier than he needs to be. E.g. that morning he was actually in place at twenty past, meaning an extra ten minutes spent hands on head.) Alarms are set on his phone, which is to be kept face down at all times, so he cannot see the time. 

Five o’clock. Turn over your assignment and start writing. Write continuously, maintaining full detention posture, until the next alarm. That signals a fifteen minutes break. You are to again to be seated, hands on head, back straight BEFORE the end of break alarm sounds!… (He didn’t know this, but his break was set for 8 o’clock, so he would be writing for 3-hours before his first break. This is my normal time allocation for detentions and travel assignments.) 

During your break, you will want to visit the toilet and have a quick breakfast… More importantly… Take the clothes out of the dryer. Then take the washing out of the washing machine and put that in the dryer. Then put another load of washing on. That will ensure you have plenty of ironing ready when you finish your writing. As well as my sister’s laundry, there are a couple of loads of our laundry to do too, plus our bedding. So you have a big day ahead in the laundry.  

After your break, keep writing until told to stop. Now, I’ve had a very busy day and I’m really tired, so I’m off to bed.” I turned to leave him to his dreary chores, only to turn back and remark, “Of course you still need to clean up in the kitchen and lounge before you turn in. We made some crepes for supper and I’m afraid we made a bit of a mess, especially when the bag of flour got spilled. The lounge will need a quick vacuum too. There’s nothing worse than waking up in the morning and having to face a mess from the night before. (He well knew this meant both rooms had better be pristine when we arose! It also meant for the third time that day he would be on his hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor clean.) 

This time I did leave him to his desolate thoughts; all alone, knowing he had at least another hour to go before he could head for bed. And then he would have to rise before four, to face a lonely, cold, dark house and another long, hard day. I smiled, knowing he would be curtseying behind me, craving to have caressed me. Yearning for the warmth of my body. 

         As an aside, this was not a typical weekend, we usually have plenty of vanilla time at weekends. This was a rare and out of the ordinary event when I pushed him extra hard!  

I do so much love the decadence of being a lifestyle ‘Mistress’. When my sister and I decided to make some French crepes, like we used to make when we were teenagers, it was a genuine spur of the moment thing, and we most certainly didn’t set out to make a mess, (though we were on our second bottle of wine!) In our youth, we would have had to clean up the mess we had made, or faced cleaning it up in the morning, which everyone hates.  

Either option would have spoiled the fun of the moment. Whereas, with a maid to clean-up after us, it actually enhanced the fun. Instead of regretting the spillage of the flour, we could just giggle about how Daisy would be able to enjoy cleaning up before he went to bed! Even surveying the mess we had made just gave us the giggles. I emphasise, we didn’t make a deliberate mess, I am not that way inclined, I am too house proud; it just happened, but so what?… the point is, we didn’t have to clean up! 

I can’t imagine what his thoughts must have been. We had such a wonderful relaxing evening catching up. There was lots of laughter. David would have been able to hear us enjoying ourselves; while he was all alone, tired, toiling away at his tedious, repetitive chores, and dreading the next day!

Following on from my last post about a recent endurance by tiffanymaid, his Mistress now has a camera linked to her smart phone so she can monitor her maid when she is out of the home. It is fair to say this development has made things somewhat worse for tiffanymaid and added considerably to Mistress Serena’s dominant pleasure. I provide an account below.

Mistress Scarlet curtsy… a brief update. “You and your blog, (MsScarlet),  have quite an influence on the activities Mistress Serena imposes!”

Mistress, in the past week, i have been subject to

• my schoolgirl line writing (3hrs),
• Path of Humiliation (3hrs)…which was so hot in my pvc/hessian uniform we had to pull & peel the uniform from my body when finished, and,
• even more relevant we purchased a rubber paddle! ( Which as you pointed out to “Aunty” Joyce…does hurt intensely.

However, what has made the most major impact to O/our D/s, FLR has been a new camera monitor that is connected to Mistress Serena phone. In the three days since purchase, Mistress Serena has controlled me remotely from various locations, including when out on Her daily runs. She has embraced this development more than anything that has gone before, and finds it both arousing and a power rush. In turn, i am now “on duty” for longer periods and attentive at all times.

You are aware that I am cuckolded. Friday afternoon, Mistress left me a list of instructions before leaving to spend the evening and overnight with Her lover. 

• 16.00 Maid uniform, housework.
• 17.30 Schoolgirl uniform, line writing
• 20.00 Dismissed (meal break)
• 21.30-23.00 Gag, blindfold, sissy attire. Kneeling hands on head.
• 23.00 Instructions to be relayed for tomorrow, before dismissal.

I was already resigned to Mistress Serena spending the night with Her lover, and expected to be assigned household duties, however my heart sank when She presented me with Her/my schedule. Realising my entire evening was to be spent serving and monitored, I pleaded with Her to reduce the time, even if only by an hour or so. Her reply was instant “One more word out of order and it will be extended”. Again, my heart sank as I lowered my eyes and submitting to Her command, and thanked Her for Her kindness.

Mistress Serena displayed Her pride in Her plan, presented as She was preparing for Her date. She observed me in Her mirror, as i knelt, reading the schedule. She verbally reminded me of both my status and of Her evening ahead. “You will be humiliated and spend many tedious hours while I will be wined and dined before I get the pleasure I desire and you cannot supply”. My brief glance at Her in Her mirror, displayed what i took to be a smile, or smirk.

Trying to buy favour, I then set about preparing the attire and items required.

I recall two hours into my two and a half hours line writing, I was dismayed, subdued and my hand ached. “sissy schoolgirls must learn to respect their Mistress” was the line I had to repeat over and over. On the occasions I glanced at the clock, I wondered what my Mistress was doing, and indeed where She had gone for Her evening’s pleasures.

Mistress Serena told me that while she was away, she looked at the monitor four times. Twice during my line writing, twice early on during my kneeling tedium. She didn’t check thereafter, and my tasks for the following day where sent by text.

Mistress Serena has disclosed to me that the app has given Her an intense feeling of power and makes Her feel most aroused. The app allows conversation, Her words were short and direct. “Straighten up bitch” on one occasion, followed later by “I am watching you” and (laughing) “I have better things to do.”

On 20 August I posted Day 1 of Christine’s sister’s first involvement in a weekend of domination of David. Below is the account of day 2.

Before that though a couple of comments:

1. I love Christine’s comments to her sister, along the following lines, because I have made almost identical comments whenever I have introduced a new Domme into assisting me in using and abusing bitch-boy. “It gives me serious pleasure to see you treat him very badly. Just do whatever pleases you; be as mean and unfair to him as you wish. There are no limits, he won’t break!… And remember, this all started because this is what he asked for. He is especially scared of you so be absolutely as nasty as you can be!” 
2. A comment for Christine. I have my sissy maid well scented with perfume. The cheapest. most tacky perfume I can buy aimed at the teenager market. I can tell he associates the awful scent with the use and abuse in all the pasty times he has worn it. He truly HATES the scent of it.

Day 2

My sister and I got up about the same time and relaxed together with brewed coffee, fresh fruit and warm croissants. Since we can only have one shower used at a time, due to the water pressure, my sister suggested I shower first, while she looked in on Daisy. I thought this was a wonderful idea and, using the security camera, recorded events so I could later see his look of surprise.

Entering the study, she curtly told him, “Pen down! SIT UP… BACK STRAIGHT…. HANDS ON HEAD… NOW!” It was about a quarter past eleven, so he had been writing for just on six hours. He looked dazed and frustrated beyond belief, his bottom lip trembling. This was the longest he had ever spent doing this tedious written task. “How many?” she tersely enquired. With a quiver in his voice, he nervously advised he had completed six copies and had just started on the next. She picked up the pages and browsed through them while he looked on anxiously. “We’ll check these carefully later. You need to stop lazing around and get doing some chores. Get changed. Then come and find me. And be quick about it!” He was clearly shaking as he quickly reorganised the desk top and scurried out of the room, remembering first to curtsy graciously.

Afterwards, my sister shared how she so enjoyed the power rush it gave her to enter the room by herself and treat him so dismissively. Blushing a little, she confessed it was very arousing to feel the power she held. To see the look of total weariness on his face. How nervous he appeared, and then to think of the unfairness he must have felt, to be snapped at like he was and then sent rushing off to start a long day of strenuous chores; even though he must have been completely exhausted after six hours completing such a challenging written assignment… “I couldn’t do what he has to do; yet I don’t care, I actually really enjoyed being cruel and hurtful to him and imagining how distraught he must be feeling. I so understand why you do this! I am so glad you shared everything with me, and it is even more fun to be involved… I’m not going too far am !?”

I advised her that she was such a natural dominant and that it gave me intense pleasure to see her so involved, and then reassured her, “Please, just keep doing what you’re doing. It excites me to watch you treat him like you do. Just do whatever pleases you; be as mean and unfair to him as you wish. There are no limits, he won’t break!… And always, always remember, this all started because this is what he asked for.”

I felt no pity for him, just joy at sharing the experience with my sister, as I offered further advice on how to mistreat and bully him, before sharing my final thoughts, “I can tell he is especially scared of you and what you might make him do, since you are so much more detached from him than me. So be absolutely as nasty as you can be! I really enjoy treating him like this with you, we have always been so close, and I think this just brings us closer.”

It was to be another hard day for him. I had told my sister to bring all her washing over. That was the contents of the four large bags he had brought in out of the car. This meant plenty of ironing! He also had his normal weekend chores and he was sent out to clean and polish her car too, inside and outside. He was warned it had better look ready to go in the showroom by the time he was finished.

That was a very strenuous task, ‘polish on, polish off’ we had laughed at him as he had looked at us with despair in his eyes, on the verge of tears. It was his very best poor, poor, pitiful me – little boy lost look… please Mummy help me… please Mummy I am so tired, I need you to say that’s enough and give me a big cuddle… he was craving some compassion. To his mortification, in unison, we both just burst out laughing, ridiculing him, before I snapped, “Stop wasting time and get to work NOW,… and make sure you put some real muscle into your work! If I look out the window and see you are not working at a cracking pace… Believe me… I’ll give you something to really cry about!

It’s a very warm day, so I had better see you sweating profusely and huffing and puffing from your exertion!… Because if you’re not, I’ll assume you are taking it easy and then I’ll make you really suffer!” He looked so despondent and pathetic, trying hard to stifle the tears that started to fall down his cheeks, on the edge of breaking down into sobbing… though he did have the good sense to move with alacrity. I was feeling pitiless, and his breaking down in tears was just arousing me more and more. My sister expressed how aroused she was, observing the dynamic, pleased to be a part of it, and wanting to be harder on him too. Her chance was to come on Sunday!

My sister and I went out for lunch, while he enjoyed a stale caul fat sandwich, most certainly not something he enjoyed! Caul fat is the lowest grade of lard, obtained from the fat surrounding the digestive organs of pigs. My sister had brought this along. She knew full well my husband’s aversion to fatty meat from family BBQs. We had him video call us to watch him eat it! He was sniffling, and again teared up when he realised, I was fully supportive of my sister’s meanness. He wretched repeatedly as he forced it down. I felt sure some of his display was designed to make me feel sorry for him and excuse him from finishing his sandwich. Sadly, for him, his hopes for sympathy were met instead with peals of laughter, and sharp words.

         A little aside here. In the planning, I had introduced my sister to Mistress Scarlet’s web site, and also given her access to Mistress Scarlet’s Journals. Over several phone calls my sister had shown clear interest and enthusiasm in my regime and domination in general; and checked with me whether she could introduce some new ideas.  

We visited him shortly after four o’clock in the laundry. All my sister’s clothes had been washed and gone through the dryer and he had made a start on the ironing; but there was still plenty to go. Smiling I advised him, “We’ve been talking about your presentation as my maid. My sister feels you really need to wear a little make-up to improve the professionalism of your appearance.” He looked on aghast as I continued. “I have really not wanted to add make-up. I prefer you to look like a man who is clearly being petticoat disciplined… But my sister has presented a very strong argument for you wearing a little make-up. Mistress Scarlet thought this was a great idea too.

And I do like the idea of you taking a little extra time each day when you dress as my maid to look your very best. After all, you expect the ladies in your office to look their best and wear make-up, so it is really only proper that you show the same care when working as a maid.

You can take a break from your ironing for a couple of hours now, while we take the time to teach you how to apply your make-up. You’ll then need to do it yourself each day.”

We had an hilarious time teaching him how to apply his make-up, which we had bought that afternoon. He was so utterly humiliated since, despite our good humour and teasing, he had to treat this very seriously indeed and focus intently on applying his make-up perfectly. At first, knowing he had to go through with this and could not protest further, he showed his frustration and resentment by shaking his head, and trying to make out it was something he was incapable of doing. His ‘little boy lost’ ploy again. He still hoped ‘Mummy’ would ‘save him’ if he looked woeful enough. He was still unable to grasp that there was going to be no mercy shown.

Instead, he simply met my icy demeanour, cutting words and hard-hearted approach to his laughable attempts at seeking compassion. We made it very clear that he would learn how to apply his make-up immaculately and ‘tastefully’, or else. He was firmly warned that his presentation had to be flawless. Attention was also paid to his fingernails, which were to be clipped, groomed and painted with a clear lacquer; and his toe nails, for which we had selected a lovely pink varnish. He was also warned that my sister would be examining him on his make-up when she next comes!

Coldly paying no attention to his misery, his face showed the umbrage he felt from the contrast to how I interacted with my sister, showing her such warmth and camaraderie, seeing how we often acted as one.

[The consequence of this, with a little further training during the following week, is that he has a new routine for his presentation as a maid.  

He always calls before leaving the office, and we have a meal when he arrives home. I prefer him attired as my male partner for our vanilla time, and dinner is vanilla time. So, if he only has an hour or so of chores that evening then, as in the past, he retains his male attire to complete those tasks, before joining me for the rest of our evening. 

On all other nights, immediately after dinner, he has to get ready for his maid’s duties. He is required to shave again and then dress in his housemaid’s uniform and carefully apply his make-up, before starting his chores. I find it tremendously amusing. I had told Scarlet I would never do this, but I did; and I love the regimentation it brings and the role reversal of him having to ‘make himself pretty for work’. Often, he is now the only one in the house wearing make-up and stockings! 

He has a routine he is required to follow, and woe betide if I feel his make-up is not immaculately applied. He starts by carefully cleaning his face and neck using cleansing water and cotton pads. Next, he pats a little moisturiser on his face and neck to keep his skin soft. He then moisturises his lips using a lip balm. He then applies foundation before using a brush to apply a little concealer under the eyes, on the chin, and around the nose.  

He is then ready to apply a creamy eye-shadow. He well knows, since he found this very challenging to do, that he is to build the colour slowly and in layers and, using a small brush, add a tiny line of shadow under the eye. A smudge of mascara is used to define each lash before filling in the eyebrows to frame his face using light feathery strokes, finishing with a clean mascara wand to brush out the hairs. A cream blush is blended on the apple of his cheeks before it is time for his lipstick. Finally, he uses a thick brush to dust with a loose setting-powder to set his make-up and reduce shine. A splash of perfume follows, before a last quick check that he looks impeccable; that his stocking seams are straight, no creases in his tunic, and he can start his chores! It adds half-an-hour to his evening, just getting ready for work! 

He finds this tedious and humiliating, but I am in raptures as I watch him applying everything ever so carefully. He has to sit at the dressing table and really focus on what he is doing. He knows he will be inspected and there will be nasty consequences if his appearance is not faultless. I will often sit and watch him, since I find it so amusing! He squirms in great discomfort, longing to be able to refuse to do this but knowing he must be ever so diligent in the process. It is just delightful to observe his look of concentration. Of course, I will tease him mercilessly too! 

It is so amusing as he simply has to take such great care to do everything so precisely.  I remind him of how he used to be always rushing me to get ready before we went out in the early days of our relationship, and how he now knows that make-up can’t be rushed!]

Back, to Saturday. We spent an hour or so helping him, but after that he had to do it by himself, then come and see us for an inspection. A few tips, some harsh scolding, a few jokes at his expense, laughing reminders that ‘perfect practice makes perfect’, and he then had to remove the make-up and start again. I don’t think I have ever seen him look so miserable. He was bereft, alone and friendless. He was so depressed and aggrieved, so desirous of receiving just a touch of warmth or compassion. My sister and I acted as one in our pitilessness. Our closeness was so very evident from our constant laughter, our obvious displays of affection to each other, often acting more like teenagers; and we had leisurely enjoyed our day together. This was all contrasting enormously with our callousness and ruthlessness in dealing with him, which was exceeding anything he had ever experienced before, leaving him feeling ever more isolated.

It wasn’t until after nine-thirty that we were happy with his application, and only then could he start on the rest of his chores. No praise, my sister just checked him out carefully, taking his chin in one hand and turning his head as needed to inspect his make-up, him cringing in fear, before she curtly remarked, “Mmmmm… I guess that’ll do. Now piss off back to your ironing!”

I was shocked by her language, so much so that we both burst out laughing. He was totally humiliated and ignored while, blushing profusely, his face a picture of despair and resentment, he curtsied and started to leave the room. My sister’s final words ringing in his ears as he walked out, “I hope you’re not crying again, sissy boy… If you are… you’ll need to redo your make-up!… I have never met a supposedly grown man who cries like a baby girl as much as you do. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself!“ His head was bowed down as, sighing deeply, he slowly shook it from side to side, and morosely exited the room.

My sister rarely uses bad language, and she explained how she was shocked too, but it had just come out, since she was so enthralled with her power over him and wanted to hurt him.

         [Talking about this with him later, in vanilla mode, he expressed how unloved he felt, and how close to total despair, bordering on depression, he had felt. He then hugged me closely and thanked me, leading to my having an enormous orgasm from his tender ministrations. ]

My sister and I turned in around eleven. Before going to my room, I went to see him in the laundry. I gently tweaked his nipples as he again looked longingly at my sensual attire. I checked the clothes he had already ironed for any creases, as he watched on nervously, before looking at what was left in the laundry baskets. “It looks like you’ll be going here for another couple of hours at least, with all that bed linen you still have to iron (my sister had brought linen from four beds, plus there was my bed), and it looks like there are a couple of pleated skirts in there too!” I smiled, “I guess you had better sleep in the study again.”

I then nuzzled his neck gently, before lightly nibbling his ear lobe and whispering, “You look ever so pretty in your make-up. We’ll have to get you some nice perfume to complement your looks… Be careful though, my sister will be checking your ironing tomorrow, and she is even more of a perfectionist than me. Woe betide if she finds any creases… and everything had better be folded impeccably.” He squirmed as he thanked me but, as he went to cuddle me, I stepped away, and sharply advised, “Don’t you dare! You still have ironing to complete!…

Now, tomorrow morning… I’d like you at your desk thirty minutes early again. That means back straight, hands on head, BEFORE five thirty! I have set alarms as we did this morning, except your first break is ten minutes only, since there is no washing to put on.” I then turned and left him alone, still yearning for my caresses.

I just love the decadence of this lifestyle. I truly have no concerns over how I ‘exploit’ David. He is well aware of the fact that I have no empathy with what he goes through and that I will never show him any pity. That both excites him, and terrifies him!  

Sissy Punishing Tests

In the comments I have by, knightly devotion, been pointed to yet more  dreadful sissy tests to keep a sissy busy while its Mistress relaxes. They may be of interest to some Mistresses.

On the same site is an online book on how sissies can make their own dresses….so much opportunity for humiliation, not just wearing, but teasing, on the fact the sissy made it for themselves.

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My last post that included comment from Mistress Brigite was the post: Mistresses’ variations of: The most-powerful-cruel-clever-chastity-scheme-ever.  Below is her account of a culmination of weeks of planning Mistress Brigite  had been emailing me about. (For background completeness, cucu is in chastity 24/7/365.)

This special day was delayed due to the delay in the arrival of my purchases. cucu knew that changes had been waiting for him and I set the big day for Tuesday. Monday night late, I chained cucu on his bed, lying on his stomach, and I told him that I wanted his agreement for the next morning, without knowing exactly what to expect.

Tuesday morning, I woke him up with a bang by 6 good strokes of the cane on his buttocks.
After releasing him I asked him if he was willing to give me great pleasure by accepting a new life. His response was immediate: “Of course Mistress.” I sent him to the bathroom, with the order to shower in cold water, to remove his body hair completely and to cut his head hair very short. When he came back I told him that now he was no longer a man, but a female and that he would, forever more, wear women’s underwear every day, from morning to night, even when he would be out to work; and only female clothes at home. I explained to him that I no longer wanted to ever see him in men’s clothes. He was devastated by this news, but I started dressing him.

To start with, I put on a tight silicone bustier with huge G-cup fake breasts. When he saw it in the mirror he was already desperate, but it was only the beginning. A female latex mask was the next piece, I also chose it tight. Then I put a corset on her in very narrow leather, which once laced, and I had some difficulty, reduced its size by 18 cm. (6 inches). It was a little difficult for him to breathe. He had the silhouette of a caricature of a female with huge breasts and waist very fine. A real treat to watch, even better than in my wildest dreams.

Diapers and one rubber panties followed, then stockings and ankle boots laced and padlocked with 10 cm, (4 inch) heels. To finish with the underwear I added a black bra and as I found his posture not very good, I added his bondage shoulder straps, which forced him to stand straighter. Finally as clothing; pink household gloves, a very fine white blouse, padlocked at the collar and cuffs, a hobble skirt padlocked at the waist, which descends to her ankles which requires her to take very small steps. A blonde wig, an apron and her shackled cuffs complete her outfit. When I was done dressing I saw her eyes shining with tears and her pleading gaze, I laughed.

I sent her to look at herself in the mirror, “Look how pretty you are honey,” I told her.
He remained looking at himself as petrified for a good little while. Then I asked him,
“Didn’t you forget something?” He answered “Thank you Mistress ”  in  a very small voice.

“It’s right that you thank me. While I gave myself a lot of consternation to imagine this very pretty and very comfortable costume ” She thanked me totally humiliated in the same term, but I told her that she would be punished for this disrespect. Then I send him to prepare breakfast, telling her that it was only for me, because I want him to lose a few pounds.

Once served, I sent her to his room with the order to wait for me in front of the mirror, motionless with his hands on his head. I had lunch very quietly. I had the idea of creating a new punishment book, on which I wrote down his disrespect. I dragged around for a good hour knowing that he must have been in pain from her still position in her high heels. Then I went to join her by bringing large trash bags, big scissors and a bag with accessories that he would find out about later. She had to go get me a chair and when I was seated I told her I was going to sort and reduce her male wardrobe.

I started with his socks, which she had to cut one by one. Then his briefs and his underwear suffered the same fate, as well as a good part of his clothes. She told me the next day that until that moment he still had a little hope that it was just temporary, but that when I had him destroy a large part of his clothes, she understood that I was really serious.

Once that was finished, she went to take the garbage bags to the garage with the order to bring back some strong glue. When she came back with the glue, I took a dildo out of the bag and told her to go stick it on the mirror at the height of his mouth when she is kneeling. It was a small job, but made difficult by the way it was held. I was delighted to see that the stress effect was even worse than i imagined. I was thrilled.

Following receipt of the wonderful account below, I have requested Mistress Corrine does indeed go yet deeper with the detail on a number of aspects. I cannot wait!

Dear Scarlett,
My wife (Mistress Carmen) and I are honored by the evidence you gave to my comment and we are honored by your interest in our menage. I will try to give a concise answer to your curiosity and then, in the future, it might be interesting to deepen some aspects with you and with the other Dominatrixes who follow your wonderful blog.
Following the order of your curiosities:

His chastity regime:

The slave chastity regime is extremely simple: He is in constant and total chastity 24/7/365 without any kind of orgasm. In particular, the last orgasm was the day before my wife moved to our house: April 25, 2010.

That evening, for the last time, ‘slave’ masturbated while licking my shoes and while I whipped him. After reaching what he knew was his last orgasm, he licked all his semen off the ground and, not without desperate sobbing, put on his chastity belt.

Slave had been in chastity long before, of course, but, until I met my wife, he even had the honor – albeit very rarely – of making me cum with his cock (even if that was never one of the my favorite ways of achieving orgasm). His last penetration, in order to insert it in your BAV register, dates back to a few months before I met my wife, I would say late August – early September 2009. Unfortunately I can’t be more precise. Obviously I would like you to insert it in your BAV register.

Slave has two pierced rings on the foreskin of his cock and another pierced ring in the perineal area between testicles and anus. There are two ways in which her chastity is ensured:
First of all, a neosteel shemale classic hip chastity belt, with the possibility of adding rear shild with anal dildo. He wears it regularly 24/7 (it took a few months to fit this beautiful bespoke item) and is taken off once a week while the slave is in bondage for more thorough cleaning.

Every 2/3 months slave passes a period of 7/10 days outside the belt and, in that case, chastity is ensured through a padlock that joins the piercings on the foreskin to that in the perineal area.

Finally, if there was a need to go through metal detectors, then he would wear a common chastity cage model CB6000 until it was possible to return to more effective tools.
It goes without saying that his total denial of orgasm is particularly painful for him, given that he lives in a condition of total slavery to two cruel lesbian masters, which excites him immensely.

And needless to say, my wife and I enjoy immensely in making his frustration more and more cruel through domination, getting us served at times while having sex and through teasing and denial sessions which, of course, are not about his cock.
In this context, often Slave is also forced to take Viagra to make his frustration even more cruel.

No pathetic male erections and no disgusting male orgasms in our house.
Slave undergoes regular visits to the prostate (we care about his well-being) and shows no signs of any kind of clinical disorder related to abstinence. In the early years she had some sporadic nocturnal ejaculation without orgasm and, sometimes, he had ejaculations, always without orgasm, in case of anal penetration.
In recent years, however, none of this.

Does he do all the chores and is he punished, (and if so how), if there is inadequate performance:

Slave takes care of all the household chores and cooking, as well as home maintenance work, looking after my and my wife’s wardrobe, our shoes, making sure that the house is always stocked with the necessities of my wife and mine .

He must follow regular protocols and is obviously severely punished for any slightest lack.
The punishments are quite varied and range from beating with the most varied tools, to sessions of predicament bondage, to the use of clamps of various kinds on the most various parts of the body, to carrying out housework without the aid of appliances or tools or from performing them in more severe bondage, the use of stinging or painful materials or substances (nettles, hessian dresses, painfully small shoes or with insoles with pins or stones or the like) or undergoing particularly cruel public humiliations or a combination of all these.

Is he tormented in any way simply for the pleasure of you and / or your wife:

Obviously slave is punished, very frequently, even if only for the pleasure of my wife and mine. We have probably not explored the idea of ​​Mistress brigite11 of give him contradictory or simultaneous order with due attention … it is really interesting!

What does he do if you and your wife are engaged in activities like watching TV or going out for the day?:

If slave is not busy with his chores and is not with us for direct service, there are usually 4 possibilities:
1) He is forced to remain in a position expressly assigned until further direct order (for example he can be placed on his feet or kneeling in a corner of the house, or prostrate face to earth in front of a pair of our shoes or in front of a our garment or similar).
2) He is forced to carry out boring and humiliating rituals and / or activities (for example repeatedly licking the soles of our shoes, polishing with his tongue some part of the house or some furniture such as the toilet, cleaning the tile joints with a toothbrush, perform, in uncomfortable bondage, humiliation rituals).
3) It is kept closed in a cage.
4) He is held in his accommodation with the obligation to follow courses related to his service on his tabet (controlled by my wife and I and with access allowed only to certain sites).
5) He does his half hour of daily gymnastics.
If my wife and I are away from home for more than one day (no slave holidays or weekends) slave receives a program which is a mix of the above activities and which my wife and I can control through baby cam or documentation that slave us must send from time to time.

What are his sleeping arrangements?

Normally, a slave sleeps in a small room (formerly a small bathroom) without a window, equipped only with a cot, a wool mattress and, during the winter, a blanket.
Normally he sleeps at night in some kind of bondage but not immobilization, since the next morning he must be able to get up to serve.
Sometimes, for punishment or for our enjoyment, he sleeps in one of the cages we have hidden in the house. On some occasions, then, it may happen that he sleeps in total bondage or in our room, on the floor at the foot of the bed.

What is his dress code?

In addition to the chastity devices Slave always wears also some elements of bondage.
He always wears, 24/7/365, a ring-shaped metal collar, 0.7 cm in diameter, from which a ring hangs in the front.
Attached to the ring is a pendant, like those of dogs, with the words ‘SLAVE’ on the front and ‘property of Mistress Carmen and Mistress Corinne’ on the back.
On his wrists and ankles he wears similar bracelets and anklets, always with rings.
Slave has four different dress codes.
The most stable and frequent one, used for domestic services, is that of a Victorian maid, with a long uniform, corset, petticoats, apron and flat shoes.

He also has some sissy maid uniforms, but they are mostly used for humiliation games because they are impractical.
During the Slavic domestic service he is always chained through chains that join collar, bracelets and anklets.

The other domestic dress code, which my wife loves, is that of a ‘gimp save’ one-piece suit in latex, with a hood designed to dehumanize, and the use of all kinds of bondage gear and torture tools. If he’s not on duty or used as a gimp, he’s normally naked.

If we have ‘vanilla’ guests, he wears a male hotel waiter’s uniform, and is presented as our servant, or is locked in bondage in his quarters. The last dress code is the one for leaving the house. Jeans and t-shirt in summer or jeans, shirt and sweatshirt in winter. Sneakers. Winter jacket. All strictly black.

Normally slave is not allowed to leave the house (and I don’t think he would really want to go out in chains or in one of his household estates anyway). However, he can leave the house three times a week, in the morning, to supply the house with the necessary. For this he has a credit card, of which my wife and I obviously have complete control, and of which he must provide an accurate account. The evening before he goes out, he must present to my wife and me the program of what to do, the itinerary and the estimated time needed.
The morning in question, instead of being chained as usual, he wears a GPS tracker bracelet so my wife and I can track his whereabouts.

Back home he goes back to one of his usual outfits and in chains. The only other circumstance in which he can leave the house is for medical needs or for public humiliations.

Another wonderful account from Christine M. In it, Christine refers to my ‘advice in recent posts’. I think this must be about raising and dashing hopes and also not holding back with merciless verbal taunting and ridiculing. I know Christine, like me, when applying these techniques firstly get seriously, arousing, cruel pleasure and secondly, despite the forlorn expressions of our puppets, we see momentary glimpses of deep awe of and submissiveness to their Mistresses.

All those years ago now, bitch-boy told me he could not live contentedly without being helplessly in the power of a cruel, pitiless woman. And, David told Christine, ‘he had an unappeasable ‘need’ to be strictly raised in a manner that might have befitted someone in an ULTRA-STRICT Victorian household.‘ Both puppets now sleep the contented sleep of submissives who have had their wishes come true!

Christine’s account

I thought you might enjoy hearing about last Wednesday evening when I followed your advice from your recent posts. (Speech quotes of course convey the message as I recall, but are not exactly as spoken.) David surprised me, since I thought he knew better than to ask the question he did. He had needed to go into work very early, that morning, and had had an unusually demanding day. During dinner, he asked if he might be excused that evening’s weekly chores, until the next night, while stressing that he would of course still clean up in the kitchen.  

I may choose to excuse him his duties for a night(s), if I want his company, if we are going out or if I feel he needs a rest… he well knows that he NEVER gets the choice! It was therefore just so natural to make him regret making such a request; and I had not the slightest pang of conscience about being so pitiless towards him. His dedication and time spent pampering me was irrelevant, not even deserving of a thank you; and I revelled in my being so indifferent to his plight. 

“No, David,” I firmly advised, “you know how I feel about this! You need to get your priorities straight! Nothing takes precedence over your duties as my maid!” He looked so forlorn, as he gave his best pleading look and begged that he would do everything the next day. it was clear he couldn’t mentally or physically face up to getting changed and doing chores. 

“No, David,” I firmly advised, “You know how I feel about this! You need to get your priorities straight! Nothing takes precedence over your duties as my maid!” He looked so forlorn, as he gave his best pleading look and begged that he would do everything the next day. It was clear he felt he couldn’t mentally or physically face up to getting changed and doing chores.

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD!,” I stridently chided, “Now, get changed immediately, then put a load of washing on and come see me in the lounge. I’d like a pedicure… AND, if you don’t improve your attitude, I’ll give you something to truly be sorry about!” Morosely, with a slightly dramatic sigh, he thanked me and went off to change. It was about six-thirty when, dressed as Daisy my maid, he started my pedicure, which included a warm foot bath, hot towels, aromatic oils, a foot scrub and a massage, before sculpting and painting my toe nails. He is very good at this and knows he must take his time and not rush anything. I must admit I had him slip into the bedroom and come back with my special massager wand. I was so very relaxed.

It was around seven forty-five when he tenderly kissed my feet to signify he was finished. I let him continue kissing for several minutes before I draped one foot over his shoulder and rubbed the other into his groin, feeling his steel prison, “Mmmmmmm…..,” I smiled dreamily, “Enough kissing… I have had two wonderful orgasms, I am so sleepy and relaxed. I’m going to lie here a little longer listening to the music before an early night…. I suppose you have forgotten how pleasurable orgasms are. Mine are so powerful, they drain all the energy and tension out of me, leaving me feeling ever so blissfully relaxed… tingly and drowsy and energised all at once.” His chest heaved deeply in and out, sighing with intense frustration as I moved my foot up to his nipples and rubbed gently before gliding back down.

I then goaded him, “Do you remember before you met me, you told me how you dated young, slim, gorgeous girls? Girls that your mates used to ogle with envy! You were quite the playboy then… weren’t you? A regular Don Juan! Plenty of orgasms back then? Very different now isn’t it!” I mocked callously, “Endless chores, harsh punishments and, not only are you a virgin for the rest of your life…. Now that we’ve permanently caged it, it doesn’t even get stroked… In fact, you can’t even get a hard-on! That must be so HARD for you!” I laughed sarcastically at my pun.

“Unimaginable for me, I have so many orgasms. Whenever I want them!…. Just what would your old mates think if they could see you now, my pretty little maid… a chaste virgin! What did you tell me your best mate, <Name>, said when you first started seeing me regularly?” He blushed crimson and squirmed uncomfortably, recalling how I had forced confessions from him in those early days. “Oh, I remember,” I laughed, “He wanted to know if you’d ‘lost your marbles’… called me ‘old thunder thighs’ didn’t he?…. Said I must be ‘Older than your mother’! Figured I must really ‘put-out’ didn’t he? Why else would you go out with me? Very chauvinistic!

What would he think of you if he could see you now! The lads would have a right good laugh at you wouldn’t they? Think you a right pathetic wimp they would! A real pansy! Maybe we should invite them round for a laugh? What do you think?” He blushed deeply and trembled like a snared rabbit. “They’d probably call you a right little wanker wouldn’t they? But you can’t do that can you?” I smirked

I have always adored teasing him over his chastity and his sacrifices, but now, following your lead; I am more often cruel and cutting with my remarks. Previously I would tease him in a tender, erotic manner. This excited him, leaving him aching for release. Now that I display icy dispassion and serious contempt as I mock and ridicule him, using the most scathing and derisory language, it cuts so deeply into his core, that it is actually more hurtful than anything else I do! He feels humiliated, abandoned, pathetic and, if truth be told, plain silly. Consequently, he is often reduced to tears. Deep down, he doubtless hopes that his tears will bring compassion and affection, rather than the total contempt they illicit, which leaves him feeling even more despondent and hurt! It’s a wicked cycle and he so preferred the more kindly, erotic teasing.

I smiled at the look of desolation and pathetic wretchedness on his face, observing his deep sighs of beyond extreme frustration and fear, in case I did invite them over.

Then grinning mischievously, I sardonically continued, “You must be so looking forward to next year…. You just MIGHT get two releases…. The same as I have had this evening… Yours aren’t guaranteed though, are they? And I’ll have a third before bed tonight! Whereas you will never ever have more than two in a year… NEVER, EVER!”

I laughed contemptuously at the thought of this, shaking my head in mock disbelief, “They won’t be like mine either, will they?” I grinned as a tear formed in his left eye. “There won’t be a long, slow build-up, followed by multiple orgasms that build to an enormous crescendo before they ever so slowly ebb away into a range of heavenly sensations, leaving me relaxed as I bask in the afterglow for as long as I wish.

You just get a one-minute ‘quickie’ don’t you! That’s it!… then straight into its cage and back to your chores! Hardly worth the bother really! A waste of 5-minutes if you ask me!” Laughing at his grief-stricken look, his lower lip still quivering, I harshly snapped, “I HOPE YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BURST INTO TEARS!!! YOU ARE SO PATHETIC THE WAY YOU CRY OVER NOTHING! I’m warning you now… if you smudge your make-up… not only will you need to reapply it before you start your chores,… I’ll give you something to really cry about tomorrow evening! NOW STOP FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF AND GET TO WORK! YOU’RE NOT ON VACATION!”

He sighed most disconsolately, and rose stiffly having been on his knees for so long. He was clearly tired. I remained, ever so relaxed, and closed my eyes to enjoy the peaceful music playing in the background… “Oh David,… before you go… After a sleepy pause, I dreamily continued, “I’ve been thinking about your earlier request to put off your weekly chores… I think what you really need is a little lesson in gratitude and duty…..”

I heard him gently exhale in trepidation… “After you finish all your chores… you’re going to write me a short essay…” with my eyes still closed I heard his deeper sigh of crushed resignation. Picturing the look of misery on his face, tears forming for sure. I paused for perhaps a minute. A smile creased my lips as I delivered a wonderfully perplexing topic for his essay, “…. ‘Idleness, Indolence and Leisure’.”

He mumbled a desolate thank you as another lengthy pause followed, during which I almost dozed off. I was feeling so relaxed, quietly enjoying playing with his emotions… it wasn’t I who had chores and an essay to write! It wasn’t I who was wanting to rush off and start my work. I could laze in my arm chair, unwinding to the soothing music for as long as I wished. “Just 2-pages,” I smiled nonchalantly, leaving him gasping, lost for words.

[For his essays, I recently introduced A4 writing pads with a 6 mm line spacing. These have 45 lines on each sheet. Previously we used standard A4 writing pads with a line spacing of 8 mm. They had 32 lines on a page. With the narrower line spacing, his writing needs to be smaller too, so not only are there more lines on each page, he fits more words on each line. With the 8 mm paper, he wrote around 10-words on a line; with the 6 mm paper he fits around 15-words on each line. This means a 2-page essay used to be around 650 words; but with his new pads, it is about 1,400 words! Hence why he was so morose!]

Showing no concern, I dreamily advised, “You’ll need to change into your school uniform…. And of course, no internet study! I want to know YOUR thoughts on the topic.” There was another, even deeper sigh to this news. “You can go now!” I curtly advised. Throughout this exchange, I had not even opened my eyes. He would have been feeling tremendously depressed to be so dismissively dealt with.

“Please Christine,” he summoned up the courage to nervously stutter, whimpering, “I really am very exhausted…. And I have a few hours of chores to do…. And I’m starting late after giving you a long pedicure. Cou… could I… maybe… please….. may I write it over two-nights? Please? Please?” he pleaded fretfully. I could just imagine him trembling, his eyes teary and lower lip quivering again, a woeful expression on his face. I was nearly asleep I was so stress-free. “No, I want you to write it tonight” I quietly advised before briefly pausing and remarking, “On second thoughts… let me think about that….” I then paused for well over a minute, with him perhaps dreading that I might have fallen asleep. “Yes, I think that is actually a good idea…” I languidly agreed, much to his relief as he replied, “Thank you Christine, thank you so much.”

“We can make it 4-pages then… Now… you have your wish, so the sooner you finish your chores, the sooner you can make a start on the first half of your essay.”

He audibly gasped in horror at this unexpected turn of events. I, in contrast, was lazily reaching for my wand again, my eyes still closed, quietly basking in my power and pitilessness, enjoying the contrast of knowing we were both aching for an orgasm, but whilst I was about to enjoy a massive one, my third in an hour or so, he would not be! Nor would he for several months yet!

I could still hear he was present, and had not yet left the room. As I gently pressed the wand to me, I distantly asked, “Are you still there…”

“I was just on my way out, Christine, I had to gather everything up…” he replied a little nervously.

 “That’s lucky,…. That you’re still here…” I murmured, “because I was thinking… I’d like my car cleaned tonight instead of at the weekend…. I am going out with, <Friend’s Name>, tomorrow… It will be so much nicer if I have a freshly cleaned car to show off…. That means vacuumed and cleaned inside, then washed and polished…. The showroom works…”.

[Normally he washes my car weekly, and cleans it inside monthly. This is a physically demanding job that takes at least 2-hours to complete. And he has to work fast and use a lot of muscle. He also had washing and ironing to do, as well cleaning the hallway, stairs, landing and dining room. These were also physically demanding jobs.]

I then slipped into my world of relaxed pleasure as he no doubt looked on awe-struck, before having the good grace to quietly leave.

I knew too that he was most unlikely to request to be excused from his chores again, for a long while! He now had an extra 2-hours of chores and half a 4-page essay to write, a daunting task in itself.

The next day he advised me it was half-past-one before he was able to start writing, and he worked on his essay for 2-hours that first night; and over 6½-hours the next night; though he was able to start at nine on the Thursday night. I had placed a little extra pressure on him on the Thursday, when I brightly mentioned that, since he had two-nights for his essay, anything less than a score of ‘B’ would mean he would need to rewrite it.

[When he presents punishment lines, I just quickly glance to see they are completed, and look presentable, before tearing them up.  With essays, I grade his work using a simple rubric. This ensures he has to put plenty of serious scholarly effort into his writing. The rubric covers content, structure, grammar, organisation and development, and style. I scan the essay, rather than reading intently. This means It takes no more than 5-minutes to grade an essay, as opposed to the many hours that he spends preparing and writing them! Scholarly essays were something he had suggested when we first met as they evoked memories of schooldays. I think he regrets that too!]

Of course, as expected, he performed at work the next day with no trouble at all, although he felt rather weary.  I actually only put him though such demanding trials once or twice each month. He has always been capable of such feats of effort and has never needed much sleep.