Eminent Dominance by Christine M

January 6, 2021, 1:06 am

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Below is a wonderful account of a short exchange that no doubt was hugely affecting for both parties. I adore the final words of, ‘You’re dismissed.’ I find it such a power rush to calmly dismiss one’s despondent and frustrated submissive to their fate; while utterly relaxed, I continue to move towards yet another orgasm myself. . .

And the cloud of anxiety for David that will now float over him during all future vanilla entertaining! Making sure, despite the vanilla ambience, he does not forget he is helplessly in the power of a pitiless, cruel dominant woman. And we all know that submissives are at their most content when fully aware that they are helplessly in the power of a pitiless, cruel dominant woman.

Christine’s Account

David had a marvellous surprise the other Tuesday night! We had a vanilla night, with some close friends round for canapes and drinks. It was a wonderful evening and we all had a great time with lots of laughter. They left a little after nine, and I warmly cuddled David as we bid them goodnight, advising that he could clean-up tomorrow since I wanted a little fun in bed.

David spent an hour or so pleasing me, before I teased him to the brink of agony for a good ½ hour. It is so challenging for him to be driven to such levels of yearning while he can’t even erect properly! I was having a glorious time, laughing loudly at his antics and teasing him about not being able to get an erection. He was literally being driven mad with craving…………… until I suddenly stopped and coldly advised,

“That’s quite enough fun for one night David.” He looked at me in utter frustration, his balls no doubt swollen, as I continued, “What are your chores on a Wednesday?” He was ever so tremulous as he advised that Wednesday was a big night as he had to do washing and ironing, as well as clean the dining room, the hall, stairs and landing. “Right then, you’d better get to it!” I curtly ordered. He looked at me in utter disbelief, his doleful eyes pleading for him to be allowed to remain in bed. He was clearly yearning to just cuddle up to me.

Seeing the resolute look on my face, he entreated that the laundry alone was a couple of hours work. His dismay was so very evident as the tears welled over, when I dismissively ignored his entreaty and advised, “Well you had better start right away. It is indeed a very big night you have ahead of you! …as the lounge and kitchen are very much in need of your attention too…”.

He was lost for words as his face turned ashen, before he finally managed to mumble about how I had said that the latter could wait for tomorrow. “David,” I sharply reprimanded, “By the time you are dressed and made-up it will be almost midnight! With everything else you have to do, I would suggest it will indeed be tomorrow before you get round to cleaning the kitchen and lounge! Now I will not tell you again… You chose to join us earlier knowing full well you had chores to do. You also well know that your maid’s job takes precedence over all else.’

He then asked whether he might be excused from applying his make-up since he would be the only one up. I very crossly retorted, “Most certainly not! And don’t let me hear another word of complaint!”

I laid back in bed and contentedly watched him in his utter misery, as he painstakingly took the time to carefully dress and then apply his make-up. He hates this so much, he feels especially silly making himself up, and considers it so unnecessary. This makes it all the more amusing for me!

He would have been able to observe me in his mirror, looking on, so relaxed and at ease, smiling… as he morosely considered the hard night he had ahead. Such a contrast to my gratified state. His make-up finished, he rose, turned to face me and gracefully curtsied, as I cruelly subjected him to one last task to further emphasise his deprived status.

Though it was in easy reach in my bedside drawer, I ordered him to pass me my wand. I grinned as he curtsied and handed it to me, I switched it on and slid it under the covers as I noted, “One more orgasm before I fall asleep….” I then closed my eyes as I advised “You’re dismissed!”

He didn’t finish until gone four o’clock in the morning! He had a late start the next day, which I had taken full advantage of!

These exceptionally cruel events only work if they are done rarely. This was a first time, but it means that on future vanilla nights, it will always be in the back of his mind that he might still have to do all his chores before bed. I love this feeling of power I hold over him, knowing he is always fearful, especially nowadays, as I gradually tighten up his domestic regime.

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Making chore time worse – à trois Part 5

January 29, 2021, 1:40 am

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This is the 5th account from Corrine and her wife. This one answering questions I have asked about how they make chore time for the slave worse.

Dear Scarlet

Coming back to you on the topics you indicated as being of interest to you regarding our regime of domination of slave. This account is on carrying out housework without the aid of appliances or tools or from performing them in more severe bondage AND the use of stinging or painful materials or substances.

I deal with these first issues together because, as you will see, they are very closely linked.

As already pointed out, the normal slave maid uniform is a long Victorian maid uniform with corset and flat shoes, all with chains joining his collar, bracelets and anklets in order to make his job more uncomfortable but still easily performed (about 40 cm between the wrists and between the ankles and wrists connected to the collar so that the hands cannot go below the waist). In addition, the slave can normally use ordinary household appliances such as washing machine, dishwasher, vacuum cleaner, dryer and so on.

Making her housework more complicated, uncomfortable, tiring and humiliating – for punishment or just for our amusement – can be done by intervening both on the slave’s dress and bondage or on the possibility of using aids in working.

Carrying out housework chores without the aid of appliances or tools.

It is very common that slave is prohibited from using any kind of household appliance and that the use of normal cleaning accessories is also severely limited. In these cases, therefore, the slave must constantly wash dishes strictly by hand, just as he must wash all the laundry by hand.

In reality, as far as the laundry is concerned, some items, such as my and my wife’s underwear and many delicate items, must always be washed by hand, however on some occasions we require slave to wash by hand also, for example, sheets, drying cloths and even filthy kitchen cloths. This greatly increases the fatigue that slave endues in his miserable work, for his suffering and our satisfaction. Furthermore, slave can be forced to iron the laundry with an old and heavy (almost 5 kg) iron without steam, with which it is very difficult to maintain the required standards of perfection and, therefore, with increased effort and greater possibility of a well deserved punishment.

Another thing we love, and that we often impose on slave even just for our amusement, is to forbid the use of brooms, forcing him to collect dirt and wash the floors with cloths and rags held in his hands, while crawling on all fours.

It is very funny, in these cases, to walk with dirty shoes right where slave has just cleaned, and to then have our shoes cleaned with his tongue and have the floor cleaned again, enjoying his sobs of despair and fatigue, but also of desperate frustration excitement while licking our shoes. Sometimes it can happen that we tie his hands behind his back and force him to wipe the floor with a rag in his mouth.

Furthermore, slave can be forced to polish the sanitary fixtures in our bathroom (especially the ‘safe’ areas of the toilet) with his tongue or to clean the tile joints with a toothbrush.

Obviously, the fact that more strenuous and difficult working conditions have been imposed on him is not a good excuse for providing lower standards of work and, therefore, the punishments he suffers for every slightest imperfection are by no means diminished.

Performing housework chores in more severe bondage AND the use of stinging or painful materials or substances

Alternatively, or (more often) in addition to these impositions there are those that intervene on the slave’s clothing and bondage to make his working condition more painful and humiliating and difficult.

The simplest thing is to gag him and put a big dildo or but plug in his butt. Depending on the desired level of subjugation, we can go from simple ball gags – even if wearing a big ball gag for many hours is certainly not a joke – to dildo gags that fill his mouth almost in the throat torturing his gag reflex. Sometimes, on the face, we can even secure our dirty panties held in place by our old stockings. Even the but plug can vary in size from medium to very large and painful sizes. A very frequent alternative is the use of the rear shield of his chastity belt, which includes the possibility of inflicting electric shocks, or the use of vibrating dildoes.

I must confess that the combined use of dildo gags and large anal dildoes is one of my favorite combinations to make feel slave, as well as subjugated and servile, even in his role as a whore (which he hates)

Nipple clamps are another easy and frequent imposition, perhaps connected with a cord to the collar or wrists, in order to make the clamps painfully stretch with every movement.

Another simple thing is to intervene on the shoes. Just imposing on slave, instead of the flat shoes he usually wears, cruel 15 cm heel shoes, chained to the feet so that they cannot be taken off, and to be kept for the whole day without ever being able to sit, is a real and remarkable torture.

We also have a pair of ballet heels for Slaves, but unfortunately, he is unable to walk in them. We therefore often use them as punishment by requiring him to simply stand on them or to wear them when we force him to clean on all fours.

All slave shoes, then, are about half a size too small, so as to be extremely tight and uncomfortable, although still possible to wear. To make everything more fun and crueller, we often impose on slaves some insoles on which small pebbles have been attached with an adhesive tape. Walking in these shoes, or even standing on them, is such a real torture.

Imposing a postural collar on a slave is, then, another fun way to make his job more difficult and painful, as is reducing the length of his chains (for example, bringing the length of the chains at the ankles and wrists to no longer 25 cm) to see him desperately trotting around to do his chores is incredibly exciting.

Another variant, very cruel and funny, but which we can only use in the periods when slave is not wearing his full chastity belt, is to tightly tie the base of his balls and then connect them with the center of the chain that unites the ankles. The connecting rope is adjusted to such a length that slave, in order to avoid painfully pulling down his balls, must alternatively either keep his feet practically together, with evident enormous difficulty in movement, or he must keep his knees slightly bent. In addition, whatever his decision, his balls are still painfully pulled down with every step and movement. Again, the long-term effects are truly cruel.

Another way to make the slave’s job crueller is to intervene on his clothes. For example, we can force a slave to wear tight uncomfortable hobble skirts under his uniform, or we can impose, under his corset and uniform, a painful and itchy hessian underwear or, at the appropriate time of year, we can impose him under the corset, in his underwear and shoes, leaves of stinging nettles.

As you can see, dear Scarlet, the ways to make the daily work of slave a real hell are many and varied and, although it is true that very rarely all the preceding restrictions are imposed on the poor slave at the same time, it is equally true that it is very unusual for a day to pass without the slave having to undergo at least one or two of them.

In particular, the obligation to wear shoes with 15 cm heels, the reduction of the length of the chains and the imposition, at least for a certain number of hours a day, of a ball gag, are elements that could easily, in a future, become default in slave clothing.

Corinne

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Butt plugs, gags and spacer bars

February 3, 2021, 11:38 pm

≫ Next: Unhappy Anniversary

≪ Previous: Making chore time worse – à trois Part 5

Brigite commented on the most recent post from Corrine which I felt appropriate to be part of this blog post. (Brigite’s comment is at the foot of this post).

(I will also mention, in rsponse to a request, that I have also grouped all of Corrine’s contributions under the tab, Domme’s letters. Hover over the tab to see the contents.)

Like Brigite and Corrine, I too like to have to have my puppet plugged both ends during various scenarios, including doing chores. And of course in his chastity cage. My preference for a butt plug is an inflatable one, (more on that later), and for a gag either inflatable, or a 5 inch dildo type.

I don’t know if other Dommes feel the same as I do, but a lovely warm glow of power ignites in me, seeing my puppet walking or sitting, looking like he is in minimal bondage, but I know, out of sight there is a dildo gag down his throat, an inflatable dildo deep in his butt and a chastity cage encasing his birth defect. There is just something so ‘complete’ about that trio and it all being hidden away that somehow makes it very amusing and neat and cruel.

I do wonder if I could be helped though with the sourcing of an inflatable butt plug exactly to my requirements.

I cannot seem to find a butt plug with a sturdy base plate and most importantly, one where the narrow portion DOES NOT inflate. I have bought several and in each case the narrow portion inflates, so the limit to inflation inside bitch-boy is set by how much he can take of the inflation of the narrow portion. And just to be clear, I do not want to stretch him there. What I want is to have him feeling the length and width right inside him growing and growing.

Anyway enough on my ‘issues’. Below is the comment on Corrine’s post from Brigite:

Thank you M Scarlet and Corinne for this interesting testimony of practices that are also my favorites. Making my sub’s life miserable is one of the most fun things I know. I present to you a small anthology of my practices. I have almost the same practices as Corrine, with a few variations.

I rarely use a ball or dildo gag, I’m afraid he’ll choke on it, so I prefer rings or dental gags.
As for the fetters, sometimes I swap the chains Corrine uses with long bars with various length combinations. I also like to tie a hand to his back, or tape his thumbs.

I also like chained dumbbells (i did not find iron balls) on her wrists and ankles which makes her job very tiring and risky because the dumbbells can swing and break things. Imagine how tiring and risky it is to raise your arms to wash the windows with dumbbells (from 2 to 5 kg) which swing from the wrists .

For the shoes, I totally approve of Corrine’s options, I just regret that you cannot use the ballet boots, poor cucu tell’s me its a real torture. A little idea you may have had is to have him wear a flat shoe on one foot and a high heel on the other, this makes the walk very amusing for me.

To make her cleaning painful, I use a spiked and weighted parachute around her balls.
Another technique I use is to reduce his field of vision using blinkers which makes his vision even more difficult.

The ultimate goal being to make his work humiliating, painful and exhausting for my greatest pleasure. I love your idea of the heavy iron with no steam, I’ll try to find one. Is it electric Corrine?

Kisses Brigite

One thing I will mention Brigite, is wrist and ankle weights, ideally with some bells attached. There is no swinging of the weight, which would have me worrying something precious could get broken. But there remains the extra fatigue.

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

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Unhappy Anniversary

March 11, 2021, 10:12 pm

≫ Next: Christine’s David draws a ……

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I engaged in a delightful set of email exchanges with Christine M recently, firstly advising me it was an anniversary for her slave-husband David. It was imminently one year since his last orgasm. I will set out the exchange below.

If you have not been following the accounts of Christine regarding adopting a maid’s outfit for David and the development of her chastity release spreadsheet, I suggest you type ‘Christine’ into the search box at top right and a list of relevant posts will be presented.

Hi Scarlet

Well David has gone just over 12-months since his last release! The good news, for him, is that on Sunday 7 March, he will get to draw for a release using our new Chastity Release Spreadsheet. I detailed this in an email a few months ago. Sadly, from his perspective, this allows for an absolute maximum of two releases in the year, and even if the spreadsheet selects a release, it can still be ‘lost’ if he should misbehave!

I have never seen him so desperate to come. He is permanently on edge and I am so enjoying teasing him relentlessly. Given there are only two releases possible each year, he is being positively over-optimistic. He seriously talks as though he will get a release in March! I think he believes I am going to show compassion for the fact that he has been so long without a release, and ‘fix-it’ so he gets one in March. His hopes are totally misplaced, I am as dispassionate as the computer is about his ‘plight’! The soulless, machine-driven, random computer spreadsheet algorithm will be the sole determinant as to when he will get a release.

Poor dear, given I am working him harder than ever and he rarely even gets an erection, (unless he has a meeting with Nurse Linnex scheduled, Nurse L,); I guess it is understandable he should be getting so excited.

I am so looking forward to seeing his look of despondency when he draws a blank!

All the best

Christine XXXX

Hi Christine

So hot! And so much for me to empathise with.

It is over 8 weeks since bitch-boy last came and it will be many more weeks yet! Although that is trivial compared to David’s plight, given up until last spring, bitch-boy used to cum every 10 days to 2 weeks, (subject to special periods), and with my new regimen, he has only cum twice since last spring, he is beside himself with frustration! I tease him almost every day and I have two or three orgasms on approx 5 days out of 7 days a week, mostly using my wand. This includes on days when there is no DS activity. Just because I am being so cruel and it is such a bitchy power-rush, I seem to be always turned -on!

He has been so close to tears during his recent teasings as I flaunt my body and caress my beasts and special places. I think I may actually get tears to flow without touching him! What a power rush you will get when David is so disappointed.

I also empathise with your absence of compassion as I feel exactly the same. It’s powerful to feel like that! What a decadent feeling it is, when they are at their wits end like it is the end of their world, and you are totally unmoved and unsympathetic. I adore that feeling.

Can’t wait to read about the big day!

Stay safe

Scarlet

PS. Oh, wish David a happy anniversary from me. I wish I could send him a card.

From: Christine
Sent: 01 March 2021 02:14

I will indeed, Scarlet!

You are so right about what makes it even worse.

The total disdain and disinterest I genuinely feel, leaves him feeling even more helpless, frustrated and ‘worried’.

Please feel free to share on your site if you wish.

Christine

Hi Christine

I am so looking forward to your account of his anniversary day!

Scarlet

xxx

Scarlet

Sunday, March 7 has come and passed. Since David was so excitedly looking forward to the day’s events, I made it a very special day for him! (Which also means I have written far more than I planned!)

He awoke early and was ever so anxious to both please, and later, with doleful eyes, trembling in anticipation, timorously ask about drawing for his release, using the spreadsheet. “Is it the seventh already?” I nonchalantly responded before disdainfully advising that his draw could wait until later; making it obvious it was an unimportant, nothing matter to me. I was glowing from his ministrations, having had several orgasms, and taking pleasure in thoughts of our contrasting lives. I delighted in rubbing it in that I had just had more orgasms in the past hour, than he would get in the next year.

I continued, by noting he was already late in starting his housework. He was then told to get dressed and made-up, and start on his chores; and to ‘be quick about it’… unless he wanted a hurry-up from my cane! He managed to move with alacrity, though he was clearly inwardly seething at the injustice he perceived in his treatment.

While he applied his make-up, I remonstrated at his self-seeking attitude, mocking his pathetic need to cum; and reminding him that it was just a useless piece of gristle he had between his legs, that I had absolutely no need for it, that it would never ever penetrate me again, nor feel the caress of my hand. It would never even feel the touch of human flesh again!

I also poked fun at him, observing that, since it had been constantly locked up, I had noticed it was shrinking. I then taunted him by advising that we should start referring to it as his ‘teeny weeny winky tinky’. He was crimson with shame and ignominy as I derided him, genuinely fearing he was shrinking. After all, he never gets to see it erect. He has always basked in a little male pride, knowing that he was slightly larger than average. So, this is a much-feared fall from grace for him!

Once he was dressed in his maid’s outfit, I laughed at his feminised state as I curtly told him that I would see if I could squeeze in a couple of minutes for his draw in the afternoon; but he would have to ask me very politely, ‘…. if he might have a chance to play with his ‘teeny weeny winky tinky’, or the draw would be cancelled until next month!

Around two o’clock, he was doing the ironing, when I stridently called him into my office. I had his computer spreadsheet program open, and my iPhone on speaker. Showing complete disinterest in him, I ordered him closer and snappily advised “I’m on the phone to my sister, but she’s fine to hold for ½ a minute while we get your draw out the way,… so, quickly,…. What do you say?” Blushing crimson and cringing in disbelief at my callous indifference for both his dignity and the importance he placed on the event, he quietly stammered, “Can I please draw to see if I can play with my teeny weeny winky tinky?”

Ignoring him, I asked my sister if she had heard him. He was devastated by being so publicly shown up. “You need to speak up David;” I continued, “A nice loud voice this time or I’ll assume you’re not bothered about a release!” He swallowed hard, tears welling up, the day was not going as he had dreamed or prayed for. “Christine, can I please draw to see if I can play with my teeny weeny winky tinky? Please?” He was shaking like a leaf, burning up at being so demeaned, yet still so desperate to cum.

With the sound of my sister’s laughter ringing in his ears, I curtly advised, “Take the mouse… click Apply…. Let’s get it over and done with!” He scurried to do as he was bid, lest I change my mind. As might be expected, the message, ‘Try again next week” appeared in the results box. With complete indifference and brevity, I calmly advised, “Fun over. Back to your ironing….” and returned to my conversation with my sister.

As he dithered, frozen in shock, I stormed “NOW!” He had so expected me to fix it so he had an orgasm, that he was stunned, rooted to the spot in disbelief at being both ridiculed and denied. The colour was by now draining from his face as the realisation sank in that he was not getting a release, even though 12 months had passed since his last. My sister passed a cutting remark about his lack of manliness and shrinkage, and we both laughed uproariously. He was crushed, overwhelmed, devastated and further, humiliated by our laughter.

Crankily shaking his head, stifling his tetchiness, he slowly trudged back to the laundry. About 15 minutes later, I quietly left the office, the phone still up to my face, and glanced into the laundry. He was back at his ironing, though he was moving far too slowly and sullenly for my liking. Amusingly, his face was red and slightly blotchy from having shed a few tears, and he was clearly distraught and angry, with a morose, long-suffering set to his jaw, his frustration and disgruntlement no doubt heightened by my coldness and his feelings of isolation.

I ‘woke’ him from his self-centred, misery-filled trance by loudly instructing, “David, unless you want me to give you something to very seriously cry about, I suggest you stop wallowing in self-pity right now, set a smile on your face and put some serious effort and zest into your ironing! You’ve still got plenty to do!” Instantly, I resumed my light demeanour, chatting happily to my sister as I strolled down the hall, laughing as he was again forgotten, a brief interruption, not deserving of my further attention.

I had very deliberately planned his draw to take place during a call to my sister, not for the humiliation, but the deeper message it sent. The chance to cum had become such an extreme focus for David, it was the most important thing on his mind, in his world. I was therefore showing him just how unimportant his release was to me. It was something to be squeezed into my day and quickly gotten out the way. What he saw as an extremely special and important event, was a nothing event for me, less important than a phone call to my sister, who I speak to every day.

I left him for about an hour, by which time I knew he should be just about finished on the laundry. The ironing was his final chore for the day, (though he would need to clean up the kitchen later); so he would have been expecting to be allowed to change back to his male attire and join me for the evening. Given his poor attitude and laziness with the ironing, this was no longer going to be the case.

He was indeed down to the last few items when I entered, hauling in an industrial size laundry bag. His face dropped and he turned ashen at the stern set of my face and the sight of his bag of punishment ironing. This is full of second-hand clothes from the local charity shop. These are items that I selected for their difficulty to iron and the way they easily crease. There are lots of pleated skirts and frilly blouses. It takes him about three hours to iron everything in the bag, hence his utter dismay! Once everything is ironed and neatly folded, he has to put them on a quick wash cycle, and then through the dryer, to ensure everything is full of creases again, before being crushed back into the bag for a future punishment session.

We have three of these bags and, depending upon the time he has available, the degree of my ire with respect to his ‘misbehaviour, or simply ‘my whim of the moment’; is how many bags he gets to iron. Since today was such a special day for him, and to remind him to avoid silly displays of self-interest… I returned a few minutes later with the other two bags. His spirits visibly sank further, he looked so forlorn.

Because it is punishment ironing, and following the advice of others on your site, he has to change into a pair of high-heeled shoes in which small marbles have been firmly glued onto a sole insert. The shoes are also a size too small, making them most uncomfortable to wear. And he would be standing in them for over 9-hours! No wonder he looked abjectly heartbroken; he was certainly ‘enjoying’ a memorable day!

It was around midnight, having missed out on dinner, that he finally joined me. I then lost count of how many orgasms he gave me. I had him moisturise my body with fragrant oils, while I used my wand, showing him, I didn’t even need his tongue! Needless to say, I also constantly teased him about how I couldn’t see what he was so upset about, he’d gone over a year without coming, what was the big deal if he had to go a few weeks more, or even months?

He snuggled close that night though, after I teased his nipples in bed for a good ½ hour, driving him insane with desire and frustration. His tears of disgruntlement replaced with tears of divine frustration. He was in awe and rapture, and I feel certain that he was in a state of blissful contentment when he fell asleep spooning me.

Christine XXXX

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Christine’s David draws a ……

March 25, 2021, 11:37 pm

≫ Next: Cake and eat it too!

≪ Previous: Unhappy Anniversary

I have nothing to add to this fantastic account from Christine M other than to provide a link to the related previous post from Christine. Enjoy; I certainly did!

We made David’s Sunday draw in bed around 9-30 am, after he had spent quite some time pleasuring me to several orgasms. I am not sure who was most surprised, when his draw popped up, granting him a release! One of his two possible releases in a year. It seems there had been purpose to his prior expectations of early success. He was wide-eyed with elation after 13-months without a release.

We had been out together all-day Saturday and had had vanilla nights at home on both the Friday and Thursday evenings so; David had a full-on day of chores ahead. I advised him he could plan on getting his release ‘this evening’ and that, since he had gone for so long without a release, ‘I would make it very special for him!’

He worked tirelessly all day, but it was still close to eight o’clock before he got around to starting on the ironing. He still had a good two-hours’ worth to do, when I went in a ½ hour later. I pleasantly advised him that he could “leave that for now”, as I had everything ready for his release, if he would like to join me in my office. He of course followed excitedly behind me.

I was dressed in a long, billowy cotton kaftan, with a floral design. Nothing sexy, I like it as it is stylish and kind of conceals my large behind. On entering the room, he started to tremble, and his smile vanished, as he stared in dismay at the full screen image displayed on my large computer monitor. This showed by sister, who was connected by FaceTime! He looked at me aghast but knew better than to complain.

I smiled over at him and warmly advised, “Since this is such a rare and special occasion, I just knew you would want to share it… And (my sister) was pleased to accept your invitation. We’ve been chatting for a while and, as you can see, in honour of the occasion, we have both opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate… in fact, we’re each three glasses in, and probably a little tipsy! Now… don’t be rude, say ‘Hello’ to (my sister) and let her know how glad you are that she could join us.” Blushing profusely and stuttering, he reluctantly, but politely, did as he was told.

I then explained how everything had been set up. His flesh-lite was secured tightly to his punishment bed, so he could kneel in front of it and penetrate it without needing to hold it…. “and… I’ve turned the bed round, so you will be directly facing your audience.” He was looking terribly uncomfortable and tried to plead that he really was too embarrassed to come in front of someone else. I dispassionately dismissed his concern.

In front of my giggling sister and her ‘cat-calls’, I had him lower his three pairs of panties to his ankles, and then pull his skirt and slip up high and out of the way at the front, where I secured them in place with two large safety pins. That morning, I had had him wear a garter belt, rather than his usual girdle, to hold up his stockings; so, his chastised appendage was now fully exposed. I then cuffed his hands behind his back, before unlocking and removing his chastity device. Needless to say, a few tweaks of his nipples and his defect sprung proudly erect. “Well,” I grinned, “your little bit of gristle certainly wants to show off to (my sister)!”

My sister was by now joining the conversation with various disparaging remarks, mocking that. “.. it wasn’t anything to ‘show off”; but it did look all girly and cute being so clean shaven, “It certainly doesn’t look like it belongs to a real man! And it’s so small!” she snickered as he went a deeper shade of red.

We then mocked him about being a BAV and laughed at how he only got to jerk off twice a year at most. “What a little Nancy you are!” she laughed as she sipped her champagne, “It’s a good job you have a tongue!”

I then put two condoms on it before advising that, since it had been so long since his last release, I had better remind him of his rules. I sternly warned, “You have one-minute. You are not to let your organ so much as brush against the flesh lite until after I press my stopwatch and tell you, ‘Go’. If you start even a fraction of a second too early, your release will immediately end, and you will be punished. So, keep it at least 6-inches away. Once I say ‘Go’, you can start thrusting away to your hearts content. I will countdown the last five seconds, and you need to have pulled out BEFORE I advise, ‘Stop’, or you will be very, very severely punished.” He was looking ever so nervous now, trying to not look into my sister’s smiling face, positioned right in front of him.

“My, my” she laughed sarcastically, before breathlessly proclaimed in mock wonderment, “…what a stud you must be… can you really last a whole minute?” If it were possible to blush a deeper shade of red, he would have; especially as I added, “I very much doubt it!” giggling, “we don’t call you the fastest gun in town for nothing, do we, David?”

Snapping that it was not a rhetorical question, he was forced to shamefacedly agree with me, as my sister laughed even louder. Turning to my sister, I joked, “HE thinks he’s a real stud if he manages thirty seconds, … Don’t you dear?” He nodded shamefacedly with a whispered ‘Yes’, as he knew he dare not disagree with me.

My sister nearly spat her drink out, she thought that was so hilarious. “No wonder you keep it locked away. He must be a real embarrassment to you.” Addressing David, she then mocked, “You must have disappointed a lot of girls over the years? The ladies may turn and admire you**, when they see you out and about, but they’d roll their eyes at you in contempt if they knew about your little problem and how quickly you spurt! No wonder Christine dresses you like a sissy at home. Is that what used to happen when you used to date all those dolly birds? Did they look up at the ceiling in frustrated annoyance?” He was too crimson faced to speak, but gently nodded his head to avoid challenging her.

** This referenced the fact that David remains strikingly handsome at 6 feet tall with an athletic, muscular stature. (In contrast, I am a classic bell shape and, though just two inches shorter, I weigh about 1/2 again what David does.)

With our laughter still ringing in his ears, and my sister mocking him contemptuously, it was time to let him have his release. I smiled, “Are you ready to go David?” as he knelt before the flesh lite… “Now one more rule, you are not to close your eyes. If you close your eyes, your release is cancelled… and you will be punished… and… you are to keep looking into our eyes.” He was squirming and trembling and terrified of making a bigger fool of himself.

“OK….” I then pressed start and advised, “Go!”. He lunged forward as my sister roared with laughter at his pathetic gyrations, mocking how it was just as well it was only a piece of plastic tubing as he wouldn’t be doing too much to please a woman with his bit of gristle. I counted the seconds, … “25-seconds, …” as he started to look anxious, he was struggling to come with all the humiliation.

“30-seconds, …. It looks like you’re trying to impress my sister,” I teased, …… “40-seconds….”

“My what a stud you are!” scoffed my sister.

“Fift…y” At this point he let out an almighty roar as he powerfully ejaculated. I know he would have loved to get the post orgasmic pleasure that flows from remaining with his organ enveloped by, in his current case, the flesh-light, but he gets a release, not relief, not a long orgasm. “fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fift…” I continued as, with tremendous fortitude, he pulled out, before I got to say ‘Stop’. He was sobbing in humiliation and frustration, his organ still twitching and screaming out for more. Instead, I stepped in with an ice pack, quickly removed the condoms and pushed him on his back to better apply the ice pack; before again securing his appendage in its stainless chastity cage, in which it can’t even erect.

He was then told he had five minutes to tidy himself up, fix up his make-up and get back to his ironing. We were still giggling as he departed the room.

That night in bed, I grinned as he entered the room and he squirmed embarrassedly before me, as I lightly noted how “At least we got that out the way for a while”. He couldn’t get close enough to me and begged me to let him pleasure me!

Christine XXXX

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Cake and eat it too!

May 7, 2021, 11:13 pm

≪ Previous: Christine’s David draws a ……

One major hurdle for women flirting with the idea of being a Domme is often expressed with words to the effect of: ‘I want a real man, to look after me, not a weak submissive man.‘ And one major hurdle for Mistress-wives flirting with the idea of dressing their submissive as a French maid, or sissy maid, or parody of a schoolgirl, or parody of a little girl, is often expressed with words to the effect of: ‘I want to dominate a real masculine man not a weak feminine man.’

Well I implore such women to experiment and they will most often find they can have their cake and eat it too. ALL the women I have been in close exchanges with who have experimented after expressing such qualms, change their approach and never look back! By way of explanation I will give a brief insight into a day of mine a few days ago .

When bitch-boy woke me with tea in bed, I informed him that the day was to be a full-on DS day. He would repeatedly suffer considerable physical discomfort and he would suffer very considerable humiliation and tedium for a lengthy period. And he would NOT be getting to cum. The DS element of the day would probably last seven or eight hours.

Before he had got very far digesting this announcement and coming to terms with it, I asked him. ‘What do you say?’ I adore this simple verbal tweaking of his submissive soul with the injustice of him having to answer as he must. Which he did, although a little gloomily. ‘Thank you Mistress.‘ I answered in a tone of mock irritation. ‘I should think so!‘ What a lovely start to my day; and plenty for my poor puppet to think about.

However, sticking to the point of this post , I will skim over his very hash deterrent punishment, (Oh how he pleaded, and I repeatedly, verbally raised and dashed his hopes that I might end the punishment! Until finally I did). I will skim over how I played with his boy’s bits for over an hour while he was in sensory deprivation bondage and I sat next to him on the sofa and I watched a subtitled TV programme I love. (He has not cum for 9 weeks!) I will skim over his second punishment, given just because I could; and later how his stiff little defect suffered while I used my Vampire gloves. And I now get to the first relevant activity for this post.

I had him dressed in his full-on parody of a little girl outfit, (see previous post), and for half an hour he had to face me and whisper the words to the nursery rhyme, I’m a little tea-pot while performing the actions, while mainly ignored him and I enjoyed social media on my cell phone. Occasionally I would glance up at him and, using a harsh tone, briefly tell him how pathetic he was.

Then he had to colour-in with his dolly for THREE HOURS! His humiliation was very deep as was his tedium. He hated every second of that humiliation, made worse by my sporadic comments about how he was not a real man, just a pathetic sissy and a pathetic submissive put on this planet to be used and abused by women like me. I whipped and stomped on his defect on the stomping stage for half an hour and, having had 9 orgasms throughout the day, I finally decided DS time was over. (He got locked back up: He did not get to cum.)

And I now get to the second relevant activity for this post. I told him I would now be using him for his vanilla company until sleep time. He put things away and changed into his vanilla clothes. We then sat in the conservatory, discussed the news of the day, and drunk wine together. I nestled into his large barrel chest and his muscular heavy arm comfortingly draped over me. I felt utterly content, and comfortable and protected and safe. All was right and perfect in my world.

I praised and thanked him for how he had charmingly but assertively dealt with a brutish argumentative delivery driver the day before and a tradesman working on the boundary with the neighbours house on the same day. (It made me think about a holiday I am planning in a slightly dodgy third world country and how safe I will feel with the charmingly assertive, barrel chested, large shouldered bitch-boy by my side.) I slept briefly for a while with my head on his chest. (Believe me, a couple of lengthy sessions wielding punishment implements and NINE massive orgasms in a day, takes it out of girl!) I woke and, after we ate, we watched TV, with me again cuddled into him, resting my head on his chest. What a blissful day!

So ladies, experiment! Your submissive needs to suffer deep humiliation to sleep the very soundest sleep of a submissive – who truly knows he is; helplessly in the power of a cruel, pitiless, dominant woman. AND YOU CAN HAVE YOUR CAKE AND EAT IT TOO!

Making Comments on this post: Comments do not appear on my blog until I have moderated them. Comments that insult anyone will not be published, nor will aggressive comments. A wide range of views is truly welcome, we all have things to learn, however comments will not be published that take a contrary or critical view to any aspect of the post, but fail to explain why this contrary view is held, or fail to address the reasoning set out in the post to which the comment relates. (Such unexplained comments are simply boring.)

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