‘Distasteful’ stockingette Gloves

I wished to make bitch-boy’s use of his extra large pacifier, (I posted about previously) distastefully’ demeaning as well as humiliating. I am writing up a journal entry for my next Journal that includes all the fine details but I thought I would include an image and mention just how cheap a bag of cotton stockinette gloves are, and when a cut-off finger is stretched over an item, how they can absorb a ‘liquid’ quite effectively; and can then be re-dipped in the ‘liquid’ to freshen up the flavour every now and then.

What is also helpful with this activity, and also very cheap, an adult bib with food catcher, designed for dementia sufferers.



The bib with food catcher is mentioned in my recently published Journal, No. 17, so I thought a photo of that might be useful to all those who now possess a copy of my Journal No. 17.


THE FIRST REVIEW OF No.17  (On Amazon Kindle US)

Reviewed in the United States on August 2, 2020

Verified Purchase

Journal 17 is available on Lulu.com as a paperback and as an eBook.

It has been available for some time on Kindle. Kindle links below for the various countries Amazon serves directly.

US       UK       DE      FR       ES     IT      NL     JP     BR       CA      MX     AU      IN

Hopefully soon it will be available hard copy and electronic versions for other devices in other outlets including Barnes and Noble, Nook and iBooks. (But Lulu.com, the distributor has had a disastrous distribution module  relaunch and I cannot promise further distribution of electronic versions other than the options above.)
















Most powerful, cruel, clever, chastity scheme ever

I received from Ms C and JJ the comment below and for me it includes one of the most powerful, cruel, clever chastity schemes I have ever encountered! Needless to say I have worked up a version for poor bitch-boy.

……. One of the couples we keep in contact with via e.mail from the munch have a different chastity regime however. They are heading towards an orgasm free (for him) relationship but the twist being the date of his final orgasm is entirely in his hands, so to speak.

They have been in a full FLR relationship for over 10 years and when he turned 50 a couple of years ago, her gift to him was a full neosteel belt to replace the mature metal cage they had used for years. In addition to this she gave him 50 numbered plastic discs.

Her idea being that if he gets to a stage where he can no longer deal with the frustration of being locked away, then he brings her a numbered disc – working down from 50 – and she will unlock and supervise him as he masturbates to release in front of her. He can do this whenever he feels the need to, as she puts it ‘relieve his silly male desires’. The sting in the tale is that once he has used all the discs then that will be it….. Something she is really clear on – NO further orgasms for him; however much he begs.

When we last met up back in Feb this year he was already down to disc 37 and had used 12 of the discs in a little over 2 years. His Mistress was quick to point out that at this rate by the time he is 58 his limited sex life will be over for good. My Wife got an email the other day from them and he is now down to disc 35. Even if he manages to reduce his releases down to just two a year from now on, (doubtful), he will only be 70 by the time enforced celibacy is imposed on him.

I admit that I find the idea of this method very exciting, but at the same time terrifying and certainly not something I’d want my Mistress to take up. Thankfully I believe she is more than happy being in full control of my relief.

Once again thank you for your blog from both my Mistress & I

Ms C & JJ



 A link to all my journals HERE, including:


Updates and tidbits!

A new style of post for today on several different topics.


There is the latest update from Mistress Francesca located at the foot of her page. entitled, 10 September 2020.


An update from me on my previous posts; Total Teasing (of bitch-boy), and the post; Being a Total bitch: Life is so good.

The update is the situation for my poor puppet is that by Saturday it will be 14 weeks since he had an orgasm, and 13 weeks locked in his cage without one single second, not in his cage. So not a single erection, not one touch from me or him, obviously no orgasm, for 13 weeks! Along the lines of how Christine puts it in a recent comment from her, bitch-boy’s birth defect might be attached to his body, but it is OWNED BY ME! And I have decided it gets ZERO sexual attention of any kind; as things stand. Yes, he has been without orgasm for longer periods, but he has never been caged without a single second’s freedom for this long.

Yesterday, straight after a long luxurious bath, while he worked on a DIY project, I approached him and let my towel drop away. (You may remember this image of, my body doppelganger, referenced in a post entitled, My Naked Body?)

I began applying moisturiser to my body. While I talked, I ran my hands down my flat stomach to my labia and up to, and cupping and gently squeezing, my breasts . The pain in my puppets face was as clear as if I was caning him. “Oh I am seriously teasing you aren’t I little bitch. It’s been so very, very long in that cage hasn’t it. I am going upstairs now for two or three orgasms while you carry on with your task here.” I continued running my hands down my flat stomach to my labia and up to, and cupping and gently squeezing, my breasts. The  frustration-pain I was causing him was arousing me greatly. “You do understand I feel absolutely no guilt don’t you. I love being so cruel. It makes my cunt wet.  I hope you are clear on these things. And be clear that I feel absolutely zero sympathy. You wanted me to try femdom. You introduced me to it. This is all of your making; all your fault.” His face was a picture of desperation and hopelessness. I walked away and up to my bedroom. I felt utterly content. All is right with the world under my roof! (All is good! My two orgasms were huge!)


In response to my previous post on using scents for subjugation, a fascinating link from Ben Alder. A scent, apparently, of real vagina’s from a German company???? Have I read that right???? Advertised to be full of pheromones. (An option on the top right corner of the home page facilitates a translated page to English, although some detail may be lost in translation.)

According to Ben, it does what it says on the phial. (It could be useful for email chastity slaves to have a bottle I was thinking.) Below are some extracts from the site’s pages.

Vulva Original Scent

Real, lovely vaginal smell that exudes passionate sensuality and leads you into new, even more real dimensions during solo sex pleasure in your secret head cinema.

For which sexual needs is VULVA Original the perfect solution for a man ?

  • Desire for sex with a missing partner
  • A new fetish or erotic kick is sought
  • More sexual variety within a partnership
  • Against monotony and lack of pleasure in sex
  • Inspire your erotic fantasies
  • Alone in bed and there is no lust-increasing means for even more real solo sex
  • Desire for “new things”, a completely risk-free alternative to fling
  • With age-related decline in libido

Scents for Subjugation

I received the following comment from Redd; which triggered my response and thoughts that follow. A subjugation tool that almost certainly has more uses than I had considered before. I wonder if any other  blog followers wold like to share their experiences or suggestions on the dominance-power, tease-power, and shaming-power – of scents?

Redd’s comment

I appreciated these comments regarding the uses of perfume in the domination of males. With the power to control the very air the male breathes, perfume seems underutilized as a weapon of female dominance. To be in chastity and drenched in my Queen’s feminine perfume leaves me inescapably and helplessly aroused and humiliated. To be required to use an atomizer to on myself with feminine delicacy is emasculating. At night, my Queen sprays me and my pillow with perfume before I am required to massage her to sleep, often using scented body cream, leaving me in a fragrant cloud of desperation that may be the perfect example of Her maintaining dominance “while doing something else”…sleeping. I would be interested to hear if you or any of your readers have any other thoughts on the uses of perfume. I am obviously rapt. Submitted respectfully, with great admiration for your deep understanding of the femdom dynamic and your tending of this blog.

My response and thoughts

Thank you for the kind words.

Regarding scents, you have triggered many thoughts and a call to action for me.

As I wrote in my previous post on Christine’s Day 2, I have my ‘sissy maid’ or ‘parody of a little girl’, 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 past times he has worn it. He truly, seriously, HATES the scent of it and therefore being doused in it.

BUT what I never considered was the teasing, frustrating effect of an expensive perfume I may wear. Do they truly contain pheromones I wonder, or is the association of a Mistress’s perfume with her body all that is needed? Should I be thoroughly dousing myself at tease times, and then spraying his pillow at bedtime to produce the teasing, frustrating association?

Especially now, while bitch-boy continues his enduring time without orgasm and being 24/7/365 inside his double padlocked chastity cage. (Currently 13 weeks and 12 weeks respectively).

I have not thought of, during this period, using my womanly, post orgasm juices, (WHICH DO CONTAIN PHEROMONES!), to wipe around his top lip and nostrils and will certainly further exacerbate his awful, gnawing, relentless frustration. I often use this ‘scent’ when locking him into sensory deprivation bondage, but your comment has me thinking after EVERY TIME I have an orgasm during this enduring denial period of his, (especially on ostensibly ‘vanilla days’), I should generously daub his nostrils and top lip.

And further; in other teasing scenarios! Most definitely, while teasing him to madness,  ‘playing with his boy’s bits’, immediately springs to mind. Also while employing dickie-discipline if it is a session when I wish him to be rock hard, (rather than flaccid).

Finally in this stream of consciousness on scents for subjugation, I have in the past, on a female sub who had a thing about my feet, employed the technique of securing a very well worn gym shoe over the nose and mouth as part of her sensory deprivation bondage. It seems simultaneously frustrating her with arousal and shaming her with degradation.



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



Day 2 of Christine’s sister’s visit

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 past 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!  

Remote monitoring of tiffanymaid

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.”




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


Paperback purchases of my Volume 17

I apologise for using my blog to ask for some help, but if any blog reader has bought a paperback book version of my Journal volume 17 from Lulu.com, please could you leave a comment saying you have.  I will not publish any comments I receive or make any reference to individual comments in my dealings with Lulu.com. Thank you in anticipation.



pipsqueak becomes a cuckold

It has been sometime since I last provided an update on the continuing evolution of a Domme fairly new to domination, the wonderful Samantha. But Samantha has continued to evolve at a face pace! As pipsqueak has learned to his cost – or is it his cost? The paradox and symbiosis readers of this blog are familiar with are both strong.
The paradox; pipsqueak is a true submissive and so he craves to be helplessly dominated by a cruel, pitiless woman who puts him through things he truly does not like. But from this he gains true contentment that he cannot happily live without. (Like all true submissives including my bitch-boy.)
The symbiosis; Samantha is now a cruel, pitiless woman who puts the helpless pipsqueak through things he truly does not like; and she gets huge pleasure from doing so. So the relationship a perfect symbiosis.
I have in bold highlighted some text in the account below that I found particularity hot! Enjoy.
Dear Scarlet,

It’s been a long time since we last communicated and I thought I would give you an update.  The past 4 ½ months have been rather busy and extremely enjoyable. pipsqueak is very content despite my further progress in making his submission and life harder than ever most of the time. In our case we have found that an occasional relaxation of the regime works best for us (more in a moment).

Perhaps the most important change has been that pipsqueak is now a cuckold. I worked hard on my exercise, diet and appearance between March and May and finally felt confident enough to take the plunge. It would be nice to say that I have found the perfect lover but that would be an exaggeration. However, I have been on quite a few dates and have had sex with two men so far (including ‘masked sex’ on one occasion which was hilarious if not conventionally orgasmic).

The first time I cuckolded pipsqueak was at the end of June. I’d been chatting with a man online for a while. He lives an hour away so not ideal but I agreed to drive to his house (he’s separated). Sex wasn’t guaranteed but it was on the agenda. In the end we both wore masks, obviously didn’t kiss and had very mechanical and hilarious (safe) sex. The most important thing for me was that it was done. I was a cuckoldress.

 Pipsqueak had no idea. I was away from mid-morning to 4 p.m. I didn’t explain my absence and he of course didn’t ask. (He would not dare!) I’ve been increasingly going out during the day since lock-down regulations eased. Later he told me he hadn’t a clue which was delicious. I made him perform orally for me on the same night and my orgasm was special. For 72 hours I basked in the afterglow of what I knew and he didn’t.

 Four days afterwards, I told him matter-of-factly that Lockdown’s easing allowed me to cuckold him and I intended to do so soon. He uttered his usual noises about it being ‘my right’, etc. Then I laughed and told him I already had. His expression was a picture. He didn’t know whether I was mind fucking him or not. I said that’s where I’d been for 5 hours the other day and showed him my photograph of me half-dressed in a man’s bedroom. The penny dropped.

 I made him lick my pussy again, there and then, while I continued talking. I said I would never have told him if I hadn’t enjoyed it. It would have remained a one-off he never knew about. But I’d enjoyed myself immensely and it will no doubt be much easier and better in future. I told him to kiss my bottom instead, as his contact with my pussy will be even more restricted in future.

 In that moment, I think he was partly turned on and partly too shocked to compute. But over the next day or so, he went through some denial, a touch of resentment that I’d actually done it, but mostly acceptance. We’d been talking about it for so long that I think he’d discounted the actual event itself, so to speak. I adopted a caring attitude of reassurance combined with my blunt stance and some mischievous teasing. He hadn’t had an orgasm for over a month and he told me later he expected me to ‘seal the deal’ of his compliance by at least letting him masturbate or fuck his rubber sex doll to orgasm.

 Whereas I did allow him to edge a lot but not to cum. I said he must never see things as some kind of trade off or bargain between us. I will never ‘pay for’ my own fun by allowing him some of his own. His orgasms have to be earned by what he does, not what I do.

The second time I cuckolded pipsqeak was very different. I didn’t slink off unannounced. I did it blatantly. I’ve been on a few socially distanced, outdoor dates when the weather permits. Sometimes I even go for a drive and walk on my own just to get out and leave pipsqueak toiling. I have got to know a local-ish man who’s not ideal for a couple of reasons I won’t go into. But he is interested in no-strings sex, as am I.

 Pipsqueak was sweetly brave as I left the house, wishing me a good time. I told him to shut up and get on with his list of chores. I said that sex wasn’t guaranteed and he mustn’t think as if I do this to any kind of set routine. It may or may not happen. I’m simply an independent and mature woman who can make up my own mind at the time whether to have sex or not.

 When I returned it was, of course, very different too. I was glowing. The sex wasn’t perfect but it was conventionally better. I summoned pipsqueak to follow me up to my bedroom. I undressed and let him see my rather red and swollen labia. We had used a condom (two, actually) so there was no evidence for him to clean except my engorged clitoris wanted more attention.

 I lay back on the bed, my legs splayed wantonly over the side, and stared up at the bedroom ceiling, while pipsqueak licked me in his apron and spike lined chastity tube. Neither of us needed reminding it was now over seven weeks since he’d had any kind of orgasm. After I’d climaxed, I let him unlock his cage. I love the tiny red dots the spikes leave when he’s aroused. I said he could put his erection inside me for five super-slow strokes.

 He groaned with desperation as he eased it inside me bit by bit, in and out. While he did so, I talked to him. I asked if my pussy felt different? He gasped no. I told him that his cock did feel different. It felt smaller, thinner, second-rate. He whimpered. I instructed him to pull out after only four strokes as I was disappointed.

 I sat up propped on my elbows and said he could wank himself while I watched. I continued to chatter, while he frantically fisted his shaft. I asked him, one final time, if he regretted our new relationship and my freedom to date other men. His eyes were gazing into mine. No, he gasped. I said I want to see real enthusiasm for my sexual progression and his further demotion over the months to come. He nodded, unable to speak.

 I snapped for him to stop! He somehow tore his hand away and his glistening erection bobbed between us. His expression was a picture; of awe and adoration, deference and desperation.

 And then I smiled. I love acting the bitch but I’ll always struggle to be heartless. I reached out and started rubbing his cock. I’m very out of practise. He has this adorable look of alarm on his face that I’ll stop at any time or at least ruin his orgasm. I did it for a bit and then told him he could finish himself. I said he should aim his cum at my waist and that he could enjoy a full orgasm for once and to make the most of it.

 It only took him about 30 seconds and he spurted an impressive amount of semen on my tummy, thighs and mound. His knees were buckling and he was almost crying with relief. I blew him kisses. In our relationship there are moments for ridicule and moments for bonding. This was one of the latter.

 That’s not to say that he didn’t then have to suck up every drop of his mess. And five minutes later we were back into our roles. Over the next few hours and days I was extremely demanding and mocking. I called him ‘cuck’ quite a lot, even though I have no plans to  adopt that name (I find it too much of a cliché).

 I make no bones about my intention to find a proper boyfriend with whom I can conduct a proper affair; discreet but much more than just one-off or casual sex. Pipsqueak is daunted and excited at the same time. That would be the culmination of the journey we’ve been on for approaching two years; one slow and quite mild year, then this second, very unusual and fast developing eight months.

My goal remains to find a man with whom I can have a proper sexual and, to an extent, romantic relationship who can be integrated into my lifestyle with pipsqueak. I’m impatient but not in a rush, if that makes sense? Pipsqueak has taken well to his new status. I think both of us were concerned – deep down – that the reality could affect our marriage in a way that fantasy obviously didn’t. But by the time it happened I think he’d become so used to the idea of me cuckolding him he was mentally prepared.

 Since Easter I have been even stricter about his orgasm denial. He has a total love-hate relationship with it. He loves me imposing it. He enjoys the intensity of frustration and how ‘alive’ (his word) he feels. His fetish is the contrast between us. But he hates the actual reality of being denied any kind of release for weeks on end.

 His Steelwerks cage has proven the most wonderful training tool. Mostly because it’s wearable 24/7 and hygienic and comfortable so long as he’s soft (less so when he’s aroused and occasionally at night). I make him tighten the spikes each morning and loosen them overnight. However, I like the spikes fully extended when he’s performing orally. Making him control his erection while he’s focused on me is absolutely one of my favourite things!

 I recall that I was still inclined to indulge him when we last communicated. After a few weeks I’d still feel sorry for him. I even used to enjoy his groaning, pent-up orgasms when we started. But that’s no longer the case. He can still have orgasms but they have to be earned. And when I say earned I mean it! The price now is increasingly outrageous and still going up.

 Away from the sexual side of things, I have very much focused on his monotony and drudgery. He will not be returning to the Care Home job any time soon. But I plan for him to work backstage in a busy pub doing washing up, that kind of thing (NOT behind the counter serving pints). When pubs open properly and safely again, I want him to work weekend nights in particular – say Thursday through Saturday – when I can be out on dates, that kind of thing.

 At home, I control every minute of his day for three weeks out of four. A combination of housework, garden work, monotony and sensory denial from dawn to late. The weather has mostly allowed him to work naked in the garden since Easter. Or in a diaper. I am brutally strict about bladder and bowel control. If he needs to go while he’s tending the lawn with nail scissors, he must hold it in, or fill the diaper and face the consequences.

 We also practise TSD (total sensory deprivation), in the garden. We have a double sun-lounger made of that wicker you can leave outdoors. I let him unlock and remove his Steelwerks and then tie him naked and spread-eagled on the lounger. When he is secure, I blindfold and funnel-gag him and put the Bose headphones over his ears. If it’s sunny I put some sun cream on his body and limbs but not his cock and balls.

 His lounger is near mine, so I can relax while keeping a close eye on him. I love to study his face when he’s completely unaware I’m watching him listening to porn. I don’t allow his genitals to burn but I like them to get a bit red. If he gets aroused – I coat his erection in Deep Heat blended with sun cream. I love to urinate into his funnel or, borrowing your idea Scarlet, melting piss ‘pyramids’ of ice in it.

 We now possess a full size rubber sex doll. It’s particularly fun outdoors to allow pipsqueak to ‘make love’ to her on a humid, sunny day while I watch. There’s no need to worry about the mess. I coat her in baby oil so she’s super slippery combined with pipsqueak’s sweat. They fuck on the grass. But his cock is coated in Lidocaine (numbing cream) and he’s forbidden to orgasm without permission (almost never granted). It’s for the doll’s and my pleasure, not his.

One week in four, nothing fundamentally changes but I relax my regime. He needs this space and TBH in a way I do too. He’s still chaste, obedient, that kind of thing. But he’s much more my husband than my slave-sub. We chat more, discuss, even argue about news items, watch TV & Netflix, etc. He does the housework but not (well, rarely) any mindless tasks or TSD. It’s really just switching down into a lower gear for a week. But we never actually ‘stop’ as we’d find it too weird now not to be Mistress and slave. I just become more benevolent for a while.

 I could go on but hopefully this update is of interest.


2 year chastity anniversary – Mistress Francesca

More from the wonderful Francesca. No further introduction is needed.

Dear Scarlet,
My summer is going splendidly, as I hope yours! I have read your Journal 17 and it is splendid and very interesting as always! The sea has always had an extremely aphrodisiac effect on me and this, combined with the presence of so many beautiful guys on the beach and in the nightclubs, is causing the number of my lovers and the consequent cuckolding of sissy slave m. to grow exponentially.

Fortunately, thanks to recent work, I am spoiled for choice on where to store my poor sissy when I’m busy with my lovers. I add that, perhaps for the spirit of adventure that accompanies the summer holidays, I have found more than one willing to participate in my activities with sissy slave m! I wanted to talk to you, however, about something else.

Yesterday (18.08.2020) was an interesting anniversary: two years since the last unspoiled orgasm of the sissy. It is not his record; (between august 2009 and November 2012 he reached 3 years and 3 months) but it is still a considerable time; destined to increase, given that the next card game will take place on 2 September. Add that her last spoiled orgasm (without even removing the cage) dates back to the November, and you can imagine the level of desperation frustration from the sissy. It therefore seemed right to celebrate with a session of intense teasing and denial for my sissy slave and, in contravention of my usual rule, the teasing also concerned his poor cock (obviously always in a cage).

After a day on the beach for me and at home in chains as a sissy for him (including almost three hours of bondage in the hole in the garden), in the evening I started the session:
Called sissy slave m kneeling in front of me, sitting on my favorite chair, naked and with only my fetish patent leather mules, 6 ” heel and 5cm platform on my feet, I immediately started teasing her nipples with my fingers and the tongue:
“Happy anniversary of no cumming!” I then continued to tease her nipples immensely enjoying her pathetic moans of despair and I continued talking.
“That really is some accomplishment. You must be very proud! 2 years and not a single real orgasm! Tell me, does it still ever hurt, I mean, do you ever still feel frustrated or has that all kind of just gone away? “.
“It gets worse all the time Mistress! There is never a single moment that I’m not aware of being incredibly horny. There is just a constant burning in my testicles. And it only gets worse every time you dominate and humiliate me Mistress. Every time burning gets much, much worse Mistress.”  “Oh, poor sissy slave!” I replied in a condescending tone continuing to lick his nipples
“That doesn’t sound good at all for you! You mean all this time you’ve been frustrated?”
“Yes Mistress!” he replied almost with tears in his eyes from despair.

So I started, in addition to stimulating his nipples, to stimulate his cock in his cage and his balls with my feet, producing a devastating effect of arousal and frustration.
“Do you know why I tease and deny you like this?”
“Because i am just a pathetic sissy slave who doesn’t deserve to cum Mistress”
“Yes, too! But for that it would be enough for me to keep you in chastity! The real reason I like to tease and deny you is … that I’m just … a sadistic bitch. And I love to excite and deny you! I really am a sadistic and cruel bitch, I like the fact that I get to keep you in constant pain. I love knowing that I get to deny you sexual release, sexual pleasure. ”

I started looking straight into his eyes and, after spitting in his face, I continued, still stimulating his nipples and cock in the cage.
“I love denying you specifically and then I love being a bitch and a cruel mistress. I love what I’ve turned you into” So I started stimulating his caged cock with my hands, while I licked his nipples, enjoying his suppressed desire, the pain his incredible erection was suffering in his cage and enjoying bringing him close to a painful point of no return.
Closer, but not close enough.
“You’re so close. So close, and yet so far, sissy. Tell me how frustrated you are right now.!”
“Do you feel that burning you were telling me about?”
“Yes, it’s totally burning right now. It’s a red hot burning coming from inside my balls and spreading through my cock.”
“Oh good, I love it when you tell me how much it hurts. My pussy just starts bubbling when you tell me that!” So I continued to touch and stimulate and ask:
“Do you ever get mad at me because I don’t let you cum and I don’t ever let you fuck me?”
“No Mistress!”, He replies sincerely, with tears in his eyes, trembling with despair “I am a sissy slave and I have to submit to your every will Mistress! But now I am suffering so much!”
“Poor sissy! But you know how much I like to hear you suffer!

So I took one of my fetish mules, and started masturbating him with that, bringing him again and again close to orgasm
“Oh look, your balls really are blue! That’s not just an expression after all”
In doing so, in the desperation of the sissy, I took him 10 times to the limit of a pathetic poor pleasure and then denied him it.

His body was shaking and sweating, crying and begging unable to make sense of his pleas, desperate, frustrated and in total pain.
Once satisfied, I suddenly stopped all stimulation and said:
“I’m horny! All of this teasing and denying you has got me hot. Kiss my shoes while I pleasure myself.”

So I put on my shoes and there, and while the slave devotedly licked my feet, I masturbated with my favorite vibrator and I cum very hard three times!
“Mmm. That was such a nice! I was so horny.”
The poor sissy, still upset and desperate, kept licking my shoes.
“Do your cock and balls hurt from all that teasing?”
“Oh yes Mistress. It hurts terribly. My balls are burning. My cock aches, and I feel a combination of tremendous desire coupled with intense frustration. Frustration so profound that my balls and cock feel like they are being held over an open flame. ”
“Oh, poor sissy! I have a solution for your suffering! Get on all fours and spread your legs. ”
“Do your balls hurt from all the frustration?”
“Yes, they ache terribly.”
“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”
Before the sissy understood what was happening, I gave him a violent kick in the balls with my shoes while the slave, surprised, moaned his pain and started to cry.
Sadistic and amused, I then asked:
“Do your balls still hurt from the frustration?”
“No, now they hurt from being kicked.”
“Well, you said you were frustrated and you didn’t like it. I’m not through relieving your frustration, however. I’m going to kick you five times. That was just a practice kick. Now there are five more!”
I swung my beautiful foot back and then slammed it into his balls. And then another kick, and another, and another and another. Sissy was disoriented by all the pain. Was nauseous and woozy from having his balls kicked so cruelly and I was more and more exited.

So I went back in front of sissy slave m who, in desperate tears, resumed kissing and licking the feet that had just tortured him while I masturbated again before sending sissy slave but sleeping in his cage, with the addition of coir matting.

Mistress Francesca



Mistress Scarlet’s Journal 17 now published

My Journal No.17 is now published. It contains more words than any previous journal.

It is quite amazing that I have been publishing journals since December 2010, but there is still a strong appetite to read in detail about the activities I pursue in my depraved life. I guess there are three reasons for this.

1. Because I, like all lifestyle dominant women, evolve. I have become more cruel. Even during lock-down I can confirm my cruelty has significantly increased in a number of activities. (And amazingly after all these years,  my pleasure increases, as my cruelty does.)

2. New activities arise. Either as a result of circumstances, like lock-down, or I read of what another Domme does that I have never done but want to try out, or new technology opens a new avenue, and;

3.  Women collaborators in my life come and go. New women join me in double-domming as others drift away for various reasons, (usually house moves or domestic private life circumstances).

So the domination activities and intensities do not stay the same even if the core principles do.

THE FIRST REVIEW (On Amazon Kindle US)

Reviewed in the United States on August 2, 2020

Verified Purchase

Journal 17 is available on Lulu.com as a paperback and as an eBook.

It has been available for some time on Kindle. Kindle links below for the various countries Amazon serves directly.

US       UK       DE      FR       ES     IT      NL     JP     BR       CA      MX     AU      IN

Hopefully soon it will be available hard copy and electronic versions for other devices in other outlets including Barnes and Noble, Nook and iBooks. (But Lulu.com, the distributor has had a disastrous distribution module  relaunch and I cannot promise further distribution of electronic versions other than the options above.)

I hope you enjoy Volume 17.