I keep wondering if I should run a Tumbler captioned image site. (with bitch-boy doing all the actual grunt work of course.) I would write the captions.
I have set a tumbler site in motion and posted a couple of examples of proposed material.
Perhaps my regular followers could let me know if it is worth my while? I have no strong views. I shoule make it clear that the Tumbler site would be in addition to this blog.
LINK TO TUMBLER POTENTIAL SITE
As the frosts begin and the nettles start to fade I thought I should make the most of the last of the nettles during the weekend just gone.
I had bitch-boy strapped down, face down over the dining table and whipped his arse with nettles. He made such a fuss! (despite his gag). Once there were lots of nasty bumps all over the skin of his arse, I moved him to sit on his little girl chair, (wrists still bound together and to his posture collar.) There was coir matting on the seat. He made more fuss as I sat him down on the nasty matting. I bound his legs wide apart.
I left him facing the wall for just under two hours. He whimpered a lot while I got on with my day. He especially whimpered each time (five in all), when I rubbed some nettles on his little exposed dicklet. The whole thing made me very ‘hot’! I had to ‘see to myself’ several times. Just walking past him and listening to his whimpering and observing his utter helplessness gave me a feeling of delightful power-rush and depravity.
Some of you will recall that I have bitch-boy worship either my arse or my footwear while I apply my make-up in the weekday mornings. Yesterday morning, one of his tasks, while I was in the shower, was to clean and polish the boots I would be wearing that day.
It came to me putting on my make-up and he had to kiss my boots while I did so. (He has to make a kissing noise with each little peck of lips on leather and I order him to move from one boot to the other, just because I can.) There was a brief exchange this morning at the outset.
‘Please not kiss your boots Mistress. I might get black boot polish on my lips from when I just cleaned the boots.’
‘If that happens it will be because you did not rub the boot polish into the boot properly so you will deserve to have boot polish on your lips won’t you. Now get on with it.’
What was he thinking!
Saturday began with a padlocked on leather collar which stayed on until Sunday afternoon, then , first chore, a feather duster clean of all ceilings and walls. It took him around 4o minutes. He was caned for the imperfections. Then it was dusting every surface. It took him around an hour. He was caned for the imperfections. Then it was vacuuming the whole house. When he had finished, I led him around on a leash connected to his penis piercing and inspected his work. He had to eat each tiny item of detritus I found. He was caned twice for each of the nine items of detritus. He was very sore now and sobbed through the caning. He made my lunch and knelt on the coir matting, sucking a dildo stuck to the window, while I ate my lunch.
Then it was almost two hours of ironing. He was caned for every crease, 19 in all. He was very, very sore now and sobbed bitterly through the caning. I then chained him to the toilet, wrists cuffed behind back, and left him there until bedtime. At bedtime he slept on the floor in my room.
Sunday involved over three hours of total sensory deprivation bondage, utterly immobile, no sounds or vision and gagged. He remained so bound while I had some fun with my electricity box on his clitty.
I had many wonderful orgasms during the weekend and he was due relief – which he got, at the end of my electrical fun. A perfect life.