This entry will be lacking in some detail because I have started preparing diary journal number 5 for publication and a fully detailed description of this special day’s events will appear within – where I can linger over details in a way which I think is inappropriate for shortish, sharpish blog posts. (I think journal number 5 will be almost entirely full of 2012 events, such has been my move to rather extreme ‘behaviours’ as a matter of weekly course in this wonderful year.)
The day started with him removing his pin lined restraint I had padlocked onto him Christmas Eve bedtime, and then he showered under my direction. Then into his pink maid’s outfit and back into his pin lined penis restraint. He begged not to because of the sore places on his little clitty, developed through the night, but I simply told him to find virgin skin for the pin points to rest against.
I then gave him a list of chores to do, prepping in the kitchen, while I had a leisurely bath that he first ran for me. I then dressed in a very sexy outfit and it was time to open the presents. He had spent a lot of money on me, particularly some very, very expensive underwear (which fitted me perfectly). I had also bought myself some very expensive underwear as one of his presents. His presents have been described in earlier posts. How he hated me putting his necklace on him and laughing at the words it displayed. (I LOVE COCK).
I also had twice as many presents as he did. Obviously, completely appropriate. All the things he had bought me were exactly what I wanted. I felt very, spoiled and worshipped. And very cruel and decadent considering all his presents were to give me pleasure at his shameful, painful expense. With all the presents opened, the room hung heavy with depraved atmosphere. I decided to give him a caning for insufficient gratitude for his presents. He really whined throughout because he said he was so sore from the previous day.
He then had to tidy-up and then iron the table cloth and one napkin for the main meal table setting, while I relaxed and more closely examined and enjoyed my huge array of presents. He then spent the next two hours setting the table for one and cooking the main meal while I relaxed making calls and flicking through a magazine.
Finally it was time for the meal. I had already started on the champagne and I allowed him a glass of tap water before he served. The starter was cooked fig and warm duck meat with blue cheese slivers, all on fine sliced baguette. He bought two plates of the starter into the dining room. I sat at the table and indicated he should sit at my feet on the polished floor boards. I told him he would not be using a plate. He looked so sad and begged a little. I told him it was what would give me the most pleasure for my Christmas meal so that was that! He did get to sit by my beautiful feet in a beautiful pair of shoes – an honour I think.
I took a mouthful of my starter – delicious! He is a fantastic cook! I then attended to his plate. I dropped some duck meat onto the floor. Then I dropped some cooked fig which made a little plop sound as it hit the boards. Then I spread some blue cheese onto a baguette slice. He was sobbing a little by now. I told him to look up so he could see me drop a mouthful of spit onto the baguette slice and then, I dropped it onto the floor and placed the sole of my shoe on top. Then I told him to listen as I pushed down and the baguette crunched.
Once he had licked the sole of my shoe clean he had to eat the rest from the floor without using his hands, while I looked down at the top of his head and enjoyed some more of the starter from my plate. And so we continued, in the same fashion each eating our own portions of the starter. Four baguette slices each in all. I was so taken with the imagery, I had bitch-boy take a photo of me squashing the food. During his initial whining he had begged me not to use the shoes to squash the food because they are the pair I had only recently worn to the Club Pedestal event (previous blog entry). I had walked all around a public fetish club, visited the toilets several times etc. I was unmoved by his aversion on the apparent grounds of hygiene. (Looking at the photo, I can see why I was approached by so many slaves that night, all begging to be allowed to worship my feet. Pretty feet – beautiful, sexy shoes!)
For the main course, I allowed him a plate on the floor, and a knife and fork. Again his cooking was perfection. I was too full for a pudding.
Meal finished, I retired to the sitting room to watch a DVD and sent him into the kitchen to tidy everything up. There was a great deal of tidying and washing-up to do but he did have his new pink rubber gloves adorned with yellow, rubber flowers (one of his presents) to brighten the chores! And so the day continued in the same vein with a good number of other torments and humiliations for him.
Last Christmas day had been somewhat of a subjugating ordeal for him, this one was much worse. By the mid evening I could tell he was utterly subjugated and conquered. The fact that it was Christmas day, normally a time for some relaxation and drinking and fun (even for him, up until last year) clearly intensified the effect of my cruelty and exploitation. But he knew for weeks before what was in store for him and he knew what presents he would be getting – yet look at what wonderful gifts he nonetheless bought for me. Keeping him in awe of my dominant sadism clearly fills his submissive soul with the need to keep me happy. What could be a better way to live ladies – if you don’t live so yet, think about living so. If your man is submissive, the world can be your oyster if you choose.