Monthly Archives: February 2013

Stuck in a rut (A good rut!)

For the third weekend running, a five hour afternoon was taken up with the same routine. Am I stuck in rut?
First – playing with the trinkets, Second – sensory deprivation bondage punctuated with cock teasing and torture. Both of these pleasures have featured in posts before.

Playing with the trinkets – I have bitch-boy kneeling at one end of the sofa, head overhanging the end. His shaved sensitive boys bits are pulled back through his legs and his thighs are then clamped together and legs bound tightly just above the knee. His ankles and wrists are bound together. He is blindfolded and gagged and has silicon ear plugs. I sit on the upturned soles of his feet, (his toes are pointed back).

Yesterday, like the two previous occasions, I then watched a foreign language film. So he could not follow some diverting plot even if he could make out the sound of the dialogue. He is left simply, bound-immobile, blind, gagged, sexually desperate and nothing to focus on but the constant touch of my fingers. Sometimes teasing and caressing, sometimes squeezing, sometimes pumping away for a while on his stiff little pee-pee, sometimes sharp nails scratching and stabbing.

Without raising my elbow from my lap, I absentmindedly played with his sensitive, shaved boy’s bits, which protruded (with no doubt a very awkward feeling) out between the backs of his clamped together thighs. I just cannot leave them alone and play just about continuously! On the last 3 weekends, the film’s durations were between one hour twenty and one hour fifty.

The film finished – its time for total sensory deprivation bondage on the bed for him. Each time, before leaving him on the bed, bound so he cannot not move limb or head, gagged, blindfolded, silicone earplugs blotting out all sound – I made his clitty hard and then liberally smeared it with Deep Heat embrocation cream.

While I sat reading the papers or watching some TV, I listened with a smile at the sounds of his distressed whimpering on the video baby monitor I had set up.

I leave him perhaps for two hours, perhaps for one and then visit his pitch-black-blind, silent-deaf, immobile-paralyzed, helpless, fearful world and use smacking with my ruler, teasing and denying, more embrocation cream – and then I leave the room again.

How the five hours of each afternoon have pleasantly flown by (for me!). And his tongue and my fingers have to be put to good use almost exactly once an hour.

Another typical workday morning

Bitch-boy woke me at the time instructed with a cup of tea in bed. Bitch-boy made my lunch and cleaned my boots while I showered. Bitch-boy worshipped my arse while I did my make-up. I locked a leather collar around Bitch-boy’s neck, secured with a uniquely numbered plastic padlock. He would have to wear high necked apparel the whole day.

When I was ready to leave, he stripped naked, (apart from chastity tube and collar – both locked on) and knelt and kissed the cleaned boots I was now wearing, until I told him to stop. Despite him having done this thousands of times, I continue to get a lovely warm feeling of power and ownership while, naked, he kisses my footwear. Will I ever lose that satisfying potent feeling during this ritual? I doubt it.

I gave him a list of jobs to be done that day. He then quickly dressed and carried my bags to my car. Another typical workday morning – one of the reasons I love my life so much.