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.
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
Sent: 01 March 2021 02:14
I am so looking forward to your account of his anniversary day!
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.
26 thoughts on “Unhappy Anniversary”
wow – just wow!
Well done Christine !!!!
It’s only been 11 days for me. I am not allowed orgasms, but after a week or two I usually have an accident during my morning tease session.
Are there consequences for your accidents? Do you get a full orgasm with an accident?
Great post! My wife and you , Mistress Scarlet, both limit your slave to no more than 2 possible orgasms a year. My wife used to allow me 3 orgasm a year, about 1 every 4 months, but beginning this year she feels that every 6 months, and 2 orgasms, is way more than enough for a slave/husband. She will rub me thru my panties and tell me I have permission to make a mess. I am not allowed to touch or rub my cock myself, she says all my pleasure will always come from her hand. I am a member of your BAV, and I am told often that I will never be allowed in her pussy again as it is too great a privilege for a slave/husband. As I mentioned in an earlier reply, she had me join the 1 year club in 2017, keeping me without orgasm for an entire year. So difficult. The first few months I was so horny and desperate to cum, I suppose just from thinking that I had a long way to go. After 5 months it got a little easier, but around October, month10, I was constantly thinking of how much I wanted to cum, and how could I possibly last 2 more months. Well, I did, and without ever having a wet dream.
I am never allowed to ask my wife if may have permission to cum when she teases and denies me. Never. If I would ask, I would lose my next chance and be severely punished. . I was leaking making wet spots in my panties every day, and my wife saw that. One day she said, “tomorrow I will do something about your leaking cum”. I thought maybe she was going to allow me a wet edge, but the next day she returned home and gave me 2 boxes of panty shields. Not was I was thinking.
She loves to edge me, stopping just in time before I will have a wet edge. If she sees that I have a wet spot on the front of my panties larger than about an inch round, she says I released too much and will have to be punished for disobeying her. She only wants to see a small spot of cum, less than an inch.
I often wonder when a woman makes her slave wait very long periods of time without being allowed to cum, if she has ever experienced a small part of the feeling that he does. My wife is never horny, with me giving her multiple orgasms about twice a week. But if she were to wait a month or 2, would the intense feelings be the same? I suppose not. It is March now , I have not cum since last December and my testicles feel full and ache. I have mentioned before that I spoke with 2 urologists in the past about long term denial. They both said that the body will absorb semen fluid and the rest expelled with urination. But they said that there will usually be discomfort in the testicles, and to remember, no one ever died from chastity. I told my wife what they said and she said…”smart doctors”.
The post is about the wonderful Christine. At the moment I do limit bitch-boy to two orgasms a year. But his orgasms are months apart.
I have heard that a denied female does get very desperate, but it may be psychological compared to what she is used to, rather than hormone related like with males.
This made me cry so hard, especially having to wear the high heels with marbles in the soles while ironing after being laughed at and thoroughly humiliated.
Scarlet, I am ready to commit to being in a ballet stage production to take place this summer for an audience and on YouTube, but have yet confirm with the teacher, sign the contract, and pay the deposit. Prancing around like a fairy in white sissy tights pulled up my butt and dainty little slippers for all to see is the absolute most humiliating thing I can think of (just the thought makes me cry) so I am hesitating. Any encouragement you and Christine could provide would be greatly appreciated. Thank you. curtsy
Who is instructing you to commit to being in a ballet stage production?
Mistress Josephine Drake and, of course, my ballet teacher.
So truly, the ballet teacher understands your ‘forced’ situation?
Yes my ballet teacher understands I am a sissy. She figured it out by the girlish way I behave in class and the skimpy, often see-through, tights I wear. (They’re “mens” but only a sissy would wear them). One day in class she was teasing me and after I had left she told all the other ladies that I was a sissy. I realized it the next class when everyone was laughing at me, ordering me around, calling me sissy, and treating me like a little girl.
When she told me about the stage production and asked if I wanted to be in it, I said I would think about it and later told Mistress Josephine, who said I HAD to be in it. I then told the ballet teacher my “girlfriend” wants me to be in it, so I am pretty sure she understands I am being forced. By way of background, the teacher can hardly ever find men to be in her productions so she is pressuring me, and I am terrified about how humiliating it will be.
Keep me in the loop Sissy
Here is what Mistress Josephine said when I asked if I still had to be in it now that it is rescheduled post Covid:
You need to ask? Of course you do! Mommy and your ballet teacher want to see you high up on your toes in a tutu, prancing around like the little sissy you are.
When I started crying she added:
Aww… my poor, sorrowful little twinkletoes!
I do adore Mistress Josephine Drake!
Ms. Christine fills me with awe when I read about her severe treatment of David. I’m sure I would have burst into real sobbing of self pity at the punishment ironing…that must have been absolutely devastating! Thank You Ms. Christine for sharing your lifestyle with us and thank You Mistress Scarlet for this delightful forum!
wonderful post. i was in agony with David as i read along
I doubt you were in the same agony.
True just mental and nothing physical
I’m jealous of David on one hand..but on the other hand I’d be terrified to submit on that level.
Another week, another draw, another ‘Try again next week’! Poor dear. :)
The smile gives away the depth of sympathy…..sort of like zero!!
…i would love to know how the draw on sun 21. march went. Was he unlucky again??
In a new blog post, all will be revealed either today or tomorrow.
On tender hooks….such a tease….