Tag Archives: CFNM

Single subs making it worse

I know I am tilting at windmills here, and covering old ground. I apologise, but is there nothing that can be done about submissive males simultaneously despairing about how few dominant women there are compared to submissive men, while posting and sharing images that contribute to keeping the number of dominant women as low as it is.

Somehow the concept of Female Led Relationships, (FLR), needs to be seen as totally separate from, and completely different to, Femdom Porn. ‘Relationship’ being the key word. I will explain:

99% of vanilla women, (possibly even ‘curious’ vanilla women), do not want to wear thigh high boots, PVC or rubber, corsets, or shoes with heels more than four inches high that do not have a platform sole. These women do not want to visit a dungeon, they don’t want to use a bull-whip, they don’t want to use needles or electrics, or have a dungeon in their house. They probably don’t like the thought of their male dressed as a maid or other female character. They also do  not think women are born to rule and men are born to serve. They all know at least one woman who you would not want or trust to rule a pet hamster, let alone rule another human being; and they probably now some amazing men. They do want to know that if they did end up as the dominant partner, their male would not be weak and submissive in the vanilla times with any problems they face as a family. (I wish sub men would stop posting their memes like ‘women were born to lead, men are born to follow.’ I understand sub men truly feel this, BUT non-submissive men think its mental, as do vanilla women! It is not the case, stop writing it! I guess it would be fine to post, ‘Women are born to lead submissive males, who will worship and protect them.’)  Also, 99% of vanilla women do not look like supermodels. It does not help that so many dominatrices do.


My ranting point is that the output of the profit based femdom industry which includes dominatrices and photo and video makers, is almost all, very likely to put off vanilla women from trying dominance, even ‘curious’ ones. I do not want to criticise these industries though as they do play an important role. My criticism is how the same sub males that are despairing about how few dominant women there are, of how they can’t tempt their wife or girlfriend to try it, post and share these images and videos that put off vanilla women from having a try.

In my BDSMLR site, I do try to include many, many images of domestic FLR. I do also have a few images of dominatrices in action because I adore the featured activity in which they are partaking. But then I am not a submissive male despairing about how few dominant women there are, and my BDSMLR site is not intended to attract vanilla women to try dominance. It is simply for my pleasure. I have, with help from a few others, put together my Alternative Blog and my Manual for Beginners for the purpose of attracting vanilla women to try dominance. And produced pages on this blog as advice to sub husbands and boyfriends.

I guess I am wondering if there could be, whenever people are labelling images or videos, or writing on the internet, a clear distinction between FLR and femdom porn.

One of my favourite genres of image on BDSMLR is the ‘while doing something else’ activity. It epitomises REAL FLR. The male is at his chores, or tethered somewhere, or performing shoe worship or cunnilingus say.  And the wife/girlfriend, almost certainly dressed in vanilla-ish clothes, is watching TV, or on the phone, or reading, or sunbathing. While doing something else activity plays a big part in a FLR.  Once a vanilla woman has had a try at real domination and experiences her first REAL power-rush, things can move quickly to bullwhips and cages and all the other femdom porn paraphernalia, but we have to get them to make that first step.


I dream of there being two very distinct Femdom internet genre; Femdom porn and FLR material.

So I will now step down from my soapbox and I apologise for my rant on an unrealistic dream.

My ideal life depicted

Well, where can you get these umbrellas???? I would never have believed an umbrella might depict the perfect life for me!

This image is from a BDSMLR site and I have had bitch-boy photoshop the bottom of the image as I continue to be paranoid about my blog being deleted by WordPress for ‘obscene’ images.

THIS LINK will take you to the uncensored image. You may have guessed the beautiful womens’ front feet are on the face of a naked man lying face up. The uncensored image supported by the umbrella pattern could not be more in line with my ideal life, as long as the begging male is singular, just bitch-boy, and I have my girlfriend all to myself. And as I have decided there will come a time, not too far away, when bitch-boy no longer is allowed any orgasms. The dynamic then would be so, so perfect. Sometimes perhaps seeing, always hearing,  the orgasmic screams of my lover and I.

The BDSMLR site itself, Humiliated in Public, does have a good number of images I like; some of which are already re-blogged to my BDSMLR site.   In time, I will have bitch-boy go through the whole, Humiliated in Public, site to re-blog all the images I like. It goes without  saying I do not like the images of males publicly humiliating females, but some of them depict great ideas and I can imagine myself in the male’s role.

I do like dominating submissive females as I think you all know, and I also like Domme females and switch females as collaborators and lovers too. I am thinking of starting a Lezdom blog and Lezdom BDSMLR site if I can find the time, so it might never happen.


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


Innocent Images (2)

It seems fun to post some more following my last such post on 28 March 2020. Not everyone got the final image on my last post. But many did. (A  hot wife getting ready to go out on her date, from the POV of her sexually desperate and denied, cuckolded husband-slave; kept in 24/7/365 chastity.)

Images like these I hope invoke BDSM femdom thoughts in us, while a vanilla person would see nothing to do with serious eroticism. Obviously bitch-boy’s sexual desperation is made worse as he produces these images to my specification, as does his curation of my BDSMLR site, also to my specification. Poor puppet!

The first six of these images are a slave’s POV on a very favourite pastime of mine. I dedicated a post to Partial Ignoring in 2017. You may wish to read this 2017 post if you have not before.

















































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









While doing something else

What was one of my favourite site themes on Tumblr has now appeared on BDSMLR, I am so pleased to say.  while-doing-something-else.  bitch-boy informed me he found it while he was doing his BDSMLR tease chore as he knew the theme is in my top 3.

It so sums up, I think other Dommes will agree, the atmosphere of REAL LIFE, long term, live-together,  Domme/sub relationships. So much time is spent with the Domme enjoying whatever she wants, excluding the sub, while the sub toils  in the background on chores somewhere or toils between her thighs, or while she sunbathes, or he is a foot-rest, or his face is a seat. Particularly while the Domme is; applying make-up, drying/fixing hair, talking on the telephone, watching TV, reading a book or magazine, eating a meal, doing one’s nails, on social media, engaged in a pleasant craft activity, chatting to a visiting female guest, ‘who is in the know’.

I have of course had bitch-boy re-blog many of the images to my BDSMLR site.

So different to the majority of Femdom images on the net where the Domme (usally a professional dominatrix), is having to focus all her attention on the male sub. Not that I have a problem with the dominatrix profession. Wonderful women!

Obviously I have to ignore the images of fucking and cock-sucking and male climaxes on this site. A girl can’t have everything!

On the topic of my BDSMLR site I now have 4,800 followers. Nowhere near the 20,000 on my old Tumblr site, but it grows steadily which I adore. I adore because so many people share the REAL LIFE tastes I have.

Almost no PVC or latex, or warehouses or dungeons or abandoned buildings. Domestic scenarios in the main, and only the women getting the pleasure and the thrills. Of course the males getting their submissive contentment when their head hits the pillow every night, even if there is little or no sexual satisfaction in their lives.

Innocent Images?

Just a very light hearted post arising from me thinking about the shame of how I have to avoid posting images of BDSM or nudity because I do not want the slightest possibility of my blog getting deleted by WordPress.

I wondered, looking at the images on my femdom  BDSMLR site, how minimal an image could be yet still invoke BDSM thoughts in us, while a vanilla person would see nothing to do with eroticism. I stood over bitch-boy while he went to work with Photoshop under my instruction.

Do these fit the bill? Do they inspire your imagination with BDSM thoughts and scenarios? Would a vanilla person see eroticism or simply be confused or bored by each image? Is it even possible for us to put ourselves into the mind of a vanilla person. I do not think it is possible.








Just a reminder about my new Guide entirely written to help entice vanilla women into trying domination. Further details HERE.  There is also my alternative blog; again entirely written to help entice vanilla women into trying domination.


Two day detention!

A, long but very fascinating and engrossing account of a two day detention for Samantha’s husband. Samantha has been dominating for a year and I think is amazing, (especially one year in). I find it interesting to compare and contrast her account with the previous post regarding Christine M who has been dominating for a long time. Christine and Samantha have similar tastes but to different levels of pitilessness – so far! We Dommes all evolve; and in what ways and how far, we have no idea in advance.

I hope you enjoy the following account as much as I have.

Samantha’s Account of the 2 day detention

My name is Samantha and I first contributed to Mistress Scarlet’s blog a few weeks ago . I am a mid-fifties Englishwoman. In my post, I mentioned the ‘Scenarios’ my submissive 62yr old husband, pipsqueak, and I indulge in 2-4 times a month. In the blog’s comments section a couple of people said they’d like to know more. On 7th and 8th of January 2020, we role-played our first ever 2-day ‘School Term’, as a step-up from the shorter periods we began with last year.

Here is a (very long, 6000 words) account of those two days. They were part of our mutual New Year’s Resolution to step-up our activities and explore new levels of challenge for him. This is an edited and tweaked version of my own ‘diary’ that I’d made for my own private purposes. I recently asked Mistress Scarlet if she’d like to post it.

As usual, I didn’t pre-plan that much. I prefer to let things play out naturally. However, I had an idea regarding the number of lines I wanted him to write and I’d also invited two friends over for coffee on Tuesday morning (7th). Those two things were in place. I’d pre-prepared his school food menus and indeed my own meals for both days. What I also did was start an extensive note on my phone for reflection upon later. That turned out to be the spine of this account.

We woke Tuesday as usual, had tea in bed, and then separated to get into our outfits; white shirt, striped tie and grey shorts for him, a tweed skirt, jacket and sensible shoes for me. We both like a bit of time apart to ‘get into character’. At 08.30 precisely, he reported to me, standing to attention in the ‘school room’ (our dining room) and we began. I laid my canes out on my desk.

We’ve both got used to role playing. It was a bit embarrassing in the early days. Dressing up, playing a character, putting on a voice. I speak in a slightly clipped version of my normal speech. I change my vocabulary too. Short sentences, abrupt manner and no-nonsense instructions.

After roll call, he ate his breakfast. I had prepared the ingredients the night before and simply pulverised them in our Nutrabullet. My goal was an unpleasant ‘porridge’ with the slimy texture of baby food. I never reveal what’s in his smoothies. For the first time ever, in the spirit of our New Year’s resolution, I used some of my urine as the base. We’ve never tried so-called water sports before. I have to admit it was amusing watching him gulp the drink down unwittingly, its acrid taste masked and enhanced by spinach greens, curly kale, raisins, unsweetened oats and angostura bitters. I noted on my phone, he didn’t seem to have any clue what he’d actually drunk (sad face emoji). After breakfast, he did 5 minutes stretching to pump his blood circulating into his brain.

At 09.00 we had Assembly, and I gave him the day’s hymn sheet; ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, which he sang unaccompanied in front of me. Then it was time for Lesson 1, his favorite, ‘Line-Writing’. I brusquely announced that he would be doing a 1,000 Lines Project over the two day term. If he failed, I threatened 2,000 Lines over the 4-day week (Tues-Fri). He sat on his backless stool and nodded anxiously, reddening in shock.

“Writing one thousand lines without mistakes is a tall challenge”. I gave him the line. The day before, it had taken me 155 seconds to write it neatly and number the line 5 times. An average of 31 seconds per line. I’d done the arithmetic. His challenge should be doable in the time I’d allocated but his fingers, wrist, forearm and brain would seriously ache by the end of it. I watched him set to work at exactly five past nine.

While he wrote and the hall clock ticked, I made myself breakfast of coffee and a cinnamon bagel. I ate it at my desk, eyeing him in silence, and reading the Daily Telegraph on my ipad. The first hour passed by pleasantly enough.

At 10.05, I allowed him a toilet break. He pulled down his shorts in front of me and revealed his steel cock-tube. It’s a new one we got him for Christmas, made by Lock the Cock. I like its simple, hygienic design, the compact size (3.1 inches length) and the easy-to-use padlock. He’s worn it since Boxing Day (26th) and had one orgasm in the 12 days since. I quickly unlocked him with my key.

I’ve never had any desire to watch him urinate outside of our role-play. But there’s something about monitoring his every move that appeals to me when we play. Privacy for me, absolutely none for him. I make him hold himself left-handed and peel back his foreskin so I can check him for cleanliness. Then he pees very accurately into the pan and dabs his penis dry, ready for my inspection of his genitals.

At first, I didn’t want him to shave his groin. I preferred him manly as he was. So he only trimmed his pubic hair with scissors. But 6 months ago we went the full monty. We use a twice-weekly, mixed regime of clippers, razor, Nads cream and wax strips, and tweezers to keep him utterly depilated from his navel to his anus. I’ve grown to like the new, smooth hairless ‘Action Man’ look and it makes hygiene easier to maintain, and cage-chafing to avoid. Rather amusingly and incongruously it makes his decent-sized penis appear even larger too!

I take a good, matronly look at him. Bristles appear within a few days so there’s always a chance to criticize and pluck. I made him bend over and pull his buttock cheeks super-wide apart so I could inspect him with my iphone torch. The torch never lies. He’s nice and clean so far. But there were a few hairs on his scrotum and anal rim I’d been allowing to grow. I tut-tutted and plucked them out viciously one by one. He hissed at each sharp twist.

When he straightened, I was pleased to see a semi-erection. It only took a few casual strokes from me to get him fully hard. ‘What’s this?’ I demanded. He apologized. I told him how inappropriate it is for a naughty schoolboy to become aroused by his elder and better, a member of staff no less. I thwacked his penis a few times, only making him harder. I asked him if he knew what masturbation was yet, and had he done it? He replied, embarrassed, that he had. I told him to demonstrate.

I have an app ‘Metronome Beats’ on my phone. I can set endless rhythms. I put it to a steady tempo and made sure he stroked his penis in sync, nice and slow. After a couple of minutes I made him switch over to left-handed. After 5 minutes and 300 strokes, he was very nicely edged. I told him ‘enough’. I didn’t relock him. He simply pulled up his grey shorts. After he’d had a drink of water, it was 11 o’clock and time for essay writing.

“The new Labour leader should be [name] for these reasons.” I chose a current topic and something to test him. He knows much more about the Conservative Party than the opposition. I thought it would be interesting to see how he did with 3 whole hours to write about something he’d done no preparation for. I was pleased to see by his nonplussed expression that he was going to struggle.

At 11.15, I set the camera recording. It’s on a tripod alongside him. It’s usually just monitoring but sometimes I want to film him too, just in case. Fifteen minutes later, two local, married female friends of mine arrived together. I phoned them on Monday. It always feels deliciously wicked and risky when people come round during a role play. We sat and chatted while my mind was in fact two rooms away where my own husband was in grey shorts puzzling over the Labour leadership contest. I wasn’t going to bother playing back the boring film of him writing but he wasn’t to know that.

Both ladies left just before lunch and I set to work preparing his next school meal. I’d bought a salmon fillet and two separate salmon heads & tails at our nearby traditional fishmonger. Guess which one of us had which? I removed much of the nicer flesh from the heads and tails so they were mostly just cartilage, scraps, eyeballs and lots of dark skin (actually the most nutritious part). I lightly sauted them with onion and margarine, until slimy, and served them in a plain white bowl with peas and cabbage. At 2.00 p.m. precisely, I collected his essay and presented him with his unappetizing lunch.

I hovered over him while he ate with just a spoon. I expect a totally clean plate. I watched him push the eyeballs round and round. They were another first. I’d read they’re actually not only edible but delicious and supposedly stimulate brain cells and reduce memory loss in older age. Useful if true. Eventually he spooned all four of them into his mouth one after the other. But he didn’t agree they’re tasty!

After a quick pee and a drink of water, it was time for more line writing. The long afternoons are always harder for him than the mornings and evenings. So I’d decided to switch his major line session to 2.15 p.m. – 6.15 p.m. After all, writing a thousand lines without mistakes should be made into as tough a challenge as possible. He was on schedule so far, after only one hour in the morning, but he still had a long, loooong way to go. I smiled as he picked up his biro and began to write.

I then grilled my own salmon fillet and had it with potatoes, peas and tartare sauce at my desk facing him. I also enjoyed two glasses of sauvignon blanc. He always used to make us both do ‘dry January’ every year. In 2020, he’s doing two months ‘dry Jan and Feb’ on behalf of both of us. Just one of the little ways he now ‘offsets’ my indulgences.

He’s not a heavy drinker. He’s a gin & tonic at 7, a few glasses of wine with food, an occasionally whisky afterwards man, and a beer with a rugby or football match on TV. His dry January fetish for about the last 15 years says way more about his personality than his drinking. He insisted on roping me into it. I am now enjoying making him see things from my point of view. I shall see how two teetotal months of tap water, and slim line tonic as a treat, go for him. Perhaps it should be a permanent arrangement? We used to share the driving ‘about 50-50’ when going out to dinner with friends or to restaurants. That’s all changed anyway, but part of me likes the idea and supposed health benefits for him of going permanent. Or at least extending February to March, or April, and testing his reaction?

After lunch, I left him to it and used my ipad at the kitchen table, occasionally glancing at the camera feed. Four hours are a long time to fill when your husband’s out of action, so to speak. A 24/7 role-play dynamic couldn’t work for me. I need and enjoy my husband’s vanilla company too much. This is a fun game, but an occasional one. I can always fill time with a book in the garden in summer, or a box-set in the winter, but I’m a pretty social person who likes and needs company. I’d dearly love to have a single, eligible male neighbour-friend I could invite round for tea. My lady friends are fine but a man in the house would really press my husband’s buttons I suspect, although nothing would actually happen. Sadly we have no suitable acquaintance at present who I can invite round. And if I did it would cause a stir socially. A decade ago I’d have enjoyed flirting with random men but I fear that ship has now sailed.

I filled some of the time reading and marking my husband’s essay on the new Labour leader. He plumped for Keir Starmer. As usual his knowledge surprised me. He absorbs all that Radio 4 stuff that passes me by. What I enjoy is being savage on his presentation. I red-circle anywhere his writing’s not neat or his punctuation’s unclear. I enjoy literature and writing. He’s more of a numbers and science man. His final 3 pages were sloppy, repetitive and poorly argued. I graded him a C-minus which merits a caning.

At ten past four the doorbell suddenly rang. We have very few visitors we’re not expecting. I was about to send my husband upstairs, just in case, when I saw it was only an Amazon delivery man! I also had phone calls from my hairdresser and a friend in London with an ill relative. I haven’t deleted these from this account to demonstrate, in some ways, it was still a typical Tuesday afternoon, except for what was going on in our dining room. I think it was Alfred Hitchcock who once said that a film should be like life, but with the boring bits deleted.

At 6.15 p.m. it was time for supper, his usual bean and lentil soup, made with cannellini beans, brown lentils, tinned tomatoes, onion and water. I leave out the stock, seasoning and spices included in ‘normal’ recipes, so his own version is heavy and bland, and I served it to him lukewarm so he could spoon it down super-fast. A quick glass of water afterwards, a toilet break pee, and it was 6.30, time for yet another 2 hours of line writing.

I calculated yesterday [Monday 6th] that if he averaged 1.4 lines per minute, or 1 line every 43 seconds, he could complete 1,000 lines in 12 hours of writing. The thousand lines target had a wonderfully simple and cruel ring to it. It was double the previous maximum he’d achieved at any time during 2019. I wanted it to be a true test of his obedience and his right hand. And I didn’t want to see any sign of resentment in his body language.

My parents were foodies and I grew up loving good food. I enjoy cooking, especially once our children at last wanted something other than chicken nuggets. I have a hundred cookbooks. I love nice meals out with my husband. In vanilla mode. But I can’t deny I’d now get a wicked thrill from managing his diet and mine differently. I made myself a delicious chicken stir-fry and ate it at my desk, accompanied by more sauvignon blanc, while he churned out lines.

At 7.49 p.m. he put his hand up and asked to use the toilet. I was amused. I can usually notice him starting to shift awkwardly on his stool but this time he’d managed to hide it. I told him to wait until the end of the lesson. I could soon tell he’d left it very late to ask. Within ten minutes his expression and pose betrayed real stress. At 8.03 he asked again, this time saying otherwise he’d have an ‘accident, Mistress Kane’, which is our code-amber. I snapped for him to stand up and escorted him to the cloakroom.

The first time, the first few times, he’d performed for me were excruciatingly embarrassing for him. 33 years together and, like most couples I imagine, we’d shared a bathroom but allowed each other our privacy. Make no mistake, it was a humiliation HE asked for. I was shocked but not put off. Hell, I’ve changed enough diapers in my time. I found to my surprise I rather enjoyed it. Sadly it’s no longer really embarrassing for him in front of just me. But instead I invent what I can to make it truly uncomfortable for him.

I insist on absolute decorum. As usual he removed his shorts completely so he could straddle the toilet pan without touching the rim. I stared down at him dispassionately and told him he could urinate first. His penis had been unlocked all afternoon. He’s not allowed to handle it. He had to angle his body to pee directly into the pan without touching it and without making any mess. Then it was time for the main event. After a day of liquidized spinach and oats, salmon skin, beans and lentils, I knew his guts would be churning nicely.

I smirked and told him I only wanted nice, neat, firm logs. No flatulence or grunts. I told him to start with one small piece first and then to pause, and await further instruction. I simply adore the look in his eyes when I’ve set him an impossible task. He’s always hated failure. He’s a perfectionist. It’s one of the traits I most loved discovering about him after we met.

Squatting, fingers laced behind his head, eyes front, he concentrated hard. He let out a little fart. One black mark. I told him to spread his knees wider so I could see better. He screwed his eyes shut. ‘Look at me’, I snapped. I like to see into his soul at times like this. He sighed and noisily let out something that could neither be described as small nor firm. I won’t go into any more detail.

I make wiping his bottom as shaming as possible. He bends over, back to me, and presents his dirty backside, then awkwardly wipes it himself with one piece of tissue at a time. I consider anything more than 3 sheets an ‘ecological waste’. As usual, he wasn’t yet clean when he tugged his buttocks open for me to check. I allowed him two more sheets but at a cost of two more black marks. We haven’t yet tried an enema for him as we didn’t think either of us will be into that. But I may give it a try in 2020. We returned to his desk and he completed an extra 15 minutes of lines.

At a quarter to nine, it was time for his daily exercise. He stripped naked and began with a brisk 5 minutes’ jog on the spot. His bits flopped around amusingly. I held my cane horizontally chest-high and made sure he touched it with his knees as he ran. Getting his ‘knees up’ got his heartbeat up too. Then he did 60 push-ups for me, again raising his bottom nice and high. Every ten push-ups I thwacked his buttocks to give him ‘six of the best’ in all.

He took a shower. I vary the temperature (at his suggestion). He went to grammar school back in the day when cold showers were a punishment. But he’d had a long day and I let him wash in a warmish shower. He dried and presented himself for inspection. I checked his body, bottom and face for cleanliness then gave his genitals a good check up. I peeled back his foreskin and left it retracted while I felt his balls for lumps. His penis hardened.

I made him stroke himself for me. Exactly 300 strokes in 5 minutes, at 1 per second. His breath quickened and his eyes pleaded. I smiled. It’s been 8 long days since he had his New Year’s Eve orgasm. I made him give me the same again, another 300 strokes at the same leisurely pace. I then told him to lose his erection in one minute or there’d be hell to pay. He wedged it between his thighs to crush out the blood. Eventually I was able to lock him back up. He dressed in his striped cotton, school-type pyjamas.

It was still only 9.30 p.m. Our normal school role play would have finished by now. On this occasion I’d scheduled Homework study to complete his education for the day. “Why I refuse to give my husband blowjobs.” As I mentioned in my first contribution to this blog, the truth is that I’ve never liked performing oral sex even when I was in my sexual heyday, whereas I’m now a very happy recipient of cunnilingus. I’d googled an article on Your Tango.com and in it a lady made four points I felt my husband needed to reflect on; (1) Sex acts, any sex acts at all, should only ever be entered into by people who aren’t only willing, but are enthusiastic (2) Sucking dick is as much a sexual preference as doing it doggy style or whatever (3) That means the lady writer would lay back and happily enjoy unreciprocated oral sex for however long he wants to go down, because he’s enjoying it and [she’s] enjoying that he’s enjoying it (4) She’s not a defective partner simply because she doesn’t reciprocate oral sex. She’s not a selfish partner either. She just doesn’t suck dick. Full stop. I told him to learn the 566 word article verbatim.

When it came to his bedtime at 11 o’clock, I could barely wait to turn out the light I was so ready. I undressed and put on my gown and returned as ‘Matron Cougar’. He was waiting for me but I could tell even he was taken aback by the wetness and heat in my vagina. I rode his face gently but firmly. I had two momentous orgasms. Then I swiveled 180 degrees and gave him my bottom. I always ignore his locked cock when in the role of Matron Cougar. It somehow feels wrong for my character, ridiculous as that sounds, given that I’m sat on his face. If the lights are on I like to look down at his cage and balls but I never touch them. I humped his tongue hard. It was my husband who introduced the topic of analingus early in our D/s discussions. It was something we’d never tried once in all our years together. He was shy and tentative. He needn’t have worried. I adore it now. After a final, self-induced orgasm I retired to ‘my’ bedroom and slept extremely well.

8 a.m. on Wednesday (8th) felt a bit strange. It was the first morning we’d woken up ‘still in character’ so to speak. But I soon got into it again; I supervised his exercise (star jumps and push-ups), a pee, a fully-cold shower, drying and dressing. I inspected his locked cock for chafing which I often do. His first chastity device could cause an occasional rash or even abrasions. Overnight is the hardest time for him but obviously it’s essential he stays locked. Neither of us wants to rely on him coping merely on ‘trust’. In our case that would be a mug’s game.

I unlocked him and rubbed cream on his genitals. Needless to say, he soon erected again. I made him give me the same routine; 600 mechanical strokes in two 5 minute bouts. I’ve learned to savour making him edge himself. At the very beginning it seemed cruel. But I realized how much my being in charge of his cock and orgasms means to him. It’s not so much chastity he wants, as me being in control. In fact, he 90% hates chastity. Most of him would love to still cum at least once daily, but another small – but crucial – part of him needs to be denied. So I’m not being cruel. I’m being cruel to be kind. Once I got over that big mental hurdle, everything fell into place. I could enjoy denying him, teasing him, being mean to him and, above all, what chastity does to him in terms of mindset. 2020 will be the year of chastity exploration. The year I build on what we’ve done so far and see how longer and longer periods of orgasmic abstinence affect his behavior, for good and bad. Meanwhile I intend to relish my own increased libido and hedonism without one jot of guilt.

His breakfast was another fresh Nutrabullet. This time made with my morning pee and a LOT more of it. I added diced cucumber and nothing else. The tang wasn’t quite unmistakable but I could smell it. He sniffed and recognised it too. He looked at me. ‘Drink’. I watched him taste and swallow the pale green liquid. I was disappointed he hadn’t noticed yesterday. This time I wanted him to. He’d mentioned pee in our early lists of dos and don’ts but only in passing. and hence my sole decision. Our eyes locked. It was a moment. He knew. He knew that I knew. A tacit acceptance of another game added to our repertoire. ‘Faster’, I said. I can’t describe the buzz of power I felt inside. My husband had consciously drunk the contents of my bladder. A part of me was now coursing through his body’s system. How beautifully intimate is that?

At 9 o’clock we had Assembly. He sang ‘If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands’ for me. Then I casually introduced his morning lesson. He’d completed 571 lines the previous day. He now needed to do the remaining 439 lines in one single sitting. I smiled and set him out on his five hours journey. If you’re happy and you know it, indeed!

I made myself a pot of coffee and settled back to pass the 5 hours as enjoyably as I could. There was news about Iran and Trump, and Prince Harry and Meghan to digest. Mid-morning I went to the toilet and couldn’t help looking down at my pee. I thought about Miss Scarlet’s urine ice chunks. I did something most unusual for me. I decided I needed to masturbate.

I very rarely masturbate. I’m not prudish or without needs, anything like that. I did it when I was young and have done since. But I much, much prefer to orgasm from sex. By which I mean with another person. I used to love the occasional deeply satisfying climaxes I had during intercourse with my husband. My next preference was when he would satisfy me afterwards with his fingers. Sometimes he couldn’t hit the right spot and I’d have to do it while he held me. However, there was never (almost never) a time when I needed to do it alone. I don’t know why but I just feel, or felt, that was a part of a marriage. You enjoy pleasure with your partner. NOT on your own. Doing it alone is for singles. Even since I began dominating him, I still much prefer ‘him doing it to me’, mostly with his mouth, sometimes his hands, occasionally his penis.

I lay on our unmade bed and watched him on the screen, writing away furiously downstairs. My fingertip brushed my clitoris. I pictured his wrinkled cock locked in its steel bars. I know in my heart of hearts that this journey we’re on together is picking up pace. And I want it. I don’t want to go any further than he wants to go. But I’m feeling a little bit ‘high’ on the past 12 months. I’m on for this ride. Oh yeah.

I had to squash my slight feelings of guilt as I made myself climax. I felt unfaithful, upstairs alone, rather than teasing him by somehow doing it in his presence or waiting until this evening. I smiled at the screen. He was oblivious. He’d done this alone who knows how many times over the years? Masturbating himself while I was unaware, while I helped our kids with homework, or cooked his supper. Now the boot’s on the other foot.

Five hours is a wonderfully long time to fill. I dug out a bedroom DVD from the bedside drawer. We’d bought it a few years ago and I’d never made time to watch it. We have a TV and player in our bedroom. So I spent 1 hr and 45 minutes watching ‘The Duke of Burgundy’. I knew it was supposedly an interesting film about who’s in charge; the dominant or the submissive. And so it proved, although the sex in it was actually somewhat inhibited. By my new standards, LOL.

At five past two I collected his sheaves of paper; 1,103 lines. ‘Good boy’. He’d done extra with the time available and in the knowledge there’d be some mistakes. He massaged his forearm and wrist after he handed them over.

His lunch was a nice meal of proper beef stew I micro-waved. I was pretty sure he needed some decent sustenance to make it through Day Two. Then it was time for his toilet break (pee) and a little more edging. I left his cock unlocked afterwards but allowed him to put his grey shorts back on.

At 2.30 p.m. I returned his essay on the Labour leadership. C-minus. His face fell. In truth it probably merited a B. But his words were covered in my red pen and my word was law. He bent over his desk for an immediate 6 cane strokes on his bottom. I let him keep his shorts on so I hit him a little harder than usual. He thanked me and apologized for his poor work when I’d finished.

Then it was time for him to recite his homework, the 566 words on unreciprocated oral sex. He made a complete hash of it. I had to prompt and correct him numerous times and the more I did the more flustered he became. Afterwards, I interrogated him. Had he made such a bad job because he disagreed with the excellent article? No Mistress, he agreed with it. Was he a male chauvinist who thought all women should give oral sex? No Mistress, absolutely not. Was he a progressive-thinking male who realized it was a huge privilege to kiss a woman down there while she completely ignored his penis? Yes, Mistress, late in life he’d been enlightened.

I smiled and assured him that Matron Cougar would be requiring him to demonstrate his enlightenment very frequently this year. But he should now bend over the desk for another 6 strokes. This time on his bare bottom. He lowered his shorts and almost immediately he became erect. I asked him why. He apologized for his insolence. I told him I’d beat him until it went away.

In the end, I couldn’t. He was even more turned on than the sting could extinguish. Caning his bottom is a game for me. It’s not even my favorite game. I do it because it’s part of our role play and it adds to the fun. But there’s no way I’m going to keep beating his bottom beyond a certain threshold. I told him to stand up and ignored that his cock was still jutting out. Our eyes met and we had a silent giggle. I don’t like breaking character but it’s actually kind of sweet when it unavoidably happens.

After another toilet break (pee) and glass of water, it was time for a final 3 hours session. I could see in both his face and body language he was flagging badly. But his eyes were determined. I had a couple of options prepared and opted for a Maths Exam. Or, to be precise, two maths exams of 90 minutes’ each. I’d downloaded papers from the Maths Made Easy website. Now, my husband’s much more numerate and articulate than he is literary. He’s always been better at maths and science than creative subjects or languages. But he went to school a loooong time ago so some of his academic maths is a little, shall we say, rusty.

At 6 p.m. it was time for his supper, a second Nutrabullet, this time with beetroot, cold black coffee added to help him keep sharp, and plenty of prunes to keep him regular. The violent colour of the smoothie was almost purple-black. At six thirty it was time for Biology, which coincidentally had Male Anatomy as the topic of the day ! He removed all of his clothes for this lesson.

I inspected the inside of his shorts and criticized the dried stain from his leaking cock earlier. I pulled back his foreskin again and left it like that, dry and uncomfortable for him. I examined his pubic area and balls for any emerging bristles. Then I produced a tub of Slik lubricant. Masturbating him with lube is much more intense than without, as it allows for a much lighter, tormenting touch.

I stroked his cock a little, talking about its function, as if he was a little schoolboy; I said it was first and foremost for peeing out excess fluid, etc. But it also had a role to play in procreation. I made no mention of sex for pleasure, masturbation, orgasmic release, etc. I was careful to stroke as a biology teacher would handle a worm or a test tube, without any eroticism.

He was hard as rock. I let go of his erection in distaste. We both watched it bob in front of him. I told him an erection had been necessary for procreation in the past but with modern technology it no longer is. I asked him why he had one. He apologized and said my touch had aroused him. I sat back frowning.

I let him stroke himself while I watched. Instead of my metronome app, I directed his pace myself; faster, slower, one-finger, two-fingers, stop, start, etc. I was generous with the lube. I made him rub himself ever so lightly. I wonder how many people reading this are thinking about whether I should have let him cum or not? To be totally honest even I didn’t know for sure what I’d decide. There are definitely now two different ‘me’s in competition with each other at times like this; the softie, wife of 33 yrs who can’t quite bring herself not to be munificent, and the emerging, dominant of 1 year who wants her husband to experience her newfound inner-sadist.

After over an hour, I made a decision. I told him it was time for his toilet break. We went upstairs to the bathroom and he defecated for me in his usual humbled manner, but this time with his penis bouncing in front of him. I made him take another breathtakingly cold shower until his erection had disappeared. Then he put on his pyjamas. It was nearly the end of term.

I produced my ‘lucky dice’. I’ve had it since I was a child; oversized, wooden, faded red. I handed it to him. My decision was to allow the dice to decide. A ‘6’ would permit him a full orgasm with his own hand. A ‘5’ would lead to a ruined orgasm with my (gloved) fair hand. But 1-4 would mean bedtime without any orgasm at all. So he had a 33% chance of some kind of release. Generous odds, I told him.


They were an enjoyable two days. There are tweaks I want to make for the next one. I don’t think we’ll do more than one, maximum two, such ‘scenarios’ per month. The one day sessions are less intense and can be more frequent. We enjoy a few other short term scenarios too; Countess and butler, Roman lady and slave, Nurse and patient, but Mistress Kane and her pupil are definitely our favorite.

We chatted in bed together afterwards. As usual we left most things unsaid. No need for a blow by blow, so to speak. I expected him to mention my urine but he didn’t, so neither did I. Perhaps the topic will come up on Sunday? [It didn’t]. He said the worst bit had actually been forcing himself to eat the fish eyeballs. I rubbed arnica cream on his sore bottom. He thanked me for the whole experience. I admitted to him I’d masturbated in this very spot that morning. I wanted him to know how much the whole thing had aroused me.

I reached down and fondled the hardness between his thighs. His Lock the Cock snuggled in situ. I kissed him on the lips. His balls were still full. You have to be strong and let the dice decide. I play fair. But you can’t change the result.

He’d thrown a ‘4’.

PS: as of today (24th Jan), two and a half weeks later, he still hasn’t had an orgasm, but that’s for another time.

Submissives, What Not To Do!

Below is a comment I received on my Alternative Blog. I did not publish it. I have not revealed the name of the submissive.

It is quite a useful comment as it seems to include EVERYTHING a submissive SHOULD NOT DO, if they want their wife to become the dominant party in the relationship. I list those things.

  1. DO NOT use the emotional blackmail that your submissiveness MUST BE catered for by her.
  2. DO NOT use the financial blackmail that if your submissiveness is not catered for by her, you will regularly visit an expensive dominatrix.
  3. DO NOT set out all your favourite fantasies as your instructions for how you want to be dominated. Firstly they may horrify her and put her off forever, and secondly, she may otherwise have wanted to dominate you, but in different ways.
  4. DO NOT put yourself into extended bondage, as though that is a sacrifice for her, and then listen to music or podcasts so you do not get bored.
  5. DO NOT AMUBUSH HER with all of the above, immediately on her arrival home from A HARD DAY AT WORK.
  6. DO NOT instruct her to inspect all your housework looking for faults. Of itself, that activity can be a chore for her. Why should she, unless she wants to?
  7. DO NOT start a CFNM regime for yourself, which she may not like and her be so worried about your state of mind, she feels she has to ask you to put jeans on when anyone visits.
  8. When leading her to my alternative blog, DO NOT describe it as being, ‘..without a lot of the rubbish you get elsewhere on the web…’; which implies it still has some of the rubbish!

The number one key to success is having total empathy, not having zero empathy! Put yourself in her mind. What will she think? Will she be horrified by the fantasies you have been evolving over years? What will her fears be? Will she be tired or stressed at the time you are thinking of raising the issue? What is in it for her that she actually wants, not what you think she wants? ETC!


Hi Mistress Scarlet,
I thought I would report back on a real world example of a use of your new blog. First some history. I have been submissive my whole life. I am 55 years old. I have hid it more or less successfully but my wife of 30 years did know/suspect but not the details or the depth of my submissive side. There have been accidents such as a few months ago. When alone I dress as a maid and do the housework. Not a french maid, but a formal black and white knee length maid uniform. I normally wear tights but occasionally I wear holdups. I didn’t clear up properly (I have a dress up box in the attic) and a stocking was left on the floor beside a bed. When she came across it she asked where it had come from as she doesn’t wear holdups! I was busted. I decided to come clean and told her what I did and how it turned me on. She wasn’t happy but as long as she never encountered me in my maid role she could live with it. Indeed, just before Christmas we went to a fancy dress themed dinner dance. There was a lady dressed as a french maid and my wife commented that I should have come in my maids uniform! I was speechless, but she was definitely more at ease with it all.
Moving forward in time I read this blog and thought “no time like the present”. I know my wife and know she wouldn’t hurt a fly so getting any impact punishments from her would be a stretch. I went on line and bought a shock collar called the SmartDog from PetSafe. It has no controller. Instead you load an app onto a Smartphone and control the collar from that via Bluetooth. I then bought a cat collar and made a small collar that fits around my balls and nestles the contacts near my perineum. I tested the shocks and found I could tolerate up to 9, but 10-15 were very painful. I then put my planning into action. Last Thursday she was at work, but I was still on Christmas holiday. She would get home between 4 and 5:30, so after spending the day cleaning the house as the maid I put a letter near the door, and went upstairs and put myself in bondage, something I have done many times over the years with ice release systems. The letter said:
Hi Darling,
I am currently tied to the bed, gagged and blindfolded listening to music/podcasts. I’ve been there for some time. I will not know if your enter the room or not! I know that you could do without this when you get home after a hard day, but please read on and try to understand. To help you get your head around this, dinner is ready and the maid has been again today, so the house should be immaculate! Take a walk around and pick up any faults you can find. They may come into play later!

I have a submissive personality but I think that you know that already or at least suspect. I “get off” by being controlled and commanded. I’ve always been like this but manage to hide it to one degree or another most of the time. At this point, grab a cuppa (after all I’m going nowhere!) ,open my iPad (pin is ******) and read the webpage blog open in Safari. It is a great intro to what I am about without a lot of the rubbish you get elsewhere on the web. I came across this site a while ago. The author does explain the whole submissive thing very well.

============ Break to read the weblog ==============

OK, so you’ve now read her blog and now have a decision to make. If you come up and release me we’ll carry on as before but with the added knowledge that this is inside me and needs to come out every now and again. As mentioned in the website there are plenty of dominatrix who will provide these services, and I could use one of them. They charge upwards of £250 but it would mean you’d never need to deal with this again. If however you’re willing to give this a go then I’m ready, so read on and we can keep that cash. I’m banking on your Yorkshire genes here!

I want to serve you. I want you to channel your inner bitch. I know it’s in there as occasionally it shows itself when you’re pissed off with me about something! I want to do the chores that you hate, whatever they may be. It doesn’t matter if I like doing them or want to do them when you tell me to, I will do my best or suffer the consequences. I want as mean and bitchy as you can be when we are doing this. I want as little compassion as possible. Back to consequences…..

You don’t need to hit me with the carpet beater or cane (although I’d like that too, and I doubt you’d have too hard a stroke anyway!) I have a static shock device fitted to my balls. It’s already switched on and you already have the control app installed on your phone (proof I planned this)! If you look for the Smartdog app and open it. If it’s not connected click on “Connect” and it’ll connect via Bluetooth. Press the shock button (the yellow dots icon)to deliver a pulse to me. The level is adjustable from 1 to 15. I’ve tried it on all levels and find 1-4 hardly register, 5-10 are bearable and 11-15 are painful, so for real punishment! It’s your choice but give it a try. At the very least I’ll know your decision! You don’t even need to be in the room to use it but it’ll be interesting to find out the range. The beauty of this that even when we are out you can get me back into sub mode with a discrete push of a button on your phone if you think I need to do, or stop doing something. Again, it puts you in control.

I am also wearing a chastity device (since last night) and the keys for this, my handcuffs and the shock device are in the back of your car, in the rear drivers side door pocket. Please hide them somewhere I will never find them. That way the issue of my masturbating will never happen again! I want you to control when we have sex.

I’m happy to discuss this all with you but I promise you, you’ll have a loving, devoted and happy subbie hubbie whenever you choose.


I was tied in such a way that release was possible but very painful on my nipples as to obtain release would need result in a serious pull on a pair of cloverleaf nipple clamps. I lay there waiting for a long time, and I had started to worry. I then felt a zapp through my balls that made me yelp…..and then nothing. Later she came in and sat on the bed and after removing my gag (a pair of her used panties) we talked, although she left my blindfold on. As I thought she was not going to use canes or crops on me, despite my asking but the zapper (as she calls it) was a hit and she was willing to give it a try. She likes the idea of causing me pain without her needing to actually hit me! She agreed to be the boss as much as possible and we agreed what was a punishment and what was a sub session. Both would be enacted tied to the bed but the punishment session would have no music/podcast to relieve the boredom and would involve pain. I can report that yesterday I had my first punishment session. She went out and told me that when I’d finished my chores (yes she likes that part) I was to “assume the punishment position”. I repeated the bondage and waited….and waited and waited some more. I was bored and my 55 year old shoulders were cramping up causing me unwanted pain!! Eventually I heard her car reversing onto the drive (nothing in my ears to mask the sounds) and then nothing…..until I received 3 zaps in quick succession, which made me yelp. This elicited a laugh from downstairs! Then nothing again until she zapped me twice more then came up to the bedroom and zapped me again before sitting on the bed. What she did next surprised me. She left the blindfold on and quickly removed the nipple clamps causing me excruciating pain! She chuckled and then massaging and pinching my nipples said “do you prefer the nipple pain or the zapper?” She gave me two zaps and twisted the nipple again. I thanked her and said I preferred the zaps. She said OK then and gave me 3 more quick zaps! She then left me again for quite some time. My arms were cramping again and I was on the verge of asking for relief when she next came up and without saying anything more she did something ( I now realise she removed her jeans and knickers) and climbed on the bed and straddled my head. She said to “get to work” and gave me a zap to underline it. It didn’t take long for her to orgasm with periodic zaps to encourage my oral efforts. She then released me and we cuddled for a while before she gave me some more chores to do and told me to wash my face and brush my teeth! The punishment had lasted for 3 hours.
I’m now on day 4 of my chastity and I am incredibly horny! She just smiled when I said this earlier.
This response is far better than I could have hoped for and I am hopeful that, with time she will grow in her domination of me. I will keep you posted. I’ve already started CFNM, and where I don’t embarrass her I am naked, or in underpants and a t-shirt at most. It’s January and we live in an 18th century cottage, which can be very cold. My wife has accepted this but asked me to put jeans on when anyone visits.
Yours respectfully,
A very happy XXXXXXXXXXX


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


Managed Comments and dangling images

Managed Comments

A few people have posted comments to my alternative blog, Scarlet’s Guide for Women: Sex AND Relationship Nirvana with a submissive.

As you know the sole purpose of this blog, is to help women, who have never tried being dominant, to take  THE FIRST STEP. Therefore please note that I will not be approving any comment that I think might, for any slightest reason, contribute to dissuading such a woman from taking the first step.

I am however taking account of comments on my alternative blog but not approving them for public viewing. Of course, all comments are welcome on this blog, even comments about my alternative blog. They all get published on here!

 Dangling Images

My previous post on this blog was about images that really affect me where a squatting submissive has his caged birth defect hanging down unobscured for all to see, and how I do not know why I am SO AFFECTED by such images, ESPECIALLY when the Domme in the image is in everyday attire.

Some people found the link to the two images worked and others did not. I would firstly suggest trying the link on subsequent days as the BDSMLR site can sometimes have a fault lasting a whole day. I do not know how or where else to post such images as an alternative to BDSMLR. (I do not post ‘obscene’ images on this blog as I do not want to risk deletion of this blog for rule breaking.)

If anyone who has the link working can post the image elsewhere and send me the link, I can also publish that link.

Caged and Dangling

Two posts today!

I cannot say why I love so much images which show a males birth defect nicely locked up AND DANGLING,  while THEY SQUAT! What is it I love so much? I really cannot put my finger on it.

Is it, I wonder, how irrelevant the dangling nonsense looks? I think perhaps it is, but I am not sure. The two images to which I provide this link particularly appeal to me as the males are looking ridiculous and helplessly bound, and importantly – quite miserable; AND the women are in pretty much everyday clothing. This, I think, really adds to the sense of the irrelevance of the dangling nonsense. He is a toy and nothing more. His sexual needs and dignity are, 24/7/365, utterly irrelevant to the Domme . He is her’s to use and abuse and THAT IS THAT! No reciprocation, all one way. He got himself into all this by explaining he wanted to be dominated, and look where it has led!

I wonder if any other Dommes particularly like seeing a males birth defect nicely locked up AND DANGLING,  while THEY SQUAT? Or is it simply one of my weird quirks?


My 16th journal –  LINK