Tag Archives: degradation

The ‘S’ word and the ‘C’ word

I mentioned in my post on 21 August 2019 the term or label ‘SADIST’, along the lines of the following two paragraphs.

I have expressed often, that sadism is a natural trait in humans inherited through evolution, as a means of clarifying relative statuses in a pack of mammals. It’s form in humans is taking pleasure in inflicting  physical and/or mental pain. One must have power over the subject of ones sadism. (Be of higher status in the pack.)

It took me a number of years to accept having the word applied to me although there was NEVER any doubt I was a sadist. (My definition is someone who finds pleasure in inflicting physical or mental pain on another.) Now I treat it as a badge I am proud of. It seems it takes considerable independence and mental strength to reject the behavioural shackles of society to the extent of acknowledging one is a sadist.

One comment on that blog post re-confirmed that other Dommes have a problem with the word, sadist. I am really wondering why I too used to have this problem years ago, and so many other Dommes still do. I am fairly sure that if a Domme says to a sub male she meets, that she is a sadist, the sub male is instantly in awe of the Domme and instantly placed on a pedestal. So why the resistance of Dommes to the ‘S’ word; many of whom ARE happy to be labelled, cruel?

I should amplify that causing pain can by of the physical type; or mental pain through serious humiliation, degradation or tedium; or the pain of teasing and sexual release denial.

The definition of CRUEL from the MacMillan Dictionary:

– someone who is cruel, who enjoys causing pain to other people or animals, or enjoys making them unhappy or upset

The definition of SADIST:

– someone who gets pleasure from hurting or being cruel to someone else

I would be very interested to have comments from Dommes who are, and who are not, happy to be labelled, sadist, and why they feel as they do.

I would also be interested to have comments from subs confirming whether they find that hearing a woman is a sadist has an effect on them.

 

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

 

Name to shame: Part 3 (with photo)

A huge thank you to all contributors on this topic. Just a brief post to let you know I have decided on the name for bitch-boy’s thirteen inch, deep throating, training dildo as — Sissy Slut Skewer. Triple S, for short.

My reasons are:

  • that it defines him both as a sissy and a slut,
  • the abbreviation of Triple S rolls nicely off the tongue,
  • and importantly, for my amusement and his humiliation, it has lots of the letter S, so when he explains to visitors what Triple S stands for, he will have to be lisping LOTS of S sounds, poor puppet. (Thithy Thlut Thkewer.)

Here is a photo of it all marked up with its measured graduations, the purpose of which is pretty obvious in the training context.

My BDSMLR site

My new BDSMLR site that replaced my Tumblr site already has 1600 followers. I imagine so far BDSMLR has far fewer users than Tumblr.

My Tumblr site had over 18,000 flowers before Tumblr was sold and ‘explicit’ images were banned. I always took from the number of followers an indication that there were/are many people who share my tastes in female dominance. Particularly things not in the Femdom mainstream industry, like; #males distressed by petticoating humiliation, #males undergoing hours of tedium, #males being humiliated and ignored, #wives, girlfriends and or mothers-in-law dressed in everyday clothes humiliating a male who is naked, or is a sissy maid or school-girl, #the use and abuse of males in everyday homes, #’lesbian’ wives with their girlfriends cuckolding their chastised husbands .

So where possible, I do not post images in dungeons or where women are in corsets, leather or PVC. Some examples:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I imply ‘I post’, that is not actually the case. bitch-boy is given a number by me, of posts to make each week, sometimes high, sometimes low. And these posts must all be images I LIKE VERY MUCH. If I do not like one, or I am inadequately titillated by one, he is, of course, punished. And given his state of sexual denial and his inescapable chastity cage, I am sure the poor thing finds this task quite a trial!

There are no posts of lesbian domination. As much as I adore a pic of a helplessly bound and very vulnerable female submissive, I feel such imagery is not suitable for male submissives to be pointed toward.

 

A truly bitch monologue!

Well I am currently finishing writing a journal with subject matter like my more usual journals. All about events under my roof. A couple of years ago I seemed to have got into a fixed routine of activities and routines of use and abuse of bitch-boy that I truly adored and thought could not be bettered. Writing journal entries seemed pointless as they would be a repeating loop of the same things.

BUT, over the last six months I have discovered and begun all sorts on new things. Some of which involve new equipment. So I have been recording these events. Below is an excerpt from a journal entry I have just finished. I can’t wait to finish the whole journal.

—– | —–

Having given him my detailed instructions, I could not help indulging in some verbal mocking immediately. While he still knelt on the floor in front of where I sat on the sofa sipping from a glass of white wine.

        ‘All those pleasurable blow jobs to watch bitch-boy. It’s not going to be pleasurable for you though is it? Seeing all those cocks so much bigger than your little birth defect. And do you remember how blow jobs felt? Just think about when we first met. You spent so much time diligently with your head between my thighs, and gave me so, so many orgasms, I just felt the obligation to reciprocate from time to time. Nothing like how often you orally serviced me, but can you remember when I did. My hot wet mouth, that hard rhythmic sucking, those mind blowing orgasms inside my mouth. That must be nearly twenty years ago. I can’t imagine you remember just how good that felt; perhaps you do.

 Then you told me all about femdom and I took to it like a duck to water. But even then, for a few years, I used to have your little birth defect inside my mouth and between my soft lips; just to tease you as part of tease and denial. Sometimes doing that as a precursor to bringing you off with my skilled hands. Fucking was over for you by then wasn’t it. Over for the rest of your life, although you did not know that then did you; little born-again-virgin that you now are.’ I paused from talking at him to take a sip of my wine. He was looking so sad and wistful. Perhaps he had not taken time recently, or ever, to consider the heavy cost to his own pleasure that telling me about femdom had brought him. I was far from finished though. I was on a roll and my pitiless bitchiness was making my cunt wet into the bargain. Perhaps I had never thought fully about the heavy cost to his own

        ‘All those pleasurable blow jobs to watch bitch-boy. It’s not going to be pleasurable for you though is it? Seeing all those cocks so much bigger than your little birth defect. And do you remember how blow jobs felt? Just think about when we first met. You spent so much time diligently with your head between my thighs, and gave me so, so many orgasms, I just felt the obligation to reciprocate from time to time. Nothing like how often you orally serviced me, but can you remember when I did. My hot wet mouth, that hard rhythmic sucking, those mind blowing orgasms inside my mouth. That must be nearly twenty years ago. I can’t imagine you remember just how good that felt; perhaps you do.

 Then you told me all about femdom and I took to it like a duck to water. But even then, for a few years, I used to have your little birth defect inside my mouth and between my soft lips; just to tease you as part of tease and denial. Sometimes doing that as a precursor to bringing you off with my skilled hands. Fucking was over for you by then wasn’t it. Over for the rest of your life, although you did not know that then did you; little born-again-virgin that you now are.’ I paused from talking at him to take a sip of my wine. He was looking so sad and wistful. Perhaps he had not taken time recently, or ever, to consider the heavy cost to his own pleasure that telling me about femdom had brought him. I was far from finished though. I was on a roll and my pitiless bitchiness was making  pleasure I had imposed. I carried on, thoroughly enjoying myself.

        ‘So, the next stage was your little birth defect never ever entering my soft lips wasn’t it. How long ago was the last time I wonder. If only I had known at the time and written it down. Perhaps five years ago, probably more like seven or eight. But there was more for you to be denied from wasn’t there. Our current situation! Since the beginning of March, what’s that, six weeks ago? All your orgasms, if we can call them that, have been under the sole of one of my shoes with me standing on my wonderful stomping stage. (Blog post, 9 March, 2019).

 There have been no more orgasms from my skilful, elegant hands since I started with the stomping stage have there. My skilful hands, one wrapped tightly around your little birth defect and the other tickling your sensitive shaved balls. And with my hand I can keep that orgasm pleasure going for so long can’t I. But it’s six weeks now. Perhaps that will be forever.

 Perhaps you have had your last ever orgasm from my skilful, elegant hands. Imagine that. If from now on, it’s always and only under the sole of one of my elegant shoes, or a sweaty gym shoe, or an Ugg boot slipper, or even a muddy walking boot.’ He sighed a deathly sigh and looked up at me, his face a picture of pleading and hurt. He wisely stayed silent though. He knew a pleading word from him might cause me to make a snap decision he would SERIOUSLY regret. And he has learned that when my depravity ratchet clicks, it never un-clicks! I took another sip of wine and continued.

        ‘I looked at the calendar. I have the date of the last time I used my skilful, elegant hands rather than the sole of my shoe. The fourth of March. The fourth of March twenty-nineteen. Might that turn out to be the last time you came other than under the sole of one of my shoes? I wonder.’ He was breathing hard now with deep emotion in those breaths. I still had not finished. Time for a recap.

         ‘So what has happened, looking back. First, full-on blow jobs ended FOREVER. Next, fucking ended FOREVER. Next, your birth defect going into my mouth ended FOREVER. Now, have orgasms from my skilful hands ended FOREVER?’ I left the question hanging, took another sip of wine and wound things up.

         ‘Well, where did all that reminiscing come from when I simply began by giving you instructions for making a big cock, deep-throat, blow-job compilation DVD? What a strange turn of events. I’ve finished now though. So fuck off to the kitchen and prepare my evening meal. Plenty for you to think about while you are prepping and cooking.’ As he stood up, I made sure he saw my pick up my massager vibrator. I was far from ashamed that my mean, bitchy monologue and my nasty threat had aroused me a great deal. In his tight penis cage, while he was prepping and cooking, he would be able to think about me bringing myself off to a delicious orgasm as well as thinking about my mean, bitchy monologue and my nasty threat.

 

My latest journal.

Volume 13: The Institute, Click on any link below:

Lulu.com –

Paperback version,       ePub version,

Amazon Kindle –

USA,    UK, 

DE,    FR,    ES,    IT,    NL,    JP,    BR,    CA,    MX,    AU,    IN, 

Nook – Barnes and Noble

 

Most shaming milking method

So back at the beginning of December 2018, I devised a new and shaming method of milking bitch-boy by pressing his clitty under the sole of my shoe onto a massager vibrator. Then in late February, I mentioned using a stomping stage and that I would learn to milk him on that by masturbating him with the sole of my shoe.

Well that has now come to pass, by a back and forth movement on his clitty shaft underside, just behind the head of the clitty. With skilful technique it can be a full orgasm, or by immediately removing the pressure, a spoilt orgasm or, by immediately pressing down extra hard, a blocked orgasm that does not squirt out (in a very unsatisfying manner for him) until one finally removes the pressure of one’s sole.

I cannot believe just how much I ADORE torturing his clitty under my shoe sole followed by milking him under my sole. The aesthetic, the symbolism and the sadistic pleasure.

What could be more symbolic of POWER AND MEANNESS than inflicting this shameful method of milking. Standing over him and looking down at him. Him looking up at the beautiful body he is never, ever allowed to fuck and never, ever will. And his precious little birth defect under the soiled sole of my shoe or boot. Never to cum again by fucking. Now, there will never be any skin to skin contact with me at all. No more of the expert touch and caress of my long, cool fingers. Now its, (on rare occasions only), just me jerking him off under my soiled sole as it moves back and forth, back and forth, just a little.

And that process, compared with the languorous, hedonistic and pleasurable way I have my many, many orgasms.

My only problem with it at the moment is I love degrading him this way SOOOO MUCH, he is getting to have spoiled orgasms more often than I would ideally like. I am sorry to repeat myself but this is because I literally cannot resist degrading him this way. So much pleasure for me having his birth defect under the sole of my shoe while I remind him not only about never, ever being allowed to fuck my amazing body, but also never ever again cumming through the skin contact of my hands. All his future ‘sex-life’ is to be with the soiled soles of my footwear!

 

 

Short Stories Volume 2 is published

Four medium length stories of ruthless female domination in scenarios quite different I believe from anything I have written about before. 56,000 words in length. Giving up work has given me time to let my mind and keyboard wander away from my wonderful reality for a while.

Sugarbutt is a tale of pitiless revenge and personal profit on the ocean.

The Scaled up Android Babysitter is a tale from the very near future exploiting new technology in a merciless way.

Retirement Home is a tale of two young women from the wrong side of the tracks, making the most, in a radical and enduring way, of a male’s compulsion to submit to cruel females.

No rights for the ‘help’ is a tale of three sisters importing ruthless dominance values to their houses in the Western world.

 

Paperback at LULU.COM                           ePub at LULU.COM

 

AMAZON KINDLE

USA,   UK,     DE,    FR,    ES,    IT,     NL,    JP,    BR,      CA,     MX,     AU,    IN.

 

Soon to be available on iBooks/iTunes, Nook, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, Ingram etc.

Survey results

Well it was only a little surprise to find that the 11 submissives who kindly provided their views, were broadly equally split on whether dressing to the nines, or dressing in my everyday casual clothes, would most affect them in the scenario I painted in yesterday’s post. This is because each outfit brings its own power.

I summarise the feedback below, for which I am very grateful.

Dressed to the nines.

  • The distance and difference between the submissive’s and the dominant’s roles.
  • The difference between the two of us is as great a divide as can be!!
  •  Dressed to the nines not only would you look awe inspiring, but also would look like the dominant might be going out and leaving the sub behind. Or be expecting guests.
  • Seeing you dressed to the nines, ready for a night on the town, while my evening of drudgery merely begins with this dreadful task would make me quite jealous, mixed in with the inequality and unfairness of our relationship.
  • Underlines the frustration of not being able to touch or be sexual with the woman who makes me feel aroused. It is like having her heel on the back of my neck psychologically.

Casual everyday wear.

  •  It truly emphasizes and drives home the fact that his toils are not any type of special occasion but instead are the reality of his day to day existence under the control of the dominant.
  • Skin tight t-shirt, leggings, etc. , that is, clothing which displays your perfect form to his vision, will serve to constantly torment him even further.
  • If you have no plans for the evening than I would find myself wanting some sexual/sensual overtones to make the dreadful task a little less dreadful, and the fact that you can dress as you please while I am dressed (or undressed) at your pleasure would be a stark display of our disparity.
  • Requiring your sub to do disgusting cleaning tasks is not something worthy or deserving of your “dressing up”. It is not something you are highlighting or in any way an extraordinary event. It is just his assigned task, a routine part of the existence you impose on him.
  • Casual provides an air of, ‘why do I need to bother dressing for you bitch.’

 

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

 

 

 

Dress up or dress down?

I mentioned in a previous post about exploiting when bitch-boy must perform very degrading tasks like cleaning the walk-in shower gully trap, which I have now diarised to be done every two months. (I have also found the dishwasher trap which needs regular cleaning; is a disgusting task, and that is now diarised for once a month.)

I determined initially to dress up to the nines, in an opulent style. Full make up, dripping in jewellery, high heels and expensive figure hugging dress and plenty of expensive perfume. He would be naked but for penis restraint and locked on rubber slave collar. I would sit sipping Prosecco while pointing out to him, in no uncertain terms, the difference in our status, while he toiled at his disgusting chores.

Now I have reflected on my recent post on everyday casual gear, (skin tight T-shirt showing an inch of flat stomach, skin tight leggings and almost knee high Ugg boot slippers.) while he is naked but for penis restraint and locked on rubber slave collar. Being dressed this way while he toils at disgusting tasks will make it abundantly clear that his life as a drudge and puppet is not a game I dress up for. IT IS HIS LIFE. I AM THAT BITCH! It is just an everyday event for me to be dressed normally while he is naked but for penis restraint and locked on rubber slave collar undertaking a disgusting chore as much for my amusement as for the utility.

Can I ask other submissives, which dress mode, casual or opulent, would you find the most subjugating? And Dommes, which would be your preference to wear? I always learn so much when I ask such questions.

Vile Task, to be done more often!

About every 9 to 12 months, our walk-in shower trap needs removing and cleaning. This is discovered to be due when the water does not drain away quickly and one ends up standing in soiled water. Not appropriate for a princess’s beautiful feet I think!

It has just happened and my first thought was to issue a curt instruction to bitch-boy to clean it out. That would amuse me a little as it is a truly vile job. The trap is full of my beautiful long blonde hair matted with disgusting grey soap residue. Having bitch-boy clean this vile mess also no doubt reminds him of all the times he has been pissed on in the shower since he last cleaned the trap out.

However! It dawned on me that I could kill two birds with one stone. Both ensure my beautiful feet never again were in the soiled water, AND, also subject bitch-boy to the vile task more often than once a year. So I have put a recurring task in my calendar for every two months. ‘bb to clean out the shower trap.’ Poor bb.

I may decide to dress up to the nines in a very short, expensive, figure hugging dress and high heels, lots of make-up and dripping with expensive jewellery and have him padlocked into his heavy, uncomfortable, rubber collar, naked but for his penis cage. Then I can watch him on his hands and knees skivvying away in the vile grime; reminding him of all the times he has been pissed on….. Until I get bored and leave him to it.