Tag Archives: denial

Mistress Francesca – cuckolding

Another insight into the life of the wonderful Mistress Francesca. There are previous insights HERE and HERE. I do not often  post about cuckolding involving a male ‘bull’ because it is not something I would ever do. When reading about or looking at images of cuckolding involving a male ‘bull’, in my mind, I like to replace the male’bull’ with a female lover. Cuckolding bitch-boy with a female love is something I TRULY ADORE! Especially if the lover has a nice cruel streak aimed at bitch-boy.

However, I think a full insight into the life of Mistress Francesca and sissy slave m is fascinating and arousing, hence this post.


Dear Scarlet,
Sam is one of my recurring lovers. He is a true tireless stallion and, although he is not very much in to BDSM, he enjoys dominating sissy slave m with me.

Being exposed and submissive to my lovers is the thing that sissy slave hates most of all and when I announced that Sam would come to see me, I saw on his face and in his eyes, the true, deep and indelible despair; a mixture of terror and discouragement and imploration and resignation; and this excited me enormously!

Thursday, Sam’s arrival day, I had the slave take the day off work and, from 6:00 in the morning, I used it to polish the house to perfection from the attic to the basement used as a dungeon, and to prepare dinner.

He brought breakfast to me in bed at 9:00 am and his appearance excited me incredibly.
You know, Scarlett, what a power rush it is to be awakened in bed with a splendid breakfast by a devoted sissy slave who has been working as a servant for hours, just to prepare the evening for the Mistress and the her lover. The look of sissy slave m already tired and pleading, and at the same time adoring, immediately put me in a good mood and I masturbated with my vibrator to a very strong orgasm.

I then wandered around the house before washing and getting dressed while the sissy continued her work. At around 12:00 the sissy had finished the preparation and I was ready to go out for lunch with my sister. I closed sissy slave m in the dark broom closet with hands tied behind his back, on his knees and with a short chain attached to the collar and a cock gag in his mouth. I looked him in the sad and pleading eyes and spat straight in his face
“You are just a useless miserable subspecies of sissy slave and your only role in the world is to suffer and be submissive!” Another spit in the face, followed by a five light kicks to his balls and I closed him inside, excited by his sad sighs of despair and his sobs of humiliation but, I’m sure, also of desperate and frustrated excitement.

I returned home around 03:00 PM, satisfied and excited, waiting for my bull but, first, I pulled my poor sissy from his closet. What an exciting and decadent vision Scarlet! The sissy had a desperate look, totally defeated and subjugated for the three hours closed and in chains, for the hours of work in the morning and for what still awaited him! Yet when I took the gag from him, his thanks and his oaths of love and obedience were sincere and very truthful!

Seeing him in that state made me completely wet and I had to masturbate again. I let the sissy lick my shoes, including the soles, and adore and worship me, before bending him on a stool and whipping him with the belt of my pants, for no reason but the fact that I wanted to. I gave my golden nectar to the sissy to drink, for which he thanked me with great emphasis. Then I brought it to his dressing for the evening.

On the way to his room, he looked at me imploringly, terrified of the kind of outfit I would impose on him. Terrified with reason! I decided for a particularly humiliating outfit, in a splendid pink PVC. I had him stripped naked except for the chastity cage and I started dressing him:
Pink corset, very tight closed, delightful pink PVC Panties, with a rear open welcome-hole and an opening at the front to let the chastity cage pass and make it evident. Special suspender straps start from the panties to which I hung her shiny pink PVC stockings
So her pink pvc maid uniform with cute, short, puff-ball sleeves, and with wide lace trim.
The dress is elasticated just under the bust, which gives it a typical prissy sissy look. With a full skirt, which has wide contrasting, lace trim at the hem of the skirt. the full skirt sits on top of a beautiful little underskirt that has layers of netting that pushes the skirt up and out, and every layer is trimmed in lace. On top, a white PVC apron. All so short as to leave the chastity cage partially uncovered. On the feet are a pair of shoes with 15 cm heels and 3 cm platform in pink color that on the top features a frilly lace design.

So the bondage: wrist cuffs in shiny PVC pink color with a wide lace trim at both ends of the wrist and cute satin bows, at the ankles, instead, a sexy pair of wide ankle cuffs shiny PVC that have an adjustable buckle strap that goes under the heel and ensures that shoes cannot be removed. A high pink PVC collar with wide lace trim at both ends.
On the head there is a blonde wig with a permanent 50s housewife style and a pair of long false eyelashes.

So I joined the anklets with a chain of about 30 cm and I did the same with the wristbands, which I then joined to the collar so that the hands could not go under the waist. Throughout the dressing, the sissy trembled with despair and tried to beg me not to impose that type of clothing on her, yet every time that, insulting him and slapping him, I ordered him to keep quiet, I saw his chastity cage jump because of a desperate erection attempt .

Wonderful creatures are the slaves! They are about to be subjected to what much more they hate in the world, and yet their body reacts with incredible excitement to an insult or a cruel gesture from the Mistress! I find it beautifully exciting!

Seeing herself in the mirror, the sissy sighed subdued, and she kept repeating obsessively “please Mistress no! Not so Mistress! Pity Mistress! “, and I, delighted, started another mind fuck, which I love. I told him how ridiculous and pathetic he was dressed that way to wait to serve his Mistress and her lover, how inferior was his condition compared to mine and how much that his life was destined only to become more and more harsh and humiliating 
To every affirmation he answered with a sigh and with a convinced “Yes Mistress, thank you Mistress”

My excitement was now beyond the guard level and I therefore decided to secure the sissy for the wait and go to get ready. I took the pathetic sissy back to the closet and made her kneel. I stuck a big fake cock with a sucker on the wall and I ordered him to hold it in his mouth and to remain so until my return. To his submissive “Yes Mistress! Thank you Mistress! “, said with a look full of desperate humiliation. I closed the door and went to get ready, not without having first masturbated for the third orgasm of the day.

I washed and perfumed myself and wore a pair of black mules with a 15 cm heel and 5 cm  platform, black lace underwear and, above, a black silk dress, with suspenders and just five or six centimeters below my cunt. My long loose black hair and sexy but not excessive makeup. Once I was ready, it was now 18 and the bell rang, Sam had arrived.

We hugged and kissed with passion and desire and, rubbing against him, I felt his erection. He held me in his arms and, with one hand, he held my butt getting more and more excited, just as I was very excited. He left me a beautiful bouquet of red roses (I love them) and immediately asked me where my sissy husband was. Amused, I took him to the closet and together we opened.

At the sight of the pathetic sissy on his knees, Sam started laughing out loud telling me how diabolical and terribly exciting I was! I, jokingly but not too much, warned him not to provoke me because a mistress like me could subdue even a man like him! So, laughing, we brought out the poor slave sissy, trembling and desperate.

Sam slapped him for not paying him homage immediately and the slave, with real tears in his eyes, prostrated himself to kiss the shoes of the man who was about to fuck his wife! A terribly humiliating and exciting thing!

Obviously, I was not satisfied with the humiliation of my slave and therefore I demanded that he devoutly lick Sam’s shoes and soles, in the meantime thanking him for such honor.
I swear to you Scarlet, when I hear him say, between the sobs of humiliation, “Thank you Master Sam for the honor of licking your shoes by this pathetic sissy”, I had to take Sam and drag him to the bedroom immediately!

From the stairs, I ordered sissy to prepare dinner for two and to put his bowl with yesterday’s leftovers on the floor near the dining table. Now beyond all humiliation, the sissy replied “Yes Mistress” and started in the kitchen while Sam and I went up to the bedroom!

I missed it Scarlet! I love dominating the sissy and I cum immensely from doing it but, from time to time, I really like a good fuck and in this period I really missed fucking! First, I made Sam kneel to give me a light kiss to my shoes and feet (after all I am always the Mistress) and then he went up to lick my pussy. Then, I made him put, with his surprise, the condom and we start fucking!

I had two orgasms practically simultaneously because while I was just diminishing the first one I had the vision of sissy slave m. in the kitchen alone humiliated and desperate and, immediately, I had another orgasm! So we went on until Sam reached a very strong orgasm which caused another one to me too! Satisfied for the moment, we rinsed and we got off, not before I had removed Sam’s condom and kept his seed.

We went down to the room and were greeted by the sissy with a curtsy. We had dinner served and, between courses, I announced to the sissy that Sam had a surprise for her and I emptied the condom on the pathetic leftovers from the day before they made up the sissy dinner. With a desperate sigh of humiliation sissy slave m. saw that I was emptying Sam’s condom on his leftovers and, resigned, humbly thanked my lover.

We then watched laughing at the sissy meal which, between sobs of disgust and humiliation, still had to eat to the last crumb and thank his superiors. So Sam and I continued our splendid fish dinner served to perfection by the sissy, which we totally ignored except for cold orders and, once we had finished dinner, we retired to the living room, where we ordered the sissy to join us. Here the real game started!

Sam and I started kissing and touching each other on the sofa, while sissy slave m had to stand at our feet to lick our shoes. We commented on the absolute power that we could exercise on my poor slave, destined to a whole life of total submission and frustration in the face of the total pleasure that we drew from dominating him!

When we had warmed up enough we decided it was time to get serious.
I tied sissy slave M. with legs upwards, so that his head and shoulders touched the ground and I positioned myself behind him with the cane in my hand. Sam instead sat on a stool at the height of the slave’s face and placed his shoes on his face. So I ordered the slave to lick the soles of Sam’s shoes with devotion while I started hitting his sissy butt with increasing ardor as growing was my excitement! I don’t know how many blows I gave him, certainly not less than thirty and, judging by the implorations of the sissy, they were very strong blows. Then, we untied the sissy and took it to the bedroom where we made him kneel and started fucking again.

After cumming for the first time in the missionary position, while the slave licked my feet, I put on doggy style and I had the sissy placed with his head under my pubis to watch helplessly Sam who fucked me and who, after another my sensational orgasm, cumms inside me. I had the sissy clean Sam’s cock and, therefore, I made him swallow my cream pie. So Sam and I rested a little while the sissy, defeated by fatigue, humiliation and frustration, sighed desperately on her knees at the foot of the bed.

By now we were exhausted! We then went to the bathroom where I used the funnel gag to use the sissy as a toilet and we took a shower, then went to sleep, not before I sent the sissy to fix the kitchen and not before I ordered him to wake Sam up at 7:00 AM the next morning. I saw sissy slave m come out of the room and look at me pleading and destroyed to complete his long day.

The next morning, therefore, I just saw the sissy waking up Sam, as ordered, at 07:00 AM then the slave got dressed to go to work. When I woke up I was in total ecstasy, completely satisfied both from the sexual point of view and, and more importantly, from the point of view of my total sadism and domination.

Sam sent me a message to thank me for the wonderful evening. As for sissy slave m, Upon returning from work, having given up his male costume, he literally threw himself at my feet swearing his eternal and unconditional and absolute love …

Truly a glorious day and night for me and in perfect symbiosis with my sissy husband!
Thanks for your patience Scarlet!
A big hug
Mistress Francesca


 A link to all my journals HERE, including:



More from Mistress Francesca

On the well rehearsed basis that many of you do not read the comments on blog posts, and I understand why, I set out below some comments that I found fascinating and hot!

Mistress Francesca

Dear Scarlet,
I had yet another confirmation of something I have always been convinced of and on which, I believe, you can agree. That is, the fact that my cruelty and ruthlessness towards sissy slave m has a twice beneficial effect.

The first, and most important, of course, about my personal satisfaction and my general well-being; the second also on the slave, who becomes better with the growth of the sufferings and humiliations to which he is subjected. Last night I had further evident proof of it.

Sissy slave m. he had, in the first days of this week, a couple of shortcomings in his service (which of course I immediately punished). When asked about it, he apologized and told me that he was having a very complicated week at work, with several issues of particular importance to be resolved under his full responsibility. Obviously, I did not accept his apology and punished him severely on the spot.

Yesterday, then, I realized that he had forgotten to sweep some crumbs fallen from his leftover bowl under the table. So I decided that a proper punishment was needed to put the sissy back in place. As soon as he got home and took off his ridiculous man clothes, I dragged him by the ear and kneeling in our dungeon and the party started.

First, I whipped him on the back with a painful single-thing rubber whip to the point of tears of despair. Then I made him take off his collar and, tied his feet. I caned again and again the soles of the feet excited by his pleading for mercy. All without any kind of semblance of eroticism and without restlessness. Simply a cruel punishment.

Then it was his thighs to be hit again and again with the cane and, to finish, his butt had  a mix of paddle, whip and stick like few other times. He was screaming desperately and writhing in his bonds as a few times before, while an incredible excitement grew in me.
So I took my beloved strap on with the double dildo.

It has a vibrating dildo that fits into my vagina, stimulates both from inside and outside, and then has a big and realistic dildo that I use to fuck the slave. I demanded then first a blowjob, receiving the first orgasm, and then I fucked the slave for a long time enjoying again and again and feeling him crying desperately and in tears.

I then spent the next hour alternating on his nipples, torture with clamps and wax and erotic stimulations with tongue and fingers leading him to the paroxysm of excitement and pain and frustration. Too excited by his desperation and imploring, I had to cum again before using him as a toilet and locking it for the night in a small cage locked with a timer lock.

For the entire punishment, few times so hard and ruthless and devoid of any empathy, the slave pleaded and pleaded. I know he is not a masochist and I know how much he actually suffered. But when he kissed my boots in thanking me before entering the cage, he had in his eyes a light of resignation and love, as well as fear of me.

When he left the house this morning I was still asleep but a little while ago he sent me a WhatsApp message in which he thanked me for the punishment received yesterday and apologized for his bad conduct and of the past few days. Then he advised me that today, at work, he has easily solved some problems that in the past few days seemed impossible to him and that he will probably have a reward at work. I am sure that he succeeded also and above all for the cruel hardness with which I treated him. In his enormous suffering, he satisfied his intimate nature as a slave and freed energies to give his best on the job.

In conclusion, I believe that the more the slavery to which these wonderful kind of men is hard and cruel and humiliating and inhuman, the better they work in the few activities that are required of them in the ‘vanilla’ world. And this is for the benefit of the slaves and doubly for the benefit of the Mistresses. So in conclusion, be as cruel and sadistic as you can and as much as you want! It is good for everyone!
I greet you with affection
Mistress Francesca


Wow Mistress Scarlett!
When I discovered your blog I immediately understood that you are an extraordinary Mistress! An example for all of us and constant inspiration! I’m sure your email BAV email slave is aware of his incredible luck and will never cheat on your rules!

I think I will steal the ideas of ​​the toilet girlfriend and of the orgasm under the soles and apply them to the pathetic poor sissy slave m. for when he’s lucky with the card game …
J, Q and K of hearts the toilet girlfriend and A of hearts the sole of my shoe …
I’m sure sissy slave m. will be affected …
I’ll think about the details … i have a lot of time to think… the next chance for sissy slave m. it’s September 2 …
With all my admiration
Mistress Francesca.


Next July 9 will be the 15th anniversary of my wedding with sissy slave m. and one of my favorite lovers should be in town that week …
Two great opportunities for fun for me and cruel humiliation for my sissy slave …
I thought I’d share these experiences with you and your readers if you like.
p.p.s. if you prefer that I don’t describe cuckolding with my lover just tell me!

Mistress Francesca.


As you may know, sissy slave m. wears a chastity cage 24/7/365 and his only release possibilities are through a card game. In summary, in a deck of 52 more wild cards, if a card of hearts is drawn between 2 and 10 the slave can have a spoiled orgasm, if the J, Q, K or A of hearts is drawn, the sissy can have a true orgasm, for all other cards no orgasm. The game details, according to the card drawn, after how long the slave can try again and what punishment he must receive.

Of course, I always have the right to refuse sissy to play, but usually I like to let him try.
Applying the rules of the game, the shortest period that the sissy can hope to see between an orgasm and the next try is a week if she draws the A of hearts (it has happened only three times since I began with these rules), otherwise it varies from 32 to 40 days.
The longest period that the sissy spent without a ‘real’ orgasm was 3 years and 3 months (August 2009 – November 2012) during this period, however, he had some spoiled orgasms. The longest period without even spoiled orgasms was 13 months.

Now his last real orgasm dates back to August 2018 (he had extracted a k of hearts on June 2 this year but he ‘voluntarily’ preferred to give up orgasm) and his last ruined orgasm dates back to November 2019. The next possibility to play his card game is scheduled for September 2.

On average, I think it that sissy slave m receives a ruined orgasm every 3/5 months and a real orgasm every 10/14 months. This chastity regime makes the sissy very frustrated and suffering. Consider that he constantly lives as my sissy slave and, being a true submissive, it creates constant and enormous excitement, frustrated by my chastity regime. At the same time, feeling frustrated and suffering makes her more obedient and focused on service.

In my experience, the peak of despair frustration is reached after 3 or 4 months while in the following period despair increases more slowly. This is why, as the abstinence period continues, I love to subject the sissy to long sessions of teasing and denial, torturing her poor sensitive nipples. As for the rest, sissy slave m. never becomes ‘whining’ although he sometimes begs desperately. I love these pleadings and I love, after having listened to them for some time, to deny him any mercy.
Mistress Francesca


Dear Scarlett,
it is obviously a pleasure and an honor to answer your questions.

No, normally I don’t give the sissy slave’s penis direct stimulation. His nipples have always been incredibly sensitive and even just touching them produces a devastating excitement effect in my poor sissy. He has repeatedly confessed to me that the stimulation of the nipples is for him a stronger sensation than anything he has experienced and is incredibly frustrating because the very strong erection that derives from it is confined by the chastity cage and because, however strong and growing the excitement, he can not reach an orgasm. In addition, this type of excitement develops in the slave the deeper fantasies which are, of course, those of ever more extreme submission.

Teasing him through the nipples is therefore the maximum. (to which is added the humiliation of knowing that his penis is NEVER stimulated by a human being …).
Because the sissy ‘voluntarily’ renounced her orgasm on June 2, he told you himself in a comment you posted about his strict regime.


In practice, while I was ready to let him masturbate while licking my shoes, my mother (who was present with my sister and two dear friends) suggested that it would be very selfish of it to cum immediately after the lock down, given the restrictions that I had to endure over my sexuality because I could not meet any lovers.

We all agreed on this and the sissy (and helped by the fact that I started licking his nipples, the sissy ended up begging to exchange its card for the worst card in the deck: 2 of spades, to show its subjugation to us.

As for cuckolding, there is no precise cadence. I go with other men whenever I feel like it and when I meet a man I think who’s worth it. I have some lovers that I see more regularly and others that are absolutely occasional maybe met on the same day. Let’s say that, pre COVID, I had a sexual encounter with lovers more or less every 10/15 days.
Obviously not all lovers are aware of the slave and / or participate in his domination, however I always try to introduce the topic and I would say that in the end almost all lovers come at least to see my sissy maid when they come to pick me up at home.
As I anticipated, one of my favourite lovers will be in town on Thursday … updates soon .


Sissy slave’s M account mentioned above.
‘………………….One after another they laughed at me, they had fun slapping me to tears, spitting in my face and mouth, before granting me, one after the other, the coveted permission to play.
The humiliation and anticipation, the pain of the recent punishment and fatigue of the long day of service had thrown me into a condition of total prostration and physical and mental suffering and, at the same time, of desperate excitement.
The Mistress, therefore, shuffled the cards, positioned the three chosen cards on a small table and invited me to choose.
With my heart racing, I chose a card and waited for the Mistress to turn it over.
K of hearts! My head exploded with relief and joy!
It meant being able to masturbate licking Mistress’s shoes! Heaven for every slave! I must do with the but plug in ad after I will receive, as per the rules, the due punishment! But nevertheless, it was an orgasm at the feet of my goddess! A real orgasm! Tears of joy have started to cross my face again!
The Mistress then moved away and returned, after a few minutes, wearing a pair of black patent leather slippers with 10 cm platform and 20 cm heels. The dream of every slave. My dream. In her hand she held the key to my chastity cage.
When she was about to put the key in the lock, however, my mother-in-law intervened. I can’t say if everything was planned or if it was a cruel inspiration of the moment.
My mother-in-law said hard and annoyed that it was incredibly selfish of me to accept that card! That it was inconceivable that an unworthy slave sissy like me agreed to receive an orgasm while his Mistress, for the previous three months, because of the lockdown, had not been able to devote herself to her pleasures and hobbies and, above all, had not been able to see her lovers!
It was an incredible proof of lack of training and insubordination on my part the fact of placing my pathetic pleasure before that of the Mistress!
Not only the Mistress had to give up an important part of her sacrosanct sexual pleasures, but now she also had to witness her pathetic sissy slave who masturbated with the most selfish of pigs!
The other ladies immediately agreed with my mother-in-law and, on the Mistress’s face, I immediately saw a sadistic smile light up.
I, devastated, had listened to my mother-in-law’s words, grasping their inedible cruelty and injustice (after all, the Mistress had always cums, even in these months, over and over again every day and at her complete pleasure while my last cum was rising months and years) and at the same time the words o my mother-in-law seams full of fairness! If the prolongation of my suffering and frustration helped the Mistress to better endure the limitations of the lockdown just finished and to resume her life with greater serenity, how could I be so selfish to accept an orgasm!
Yet my frustration was too strong.
The Mistress, amused, replied to her mother that it was true, that she was right, but that the rules were the rules … therefore, turned to me, she asked me what I thought of it.
Desperate, split in two, I began to stammer apologies about my despair and pleading for the card to be respected.
But she then decided to use her secret weapon. Started teasing me and licking my nipples.
Perhaps also due to the fact that my cock is always in the cage and is practically never stimulated, my nipples have become, over the years, ultra-sensitive. Real mini sexual organs whose stimulation produces a devastating, almost painful, and incredibly frustrating excitement given the presence of the chastity cage. Furthermore, it is a kind of excitement that further nourishes my submissive nature and makes me desire with every drop of my existence to be increasingly cruelly subdued by my divine tyranny.
Among the laughter of the other mistresses, therefore, the Mistress led me to a state of pain excitement in which my whole body trembled uncontrollably and wept with despair and mumbled phrases without complete sense.
When she thought I had reached the right cooking point, therefore, the Mistress returned to ask me what I thought of it.
And my slave soul, before my body and my mind could intervene, was licking the Mistress’ shoes and begging her with all the soul not to consider the card and exchange it with the 2 of spades (which means three months before the next attempt and a cruel punishment made of blows and bondage from immobilization).
With tears in my eyes, desperate but in love, I heard the Mistress agree among the roaring laughter of the others and, after the Mistress left me magnanimously licking her divine shoes for a long time, I immediately underwent the following punishment in total sub space and I spent the rest of the day and the whole night painfully in bondage until the Mistress released me this morning to send me to the office.’



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







My BAV email slave

A few people have noticed that, as well as my puppet husband bitch-boy listed against my name on the BAV register, an email slave of mine, slut-boy, is also on the register. And I have been asked to provide details of that situation. So here are the details.

I began dominating slut-boy by email almost three years ago. He is very, very loyal and obedient and sometimes helpful as well. None of these virtues result in any mercy from me, as you might expect. That is the unfairness that true submissives end up enduring; but it is good for them. It is what they need and I love to be unfair so it is wholly symbiotic. When I first started my email domination of him, which he had to ask for very nicely, he had already been a BAV for about three years. Of course, I required he remain a BAV. He has had no human girlfriend in that time but he has had a non-human girlfriend I selected for him.

Our ‘relationship’ evolved as DS relationships do. The current state of affairs is he gets a spoiled orgasm around once a fortnight and a ‘proper’ orgasm around once a month. Has to provide me with a gift before he is allowed a ‘proper’ orgasm. I looooove that he has to do this despite that his ‘proper’ orgasm is deeply humiliating and degrading. He has to write a full report on each spoiled orgasm and on each ‘proper’ orgasm.

If you can count fucking a toilet girlfriend as a proper orgasm! But it is the best he EVER gets. Yes, slut-boy’s only girlfriend, he gets to fuck twice a month, is a toilet. Each two weeks he alternates between having to cease thrusting the moment before spurting begins for a spoiled orgasm, and he is allowed to thrust to completion for a ‘proper’ orgasm. I do spoil him! He fucks the gap between the cold porcelain rim and the underside of the seat, he presses down on his birth defect.

I do vary my requirements. Usually he has to apply lipstick to his slut lips and then kiss the toilet lid, seducing his girlfriend and leaving shameful sissy kiss marks on his girlfriend. Sometimes he has to lay a stem of stinging nettle leaves on the toilet rim before placing his birth defect down. Other times a little Deep Heat rubbed into the shaft before he begins. (He should not have whined that the rim is VERY cold!

After he has finished he has to wipe his lips and then his birth defect with a sheet of toilet paper and then eat that sheet of paper. Poor slut-boy does not like the taste of his own semen, but that is the point.

You may be thinking, how do I know he is not having orgasms apart form those I allow. Well I cant be 100% sure, but I have asked for various photos so I know he does fuck his toilet girlfriend, but also, on the journey to his now much restricted orgasm frequency he whinged about his frustration making him feel bad tempered and resentful. This is a stage denied submissives usually experience and had he not been complying with my regime, I do not think he would have known of these feelings. Reality is not fantasy, even with denial.

I told him, as I told bitch-boy many, many years ago, as soon as those negative feelings begin instantly think about, as a true submissive, how lucky he is to have a cruel, pitiless Mistress and covert that visceral effect of his denial to feelings of gratitude and an appreciation that he is suffering REAL domination, and this is what that feels like and IT IS NOT A FANTASY any more. As with bitch-boy, he has succeeded in that switch of reactions.

The other ways I am helped to be convinced he is complying with my regime is because he knows I will dismiss him instantly, severing all contact forever, should I ever form the opinion from his emails that he is not complying with my regime. Any little slip up and that is the end.

And in the early days of his training, he sometimes in his reports of spoiled orgasms, revealed he did not stop thrusting quite early enough. A long period of denial always followed such an admission. Which that also gave me a sense of his honesty with me.



Below, for those who have not seen it before, I provide details of my new guide for beginner Dommes. Linked to my alternative blog. It is possibly unique, as it is specifically written to avoid frightening away a very vanilla wife or girlfriend from trying an FLR relationship.



A BAV register?

I wondered if a Register of Born Again Virgins would be appealing/amusing for Dommes and rather shaming for the submissive puppet BAVs?

The idea would see the BAVs listed in order of how long it has been since they last penetrated a woman. The BAV with the longest period at the top of the register. Their owner’s name would be listed and the Bav’s name would be listed, together with the month? and year they became a BAV.

An entry can be provided to me to be entered on the register by either the owner or the submissive. I have produced a mock-up page, called the BAV Register which can be found by hovering the cursor over the top left menu tab, ‘BAV Register and Links’. Or here.

If anyone on the current mock up list would like to be removed, I will do so immediately you contact me with a comment.

There is data I need from the BAV or the owner to complete the current register list. If you are happy to be on the register, please provide the date required to complete your entry.


Below, for those who have not seen it before, I provide details of my new guide for beginner Dommes. Linked to my alternative blog. It is possibly unique, as it is specifically written to avoid frightening away a vanilla wife or girlfriend from trying an FLR relationship.



A seriously hot regime!

Below are four comments I have received over the last month from a slave in Italy who is lucky enough to serve full time an amazing Mistress. If you fastidiously read all comments, you will have read the first three, but the fourth has never been published as a comment. You will not have read that.

The regime imposed is serious, eclectic and I find it very hot indeed! Involvement of the Mistress’s mother and, cuckolding, with chastity and denial, and male maids are firm favourites of mine! Sissy Slave M is writing in a second language so I am sure you will forgive him if the English is not perfect. Or as I do admire him for writing in a second language!



Honorable Mistress,
On Monday morning, May 11th, I returned to work for the first time since 9 March, the day on which the lockdown was made in Italy.
Luckly I got a fairly well-paid job in the public administration sector and so Mistress have not suffered negative consequences from an economic point of view.
My thoughts go to the many who, on the other hand, this pandemic is tragically leaving in difficulty.
Obviously this is not the right place, but I must say that the Italian government, despite many mistakes, is managing this crisis quite well.
Going back to what I meant, on Monday I left the house for the first time in more than two months and the feeling was, for me, much, much stranger than for my fellow citizens.
Given my condition as a slave sissy, the lockdown was, for me, quite intense.
First, for the whole period I was always in the feminized version of myself.
For years the Mistress has allowed me men’s clothes only for work and for some inevitable ‘vanilla’ circumstance reduced to the bare minimum.
If You consider that many relatives and friends of the Mistress know about our relationship, You can understand how what remains of my male being is truly reduced to a minimum.
Never, however, had I lived as sissy and in sissy clothes for over two consecutive months.
In addition, for her amusement, the Mistress forced me to remain tied in one way or another for the entire period.
When the Mistress did not impose more restrictive and elaborate forms of bondage on me (which happened for several hours a day) I always wore a high, almost postural collar, bracelets and anklets.
A short chain (30 cm) connected bracelets and anklets and bracelets was connected to the collar by another chain that did not allow me to lower my hands below the waist.
The Mistress firmly believes that a sissy must be seen and not heard, so I was gagged most time of the day.
Even for a sissy like me used to sissyfication, bondage, punishment and everything else, experiencing this total continuity 24/7 for over two consecutive months was very hard.
Normally I wear the chastity belt 24/7/365 even at work and my underwear is always sissy, however the effect of total continuity of submission has been devastating.
The Mistress, then, was even more rigid, severe, sadistic, uncompromising and cruel than usual for the whole period.
For her, in fact, rightly accustomed to her freedoms, her friends, her interests and hobbies and her lovers, imprisonment at home, even a beautiful house with a garden, was very frustrating and she vented her frustrations on me .
Not a day has passed without me being subjected to the most cruel keystrokes.
I spent endless hours completely immobilized in bondage or wildly fucked by the big strap-ons of the Mistress (she loves the pegging on her slut, as she calls me in these cases) or humiliated in long video calls with her friends.
Many times, at the height of humiliations or punishments, I collapsed, I burst into tears and I implored even just a little of pity.
And obviously I haven’t received.
In the same time I noticed that the Mistress was getting great relief from making my condition of submission more extreme and this helped me a lot to overcome the most difficult moments.
Furthermore, the absence of any pause, even the slightest, to my sissy slave ménage had the effect of making the Mistress’s mark on me indelible and my love and my total devotion and submission are, if possible, further increased.
It is as if this total coexistence had extremized our awareness of our respective conditions in the world. and when on Monday morning I was totally unbound for the first time in over two months, the partial relief was enormously overcome by a feeling of lack.
As if part of me had been removed.
And when the Mistress, before I left the house, showed up at the door in her dressing gown and wearing a pair of incredible slippers (similar to the ones you wear on the cover of volume 12 or volume 8 of your juornals) I threw myself to her feet, desperate and tearful, unable to move away from her.
Only when she kicked me out assuring me that she would always be my Mistress and that her cruelty was yet to grow a lot, I finally managed to go to work.
Sissy slave m.



I don’t know if it can be defined as shaming but of the cruelest clothes that the Mistress sometimes imposes on me is this hessian underwear that you can see in this link.


It is made to measure and, often, Mistress requires me to wear it under a maid uniform while doing housework.
In particular, she likes to make me wear it when her fun of the moment is to have me as a lower level scoundrel.
In these cases, I must wear the hessian underwear.
Above of it, in addition to the inevitable corset (which makes contact with the terrible material even harder to bear) the most worn out of my maid uniforms, full of tears and of mending, at the foot a pair of equally worn domestic slippers, a disheveled and deformed wig.
She impose me a very heavy metal collar, wristbands and anklets joined by heavy chains and a heavy ball to the foot.
To this she adds a penis gag and in this humiliating estate I have to do the housework without the aid of model tools and, therefore, sweep and wash the floors on all fours, wash the laundry all by hand and so on.
Hessian underwear is terribly uncomfortable, stinging and annoying and working on it in chains, it becomes absolutely intolerable after a very short time. Then often the Mistress canes my ass before getting dressed and then the terrible material rubs on the red skin and becomes even more unbearable.
It often happens that the Mistress has me in this way and then I go out with my friends leaving me to my sufferings.
Often during those long and tiring days I happen to burst into tears for my condition but, even more, for the unbearable feeling of hessian underwear.
When the Mistress comes home and see me in chains dressed as the last of the servants and exhausted from fatigue and suffering, she gets excited to masturbate almost always.
Once she cums, she enjoys humiliating me for a few hours before finally taking off my cruel underwear while I, despite the sufferings she imposes on me, thank her humbly by licking her shoes and swearing my eternal love and eternal submission.
sissy slave m



Honored Mistress Scarlet,
I thank you immensely for your noble answer.
Of course you are totally right and I offer the most humble and submissive apologies for the precious time that I have wasted you with my pathetic comment.
I understand that the description of the game rules alone have been of little interest to you and I will also try to explain the dynamics behind the game.
Firstly the game is my only chance of having an orgasm.
My condition is of total chastity 24/7/365 and total submission.
This makes me perpetually excited and frustrated to the point of despair.
As a consequence of this, my veneration and submission to my Mistress are infinitely amplified.
Not if it’s the same for everyone. In my experience, the absolute cruelty of the Mistress in imposing such a severe chastity regime has meant that my total love for my Goddess increased day by day.
I believe it is the result of my innate submission, but every humiliation, punishment and cruelty of the Mistress, however absolutely infernal to bear at times, produces in me a feeling of devotion and attachment and love and, at the same time, of awe that they make of my status as a slave is the only one possible for me.
So even though living a condition of slavery and sissyfication that many would consider hell (and sometimes I also consider it as such), I also live in an atmosphere of absolute and perennial excitement and absolute devotion to Mistress.
In the days immediately preceding the game, of course, my anxiety and expectation grow uncontrollably, as does my fear that my mistake or a whim of the Mistress will blow up the possibility.
It does not happen often, because the Mistress likes the game, but it happened that without any reason the Mistress, just because she can do it, postponed for days, but also for weeks, a game session and I confess that, while I kissed the Mistress’s shoes to thank her, I couldn’t hold back the tears.
At the same time, just before the game starts, another and different anxiety arises in me.
While, in fact, my frustration and my desire lead me to hope with all my heart that the drawn card is lucky, on the other hand, my submission makes me almost torn about it.
I find myself thinking about the fun, if not the pleasure, that my suffering and frustration bring to the Mistress and, therefore, receiving the orgasm seems to me almost a lack towards the Mistress.
When the game finally begins, the Mistress makes me kneel in front of her after making me undress leaving me in stockings, suspenders, corset, heels, wig and maid crest.
She ties my hands behind my back and stands before me.
I have to start begging her to let me try the game, trying to be convincing in humiliating myself and exalting her because there is always a possibility that she will think again.
She looks at me, depending on the mood, with absolute indifference and contempt or with cruelty and fun.
When she is satisfied with the pleas, she gags me and takes the cards.
The moment before the discovery of the card is incredibly emotional for me.
After an often very long period I finally have a chance, even if not too high!
And I wish with all my heart that the card is of hearts, possibly a J a Q a K or the ace!
And at the same time, despite being terrified of it, I think the pleasure of the Mistress when a card unfavorable for me comes out, above all the two spades,and my soul of submissive almost hopes to have to receive the cruelest card to satisfy the sadism of the Mistress and for to feel even more the adoration for her that is born in the moments of greatest suffering and humiliation.
And then the card is turned …
If it is a card that does not give me orgasm, as often happens, the Mistress immediately passes to the punishment provided, cheerful and amused, while I suffer my destiny with resignation but also, in some way, with the relief of knowing that the my frustration and suffering are pleasing to my goddess.
And if it is a card that gives me ruined orgasm, instead, the Mistress immediately applies a condom to my cage and, with a vibrator, stimulates the chastity cage from the outside insulting me and spitting me in the face or slapping me. She bring me on the edge and then remove the vibratori leaving me to my wretched ruined orgasm. So she takes my gag off and feeds me on my seed before going on to punishment.
The rare times, however, that the paper gives me a full orgasm, I see the Mistress a slight disappointment and this, in the euphoria of those rare moments, is a cloud that obscures my pleasure. Then, after I have had these rare orgasms, Mistress becomes even more sadistic in punishment, that are more difficult to suffer after I came.
I can’t deny that, all in all, my real hope is to draw a card that will give me ‘ruined’ orgasm, in order to still be able to experience a little miserable humiliated relief while still remaining in my desperate conditions of continuous chastity.
As for the ace of hearts, which would grant me freedom to enjoy at my leisure, it only cames out 3 times.
And all three times I could not help but beg the Mistress to decide my destiny and she, incredibly magnanimous, tied and gagged me and masturbated mi with her hands.
They have been the only times since I know her where the Mistress gave me direct sexual contact for my pleasure
I love my Mistress, my bondage and chastity and our relationship.
I hope I have explained things better and I still humbly ask for forgiveness for the stolen time.
Slave and sissy maid M.



Honored Mistress
June 2, in Italy, is a national holiday and this year was even more important because it was the first national holiday after the lockdown.
For me, pathetic sissy slave, it was also the day when I could try my luck with the card game that I described in a previous comment on this post and that is my only chance to have an orgasm.
My last unspoiled orgasm dates back to August 18, 2018 while my last wretched ruined dates back to November 2019 so then you can imagine my despair.
Sunday 05-31 Mistress informed me that on June 2 she had invited her mother, sister and two best friends to lunch, all four fully aware of my condition, and I should have served them as a sissy maid. In the afternoon the card game would take place in the presence of all the guests on condition that my service was impeccable.
Devastated by the prospect of humiliations and sufferings that five sadistic and ruthless women could impose on me, I tried to plead with the Mistress, obviously receiving a severe beating and, therefore, I waited resigned and anxious for my destiny.
On June 2, therefore, I awoke at 5:00 A.M. to wear my short sissy maid uniform, which leaves partially visible both my chastity cage and the but plug that I wear. Black stockings, suspenders, corset, shoes with 10 cm heels, wig, make-up, crest, collar, bracelets and anklets joined by chains (more symbolic than restrictive this time) completed my outfit.
So I started preparing lunch for the guests and cleaning the house.
I brought my wife breakfast in bed at 10:03 A.M. and I received 30 cane shots (10 for every minute of delay) before I could continue the food preparation for lunch. My mother-in-law was the first to arrive. As ordered, I cheerfully greeted her at the door with a humble reverence. At one of his gestures I humbly kissed her shoes and, at her order, licked the soles. Then I made her a drink and I continued cooking and similarly answered the door as each female guest arrived.
By 11:30 A.M., they had all arrived and, while they happily chatted about their business on the patio in the garden, I attended to drinks for them as requested while continuing, in the meantime, the preparation of lunch.
When lunch was ready, I served the ladies at the table and several times the ladies asked to eat while the pathetic sissy slave licked her shoes under the table.
All the time none of the ladies paid me the slightest attention and in fact they totally ignored me, talking happily to each other and simply turning to me with orders: “sissy! wine!”, “Water, slave!”, “Lick the soles worm! “,” the coffee cockroach! ” or commenting amuse my miserable condition and the huge difference in status between them and the miserable servant.
After I served lunch, I collected part of their leftovers in a dog bowl, from where I was supposed to eat them later, and, upon Mistress’ order, I had to go to each of the ladies while each one spits on my miserable meal.
So ladies retired for more chatting and other women’s games and I retired to the kitchen to do dishes and scrub the kitchen floor. I had to make the kitchen spotless, in between serving drinks and snacks to the ladies.
After I completed cleaning the kitchen, I was summoned to them for direct service.
First, each of the ladies gave a rating from 1 to 10 on the quality of the lunch and my service.
For every vote below 10 I would have suffered 10 lashes on my bare butt.
The Ladies expressed their judgment one at a time: Mistress’s friends assigned me 9, the Mistress’s sister and Mistress 8 and my mother-in-law 6. In total 10 votes less than the maximum and 100 lashes on my poor ass.
They then made me lean forward on the patio table, tied ankles and wrists and whipped me in turn, amused and excited by their sadism and my suffering which resulted in constant pleadings and tears.
After the punishment I had to stand, in waiting, with snack trays and drink trays in hand, to be ready for any snack or drink request made or for direct service doing foot massages or other services for the owners.
Then the Mistress announced that it was time for the card game.
She then undressed me, leaving me with only the shoes, corset, but plug and wig on, tied my hands behind my back and ordered me to beg each of the guests for permission to play.
One after the other I had to prostrate myself in front of the ladies, tell and affirm my condition as an inferior, useless sub human, confessing my state of BAV and, at the same time, to swear my absolute love to my Mistress precisely for her cruelty and how to be his sissy slave is my only possible condition and, in conclusion, to implore their permission to try my luck with the cards
One after another they laughed at me, they had fun slapping me to tears, spitting in my face and mouth, before granting me, one after the other, the coveted permission to play.
The humiliation and anticipation, the pain of the recent punishment and fatigue of the long day of service had thrown me into a condition of total prostration and physical and mental suffering and, at the same time, of desperate excitement.
The Mistress, therefore, shuffled the cards, positioned the three chosen cards on a small table and invited me to choose.
With my heart racing, I chose a card and waited for the Mistress to turn it over.
K of hearts! My head exploded with relief and joy!
It meant being able to masturbate licking Mistress’s shoes! Heaven for every slave! I must do with the but plug in ad after I will receive, as per the rules, the due punishment! But nevertheless, it was an orgasm at the feet of my goddess! A real orgasm! Tears of joy have started to cross my face again!
The Mistress then moved away and returned, after a few minutes, wearing a pair of black patent leather slippers with 10 cm platform and 20 cm heels. The dream of every slave. My dream. In her hand she held the key to my chastity cage.
When she was about to put the key in the lock, however, my mother-in-law intervened. I can’t say if everything was planned or if it was a cruel inspiration of the moment.
My mother-in-law said hard and annoyed that it was incredibly selfish of me to accept that card! That it was inconceivable that an unworthy slave sissy like me agreed to receive an orgasm while his Mistress, for the previous three months, because of the lockdown, had not been able to devote herself to her pleasures and hobbies and, above all, had not been able to see her lovers!
It was an incredible proof of lack of training and insubordination on my part the fact of placing my pathetic pleasure before that of the Mistress!
Not only the Mistress had to give up an important part of her sacrosanct sexual pleasures, but now she also had to witness her pathetic sissy slave who masturbated with the most selfish of pigs!
The other ladies immediately agreed with my mother-in-law and, on the Mistress’s face, I immediately saw a sadistic smile light up.
I, devastated, had listened to my mother-in-law’s words, grasping their inevitable cruelty and injustice (after all, the Mistress had always orgasmed, even in these months, over and over again every day and at her complete pleasure while my last cum was rising months and years) and at the same time the words of my mother-in-law seemed full of fairness! If the prolongation of my suffering and frustration helped the Mistress to better endure the limitations of the lockdown, now just finished, and to resume her life with greater serenity, how could I be so selfish to accept an orgasm!
Yet my frustration was too strong.
The Mistress, amused, replied to her mother that it was true, that she was right, but that the rules were the rules … therefore, turned to me, she asked me what I thought of it.
Desperate, split in two, I began to stammer apologies about my despair and pleading for the card to be respected.
But she then decided to use her secret weapon. Started teasing me and licking my nipples.
Perhaps also due to the fact that my cock is always in the cage and is practically never stimulated, my nipples have become, over the years, ultra-sensitive. Real mini sexual organs whose stimulation produces a devastating, almost painful, and incredibly frustrating excitement given the presence of the chastity cage. Furthermore, it is a kind of excitement that further nourishes my submissive nature and makes me desire with every drop of my existence to be increasingly cruelly subdued by my divine tyranny.
Among the laughter of the other mistresses, therefore, the Mistress led me to a state of distressing excitement in which my whole body trembled uncontrollably and wept with despair and mumbled phrases without complete sense.
When she thought I had reached the right cooking point, the Mistress returned to ask me what I thought of the issue.
And my slave soul, before my body and my mind could intervene, was licking the Mistress’ shoes and begging her with all my soul not to consider the card but to exchange it with the 2 of spades (which means three months before the next attempt and a cruel punishment made of blows and bondage from immobilization).
With tears in my eyes, desperate but in love, I heard the Mistress agree among the roaring laughter of the others and, after the Mistress left me magnanimously licking her divine shoes for a long time, I immediately underwent the following punishment in total sub space and I spent the rest of the day and the whole night painfully in bondage until the Mistress released me this morning to send me to the office.
Now I am writing right from the office for the urgent need to describe this incredible experience of mine and to thank my Mistress for her cruelty and for the abysses of submission in which she sinks me daily with increasingly cruelly.
I apologize for the long post
Sissy slave m


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






Teasing Speech Vignette

An almost non-DS day yesterday for various reasons of domestic trivia. Over three weeks since bitch-boy last came though. So, so sexually desperate. Not out of his cage for one second of those three weeks. (His current cage allows for satisfactory hygienic cleaning without the cage being removed.)

In my bedroom I was dressing. I pulled on a thin, SKIN TIGHT pair of Yoga leggings; extreme camel-toe. They fit every part of my body like a second skin. I sat on my bed to pull up the leggings. My six inch heeled platform mules were on the floor at my bedside as they always are. So were my Ugg boot slippers. I smiled to myself as I put on the mules!

Wearing nothing but my SKIN TIGHT leggings and high heeled mules, I went to bitch-boy who I knew was at the desk-top PC sourcing and ordering non-food essentials I had listed.

I approached him, my hands already at the back of my neck and my exposed breasts thrust forward a little. He saw me and in an instant miserable pain and unrequited desire filled his face. The miserable pain of deep, gnawing sexual frustration. And UNREQUITED desire obviously.

‘Am I making you all desperate again bitch-boy. Such a provocative outfit isn’t it; only half dressed for the day.‘ I thrust out a hip, then the other, I slowly circled 360 degrees and ran my hands over my butt when it was thrust toward him. I moved very close to him and cupped by breasts and smoothed my hands down to my camel-toe. Then they came to rest on the backs of my hips, my breasts and hips jutting forward again. I watched his ardent, tortured eyes roam all round my body; each new area of scenery a new torture. Why does he torture himself so? Silly ridiculous males; helpless to evolution’s drives and hormones. My flat stomach was inches from his face now. I felt totally powerful and totally cruel.

‘You can touch me if you like.’  He put the flat of his hand to my stomach; reverentially and sensually.

‘You can stroke me. All the way up to just below my breasts and all the way down to just above my cunt.‘ He began to do so. Seriously torturing himself now! My so very soft, frequently and expensively, moisturised skin, athletically taut across my stomach muscles and ribs.

‘But you don’t get to touch my breasts or my cunt with your hands do you. You NEVER get to do that do you. Like you never get to fuck this amazing body. No bitch. Only my lovers get to touch my breasts and my cunt with their hands, don’t they.‘ He continued stroking in the areas allowed and he sighed emotionally and seemed close to tears even. I allowed him to torture himself for a while longer. I smiled broadly. I felt like a goddess being deferentially worshipped by a loyal, respectful devotee. This submissive creature that I OWN! That I can torture for my amusement. Then I stood back.

‘Get on with your chore bitch.‘ I turned and walked away making sure each foot landed on my centre line so my hips swung provocatively. He would be watching me sashay away, no doubt!

Back in my bedroom I used my massager wand. The only sound in the quiet house. Soon, my cries of orgasm reaching into every corner of the house. I did not go back to him. I felt utterly contented and a totally powerful, utter bitch!  I went off to the sitting room to read.

A typical ten minutes in my life at home.





Miss Anne

A delightful account of a recent episode in the life of Miss Anne and her slave. Tedium from chores or other means does seem to be emerging as a consistent theme among lifestyle Dommes and their submissives.

I myself indulge in this activity of relaxing, having orgasms, having a lovely time, while my submissive is sexually frustrated and in chastity and is enduring relentless tedium. I guess it is the feeling of power, of unfairness, of status differential that stimulates and gratifies the Dommes and that also drives the submissive into deep submissiveness and also awe of their Domme. (Whether that tedium is from chores, line writing, playing with dollies or sensory deprivation bondage.)

Miss Anne

At first I apologize for my poor English, it isn’t my native language, I hope you can understand what I am writing.

During the summer my slave of years got his usual 3 weeks holidays off his job. We were in need for extra money for my holiday trip to one of many lovely islands that surround my country. So I put him into a construction job for a period of two weeks to earn some money. I preferred that more than having him sitting idle at home.

I was still working the same time and Mom was staying at home as usual. Neither of us had the desire or the energy to clean and keep the house tidy. Mom was cooking our meals and then going to the beach to take some rest and to relax with our folks, so I was alone at home and I had no desire to cook or do the washing up. The sink was full of dirty items and my house in a real mess, like a bombarded landscape. And there was a huge pile of clothes for hand washing by the slave. (Always he hand washes our items. Mom says it protects the material and one can clean and clear better the stains and I trust her experience as she used to wash by hand years ago).

My slave was working 10-12 hours per day, including weekends so the building under construction would be ready by the end of two weeks. Really hard work. Lots of lifting heavy loads too.

He came back home on Sunday at 11.30am after a long 4 hours trip in his car and of course exhausted from the hard work in construction. I had promised him a prostate milking after being without release for previous one and a half months. He usually gets a release once per a couple of months.

I was resting on the sofa having my morning coffee as I had just woken up this morning, after all night out to local summer clubs, having a few drinks and I really had a headache LOL.

He immediately dropped to his knees and I can say he was very enthusiastic while kissing frantically with loud wet kisses, the soles and heels of my naked feet. I have the sense he was very happy to see me after two long weeks, but I also was glad and had missed his presence and kisses!

I snapped my fingers. He immediately stopped kissing my feet and handed me the envelope with the money from the hard the construction work. I opened the envelope and counted the money while he was staring at my feet as there is the rule of his eyes restriction.

I smiled while counting the large amount of money he brought. (He earned in two weeks almost double of his normal monthly salary). I would spend a nice week on a trip to an island without the anxiety of money issues, so I decided to be very generous, in fact magnanimous to him and let him kiss and lick my feet for one minute for 100 euro he earned, such a special generous reward for him…

Of course he did and trust me was feeling very thankful and well rewarded. Then I sent him to shave his genitals, armpits and chest, and have a cold shower and after, cook a quick meal for me while I took a nap as I was feeling really tired from being up late last night.

After the meal I fed him my leftovers, one more great reward for being such a good and productive boy. After the lunch he of course begged me for his milking. I told him that my needs are his priority. My last good fucking was 2 days ago and I needed at once his tongue. I could see his unhappiness on his face and I felt pissed off and got mad at him.

“How you dare you selfish creature? Is that a menial task? A chore for you, to please me? That is the way you feel about the honour and reward to please me slave?”

“Mistress, no Mistress. I am sorry Mistress, I did not think clearly and…”

“Shut the fuck up! You have just earned a good time accompanied by capsaicin and red pepper after you are done down there. Follow me!”

Of course I had a massive intense climax by his tongue after a few minutes of a good and passionate licking. Then I applied a thick coating of this nasty and terrible poultice all over his genitals and armpits and some pepper in his anus shoved it deep and sealed up in place with a butt plug.

As he was screaming and moaning by the poultice I stood up in front of him and stared directly into his eyes wearing my nicest smile.
“Shame on you! You are such a selfish slave. How disappointing! You are far away from me and home for whole two weeks. I had not got a climax for about a great period of 48 whole hours and you were thinking of the useless piece of meat of piece between your legs and not my needs. What is harder to sustain? 48 hours without a climax for an active sexual woman like me or 45 days without the fucking stupid boring milking for a slave like you? Answer me!”

He barely could speak due to moaning and the tears running down his cheeks.
“You, You suffer… more Mistress”.

“That’s a good wise boy… besides do you see my home? Look around, it is such a mess! Instead of thinking of the disgusting an unnecessary milking don’t you think you could take action and make the house spick and span?”

“Mistress, yes Mistress” I patted his head with a wider smile.
“Such a good boy… my boy… my maid… But as for your unforgivable attitude you understand it is not acceptable in this house. I am afraid I should add two more weeks without milking and release.….. Any objections?”

“Not at all Mistress, thank You very much Mistress” He was already crying, I guess from the poultice or maybe I think about the milking? Who knows?

When the burning faded and he calmed down I let him thank me for the treatment and I could see he was exhausted. For one moment I was ready to let him have some rest for the day but I thought it would not help to maintain a good level of discipline and slavishness. An Owner must has always bear in her mind to improve and make her slave better, more useful, give a purpose on his life.

It is not cruelty but an act of kindness. If my slave wanted to live a vanilla life he would be man enough to fuck me or at least run away. Suffering for a submssive slave is not pain but joy. Being used and abused is not harmful as you wrote on another topic but the quintessence of his living being. So I decided to be kind, generous and lenient with him.

“I want my home sparkling and spotless, tidy and everything put in order.” I grabbed his ear and pulled him to bathroom where there was a huge pile of dirty clothes, linens and underwear and I pointed to them with my finger.
“ They will be washed and hung up by tomorrow morning before I get up” I pulled him by the ear to my bedroom and I lay in the bed.

“The time is 4.25pm, synchronize your watch please, put on your maid outfit and get to work. By 7pm I will take my bath and lay out my dress, underwear and wedge sandals for my night out tonight. You will work and do the laundry till 1:00am, then get some sleep.

Getting up at 6am and finish the job, laundry and wash inside and outside my car by the time I get up. Do a good job and be careful because Mom will inspect your work tomorrow evening as she is coming back from her trip and you know what that means, right boy!”
“Mistress, yes Mistress”

“ Be a good maid then… because if she findsmore than 10 mistakes in the house I will have no choice but add one more month to your next scheduled milking” I could see he was frightened but I could also see in his eyes and face the determination to do his best and to be honest, I swear, he did not seem as exhausted as before after my inspiring words.

For you to understand, Mom after decades of years as a housekeeper, has set very high standards and to be honest she is a kind of obsessive with clearness if you know what I mean. She is over the top and inspects his work with white gloves and white socks, such things. Well I would not pass any of her inspections. slave usually does with less than 10 mistakes but he must work very hard and on the detail.

Poor boy with chores, hand washing laundry and washing my car, his time was very limited and he had to work vigorously for hours.

Well it took me a long time to write this and it is already a very long message. I might continue another time but just to inform you, when I got up to take my bath at 7pm I could see he was sweaty, out of breath and with red eyes. I suspect there were tears of joy for being useful and having a purpose in his life. Don’t you agree?

The video premiere party

You may recall my post about the premiere party for pussie’s shaming video. Well, as promised, Carla provided an account of the premiere.
I provide her account below, preceded by the email she sent me before the premiere account email.
Good Morning Scarlet,
I am going to write you later about the premier. I was going to do so yesterday but Todd and I slept in, then were off to friends for a late brunch and afternoon movie. By the time we got home, I was too tired to write you. Ok not quite the truth. One of my girlfriends who attended the premier called me early evening.  As we reviewed the party I got more and more -ah well you know. So rather than writing, Todd and I spent the evening together.
Hope you are having a great day.
Hi Scarlet
There were mistakes I had to correct in version 1 because I had pussie under the desk licking me when I wrote the first version.

The Premiere

The premier party was a blast. I actually had 14 guests (three of my gfs brought their husband or bf). All of my guests, which included Tyler, my daughters, Todd and other friends, know about pussie’s status as a sissy serving maid, know that Todd is my boyfriend and had seen the invitation. In case you may be wondering, there only a handful of other friends who know that my husband is a total sissy.
pussie first served everyone wearing the burlap lined pink maid’s outfit. After dinner, I had pussie change into the full cheer outfit as in the video. In the video you can see a black wooden cross which I enjoy attaching pussie to as it spreads the sissy out while allowing me to bind its arms and legs. So I bound pussie to the cross for the viewing. Everyone just loved the cheer video. We must of played  at least 10 times. The consensus was that the video made pussie out to be the most ridiculous, submissive sissy. And to be honest all thought the sissy to be a total wimp. I cannot begin to tell you how much laughter there was, all of it pointed at pussie.
Then I told everyone that pussie had not been allowed to have any form of relief, i.e masturbate, since Thanksgiving and asked if they thought pussie’s performance had earned it the right to relief or at least the opportunity for relief. All agreed and then I passed out the ballot I had sent you. Below are the results of the voting and brief description of what happened.

(The men took everything that happened in their stride. Todd and one other guy, David, have seen pussie used as a sissy. Both find all of this very amusing. Of course pussie knows that it must obey and service  Todd just as the sissy obeys me.  The two other men, had been fully briefed by their partners -one was married , the other in a long term relationship with his girlfriend.  It took almost no time for both of them to express their view that pussie was a pathetic wimp deserving all the misery and humiliation it suffered. I will say that while all of the male guests watched and laughed as pussie was tormented after the video, none of them actually participated. Only the women smacked pussie’s wee-wee, but the total smacks were based on the number of guests.
Ballot results
May pussie play with its wee-wee as is or should the wee-wee and balls first be prepared for playing? 
unanimous vote that pussie’s shoud be properly prepared before being allowed to play with itself.
If prepared first should the wee-wee and balls be?
This question engendered much discussion. The first vote was for ruler smacking only. But I let the guests discuss further and after much discussion about which preparation would be most effective ( yes read painful) a wonderful compromise was reached. First the shaft was scrubbed for about 5 minutes with the coarse burlap until it was deep red color. Then another guest took a small piece of very coarse sandpaper and scrubbed only the head of pussie’s wee-wee. Then each guest got to smack the wee-wee 4 times for a total of 56 very firm smacks covering the entire wee-wee. The poor sissy was squirming and trying desperately to avoid the smacks but of course could not. pussie began begging and pleading for us to stop. We all found the sissy’s pleading quite hilarious but after a while it would not shut up so I shoved a very large rubber cock into its mouth (I do mean large) and buckled it straps around pussie’s head to be sure it could not be pushed out. 

a. scrubbed with sand paper
b. scrubbed with coarse burlap
c. smacked with wooden ruler, and if smacked how many times
d. any combination of a,b and/or c

Whether or not prepared as in 2 above should the wee-wee and balls be lubricated before pussie plays with it? 
I am sure you can guess what the choice was here. I first took the burlap, soaked it in hot water than wrapped in around the wee-wee and balls to be sure the pores were open. Then two of the women guests put on plastic gloves and thoroughly applied a coat of the capsacin. I was impressed at how slowly and meticulously they rubbed the capsacin over every part of the wee-wee and balls. It took about 30 seconds or so before pussie reacted. And what a reaction- the sissy was dry humping the air, squirming and writhing, the wee-wee shaking up and down. All the bells on the wool leg warmers , skirt and sweater were tinkling. Everyone had another drink, we played the video a few more times, while watching a most amusing wee-wee dance.

a. If lubricated should it be with baby oil
b capsaicin creme

If lubricated with either baby oil or capsaicin should 1,2  or 3 coats of lubrication be applied? 
We never did take a vote on this question. One of the guests commented how grateful pussie should be that the wee-wee was lubed up as it allow its hand to slide up and down the wee-wee when it got to play with it. Then another guest suggested quite nicely I thought, that if one coat would make pussie’ jerk off feel so good, two coats would be even better! pussie seemed to violently disagree but who listens to sissy? So two more guests took up the task of thoroughly applying a second coat of capsaicin. All I can say Scarlet is that pussie’s humping, squirming and writhing reached a new level! And the laughter did as well!!!!

What position should pussie be in while playing with its wee-wee? 
Another very long discussion of the relative merits ( read most humiliating) of each position. The final decision was to keep pussie stretched out on the cross as this would most limit any movement on by the sissy. 

a. standing straight up legs spread open or not
b. kneeling with legs spread open
c. sitting cross legged like little girl

How should pussie be allowed to stroke its wee-wee?
Index finger only was the clear winner. We released pussie’s outstretched left arm, leaving the right bound to the cross.  . Then removing the left hand mitten, I duck taped all of his fingers back with the exception of the index finger. I then wrapped that finger in burlap.

a. with both hands
b. with one hand only
c with index finger of left hand only , other fingers taped back and other hand tied in back ( just to be clear using one finger is meant to resemble a young girl masturbating herself. As pussie is right handed, using the left index finger will make it more difficult for the sissy to apply pressure to the wee-wee so more frustration!)

How much time should pussie be given to make sissy dribbles? 
There was some disagreement here.Some though a sissy should never be allowed the pleasure of self gratification and one minute was more than enough time. Others said they thought poor pussie should be allowed to stroke as long as possible. However most of the guests said that making pussie play with itself in front of everyone would be total humiliation not to mention so amusing to watch. So a great compromise was reached to allow pussie 10 minutes. pussie was told that once the clock started it must continuously rub itself. If it stopped for an instant, then it would be done, punished for wasting our time, chastity cage put back on and it would be at least six months before the sissy would be given the same opportunity. And I added pussie better be rubbing very hard. With a burlap wrapped single finger rubbing a very very sore wee-wee there was certainly no way pussie was going to enjoy this.

a   one minute
b   five minutes
c   ten minutes
d   no limit

Should pussie be made to drip dribbles, if made , into hand, floor, doggie bowl?    
doggie bowl was the choice. pussie rubbed and rubbed as everyone both cheered and jeered. It was easy to see that the sissy was totally contradicted in that rubbing the capsacin overed wee-wee really hurt but the frustraion of not having any type of normal relief ( I do give pussie periodic prostrate massages to allow it some relief but there is no sexual sensation ) seemed to overcome both the pain and shame. We actually let pussie play with itself till it made some sissy dribbles- a bit longer than 10 minutes. 

If pussie does make sissy dribbles, should it  
another compromise- pussie was made to lick up the dribbles from the bowl, but before it finished the sissy’s face was shoved down and rubbed around the bowl so that some of the dribbles were on its face. It was decided that pussie could not wash its face for a full day as a reminder of its performance in front of everyone.

a. be allowed to wipe up dribbles with paper towel
b. rub dribbles all over face, and if so how long before sissy may wipe dribbles off face
1. immediately
2. rest of evening
3. 24 hours
c. lick up dribbles on all fours like dog

 After all is done should wee-wee:  
of course one more coating of capsaicin before putting pussie’s wee-wee back in its spiked prison.

a. be left alone
b. rubbed with baby oil or soothing creme
c. rubbed with capsaicin ( and if so how many additional coats?)
sorry this is so long. Of course you may edit as you wish and share with your blog readers. And I would love your comments.
warmest regards,

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.