Carla’s latest account
A link to all my journals HERE, including:
A link to all my journals HERE, including:
I have noticed that a lot of blog followers really enjoy accounts of REAL LIFE, LONG TERM Femdom relationships. That had me thinking about the email interactions I have had in the past years with Dommes in a real life, long term, relationship. I have enjoyed many interactions over the years. They usually begin with the Domme seeking a little advice, there is a few weeks or months of exchanges, (usually fascinating for me), and then the interaction drifts away and ends. I sometimes would love an update but I never seek one. I am content that people move on.
I provide a link below to some exchanges I posted in 2014, as I am sure many of you were not reading my blog then and so are unlikely to have read this material. It goes without saying that I would love an update from those involved six years on. I guess by posting this I have opened the possibility.
The two reasons I began this blog were 1), I wanted to facilitate more women creating symbiotic and hugely pleasurable relationships with males who were true submissives. And 2), I hoped, as I have had over the past year, the privilege to be able to publish true accounts of real life, long term DS relations, provided by WOMEN.
In my formative period of becoming a Domme, I had two sources of such real life accounts written by women; The hardcopy Madame magazines and the website Petticoated.com. The former disappeared. The latter evolved into a forum for male cross dressers. (Although I have provided a link to an archive of the original femdom letters in an earlier post.) So I started my blog to fill the void. I am so pleased and privileged to now have so many wonderful real life, long term Dommes contributing to my blog.
Many of these wonderful Dommes push the limits, mainly it seems to me, because they have little interest in vanilla time with their sub. I KNOW if I had little interest in vanilla time with bitch-boy, my regime would be off-the-scale pushing the limits! And I could end up going that way, if I met the right woman, and I would be exhilarated to go that way.
But for various reasons, I do enjoy a fair amount of vanilla time with him, so I think I do not push the limits as much as others. I can’t say all aspects of my regime are 24/7 like other Dommes can. (Although during our DS time, I certainly do push the limits and almost always there is desperate, heartfelt pleading and there is sobbing. And when I want vanilla time to watch a movie or go to a fine dining restaurant or travel, I TELL bitch-boy I am about to USE him for his vanilla company. MY CHOICE, MY USE of him.)
Anyway, the point of those rambling two paragraphs is a request, in this rambling paragraph. There may be Dommes who read this blog but who do not contribute because they consider their regime does not push the limits enough to be worthy of publication. If that is the case, please by assured that I would love contributions from ALL Dommes in long term, real life relationships, limits pushed or not. Or any real life relationships that involve a submissive male being dominated by a woman. Perhaps a boss or other work colleague, perhaps a neighbour. My dream is to provide accounts of, and learn from, every sort of femdom relationship, whether or not limits are pushed.
For info on my own BDSM manual, in several formats, click on an image below.
Well; over the dining table for deterrent and for deserved punishments has become a thing of the past I think.
After seeing a photo of a dominatrix in her dungeon relaxing on her chair between spells of caning her client, I thought I would like some of that! Both, me being able to sit for a rest, (and use my massager wand on myself), and also for the imagery and practicality of the punishment position my puppet would be bound in. It is so advantageous to live in a house with some large original ceiling beams in the sitting room!
I had bitch-boy create the image below, which took him quite some time – to my satisfaction, which meant while he worked on the image, he could mull over the position he will now so often find himself in.
I did indeed, the very first time I used this punishment position, have to sit on my sofa and use my massager wand half way through his punishment. When my massager wand was applied, it was so erotic to see him in his new punishment position, and hear him still whimpering from the last few strokes. My eyes quickly fluttered shut though, as the physical sensations overwhelmed me.
And then the decadence of resting, relaxed on the sofa, then rising and returning to using my dressage whip on my helpless toy.
I have been so kind to my puppet as to include a large bondage belt to support his weight at the chest and a chain from the collar to support the weight of his head. Of course, this does mean there is no limit to how long I can keep him in the position. Perhaps I will watch an hour long TV programme and rise from the sofa and pick up the cane during each advert break?
Because I love to have a female submissive over from time to time, and have bitch-boy in sensory deprivation bondage while I ‘entertain’ her, (often for 5 or 6 hours), I have more than one set of wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs and more than one bondage belt. So, once I had padlocked the chains at appropriate lengths, the whole arrangement could be removed and reapplied very quickly by leaving the chains as they were and simply unbuckling collar, cuffs and bondage belt. And I still had my usual cuffs and a body belt available for other bondage fun.
To retain this convenience, I will have to buy extra gear though, if I start having a new submissive female visiting to be ‘entertained’.
For info on my own BDSM manual, in several formats, click on an image below.
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!
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.
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.
I love to see the pro Dommes who have what appears to be their own, long term sub. Despite the income earning nature of their output, you know they are REAL in a REAL relationship. Bojana the Balkan Brat, Mistress Elaine and sissy maid Vicky, Melanie the Barefoot Princess, Cruel Sarah and her cuck, Kelli and her cuck, Louis Margot and her cuck, Princess Perfect and her sub, etc.
What I sometimes wonder about is whether some of the deliciously cruel pro Domme women who regularly appear in videos and photo shoots with many DIFFERENT subs, have a long term male sub at home? A male sub at home who suffers a regime in keeping with the cruelty these delightful women show with the subs in their videos? (And do any of them read this blog I wonder ???)
For instance, any of the women from; Miami Mean girls, from the Brat Princesses, from Men Are Slaves, etc. And women such as Empress Jennifer, Mistress Cindy, Mistress Elise, Brat princess Christina, Miss Barnes, Goddess Amadahy, Cybil Troy, Sarah Eve, Karin Von Kroft, etc.
Might some of these women have a full time sub at home who they do not want on video? Or do they have a vanilla male because they get all their sadism and dominance out when making femdom videos?
Just something I sometimes ponder on.
Below I provide details of my new guide for beginner Dommes. Linked to my alternative blog and, possibly unique, as it is specifically written to avoid frightening a vanilla wife or girlfriend away from trying an FLR relationship.
The following lock down activity from the wonderful Carla is self explanatory. It was prompted by my recent post on the archive of Petticoated.com letters. It is a wonderful activity that can, and I am sure will, be continued when lock down is over. Below is a photo of Carla and pussie but it is from my archive and is not directly related to the post below.
Hope all is well with you. I must thank you for the posting the treasure trove of petticoat/sissy discipline material. I had never heard of the Petticoat Discipline Journal or any of the earlier publications referred to in the posting. While some of the letters become repetitive, many are filled with wonderfully creative ways to totally humiliate and punish a sissy. I also note that many of the letters describe intensely embarrassing public sissy humiliation. As you know this is something I often subject pussie to with great amusement on my part and others who participate in the poor thing’s public outings. If my recollection is correct of the other women who have submitted comments to you, only Ms Anne has subjected her sissy to humiliation in front of others-and that only to her Mom.
Your posting has resulted in our instituting a new form of cocktail hour entertainment. Each evening, around 6 pm or so, Todd (my boy friend I cuckold pussie with), his daughter Megan and I have cocktails served by pussie.
(Todd’s daughter’s college closed down due to the corona virus and she asked if she could stay with us for a while. I won’t take your time to discuss how we got there, but soon after Megan arrived we let her know all about pussie and that we treat the sissy as the menial housemaid it is. pussie begged me and then both Todd and me a number of times to not allow Megan to order it about. For whatever reason, the sissy pleaded and begged even more to not allow Megan to join us for the cocktail hour readings. Megan was most offended by pussie’s request and now spanks the sissy even harder than I do! )
Anyway, you may recall that in the past I had pussie read to Todd and me from your published books. We all decided that it would be great fun to have pussie entertain us during cocktail hour by reading the Petticoat Discipline Journal letters you posted. So starting from Vol. 1 letter 1, pussie has been slowly reading to us each evening anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. To add to our amusement I put a paper clip on the sissy’s tongue before it begins reading so that the sissy lisps and must speak ever so slowly so as to clearly pronounce each word. If any of us cannot understand a word, pussie must start again from the beginning of that letter.
I have been using a regular sized paper clip. I am now thinking that once it is safe to do so, I may have pussie’s tongue pierced and a small gold ball inserted, I think this may give pussie a permanent lisp while at the same time increasing the sissy’s ability to provide oral pleasure.
Megan has been given the task of picking out pussie’s cocktail hour outfit. (You will recall that pussie has a wool fetish so, given he is in 24/7 chastity and does not get to cum very often, wool items make him even more desperate.) Most times Megan has the sissy dress as a cute schoolgirl in a fuzzy angora or mohair sweater stretched tightly over the its 42DD well filled bra, very short kilt type skirt, wool leg warmers, knee socks or frilly ankle socks, mary jane T-strapped 3″ heel shoes, matching bows in the sissy hair, full makeup and woolly mittens.
After serving drinks pussie stands at perfect attention in front of us. No bending of legs, no slouching. As you may have noted, pussie has no panties on. Rather the sissy is put into his spiked chastity cage to which I have attached a large bell. When it is time to begin, pussie must shake up and down ringing the bell, which of course results in the spikes digging into its little thing. pussie must also “ring” the bell after the sissy has finished reading each letter and then, again when it begins reading the next letter.
pussie hates to have to ring the wee-wee bell as the sissy knows just how ridiculous it looks shaking up and down with its caged wee-wee on display. As the reading progresses, and the spikes continue to dig in as pussie shakes up and down, the sissy will both beg to be allowed to stop and will become less energetic. My response has been a few well placed kicks to “encourage” pussie to shake its wee-wee more. I am thinking of shoving a capsaicin coated bug plug up pussie’s a-hole the next time we see it slowing down.
I also decided that as the Petticoat Discipline Journal letters are filled with wonderful ideas, pussie should act out those ideas where possible. And when I say letters, I include any of the articles, Ask Nanny advice, and other materials included in each volume in the library. So if a letter says that a sissy is made to dance, pussie must stop reading and do the same dance for us. If a letter says the a sissy must read, or act out, a nursery rhyme, than pussie must immediately do the same.
There are special rules for spanking and corner time references. ( If only I were as computer capable as Christine LOL). If a letter discusses a spanking, paddling or caning , pussie suffers the number of spankings etc mentioned in the letter. If the letter does not specify a number, then the first time a spanking is mentioned in a letter in a Volume, pussie receives 10 spanks. The second time an unspecified number is referenced, pussie receives 20 spanks. Each time thereafter the number of spanks is doubled!
So for example if an unspecified number is referenced in Volume 1, letter 1, pussie must bend over, raise its skirt and received ten with the referenced implement. Then if the next time an unspecified number is mentioned; lets say Volume 1, letter 3, pussie again must present its bare rear for 20 with the referenced implement. If in Volume 1 letter 4, the letter discusses the sissy receiving a caning, pussie received 40 wacks of the cane. We do not distinguish among spanks, paddles canes, etc .
It may be that pussie only reads 5 or 6 letters a night. So if, on the next night, pussie begins reading from the same Volume, the spanking numbers start from where we left off the night before. So using my example above, on the first night pussie had only read up to Volume 1, letter 4, with the last letter earning the sissy 40 wacks of the cane. On the next evening pussie would begin with Volume 1 letter 5. If in that letter there is mentioned an unspecified number of spanks, then pussie would receive 80 spanks ( double from the last letter read of that volume, the evening before). We do begin anew with each Volume.
The sissy whimpers and cries like a little girl as the spanks, paddling and or caning applications add up.
As mentioned above, pussie suffers the same miserable fate when corner time punishments are mentioned. And corner time is in addition to , not a replacement for spankings.
I am sure you can just imagine the humiliation, trepidation and fear pussie experiences as it reads each letter. I must say pussie’s daily readings have made for a most enjoyable, amusing and, yes, exciting cocktail hour. I mentioned this to my sister, Tyler, and she suggested that using Zoom, we invite her and some others to join us for a virtual cocktail hour and pussie show. We are going to begin doing that tonight.
As always I would love to hear from the other women who contribute here to get their reactions and suggestions.
My 16th journal
I have often written about how 15 to 20 years ago there were two sources of real life femdom material that shaped my dominance and lifestyle. The letters from lifestyle wives and girlfriends in the wonderful Madame magazines and also in the early years of the Petticoated.com website.
I have included on this website some material from the Madame magazines . (See the drop-down menu from the above Dommes’ letters above menu tab.) And some photos in another post.
Well I have now come across a website giving access to the letters from lifestyle wives and girlfriends from the early years of the Petticoated.com website. It is a slightly confusing home page. If interested in FORCED male maids, sissy maids, diapering, parody of a baby role, parody of a little girl role, or parody of schoolgirl role, then I suggest you click on an edition in the left hand column and then click on each individual letter in turn.
Some of the letters are gems of strict, pitiless wives and girlfriends using all their ingenuity and imagination to maximise the profound humiliation ans submission of wayward males.
I provide examples below, but there are far better than some of these that I came across during a cursory glance through. I confess though that the letter headed, Perfectly Proper Sissy Behaviour, was a hugely influential foundation for one of the themes of my treatment of my little puppet.
(I have mentioned specifically, the early years of the Petticoated.com website, because a few years ago it shifted from mainly letters from dominant women forcing males against their will into humiliating outfits, to letters from and about transvestites and other males who thoroughly enjoy dressing up in women’s, little girl and or sissy attire. I have nothing against them at all but I am not interested in them or their lifestyles.)
Letter 3 PERFECTLY PROPER SISSY BEHAVIOR
As a firm believer in dress discipline for males, I do not simply dress my husband in sissy clothes. I also insist that he behave in a manner befitting his very juvenile status in our household. When properly petticoated (or in one of his equally charming sissy pants outfits), he is required to speak in a soft, childish tone, and to use a vocabulary appropriate for a five-year-old. He must walk like a
proper sissy, mincing on tiptoes and keeping elbows pinned to his sides and wrists turned out. He must sit and stand daintily, with knees together and skirt kept modestly lowered. He must curtsey before entering or leaving an occupied room. He must ask permission to do most things, such as leaving the dinner table or “going potty.” He must keep his pretty clothes clean and mended, his appearance modest and neat. And he now answers to his sissy name, ‘Peterkins Winceyette’.
These and many other rules of ‘prissy perfect’ behavior enforce his petticoat discipline as effectively as his pretty clothes. He has become used to wearing girlish outfits, but he still blushes with shame at having to act like a proper sissy, particularly in front of others. Of course, I make sure he has plenty of opportunity to do just that.
The other day Peterkins was washing up in the kitchen after lunch. He wore one of his typical sissy outfits. A pink ruffled pinafore went over a crisply starched, back-buttoning white blouse with a broad Peter Pan collar. A precious little pink bow marked the front center of the collar. High-waisted, flyless velveteen burgundy shorts buttoned onto the blouse and showed a hint of the heavily frilled pink bloomers he wore underneath. A binkie hung on a prettily embroidered leash that buttoned on to his pinafore above the left breast. A lace-edged pink bonnet framed his lightly made-up face and tied in a big bow under the chin. Frilly white anklets and black Mary Jane shoes completed the pretty picture.
As he finished his cleanup chores, Peterkins was no doubt looking forward to his afternoon nap. That is the time when I am at my most gently maternal with him. I undress him down to his frilly undies, put him into his soft flannel nightie with the drawstring hem to enclose his feet, and tuck him into his adult-sized crib. But on this afternoon there was to be no nap and cuddle time, for just as the last of the dishes were being put away, the doorbell rang.
Peterkins has been taught to suck his thumb whenever he feels anxious, and the ringing doorbell made him very anxious indeed. His thumb leaped into his mouth, and he began sucking vigorously. (He is permitted to use his binkie only when directed to do so.) He looked at me fearfully, hoping against hope that I would not make him answer the door. One sharp glance from me dashed any chance of that. He knows from bitter experience that in his sissy clothes he simply cannot resist my wishes. If I want to display him to a stranger at the door, then I will do so. He knows, too, that any attempt at resistance will only make matters worse for him. Seeing my determined gaze, he realized there was no escape from his predicament. His eyes lowered, and his face registered sad resignation.
Terrified at having to answer the door, yet even more terrified not to, he was actually whimpering as he minced to the front hall. He reached the door just as the doorbell rang a second time. He opened it timidly, and in strode my sister Jean (whom I was expecting but he was not). Jean has often seen Peterkins in his sissy clothes but never fails to find new ways to embarrass him. He is dreadfully afraid of her – dreadfully for him, quite delightfully for Jean and me.
Removing his thumb from his mouth, Peterkins managed a timorous curtsey for Jean.
‘How very nice to see you again, Auntie Jean’. he said softly.
She smiled broadly, relishing the sight of this fully grown male dressed so babyishly and so obviously intimidated by her. She approached the shrinking sissy, untied his bonnet, and retied it tightly under his chin. His head moved under her firm touch. She fussed with the little bow on his blouse. She straightened the frilled, cross-over straps of his pinafore and fluffed out his collar. Satisfied with her efforts, she stepped back to view him again.
‘Oh Peterkins Winceyette’, she teased, ‘you look so very masculine today, with your cute little shorts. They are very sweet indeed, but I’m afraid they’re not really very adult, are they, dear?’
Moving behind him, she encircled his waist with her arms and toyed with the big buttons holding the shorts and blouse together. ‘Only very little boys wear button-ons like these, Peterkins — little boys and big prissy sissies. Which one are you, my dear? Hmmm?’
Peterkins looked as if he might swoon, and never did manage to answer her questions.
No matter. She got his full attention by clapping her hands sharply and announcing, ‘Teapot!’ Peterkins knew only too well what that meant. I have trained him to perform several children’s songs, as I believe they are another excellent way to instil in him the proper attitude and demeanor. At the top of the list is ‘I’m a Little Teapot’, complete with the appropriate hand gestures. Jean likes it so much that she insists on him performing it whenever she visits. He doesn’t like doing it, but of course, that makes his efforts only more entertaining. He knows he must perform with a pretty smile and a proper little girl’s enthusiasm, and this particularly embarrasses him. He is several years older than Jean, and there was a time when she considered him attractive. Now she can look at him only with amusement tinged with disdain, particularly when he becomes our charmingly reluctant ‘teapot’. It must be a cutting reminder to him of how far he has fallen in her eyes. I love watching him perform, his shyly lowered eyes unable to meet Jean’s commanding gaze.
Jean was not quite satisfied with his ‘Teapot’ rendition this time, so she stood him face to the wall in a corner and instructed him to keep practicing. She and I sat down to tea in the living room as his gentle childish patter serenaded us from the hall. She occasionally called out from the couch to correct him, a reminder that she was still keeping an eye on him. He made a fetching sight, chirping away in the corner and adding the obligatory curtsey after each rendition. His plump bottom, perfectly moulded by the sweet little velvet shorts, bobbed enticingly up and down with each curtsey.
When Jean was almost satisfied that he had achieved the proper little girly tone and gestures, the doorbell rang again. Of course Peterkins was now reduced to jelly again. Not knowing what to do, he put his thumb back in his mouth, and Jean and I couldn’t help laughing aloud at the silliness of it. His can be so sweet when he’s helpless.
Jean left him in the corner and answered the door herself. This time it was Grace, the 18-year-old young woman who used to babysit for Jean’s little girl. Grace had not met Peterkins, but Jean and I had told her about him. As she expressed continuing curiosity about him, we invited her around to see him when Jean would next be visiting – on this afternoon.
Grace took one look at Peterkins in the corner, paused in disbelief, and started to laugh. She tried to restrain herself, covering her mouth with her hand, but that only made her laugh harder. She could only point at him and continue laughing helplessly.
Poor Peterkins didn’t know what to do. He remained in the corner, furiously sucking his thumb and casting furtive sideways glances at Grace. He couldn’t bear to look at her yet couldn’t seem not to. He might have stood there all day if Jean hadn’t taken him by the hand and introduced him.
‘Grace’, said Jean, ‘I’d like you to meet Peterkins Winceyette’.
The absurd name prompted another titter from Grace, as did a shy curtsey from Peterkins. ‘How do you do, Peterkins Winceyette’, Grace smiled. ‘What a perfectly lovely name!’
It was all dreadfully and delightfully unfair. The poor sissy was trying so hard to be good but was finding only more embarrassment for his trouble. As Grace looked at him delightedly, Peterkins hung his head in defeat and began to cry.
Now it was my turn to comfort him. Following our usual routine for times like these, I put him next to me on the couch and cradled his head against my chest. I popped the pacifier in his mouth and made him nurse quietly as I soothed him with sympathy and baby talk.
‘Oo, poor ickle Peterkins. Mommy knows ‘ow tewwibly fwightening it is when big stwange ladies see just how ickle and pwecious oo are. . . .’
Peterkins does like to be babied but becomes ashamed when I do it in front of others and he is exposed as the complete baby he is. Closing his eyes, he managed to escape his shame momentarily, and melted into my arms as I cuddled him. Slowly his sobs subsided. Then he opened his eyes to discover Grace bending forward and looking directly at him only inches away from his face.
‘Boo!’ she said playfully and pressed her index finger against the tip of his nose. Grace could not have been more gentle, but her overture made the big baby dissolve into tears again. Jean and I roared with laughter.
‘Well, he may not be the ideal little girly-boy yet’, observed Jean, ‘but he does seem to be the perfect cry baby’. Turning to Peterkins, she nudged him and teased,
‘Ickle Peterkins has lost all his cuwwidge, hasn’t he? I wonder where it could be?’
This prompted a new game, in which Jean led the poor sissy around the room and made him look high and low for his lost ‘cuwwidge’. It didn’t seem to be on the mantelpiece, or under the couch, or in the magazine rack. Peterkins was required to inspect each area and to tell ‘Auntie Jean’ that no, his ‘cuwwidge’ wasn’t there and he didn’t know where it might be. Jean pretended to be stumped, but a mischievous sparkle in her eye told a different story. Announcing that Peterkins must have thrown his ‘cuwwidge’ away, she brought a trash basket from the den, placed it on the living room floor, and told Peterkins he had better look in there. Peterkins glanced nervously into the basket and said no, his ‘cuwwidge’ wasn’t there either. Jean wasn’t satisfied. She made him get down on hands and knees to look. When he still couldn’t see anything, she pushed his bonneted head deep down into the wide mouth of the basket. This prompted a fresh outbreak of tears from Peterkins, particularly when Jean wouldn’t let him up. What a prettily submissive sight he made! Fully debased and obedient, he kept his head in the basket where it belonged. When Jean finally allowed him to raise his head, she had a camera ready to record his woeful, tear-stained face as it emerged from the basket. When we saw that defeated, helpless expression, Grace and I couldn’t help laughing. I congratulated Jean on how thoroughly she had conquered my sissy.
A gentler soul, Grace took pity on Peterkins. She knelt beside him, cradled his head in her arms, and kissed his tears away. She obviously didn’t need any help from me in comforting him, so I left her in charge. As we sat down to tea, she decided to make Peterkins her little ‘sissy puppy’. She placed him on his knees beside her at the table and made him gaze at her with his ‘paws’ held at his chest and his mouth vigorously working his binkie. Every so often, she would reach down, pull the binkie from his mouth, and allow him to nibble a crumb or two from her fingers. Responding to her gentleness, Peterkins made a charming, docile pet and even formed a shy liking for his new mistress. All agreed that we found a new babysitter for Peterkins that afternoon.
The visit ended as Jean insisted on one more round of ‘Teapot’. Peterkins managed to get through it this time without blubbering, smiling timidly in response to our grins. He finally seemed to realize that a sissy can find satisfaction in pleasing the women in charge of him. Before leaving, Jean placed a well-placed pinch on his inner thigh, making him squeal one more time. For her part, Grace planted a very wet kiss on the lips of the startled sissy, then stuffed the binkie back into his mouth before he knew what had happened. With a giggle and a wave, she, too, was gone.
When put to bed that night, Peterkins did have to be spanked. That was because his little male symbol became entirely too excited when Peterkins was required to tell me how he felt about his babysitter-to-be. Of course, this kind of punishment is all part of his petticoat training as well. Perhaps I can devote a future letter to a description of my methods for keeping his little wee-wee under control.
Suffice to say, for the moment, that I do insist on perfectly proper sissy behavior.
Yours very truly,
Letter 2SISSY DISCIPLINE FOR CONCEITED MALES(from ‘Rubber Life’ 1970s)Dear Ms.Behr & LindaLatex,
I could not believe my eyes! At last, here in Canada, a publication dealing with what is, without doubt, the most effective method possible to control insignificant males who think they are really God’s gift to society. Diapers, didies, napkins, or, using the most effeminately babyish possible term, nappies.
These, combined usually with rubber panties, are accessories which, when worn by a man of conceited demeanour, cannot help but render him a helpless, quiet, shy, cowering, blubbering reduced shadow of his former appraisal of himself.
My reason for writing is to set out a few things which I consider to be basic to baby discipline, and perhaps a criticism or two as I ramble on…
1) Any boy or man under petticoat or diaper discipline must feel very little boyish, sissyish, and helplessly so.
2) He should always be shaven from neck to toe. Especially cleanly about his pubes.
3) He should not been able to masquerade as a woman or girl. His hair should be short (boyish as of old). If in dresses he should have no wig. In truth, he is better dealt with in sissy clothes than in dresses.
4) He should never have access to his own privates. Thus, all clothing covering his trunk must button down the back. Rather than buttons, unless very small, hooks and eyes or small domes are the most difficult for him to handle, and still very easy for his mummy, nurse, or governess.
5) Baby doll pajamas are worn by girls and women nowadays. They are not for big boys, or men, in diapers and rubber panties. Such males should wear baby style nightdresses without openings for their hands, or else one-piece sleepers buttoning down the back with a drop seat and, of course, feet and hands covered. The baby nightdress should be longer than the man or boy, and should have a tape in the hem so that it may be closed at the bottom so that he cannot walk, and creeping or crawling would be very difficult. The big baby’s nightie should be so fastened, and sleepers should have a blind front, thus denying the male access to that part of his anatomy he must never, ever, touch for any reason.
6) Many of his outer garments should be locked about his neck and/or waist using a light chain and padlock.
7) Little boy rompers, sailor suits, side-fastening satin shorts with wide leg openings buttoning to one of two rows of large buttons sewn to a blouse, are excellent sissy wear. Fastened to the upper row of buttons, these shorts leave room for only his rubber panties, and cradle and pull up between his bottom cheeks. Without rubber panties or a rubber concealing device, his privates would be in danger of showing at the leg openings. Fastened to the lower row of buttons, his little satin shorts would allow room for good bulky diapers, but those, along with his shiny rubber panties, would protrude well below the leg openings of his little shorts. If the punished one has a Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit, even the jacket should be permanently buttoned or tacked in front, and would in fact fasten by a row of hooks and eyes down his back.
8) He must not be permitted use of the toilet. He might be permitted use of a potty – once a day, but not more often. Lots of bottle fed milk and water, fed with a rubber-nippled nursing bottle, will assure wet nappies. On special public shame days, he may be deprived of his rubber panties so that his wet state will be clearly displayed.
9) His baby harness should be fitted so that his wrists may be fastened there too, so that his hands cannot get into mischief. A night harness is a good idea too.
These have been just a few thoughts which might be useful. All men and boys should be kept the babies they are.
My 16th journal – LINK
I do not know why I have never posted a photograph of my little collection of my favourite impact punishment implements I use when bitch-boy is secured face down over the dining table. So here it is.
I have described this collection in a number of my journals but, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. In the event of vanilla visitors, the whole array can be lifted by the two chains and locked in a cupboard upstairs as it is, the cupboard has two hooks inside the door. So it takes only seconds to return the array to the dining room wall once the vanilla visitors have departed.
Hook by hook, from the left: 1. The cock gag, cat collar for wrists and another for ankles, and yellow strap for binding his thighs together. 2. Red rubber paddle. (The underside has a fine diamond pattern of little raised triangular ridges. It is VERY NASTY!) 3. My favourite cane; I have had for so long. 4. My agitation whip. 5. My dressage whip. 6. My large leather paddle. 7. My plastic cane. 8. My quirt.
I have to admit that in most deterrent punishment sessions I use every implement, except the large paddle and plastic cane. Those I do use, I use without mercy. Then there are punishments for actual infractions. For those, normally it is the dressage whip and cane.
In my journals, I have used words to describe the business side of the red rubber paddle. But, again, a picture is worth at thousand words.
This paddle is VERY NASTY!
I have a routine where the more rigid implements are used first and directed at the central meaty area. (My favourite cane and the plastic cane if I use that. Then, using the rubber paddle, I like to warm and redden the areas above, below and to either side of the central meaty area. These areas are rather more sensitive and my puppet makes quite a fuss while I apply the paddle. I am not surprised. I did once test the paddle on the underside of my forearm. (The best place for testing.) It is as though it is red hot, such is the intense, painful heat it leaves behind! The third stage involves wraparound. (which I explain fully in my BDSM Manual. What follows, and seems revlevant, is an excerpt from my next journal, No.17, which is almost completed.
‘………………….. I began with light strokes while I talked.
‘For the avoidance of doubt little sissy; I know with my very flexible implements there can be wraparound. This dressage whip, the agitation whip and the quirt. And I know wraparound happens on the sides of your butt and hips and I know the further around the sides of your butt and hips I go, the more sensitive the flesh is.’ I landed a couple of hard strokes and the whip made its lovely whistling noise as it travelled through the air. I returned to talking.
‘So when there is wraparound, it will not be an accident, just to be clear.’ I landed a couple of hard strokes again. Again the whip made its lovely whistling noise as it travelled through the air. I then again returned to talking.
‘I am an unashamed sadist. I get pleasure from hurting you. But also, it is very important to me that you are well marked from this punishment. I love to see those marks during the rest of the day. And wraparound makes the best marks, as you know. I also know that four inches of wraparound hurts twice as much as two inches of wraparound. But four inches of wraparound gives me twice the length of a clearly visible mark to enjoy. So what you need to understand is that if I am applying four inches of wraparound, or even six, I AM MEANING TO! And even if perhaps, with the occasional wayward stroke, I apply more wraparound than I mean to, when practicing my backhand, I will be pleased about that; NOT GUILTY! I won’t feel guilty because there was more wraparound than intended. I will be happy over my accidentally placed stroke. I just wanted to avoid any ambiguity maggot.’ On finishing my little speech I immediately began using the dressage whip full force and with about three inches of wraparound. He immediately began pleading and pleading. I was very aroused as I continued with the dressage whip.
Next came the agitation whip. I chose five inches of wraparound and he began to properly sob between bouts of pleading. I was so delighted to have avoided ambiguity! (A very painful episode, clearly due to a Domme’s negligence or ignorance, does not cause awe in the mind of the submissive, almost the opposite. And it is not that arousing for the Domme. Whereas a very painful episode, as a result of the Domme’s expert knowledge and intended purpose………..‘
My 16th journal – LINK
I have posted about mothers-in-law a few times and there has always been huge interest. Miss Anne has graciously provided a wonderful account of how her mother became involved in the domination of Miss Anne’s submissive. I provide that below. And if there is interest, Miss Anne will provide an account of the current day-to-day involvement of her mother in the continuing use and subjugation of her submissive.
PARTICIPATION OF MOM
My Mom for her age is one of the most open-minded and strong-willed people I know. She was also very successful at her job, a born leader, nowadays she has retired. But she was very unlucky in her personal life. She got married too young and my father was and still is addicted to drink and gambling, a bad father and even worse husband. My Mom got divorced decades years ago and she was obligated to work hard to bring me up. She is very clever and cunning like a fox, honest, stubborn and has a sharp tongue at times lol. Circumstances of her life have made her a little strict and controlling towards others, even to me when it was necessary and she likes things are done in her ways.
Back in 2012 after I had lived with my current slave for almost 2,5 years my work contract came to an end. I had no choice but return back to my own city and live at my Mom’s home until I get a new job and be able to move to my own house. The problem was what would be my slave, he theoretically could follow me and get a new job because of his profession, but it was impossible we live together because of the financial troubles at this time. I thought a lot and I decided to open my heart to my Mom and inform her for the turning in my life those past years. I had built a strong bond, relationship and mutual love with my Mom, there were a lot of times I was thinking of her as my best friend, not only my Mom. We had an honest and open relationship so I took the courage and confessed my new life. Well it was a real shock for her in many ways.
To cut a very long story, short, after endless chat she set aside her objections and agreed to meet and interview my slave. I recall this day in my mind, it was a hot summer day, I took my slave from train station, I was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, a mini denim skirt, which I knew he was in true love with, LOL, and light brown flat sandals.
On our way to Mom’s , one more time I advised him to be sincere, keep a low profile, be respectful with courtesy towards my Mom. Ok, obviously the hot day went a bit cold when us 3 all met in the same room. I introduced Mom to slave and he fortunately had the mind and good manners to bow his waist down and kiss her hand. We all chatted for a while about weather, summer etc then as I had agreed with Mom, excused myself to do some job on my laptop and left the room. After a couple of hours my slave all red faced left the house. Mom informed me the chat went well and tomorrow they will have another chat but she seemed satisfied with him. I kept high hopes and called the slave at his hotel room to listen to his point of view and he confessed in detail to me what they talked about.
Next day slave came in and went directly to the living room where my Mom was waiting him. After one hour, while I was surfing the net, I heard Mom’s voice call me. I went into the living room. At first I was in shock from the picture I saw.
My Mom was sitting on the sofa, her right leg over her left, wide smile on her face and my slave on his knees, was sucking her toes passionately with eyes closed.
Mom said “Anne this boy earned a place in his heaven and he will stay with us, here at my home, on a trial period and then we will go from there”. I burst into laughter while my slave was thanking her profoundly and that was the beginning of a new chapter in our relationship.
When later I asked Mom what was the main reason she finally accept him she answered. “The main reason was the fact I’m your mother Anne. He betrayed you, lied to you, made you unhappy, your tears were shed for his actions. He made you feel undesired as a woman. You might forgive him and forget, I might forgive him one day but I will never forget. No mother will ever forget the person that hurt the feelings of her daughter.” That moment I felt pity for the slave, his fate was sealed.
Influence of Mom on his chastity device and releases
When Mom was first told by me about the chastity cage on the slave’s penis, she looked like thousands of volts had hit her. Eyes and mouth wide open, speechless for a few moments, a red face. She could not believe there was such a device. Much more that a man was wearing this device. She told me the only reference about chastity belt in her mind was from her childhood and lesson of history in school, about the knights who were putting chastity belts on their wives when they were going to fight in the Crusades. She was asking and asking questions which I honestly answered, finally she burst in a wild laughter to tears and said:
“What a pathetic loser wimp” (in fact it means something even worse in our native language, it is an idiom and I cannot translate it exactly in English).
Then she asked for more information and I translated a few pages from the net for her about the chastity devices, the effect; and results of using it, prostate milking etc. Then I informed her about his frequency of orgasms and milking, the schedules and rituals I had established, my rules. Then she surprised me with a glittering look in her eyes and a wide smile.
“Anne as we all live under the same roof and as it is still my home, I think I must too have a say on his release and schedule, don’t you think?”
“ I suppose yes but I never thought you would participate in it Mom”
“I will not of course participate in your bedroom honey nor will we ever work as a team upon him in a sexual way; but I need to have a yes or no opinion when it comes to his pleas for Cumming. After all I host him here out of the goodness of my heart”.
At that time slave was on a schedule of one orgasm every month and also one prostate milking 15 days after his orgasm. He had to follow a ritual and beg for my permission to let him either have the orgasm or the milking.
After mom’s request, the next time he begged me for an orgasm and I accepted his plea, I informed him that Mom must also permit and grant the reward of his orgasm, so he should ask her. Next day I was having coffee and chat with Mom in the living room, I told her about the ritual for his release, and she happily agreed to hear his request. So I rang the service bell and the slave appeared running into living room in a few seconds, he bowed down and knelt.
I told him “boy I think you have to ask the permission of Mom for something, don’t you?” He answered “yes Mistress, thank You”.
Mom lit a cigarette and looked directly at his eyes as the eyes contact restriction rule did not apply on this ritual for the slave. A red faced slave began to ask his request for an orgasm and, as he was talking, he become more and more humiliated and also more humble and docile and ended up really begging my Mom for a release. I could not keep from giggling at him, but it was also exciting.
Mom asked some humiliating questions about his feelings, why he needs the orgasm, how do his penis and balls feel, if they hurt, how long he has been without an orgasm, why he thinks he deserves an orgasm, if he is really still a virgin male at his age, the reasons behind his enforced celibacy. Well it was a long interrogation and I could see the was in a predicament but he tried to answer honestly all the questions in hope of a release. Finally Mom asked him how does he get the orgasm, if granted, and he, red faced, answered that he jerks himself off, which resulted in loud, mocking laughter from Mom. Then she told him:
“Well boy, getting an orgasm in not a necessity in your life. You don’t see animals jerking off, do you? On the other hand you males jerk off even if you are married and have a regular sex life. It seems you are way too preoccupied with pleasuring yourself. This time could be better spent. Besides to able to jerk off, the chastity cage must be taken off for a few minutes. But as Anne told me, you say that the chastity cage has helped you to concentrate on her needs, stop making you a slave to your penis but a slave to her. What is more fulfilling for you? Being a slave to a Lady or to a piece of meat? As you already mentioned a male’s orgasm is over in seconds and afterwards he is usually useless for some time. How many males don’t just fall asleep? Also their wish to serve is greater before allowing an orgasm than after. Often they become lazy and rude after. Would you wish to anger your Owner just for that few seconds of orgasm? Absolutely not! Make me proud of you boy, bring a smile to my face. Wouldn’t you prefer to cum less often and so be a better slave?”
Slave looked pale, he seemed out of breath, dry mouth, he started to express his objections in a respectful and humble manner with quivering voice. Then Mom graciously said
“Well don’t be so frightened boy, I don’t mean you will never get an orgasm again. But I also cannot be generous with the frequency. Your current frequency takes too much energy and priceless time from your slaving service. You need some time to jerk off, then much more time to recover from the release as your sub feelings drop and you are not focused on your duties and making Anne’s life easier and more comfortable as it is the true purpose of your being in this world. This loss of priceless time is not tolerable any more. Instead of jerking off, you could focus and spend this time to improve other important and useful areas in your life. I have noticed you need extra training on housework chores, cooking, ironing and I’m going to be involved daily to this training and help you reach your really talents, skills and standards. You need to get exercises daily as well and it depends time of course and taking more time to serve our personal needs. Well boy my decision is to minimize for now your orgasm to one every couple of months and out of my good heart you will also get one milking per couple of months. At the end of the year we will see how it works out and we will make any necessary changes to better manage you.”
The slave seemed desperate and heart-broken when my Mom finished. He was wise enough to said “Yes Lady R. thank You.” Then he looked at me and said “Thank You Mistress.” Then he kissed our feet. It was the correct action by him or else he could pay dearly for any other kind of attitude. Then Mom added in a disdianful tone,
“Well slave I am sure you are thinking I am too cruel to you. In fact I am too lenient and generous. I hope you bear in mind the situation and the conditions of your life. I am an old woman about 20 years your senior, and you kneel humbly and humiliate yourself at my feet begging desperately to be allowed to jerk off, LOL. Oh my God, at this exact time, all over the world, millions of men make love with their wives or g/f, having sex with a woman. But you, a loser male virgin, beg me to let you just “jerk off”. I am sure the words pride and dignity do not exist in your vocabulary slave. I am soooo good to you loser and so magnanimous to let you even one orgasm. Now run into bathroom and hand wash all our clothes, it will take you a good amount of 4 or 5 hours and in that time you can think contemplate thoroughly about your new situation at my home”.
The slave with tears in his eyes thanked her, kissed our feet and was heading to the bathroom when Mom added the “last straw”.
“Ah boy, I almost forgot to mention. The chastity device will be replaced as soon as possible. Your current device is not appropriate. It is way too long, wide and comfortable to let you get half an erection and as we all know erections distract the attention and your focus on your duties; so you will expect a new cute device when I and Anne choose the best strict small, proper cage for you”.
Well that was the beginning that led him to very rare orgasms and milking nowadays in my service. I will add more about my Mom and her participation in slave’s daily training and punishments in another message. This one went too long and I face some internet connection troubles due to lock down far away of my home.