Tag Archives: femdom

Real life, long term FLRs

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.

Link to my blog post of 2014

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.

 

 

 

 

New punishment position!

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.

 

 

 

 

 

The amazing Mistress Francesca

I posted on 4 June some comments from sissy slave M on the regime he endures under the dominance of his Mistress. Well we now have the privilege of hearing from that Mistress. The amazing Mistress Francesca.

Below are three very recent comments from Mistress Francesca. You may have read the first two if you read comments on this blog; but you will not have read the third.

I then add a comment from sissy slave M on degrees of cuckolding humiliation. It was left as a comment on 19 May. Having read of the style of dominance of Mistress Francesca, I reread sissy slave m’s words about levels of humiliation of cuckolding in a new light!

From Mistress Francesca.

Dear Scarlett
As you know, sissy slave led me to your blog and one of the many main reasons why I find it splendid is that it treats with clarity and competence an aspect of Femdom that does not appear habitually, that is, that of a relationship truly based on its essence to the total domination of the Mistress over her slave. Unfortunately, what you see in most sites is about erotic fantasies where domination is a way of having sex like any other. The man meets the woman, they have a BDSM session, after the session they cums and then they return to normal; maybe with the woman who goes to deal with some household affairs and the man to watch the game on television.

Obviously I have nothing against those who do this and I have nothing even against the look of the dominatrixes in the mainstream sites (on the contrary I confess I have always loved a very aggressive look and I don’t mind wearing very fetish clothing at all, especially shoes and corsets)

The reason why I like your blog is that it treats those who live Femdom as a true lifestyle and as true form of total female freedom. In my daily experience, in every ‘vanilla’ relationship, partners must necessarily give something to each other and, normally, for a thousand reasons related to social conventions, the one who gives the most is the woman.
I have never been able to tolerate this. It will be a form of selfishness, but above all I have always placed my absolute and total freedom to choose for myself in life and sexually without having to give an account to anyone.

Furthermore, I have always loved to dominate, command, be served and revered and adored. It is in my nature. That’s why when I discovered Femdom, I was fascinated by it!
Then I met Marco (the real name of sissy slave m) and his natural submission magnified my hedonism, my innate sadism and my desire for absolute power over him.
And today, therefore, ours is a symbiotic relationship in which I take everything, and he undergoes everything. I am fully satisfied, and I become crueller every day, while he, judging by how he swears his love in the tears of his sufferings and humiliations, still seems to be certainly in his place.

Coming to the content of your post on enduring domination sessions, I fully agree on the great pleasure that comes from subjecting the slave to long, interminable torments and repeating them again and again, more and more cruel, with the passage of time.   In our relationship, as my pathetic sissy husband wrote, the ‘vanilla time’ is practically absent and, therefore, the time he spends directly under my yoke is very very long.

I divide it into three phases (obviously it is a very general division that cannot describe the entirety of the relationship)

1. THE BDSM SESSIONS
Obviously, I love practicing long BDSM sessions in which I torture, humiliate and subdue (even sexually – I love the strap–on against his chastity) in an intense way and with the utmost cruelty. I enjoy immensely his acute and extreme suffering. My sessions are frequent and long but, obviously, they last only a few (sometimes many) hours.
BDSM sessions are fun and exciting but satisfy only the most outward and “bloody” part of MY sadistic and cruel nature as dominatrix.

2. SERVITUDE
All the time, then, and I mean – all the time, sissy slave m has to serve me as a queen and a goddess. Everything in our home and in our life is organized according to my cravings and my desires and my preferences and sissy slave m. is responsible for everything (housework, bureaucratic aspects of life etc ..). For my enjoyment, then, sissy slave m. must ALWAYS serve me in one of his uniforms as a servant or maid, always completely feminized and always with some bondage element.
This satisfies my hedonism, my narcissism and my desire for absolute supremacy.

3. FREE CRUELTY
When sissy slave m. it is not directly in service and I am not using it in a BDSM session. I ALWAYS submit him to what you call tedium – humiliation torment. I leave him for hours and hours locked in a cage, or in a closet or keep him for hours in the Sensory Deprivation Bondage.

Or I make him do some housework with particularly restrictive bondage or in humiliating ways (cleaning the bathroom floor and sanitary ware with his tongue, polishing the soles of all my shoes with his tongue).

Or I force him to repeat humiliating rituals again and again in my absence (walking back and forth in a room with increasingly high heels performing predetermined gestures of humiliation – practicing receiving in the mouth or in the ass fake cocks and dildos).

Or I use it as an inanimate object at home (tied and immobilized to serve as a footrest or chair – tied in the bathroom with a hood and a funnel in the mouth to serve as a toilet – food tray – lamp holders and the like).

I like to indulge in these activities literally for hours and hours, totally ignoring sissy slave m or going to him from time to time to torture him directly or humiliate him or, given his desperate abstinence, tease him to tears (just playing with his nipples).
These activities, combined with the many occasions when sissy slave m. is dominated by third parties, perhaps they satisfy the deepest nature of my sadism and cruelty. It is the pleasant context in which my life as an absolute dominatrix and mistress takes place, like sweet background music.
Just the beauty and gratification that can be drawn from this third type of activity makes different the relationships your blog talks about, from all the others and makes our life splendid and that of our slaves a hell (just to say that I feel wet). A hell from which they would not want to escape even if they could.
Best wishes
Mistress Francesca

 

A fantastic comment Francesca! I loooove it. Thank you for the kindness of suggesting my blog has a unique element.

Humiliation – tedium linked with partial ignoring is I agree exquisite and it is amazing what a turn on it is given almost nothing is happening. I think it is the sheer cruelty of it that provides the visceral power rush that simply seems to be at a continuous peak level.

When you announce such an activity is about to be imposed, does sissy slave m beg and plead?

Do you use a baby monitor when you force him to repeat humiliating rituals again and again in your absence (walking back and forth in a room with increasingly high heels performing predetermined gestures of humiliation – practising receiving in the mouth or in the ass fake cocks and dildos)?

 

Thanks Scarlett!
Your blog is truly exalting me!
Yes, sissy slave m. pleads and begs when I announce one of these activities … and I love hearing him beg and please and than slapping him or spitting in his face and imposing what I want on him. He must also thank me! (it’s amazing to hear him as he desperately thanks me for the treatment I’m going to subject him to).
Before, I used a baby monitor. Now I use an old mobile phone connected to an application on my smartphone. Sissy slave m found the app. I’ll let you know what it’s called.

Now I am writing to you from a SPA where I am with my mother and sister. sissy slave m. is at home in chains, doing weekend cleaning. I think when I get home he will undergo one of my treatments … I will keep you updated …
a warm greeting
Mistress Francesca

 

Update
Dear Scarlett
Me, mom and my sister went home around 5:00 PM happy and relaxed. To welcome us sissy slave m. submissive and subjugated as always, dressed in his sissy maid short dress and in chains, as I had left him this morning, only much more tired.
He was waiting for us standing by the door, as I trained him to do, and when we rang the bell he opened and greeted us with reverence. He did not expect mom and Maria (my sister) and seeing them he emitted a deep sad sigh.
You understand it perfectly Scarlett, it is precisely these sighs of impotence before the prospect of something terrible that is about to happen that give me a real power rush and excitement. My eyes shone with sadism.
He humbly licked the soles of our shoes and then I begged mom to check the quality of the work of sissy slave m.
Knowing that control would be done by the mother the poor slave sighed again looking at me with a pleading look, which I ignored laughing.
While Maria and I sat in the living room, mum and sissy slave m. went around the house to check the quality of the work done.
Obviously mom found several mistakes (actually trifles, but the best is expected from a sissy servant).
We went to punishment (20 cane strokes from each of the three of us) received by sissy slave m. pleadings and in tears.
At the end of the punishment he thanked us by licking our shoes again.
Mum and Maria then went away amused and I prepared my sissy for the evening.
Today the television broadcast a marathon of the season 5 of outlander, a series that I love. So I announced the sissy that I no longer needed him and so until 02:00 AM he had to devote himself to what I call “the path of humiliation”.
I saw the panic on his face. He pleaded on his knees, desperate, crying. I let him plead for some times and then, hard, I told him not to get me bored and to follow me to the attic of my house, very hot in summer and very little ventilated.
I put him in a postural collar on which I hung a pair of handcuffs with a padlock, in which I imprisoned his wrists. Handcuffs also to the ankles, in order to limit his steps to a ridiculous wobble. In addition a large but plug.
I have prepared his path: on three sides of the room are three small altars. On the first is a pair of my shoes, on the second a bowl full of my golden rain, on the third a large and realistic dildo.
He trembled like a leaf, desperate and in tears.
He implored me to shorten the duration of his punishment. I slapped him and ordered him to begin his journey.
“It is now 19:00. Start your path pathetic subspecies of slave! Know that the application is active and I can see and control you! At 02:00 AM you can stop and free yourself with the keys of the handcuffs that are down in your bedroom. I want to be woken up at 10:00 tomorrow morning. The usual breakfast. Start worm!”
With tears in his eyes he replied “Yes Mistress, Thank you Mistress!” and walked.
Staggering he reached the first altar, he took the shoes and then and recited his mantra:
“This useless sissy slave is unworthy of licking the mistress’s soles! Thank you Mistress for letting your sissy lick your noble shoes!”
So he licked each sole five times and moved on.
In front of the second altar he took the bowl with my golden shower and recited the second sentence:
“This useless sissy slave is just worthy of being the human toilet of the Mistress! Thank you Mistress for letting your sissy be your living toilet ”
Then he drank a drop of golden rain.
In front of the third altar he took the big dildo and recited the third sentence:
“This useless sissy slave is just worthy of being turned into an unworthy cocksucker! Thank you Mistress for letting your sissy be an unworthy cocksucker! ”
Than he has to deep throat the dildo 5 times
I can’t describe the feeling of power and supremacy that I felt and leaving him to its long seven hours of ordeal.
As soon as I got off, I confess, I took my favorite vibrator and I masturbated to two splendid orgasms. I then had dinner with the light cold dinner that Sissy Slave M had left for me in the fridge and I dedicated myself to my Outlander evening.
Every now and then I got an eye on my cell phone, from which I checked the misery of my pathetic slave … a great saturday Scarlet!
Now I am writing to you comfortably lying in my bed, happy as a million euros, while sissy slave m is gong on with his ordeal.
I guess I’ll masturbate again before sleeping…
Goodnight my new friend!

 

From sissy slave M

Honorable Mistress
As I wrote in other comments I am a 39 year old Italian sissy slave and I live a 24/7/365 relationship of total submission to my Mistress and wife.
Total chastity, born again virgin, and almost total sissyfication are some of the keys to my condition and, in this context, I am also subject to very intense forms of cuckolding and forced bisexuality.
I know you don’t practice this kind of cuckolding and if you think this post is not suitable for your blog I ask you for forgiveness and I will understand it perfectly.
For me cuckolding with male lovers has more than four stages and it’s for me the most intensely humiliating and emotionally hard practice. Especially when I have to be directly submissive in front of other men.
It may seem strange for an almost totally sissyfied slave, but direct sexual contact with other men has always been a taboo that I have never completely overcome. Serving men and having sexual contacts with them is the most devastating and humiliating thing I’m forced to endure in my slavery regime.

Stage 1: a different location
Mistress leaves me at home alone, with a list of chores to do or in some kind of severe bondage. I often have to help the Mistress get ready. Often before going out she apply a nice deterrent punishment. On her return I may have to clean her cream pie.

Stage 2: at home – the bull does not meet the slave
I am tied and gagged in the closet while the Mistress makes love with her bull.

Stage 3: a different location – the bull meets the slave
Similar to stege 1 but the bull comes home to take the Mistress. I have to open the door dressed as a maid, respectfully great the bull and communicate him that the Mistress will soon be ready. I must also humbly thank the Bull for sexually satisfying the Mistress.

Stage 4: at home – the bull meets the Slave
I welcome the bull as in stage 3, then serve him and Mistress something to drink or the dinner. I remain available in the living room while they ‘warm up’ with foreplay. When they are ready the Mistress binds me as in stage 2. Before the bull goes away I have to thank him for the pleasure he gives to my Mistress.

Stage 5: at home – the bull meets and dominates the slave
Like stage 4, however, during the foreplay part of the fun of the Mistress consists in a BDSM session, the Bull also actively participates in dominating me.

Stage 6: gagged ad bound in the same room
Like stages 3 and 4 but later I am tied up and gagged in the room to helplessly watch the Mistress’ sex and to be dominated and submissive again when they are finished.

Stage 7: in the same room helping serving and being humiliated
In the same room, unbound, totally passive. I have to pass to the lovers towels, condoms or sex toys. I have to excite them with humiliations such as licking their feet or putting myself in positions that excite them (for example while fucking doggy style I have to lie down with my face in a position to see the cock of the bull that penetrates the Mistress).

Stage 8: fluffing and forced bi.
If the Mistress finds a bull that likes it I am used to ‘prepare’ the bull by stroking and licking his cock, I have to put on and take off his condom when they use it and I have to clean it after they are done. It may happen that the Mistress has fully enjoyed her sex and has no more will of continuing. Then it is up to me to ‘finish’ the bull, usually with the mouth.

Two special cases:

CASE 1. BEING THE BULL WHORE
It may happen that the Mistress does not want sex or same kind of sex (for exemple Mistress don’t like anal and don’t’swallows) In those cases the Bull can use the slave sissy. Usually I am made to dress like a very cheap whore and used for bulls for their pleasure in any way they want. If they do not declare themselves satisfied, I am also severely punished.

CASE 2. FORCED BI WITH OTHER SLAVES
It may happen that the Mistress has fun with a BDSM session with some other submissive and let him have an orgasm. Or can happen that the slave of some friend if Mistress has the right to cum. Often in these cases it is up to the sissy slave to make them cum. For them, being straight, it is still humiliating that it is another male to make them cum. For me, the humiliation of forced bi is increased by the fact that those who cum are not even a bulls but another slaves. I remain chaste, of course!
It is, by far, the most degrading and humiliating thing to which I am subjected.
humbly
Sissy slave m.

 

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

 

 

My shoe soles – his sub soul

It dawned on me, yesterday,  looking at the images on my BDSMLR site, just how much I like to see the soles of footwear being used to demonstrate status difference between a Mistress and a sub. And just how much I include using  the soles of my footwear in my subjugation of my little bitch, bitch-boy. I had never really appreciated this before.

Meal time

It is a routine of which I will never become bored even though I have been doing it indoors and outdoors for so many years. I have a lovely meal to eat. I sit at the table. bitch-boy kneels very close by. His only ‘meal’ will be what I give him; as follows:

I chew a mouthful thoroughly. Then I lean to the side and spit it onto the floor. Then I press the sole of my shoe or boot onto the mess I have spat out and twist my sole from side to side. Then I lean over and drop a mouthful of spit, I have been meanwhile producing, onto the flattened mess. Then I utter one word in a disdainful tone. ‘Eat!

Then I eat some of my lovely meal until I decide my bitch gets another little helping, following the same procedure as the first.  Not only does he get some ‘lovely food’, he also gets to see my beautiful legs and feet. I think I spoil him!

My rocking lounger outdoors

I sometimes wear my outdoor Ugg boot slippers and sometimes my platform mules. Then, when I am sitting in my garden in my comfortable rocking lounger, I sit and rock and read or speak on the cell phone. But my feet are not on the floor, they are on bitch-boy.  Pressing down a little on him with each gentle rock backwards. I have several options to choose from. Sometimes my sole is on his throat. Such a mean thing to do and for him to cope with. I LOVE THAT!

 

Sometimes I have my sole on his parted lips and I give him an instruction, ‘Lick!‘ I can just feel the movement of his tongue licking away.

Sometimes I lean over and tell him to close his lips. He does so and I drop a mouthful of spit onto his closed lips and then press the sole of my footwear onto his lips and I smear the spit around with my sole for a while. When I am bored with that, I usually finish by telling him to open his mouth and I drop a mouthful of spit in and then return my foot onto his lips.

Sometimes I rock with the heel of my shoe digging into his ribs.

Stomping stage

I LOOOOVE using my stomping stage. (Not pictured here). But the wedges I often wear are pictured here.

If one does not wear wedges while stomping one has to be concentrating on either placing the sole or heel on the birth defect and not the gap between sole and heel. With a wedge shoe, one can simply stomp away for perhaps up to an hour, without needing to concentrate on what area of the underside of the shoe is to make contact.

For a very long time now, the only sexual releases my bitch gets, are from my rubbing the sole of my shoe or boot up and down his birth defect. Sometimes a spoiled release, sometimes a full release. I spoil him!

Coming home

Coming home from a time away from the house, (pre-lock down), usually means I enter and either :

  • tell him to kneel and I place a hand on the wall, raise a foot behind me with my knee bent, and he has to lick the sole clean. Then I do the same with the other foot. OR,
  • I tell him to lie on his back and stick his tongue out and I wipe the soles of my footwear back and forth on his tongue.

Whichever method, I expect my soles to be licked clean.

While he is being thus used, I like to tell him that, while I was out, a couple of times I visited the ladies’ toilets at the venue I was at. Whether I actually did or not.

 

My 16th journal

A link to all my journals.

 

Idle wondering and innocent images

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.

 

Lady Jessica’s very amusing Lock down activity

We are blessed with another contribution from Lady Jessica. This fantastic contribution on a lock down activity. One which I think, on this blog counts as No. 5 chronologically, but perhaps, No.1 for magnitude of subjugation value and for flexibility of scope.

I will say no more by way of introduction.

 

Lady Jessica’s lock down activity

My dear Mistress Scarlet

What a lucky boy bb is, to be sure. I particularly like the thought that to eat or drink anything at all, he has to wait for you to spit. It would be lovely to think of one’s submissive standing there – perhaps hungry after an early bedtime with no supper the night before, holding a dry biscuit out to be spat upon, his mistress absorbed in a book or magazine. She might remain there for half an hour, or even wander off before eventually absent-mindedly remarking ‘Oh yes!’ and bestow the gift.

I do hope you are well and happy and bb is also healthy, as well as harried and miserable of course. I have been enjoying your blog, as ever, but felt I had nothing to contribute to the latest topics. Apropos lockdown, however, I thought I’d share my latest way of finding amusement even under the current, trying circumstances.

Skivvy has, obviously, been teleworking for the last nine weeks or so and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. Here in France, the lockdown has eased a little but the government advice is that those who can telework should continue to do so and skivvy’s employer is only allowing those who really need to be in the office to go back. Skivvy’s work is entirely with numbers (and thoroughly pointless, as far as I can tell although I’ll confess I have never bothered to try to understand how he earns the money for me), so he needs no human contact. Even back when things were normal (although his life has been anything but normal for more than ten years now) skivvy only visited the office on about half the working days of the week, the remainder spent in his ‘study’. As I have written, his teleworking environment is a study in contrasts: half the room, in camera shot, a normal home office, the other half more appropriately resembling the detention room of a thoroughly sadistic governess; himself too dressed half and half: office worker from the waist up, subjugated sissy beneath.

Naturally, he has been unable to visit the hairdresser during this time. Unlike many middle-aged men, Skivvy has a full head of hair. Although I have occasionally given him a punishment buzz-cut and once even shaved him bald for fun (he told his co-workers it was a silly bet), I like his hair to be reasonably long, as I enjoy pulling it. Sometimes, without words and without warning, I will firmly grab a full handful, twist and turn while bringing my arm down to hip level and march off in the direction of whatever fate I have in store for him, skivvy stumbling and yelping behind, as we go. The hair also provides by far the best grip when his head needs repeated dunking in cold water, as it so very often does.

So… eight weeks without a trim and his hair has become rather long. Girlishly long, in fact. Lots of possibilities there…

We began with bunches. At first, they were hardly more than tufts, but as soon as they were long enough to take a hair band, into bunches they went. I ordered a hair-dressing kit online that seems to be aimed at eight-year old girls: it has hair bands and scrunchies with stars and baubles; all in pink, some with unicorns and fairies. The classic two bunch look was fun, of course, especially when I added jingly bells to the hair bands, but I experimented too. My favourite was a three-bunch look, the third being a sweet little tuft sticking straight out from his forehead! Oh, he looked such a fool, and was reminded by the jingling and flopping, every time he moved his head (his head started moving around rather violently, as I’ll confess, my dear, I simply couldn’t resist giving him a good hard face-slapping before confining his crimson, tear-stained face between my thighs!).

Soon the hair grew long enough to take a proper scrunchie and we started experimenting with pony tails, pineapple top-knots and longer, girlish bunches. I have taught him to toss his head coquettishly in response to prompts from me complimenting him on how pretty he looks. Baubles and sparkles, bows and ribbons adorn those sweet locks, to complete the picture of a conceited eight year-old girl, in the body of a grown but thoroughly infantilised and embarassed man!

However, all this was mere preparation for my grand design, which I was determined not to spoil by attempting before it was properly possible: pig-tails.

One day, I decided the bunches were finally long enough. I sat him down and started vigorously brushing his hair back, pulling it tight (painfully tight, need I say?) in a routine he thought himself used to. But then, instead of looping a band around as tightly as possible to leave a floppy bunch, I began plaiting.

There was just enough! I am quite skilful with my fingers and I was proud to produce a neat and firm little plait about three and half inches long. The hair-band went on tight, and then to the other side. Enfin: two sweet little dangly plaits, each finished off with a plastic bauble on pink elastic with golden sparkles! I told him to shake his head and as he miserably did so, they tossed about delightfully. I am sure you and your readers will forgive me for once again giving in to the temptation to slap his face gaily from left to right and back again: it was such a ridiculous sight!

That was two weeks ago and his plaits are now well over four inches long. Proper pig-tails! The ends are dyed bright pink (the pig-tails are neatly tied behind his head during teleworking hours, so no co-workers or clients can see his girlish coiffure unless he turns his head sufficiently to allow it – which, needless to say, he is very careful not to do!).

I cannot resist it: they will grow to whatever length I can coax them and there they will stay: permanently. If and when this bizarre situation ever ends and he returns to the office (and he may not: as I have mentioned, he is not far off having earned enough money for me to decide that he will go for early retirement and enter a lifetime of drudgery and bullying), he will have a ponytail. Not pink, alas, that should be dyed out again. But plenty of middle-aged men have pony tails, ridiculous though they look (if not as ridiculous as the reality his will conceal). Perhaps his co-workers will assume that he is having a mid-life crisis and speculate as to whether they will see him with a young blonde companion and a red sports car (no: they will not!).

Oh, I hope the plaits grow long! I have such plans. I will not set them out here, because your blog is one of the few internet sites approved for skivvy to browse without permission. But let’s just say that there are many things that can be done with a pig-tail, of which bows and ribbons and bells are just the beginning. What if they were made to stick out sideways like Pippi Longstocking – preferably curled up in big curves? I am not quite sure how to achieve that, possibly wire, but I look forward to trying. And, my dear, a long pig-tail is so very practical! It can be tugged – tugged hard and repeatedly in delightfully unexpected directions – it can be attached to things, whether fixed things (such as a ring on the wall or floor), or mobile things. Heavy things, even.

Yes. Pig-tails for you, skivvy. Don’t you dare go bald, understand? I will be very, very disappointed… and you know how much we both dislike it when that happens!

Yours in sincere sisterhood

Lady Jessica

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Beginners Guide; more positive feedback

You may recall that in response to requests, I wrote   a guide    and published an alternative  website specifically designed to persuade vanilla wives and girlfriends to have a try at becoming dominant.

I am not sure there is anything else available like this guide;  specifically written to entice wholly vanilla women to try part-time or full time domination of a submissive male. EVERYTHING is excluded that might, to a novice woman,  seem scary or unpleasant or perverted or excessively demanding.

I have received more positive feedback from Cardim about the effectiveness of the Guide.

Hi Scarlet,
Two weeks ago, my gorgeous wife read section two of  your book, A Beginners Guide, I never saw her as mean, as yesterday. I can see that she likes it more and more to be mean and dominant. Also in vanilla time. I never felt so dominated before, even though nothing extreme happens.

This follows earlier feedback from Cardim

Hi Scarlet,
A month ago, i bought your ‘Beginners Guide’ on amazon.
It is unbelievably good. I have been trying for almost a decade to convince my wife to be my mistress, with little succes.(i now understand, it was because of my expectations) Since i have read your ‘Beginners Guide’, i learned that i did everything wrong, while is was trying to teach my wife how to be a mistress.

Now that my wife has read just the first section of your ‘Beginners Guide’ and is experimenting with it, she is really really enjoying the dominance. The big change is that she can get into this new dynamic in our relationship at her on pace.

We are only a few weeks far with some DS time and mostly Vanilla time, but i am already scared of what she is going to do to me in the future, because her eyes tell me that she really likes this new dynamic now.

I would like to say a lot more, but my English is not good enough to explain everything i want to say.

So thank you very much for writing this book.

The above right menu tab, Tempt her to try dominance,  is an important read for submissive males think of buying this guide for their wife or girlfriend.

Lock down activities (No. 4)

This new activity was loosely inspired by my post of 1 May featuring who I now know to be, Miss Panic. I did since find she has a couple of videos on PornHub as well as the, often very wicked, short clips on the Twitter site I references in my earlier post. The video for which I have provided a link, also has her on her signal, having her arm pit covertly licked,  in public.

Lock down activity No. 4 is that bitch-boy now has a garnish added to every single drink and every single meal he consumes.  Normally it will be a mouthful of spit deposited into his mug or glass before he begins to drink, or I drop a mouthful of spit onto each plate or bowl of food he is about to consume. (This is during all the vanilla times. Obviously during DS times, it is my nectar from a jug that is added instead of, or as well as, my spit.)

He must always say, ‘Thank you Mistress’,  when I have added my spit garnish, and I always then respond, ‘I should think so!‘ The lock down does mean this applies to every single thing he consumes every single day, day after day after day.

I love his expression of humiliation and hurt both when I drop the spit, and when I say, ‘I should think so!’ in answer to his thanking me. And I feel a lovely little power rush and a reaffirmation that I own this submissive human being and I can use and abuse him howsoever I please.

Sometimes we will be in a 100% vanilla activity, when I have chosen to use him for his wonderful vanilla company, say watching a great movie or box set. The atmosphere of near equality is pierced as I drop my spit and we have our verbal exchange. Then gradually the atmosphere of near equality slowly returns, rather more quickly for me than for him though.

Archive of real life letters

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

Dear Editor,
 

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,

Ms. Q.

 

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.

Yours truly,

Linda

 

 

My 16th journal –  LINK