Tag Archives: golden showers

Yellow Snow

25 January 2021  We have actually had a proper snow fall here for a few days. It is becoming rare for us. Yesterday, I heard a not very funny comedian, mentioning a few creatures that eat snow to keep hydrated, and do they know to avoid eating yellow snow.  Well the point of this post is not about what happens in nature, but what happens in my life and of course therefore, bitch-boy’s life. And the comment I heard gave me a wicked idea.

I told bitch-boy we were going for a walk in the snow. Before we left, unbeknown to him, I filled a small water bottle with my nectar. I was wrapped up nice and warm and had my waterproof rambling trousers on. He was also wrapped up nice and warm. I walked him to a very secluded spot we go to quite often.  At the edge of a field, there is a huge fallen tree trunk and a beautiful view can be seen when sitting on the tree trunk.

We arrived at the destination and the freezing fog rather reduced the view but it was still wonderfully silent, beautiful and totally secluded. (One of the benefits of living deep in the countryside.)

I sat on the tree trunk and told bitch-boy to remain standing. I burrowed my boots into the snow and then piled snow on top of my boots from either side with my ski-gloved hands. Poor bitch-boy looked confused. I told him to kneel because he was to lick my boots clean of the snow while I enjoyed the wonderful view and the peacefulness. He slowly lowered himself to his knees, looking submissive and miserable. He was about to begin when I stopped him. As I pulled the bottle of my nectar from my pocket I spoke to him.

‘Oh little puppet, that snow on my boots does look rather cold, and boring. Let me see if I can warm it up and make it more interesting for you.’ He knelt and watched silently, but looking distressed, as I distributed my nectar over the snow that covered my boots. I giggled as I finished. ‘Well, I think that’s a little warmer and a little less boring. And its a lovely yellow rather than boring white now isn’t it. Off you go maggot!’  He paused for a moment and then dipped his head down. I immediately pushed his head down with my hand on the back of his head until his face was deep in the yellow snow.

‘What a pathetic creature you are!’ I felt aroused now but that would have to wait until I got home. I let go of his head and sat back. He sobbed as he lifted his face from the snow. I felt no pity at all. (I have learned, rather late in life, that he is mentally and physicality indestructible when it comes to my abuse of him). I knew when his head hit his pillow at bedtime, he would simply be so in awe of his pitiless, sadistic Mistress, even if he was so, so sad and distressed right now. He began to consume the snow. THE YELLOW SNOW.

I sat back and looked at the beautiful view. And absorbed the silence. I could feel bitch-boy at his degrading toil and see his small movements in my peripheral vision. The minutes went by so pleasurably. A warm, energising  blanket of of power-rush. Yet another perfect moment in my life because I am a total bitch married to a submissive. I felt decadent, fortunate and profoundly contented. I thought about the view, the peace and tranquility, the massive orgasms I would be having when I got home and I thought about the continued chastity bitch-boy would endure. There would be no orgasm for him. (Four weeks since his last orgasm and counting. 13 weeks denial period before that, and 17 weeks before that.)

That wonderful DS symbiosis equation entered my consciousness. The more of a cruel, pitiless dominant bitch I am, the more pleasure and orgasms I have, the more adoration I receive, the better bitch-boy sleeps at night.

Life is good!

Link to my latest Journal.

Teasing and degrading, and scents and masturbation

[6 November 2020] The thrust of this post is about a new toy I have purchased for the princely sum of £6. I think it is going to be quite frequently used in a good number of applications. Longer term readers of my blog may recall my post on the discovery of these Nebuliser masks. However a medical professional left a comment suggesting using nebuliser and atomiser pumps might risk infections for the sub.

My post also asked whether any blog follower knew of a BDSM version that could be purchased, (that I imagined could be locked into place). There were A few  interesting comments from subs who had experienced such equipment and a few kind suggestions for BDSM versions for sale for which I remain grateful, but none that I thought quite right, (I am so particular!);  so I shelved the whole thing.

But my new chastity regime for bitch-boy has had me thinking about how to make his gnawing frustration EVEN WORSE. Although I tease him at least once everyday now, when I get out of bed and slip on my 6 inch heeled platform mules, and stretch and pose while he whimpers in his distress and tells me. ‘I don’t understand.’ But I DO understand poor puppet, and I want to make it even worse.

[An update on bitch-boy’s new regime. Since 6 June he has been double padlocked into his chastity cage, 24/7/365, even for washing. He has had one orgasm, which was after 17 weeks without one. That orgasm was on 1st October, 5 weeks ago; and he has not had another one since and knows it will be sometime. (He is a long way past 30 years old after all.) I do remove the cage for some intense physical teasing by me, every couple of weeks or so,  like playing with his boy’s bits but whenever his birth defect is freed, the freedom ends with a severe session of dickie-discipline followed by stomping on the stomping stage, both of which  ensure he wishes his defect had never been freed!]

So back to my purchase. I have found that there is no need for a pump and all the associated health risks, and not even any need for a tube and cannister.

After I have masturbated for two or three successive orgasms, I use a lump of cotton-wool pleat about the size of a small plum and I wipe myself, ‘deeply’ until the cotton-wool is well ‘coated’. It can then be pressed into the pipe inlet of the mask and stays in place very firmly. I can then have bitch-boy wear the mask during all sorts of his activities, where he is either constantly or sporadically monitored be me. Vanilla activities or DS, such as playing with his boy’s bits, or in bondage. It is clear the natural pheromones invading his senses are cruelly ramping up his gnawing frustration.

I will also be trying the same thing with my golden nectar. Soaking one half of the lump of cotton-wool pleat and using the dry half to compress and hold the lump in place. I cannot see this is any different from many forced activities over the years when he has had to inhale this special and degrading scent for an hour or two and there have never been health problems. (No atomisation is involved. No use of a machine.) I will let you know how this goes.

On the issue of my FREQUENT masturbation, I will finish this post with a link to a BBC news item in which Lily Allen quite correctly says, ‘Women masturbating in a relationship isn’t wrong’.

If only she had added, ‘But men masturbating in a relationship is VERY wrong.’  Although interestingly, she does not mention men at all regarding masturbation in a relationship.

Obviously I am only being tongue-in-cheek and I doubt Lily is into FLR, although who knows, as she has always been a proper feminist. But I do think even this issue becoming mainstream is helpful to our little community in some small way. If for no more than, it is an important part of most chastity regimen for males in chastity, that his Domme gets some of her sexual gratification through masturbation.

I am not sure why the evolutionary process resulted in the post orgasm difference between the genders , but it does support the principle that men in relationships should not masturbate as they lose all interest in sex for a while whereas, women should; as quite often, when a woman has an orgasm, she becomes even more aroused and wants  even more sexual pleasure.

(I obviously accept that men, at least men under 30, for the sake of their prostate health, should masturbate if they are not having any other sex.)

pipsqueak becomes a cuckold

It has been sometime since I last provided an update on the continuing evolution of a Domme fairly new to domination, the wonderful Samantha. But Samantha has continued to evolve at a face pace! As pipsqueak has learned to his cost – or is it his cost? The paradox and symbiosis readers of this blog are familiar with are both strong.
The paradox; pipsqueak is a true submissive and so he craves to be helplessly dominated by a cruel, pitiless woman who puts him through things he truly does not like. But from this he gains true contentment that he cannot happily live without. (Like all true submissives including my bitch-boy.)
The symbiosis; Samantha is now a cruel, pitiless woman who puts the helpless pipsqueak through things he truly does not like; and she gets huge pleasure from doing so. So the relationship a perfect symbiosis.
I have in bold highlighted some text in the account below that I found particularity hot! Enjoy.
Dear Scarlet,

It’s been a long time since we last communicated and I thought I would give you an update.  The past 4 ½ months have been rather busy and extremely enjoyable. pipsqueak is very content despite my further progress in making his submission and life harder than ever most of the time. In our case we have found that an occasional relaxation of the regime works best for us (more in a moment).

Perhaps the most important change has been that pipsqueak is now a cuckold. I worked hard on my exercise, diet and appearance between March and May and finally felt confident enough to take the plunge. It would be nice to say that I have found the perfect lover but that would be an exaggeration. However, I have been on quite a few dates and have had sex with two men so far (including ‘masked sex’ on one occasion which was hilarious if not conventionally orgasmic).

The first time I cuckolded pipsqueak was at the end of June. I’d been chatting with a man online for a while. He lives an hour away so not ideal but I agreed to drive to his house (he’s separated). Sex wasn’t guaranteed but it was on the agenda. In the end we both wore masks, obviously didn’t kiss and had very mechanical and hilarious (safe) sex. The most important thing for me was that it was done. I was a cuckoldress.

 Pipsqueak had no idea. I was away from mid-morning to 4 p.m. I didn’t explain my absence and he of course didn’t ask. (He would not dare!) I’ve been increasingly going out during the day since lock-down regulations eased. Later he told me he hadn’t a clue which was delicious. I made him perform orally for me on the same night and my orgasm was special. For 72 hours I basked in the afterglow of what I knew and he didn’t.

 Four days afterwards, I told him matter-of-factly that Lockdown’s easing allowed me to cuckold him and I intended to do so soon. He uttered his usual noises about it being ‘my right’, etc. Then I laughed and told him I already had. His expression was a picture. He didn’t know whether I was mind fucking him or not. I said that’s where I’d been for 5 hours the other day and showed him my photograph of me half-dressed in a man’s bedroom. The penny dropped.

 I made him lick my pussy again, there and then, while I continued talking. I said I would never have told him if I hadn’t enjoyed it. It would have remained a one-off he never knew about. But I’d enjoyed myself immensely and it will no doubt be much easier and better in future. I told him to kiss my bottom instead, as his contact with my pussy will be even more restricted in future.

 In that moment, I think he was partly turned on and partly too shocked to compute. But over the next day or so, he went through some denial, a touch of resentment that I’d actually done it, but mostly acceptance. We’d been talking about it for so long that I think he’d discounted the actual event itself, so to speak. I adopted a caring attitude of reassurance combined with my blunt stance and some mischievous teasing. He hadn’t had an orgasm for over a month and he told me later he expected me to ‘seal the deal’ of his compliance by at least letting him masturbate or fuck his rubber sex doll to orgasm.

 Whereas I did allow him to edge a lot but not to cum. I said he must never see things as some kind of trade off or bargain between us. I will never ‘pay for’ my own fun by allowing him some of his own. His orgasms have to be earned by what he does, not what I do.

The second time I cuckolded pipsqeak was very different. I didn’t slink off unannounced. I did it blatantly. I’ve been on a few socially distanced, outdoor dates when the weather permits. Sometimes I even go for a drive and walk on my own just to get out and leave pipsqueak toiling. I have got to know a local-ish man who’s not ideal for a couple of reasons I won’t go into. But he is interested in no-strings sex, as am I.

 Pipsqueak was sweetly brave as I left the house, wishing me a good time. I told him to shut up and get on with his list of chores. I said that sex wasn’t guaranteed and he mustn’t think as if I do this to any kind of set routine. It may or may not happen. I’m simply an independent and mature woman who can make up my own mind at the time whether to have sex or not.

 When I returned it was, of course, very different too. I was glowing. The sex wasn’t perfect but it was conventionally better. I summoned pipsqueak to follow me up to my bedroom. I undressed and let him see my rather red and swollen labia. We had used a condom (two, actually) so there was no evidence for him to clean except my engorged clitoris wanted more attention.

 I lay back on the bed, my legs splayed wantonly over the side, and stared up at the bedroom ceiling, while pipsqueak licked me in his apron and spike lined chastity tube. Neither of us needed reminding it was now over seven weeks since he’d had any kind of orgasm. After I’d climaxed, I let him unlock his cage. I love the tiny red dots the spikes leave when he’s aroused. I said he could put his erection inside me for five super-slow strokes.

 He groaned with desperation as he eased it inside me bit by bit, in and out. While he did so, I talked to him. I asked if my pussy felt different? He gasped no. I told him that his cock did feel different. It felt smaller, thinner, second-rate. He whimpered. I instructed him to pull out after only four strokes as I was disappointed.

 I sat up propped on my elbows and said he could wank himself while I watched. I continued to chatter, while he frantically fisted his shaft. I asked him, one final time, if he regretted our new relationship and my freedom to date other men. His eyes were gazing into mine. No, he gasped. I said I want to see real enthusiasm for my sexual progression and his further demotion over the months to come. He nodded, unable to speak.

 I snapped for him to stop! He somehow tore his hand away and his glistening erection bobbed between us. His expression was a picture; of awe and adoration, deference and desperation.

 And then I smiled. I love acting the bitch but I’ll always struggle to be heartless. I reached out and started rubbing his cock. I’m very out of practise. He has this adorable look of alarm on his face that I’ll stop at any time or at least ruin his orgasm. I did it for a bit and then told him he could finish himself. I said he should aim his cum at my waist and that he could enjoy a full orgasm for once and to make the most of it.

 It only took him about 30 seconds and he spurted an impressive amount of semen on my tummy, thighs and mound. His knees were buckling and he was almost crying with relief. I blew him kisses. In our relationship there are moments for ridicule and moments for bonding. This was one of the latter.

 That’s not to say that he didn’t then have to suck up every drop of his mess. And five minutes later we were back into our roles. Over the next few hours and days I was extremely demanding and mocking. I called him ‘cuck’ quite a lot, even though I have no plans to  adopt that name (I find it too much of a cliché).

 I make no bones about my intention to find a proper boyfriend with whom I can conduct a proper affair; discreet but much more than just one-off or casual sex. Pipsqueak is daunted and excited at the same time. That would be the culmination of the journey we’ve been on for approaching two years; one slow and quite mild year, then this second, very unusual and fast developing eight months.

My goal remains to find a man with whom I can have a proper sexual and, to an extent, romantic relationship who can be integrated into my lifestyle with pipsqueak. I’m impatient but not in a rush, if that makes sense? Pipsqueak has taken well to his new status. I think both of us were concerned – deep down – that the reality could affect our marriage in a way that fantasy obviously didn’t. But by the time it happened I think he’d become so used to the idea of me cuckolding him he was mentally prepared.

 Since Easter I have been even stricter about his orgasm denial. He has a total love-hate relationship with it. He loves me imposing it. He enjoys the intensity of frustration and how ‘alive’ (his word) he feels. His fetish is the contrast between us. But he hates the actual reality of being denied any kind of release for weeks on end.

 His Steelwerks cage has proven the most wonderful training tool. Mostly because it’s wearable 24/7 and hygienic and comfortable so long as he’s soft (less so when he’s aroused and occasionally at night). I make him tighten the spikes each morning and loosen them overnight. However, I like the spikes fully extended when he’s performing orally. Making him control his erection while he’s focused on me is absolutely one of my favourite things!

 I recall that I was still inclined to indulge him when we last communicated. After a few weeks I’d still feel sorry for him. I even used to enjoy his groaning, pent-up orgasms when we started. But that’s no longer the case. He can still have orgasms but they have to be earned. And when I say earned I mean it! The price now is increasingly outrageous and still going up.

 Away from the sexual side of things, I have very much focused on his monotony and drudgery. He will not be returning to the Care Home job any time soon. But I plan for him to work backstage in a busy pub doing washing up, that kind of thing (NOT behind the counter serving pints). When pubs open properly and safely again, I want him to work weekend nights in particular – say Thursday through Saturday – when I can be out on dates, that kind of thing.

 At home, I control every minute of his day for three weeks out of four. A combination of housework, garden work, monotony and sensory denial from dawn to late. The weather has mostly allowed him to work naked in the garden since Easter. Or in a diaper. I am brutally strict about bladder and bowel control. If he needs to go while he’s tending the lawn with nail scissors, he must hold it in, or fill the diaper and face the consequences.

 We also practise TSD (total sensory deprivation), in the garden. We have a double sun-lounger made of that wicker you can leave outdoors. I let him unlock and remove his Steelwerks and then tie him naked and spread-eagled on the lounger. When he is secure, I blindfold and funnel-gag him and put the Bose headphones over his ears. If it’s sunny I put some sun cream on his body and limbs but not his cock and balls.

 His lounger is near mine, so I can relax while keeping a close eye on him. I love to study his face when he’s completely unaware I’m watching him listening to porn. I don’t allow his genitals to burn but I like them to get a bit red. If he gets aroused – I coat his erection in Deep Heat blended with sun cream. I love to urinate into his funnel or, borrowing your idea Scarlet, melting piss ‘pyramids’ of ice in it.

 We now possess a full size rubber sex doll. It’s particularly fun outdoors to allow pipsqueak to ‘make love’ to her on a humid, sunny day while I watch. There’s no need to worry about the mess. I coat her in baby oil so she’s super slippery combined with pipsqueak’s sweat. They fuck on the grass. But his cock is coated in Lidocaine (numbing cream) and he’s forbidden to orgasm without permission (almost never granted). It’s for the doll’s and my pleasure, not his.

One week in four, nothing fundamentally changes but I relax my regime. He needs this space and TBH in a way I do too. He’s still chaste, obedient, that kind of thing. But he’s much more my husband than my slave-sub. We chat more, discuss, even argue about news items, watch TV & Netflix, etc. He does the housework but not (well, rarely) any mindless tasks or TSD. It’s really just switching down into a lower gear for a week. But we never actually ‘stop’ as we’d find it too weird now not to be Mistress and slave. I just become more benevolent for a while.

 I could go on but hopefully this update is of interest.

Samantha

Tiffanymaid endures

Another account from Tiffanymaid detailing what he endures at the hands of his wonderful Mistress, Serena.

I make further comment at the end of the account.

 

Mistress Scarlet curtsy

Recent activity has been intensified, and everything is good, with Serena enjoying more leisure time, while She has demanded much more of me than previously…which, in turn, i am more than willing to do. During, and since the lockdown was eased, Mistress has increased Her running to about 4 – 6 miles on each outing. W/we now have a ritual whenever She engages in Her runs.

On return (even in vanilla role) i will have a bath ready. i am required to remove Her running shoes and socks, lick/kiss her feet, toes and soles. We then adjourn to the bedroom “chamber”, were i undress Her, lick and worship Her armpits, worship Her panties before She fastens one of Her shoes tightly with a belt to my nose/mouth inhibiting my breathing as it forms a “seal”, wrists locked behind me, i spend 30-60 minutes kneeling in the corner until such time i am required to clean the bath.
Respectfully…. tiffany

Last night, Mistress Serena worked a night-shift, and as is the custom i was double diapered ( this was introduced many years ago to prevent me from drinking any beer whilst She was absent, i now only drink occasional beer when allowed ). For some reason, last night was the wettest nappy i have ever had. On rising at 7am to prepare for Mistress Serenas return the weight was immense, and i knew i was soaked. Doing my morning chores was difficult as every move shifted the piss and caused leakage despite my 2 plastic pants and nappy cover.
This was more than confirmed when, as usual, i lay aside Her bed, nappy over my face/head my eyes stung and the piss flowed over my face and ran down my neck. The nappy was heavy on my face, the taste and scent extreme. I shuddered as the piss ran from the nappy and ran down my back, my moans were initially ignored, but as I attempted to lift the material from my nose Mistress Serena snapped “Don’t you dare..i was about to dismiss you but now an extra 15 minutes wont harm”.(This was only drawn to a close so soon, as Mistress had been on a 12 hour night-shift).

 

As recently as this afternoon, Ms Serena put me in my pvc, hessian lined maid uniform, leather hood, posture collar, ball gag, heels, ankles cuffed together…and a leather parachute about my ball sac (beneath my CB6000s) with a weight attached. Two hours of dusting, hoovering and cleaning left me drooling profusely, aching and totally soaked in sweat, balls aching, with the weight often swinging and knocking onto my shins. Punishment followed for misdemeanors after my two hour cleaning session consisted of a dozen strokes with Her wooden paddle, and eight strokes of the crop. During the punishment Mistress Serena commented on this (Uniform and form of cleaning) becoming more frequent and punishment will always follow “because it can”. I yelped loudly as Her crop lashed over the glow of my paddled ass.

Wednesday evening, MsSerena set me the task of my “Path of Humiliation”. Whilst nowhere near as long as Mistress Francescas’ slave m suffered, i was dressed very similar to above and set about the triangle of humiliation, worshipping as slave m, my Goddess’ heeled shoes, Her golden nectar and a phallus worthy of a slaves attentions. Her recently purchased monitor kept Her informed of my progress. my body ached and my feet were agony. After 2 hours i was all but sobbing as the sweaty monotonous task became more painful and dulling. Mistress Serena entered the room and observed for a period, laughing as She encouraged me with Her Agitation whip. “Excellent….another hour should suffice”, my heart sank and begged Her for completion, six repeated lashed of Her whip answered my request, and so it went on.

my first ever experience in schoolgirl uniform. As if Wednesday was not bad enough, it was followed the following evening by a session of school punishment and line writing. Summoned to Mistress Serenas’ room She had positioned a very low stool with a coir mat on top, a desk, two pens (black & red) & paper. In Her reach were a cane, a crop, leather flogger and a strap.
After removing my regular slave attire (aside from my bra/breast forms) i was dressed in white panties and stockings, black shoes, a white shirt, school tie, black pinefore dress and a straw hat. ironically, despite being tv/sissy orientated, i did not embrace the attire and felt quite awkward, with a degree of humiliation. 5 strokes of the flogger were applied to each palm and likewise 5 strokes of the strap followed.  When Mistress Serena flogged my palms I cried aloud as the final lashes were applied, the following strokes of the belt caused me to cry even louder as my palms burned a lot more than I expected. Mistress Serena told me to look Her in the eye as each stroke of the belt was applied, for some reason I felt hurt as my eyes welled and face reddened. (She actually applied a further two more to each palm, after the initial five).

Mistress ordered me to lower my panties and sit on the coir covered stool. “Sit slut!” She brought in a small blackboard and had me read aloud “slut tiffany is a sissy and must be punished”.
my task followed, writing out the lines in alternative coloured ink after each letter. After 50 lines (one hour) my ass cheeks were very, very sore as i reported and presented my work. Inevitably the odd error and unfortunate smudges resulted in a dozen strokes of the cane, and a repeated punishment off my palms. My punishment an hour in to my writing lines was agony. My ass was already very sore from the coir mat (being concentrated on such a small stool) I cried out at every stroke, as Mistress Serena repeated the “line” slut tiffany is a sissy and MUST be punished, as each stroke was delivered. The punishment to my palms hurt as initially adding to the ache I was experiencing.

“Another 50 girl ! ” was Her response after my punishment….i requested a break which was met with a look of disdain, and so, sitting in agony on the coir i set about another 50 lines. Sadly, my concentration was waning as my cheeks burned and hurt so, so much. The obvious outcome was a further punishment and a strict verbal dressing down. Despite being a relatively short period compared to some, it was my first such experience as a pupil ( I last did lines as a submissive some 15+ years ago). I was exhausted, aching and slightly disorientated. My punishment was harsh and I sobbed at its conclusion. “Pull up your panties slut” Her demeanor was one of superiority and accomplishment.

It took a total time of 135 minutes to complete 100 lines, my palm ached, my ass burned and i felt more than miserable by the time i completed my task…
my first escapade as a schoolgirl was indeed painful and tedious, with Mistress Serena present, yet showing zero concern, what concerns me most is Mistress Serenas intent of setting me the goal of 200 lines next time!
Despite all this, i adore my Mistress, and have absolute respect for Your good selves and all superior ladies who seek a flr.

 

 

I adored the moments in the account that most display how Mistress Serena is utterly pitiless and exhibits a cold, harshness to her demeanour. (Reminds me of me!)

  • At the end, while tiffanymaid sobbed, ‘Pull up your panties slut!’
  • Explaining that punishment will always follow long cleaning sessions, ‘because it can.’ 
  • After an hour of the ‘path of humiliation, Excellent….another hour should suffice’, my heart sank and begged Her for completion. Six repeated lashes of Her whip answered my begging.

There is something especially hot, that always provides me with a BIG power-rush when bitch-boy may well be expecting a tiny bit of sympathy or pity because he is so upset, probably sobbing, but the words and attitude from me he receives are cold, hard and harsh. When I do this I see deep subjugation in his eyes.

I very much look forward to more accounts from tiffanymaid.

 

Journal 17 now published

My Journal No.17 is now published. It contains more words than any previous journal.

It is quite amazing that I have been publishing journals since December 2010, but there is still a strong appetite to read in detail about the activities I pursue in my depraved life. I guess there are three reasons for this.

1. Because I, like all lifestyle dominant women, evolve. I have become more cruel. Even during lock-down I can confirm my cruelty has significantly increased in a number of activities. (And amazingly after all these years,  my pleasure increases, as my cruelty does.)

2. New activities arise. Either as a result of circumstances, like lock-down, or I read of what another Domme does that I have never done but want to try out, or new technology opens a new avenue, and;

3.  Women collaborators in my life come and go. New women join me in double-domming as others drift away for various reasons, (usually house moves or domestic private life circumstances).

So the domination activities and intensities do not stay the same even if the core principles do.

THE FIRST REVIEW (On Amazon Kindle US)

Reviewed in the United States on August 2, 2020

Verified Purchase

Journal 17 is available on Lulu.com as a paperback and as an eBook.

It has been available for some time on Kindle. Kindle links below for the various countries Amazon serves directly.

US       UK       DE      FR       ES     IT      NL     JP     BR       CA      MX     AU      IN

Hopefully soon it will be available hard copy and electronic versions for other devices in other outlets including Barnes and Noble, Nook and iBooks. (But Lulu.com, the distributor has had a disastrous distribution module  relaunch and I cannot promise further distribution of electronic versions other than the options above.)

I hope you enjoy Volume 17.

 

Mistress Francesca – Wedding Anniversary, Part 1

Yet more superb and stimulating insights into Mistress Francesca’s life. There will be more to follow, which is such a delight. And as there will be more, I have collected all Mistress Francesca’s glorious material onto her own page. I will do this in time with the material of all the great and frequent contributors, too many to name, but including Christine M, Lady Jessica, Mistress Carla, Ms Anne, Mistress Serena, Mistress Sonia Meloni, Mistress Rita, etc, etc.

Hover your cursor over the menu tab at the top, Dommes’ Letters, and the drop down is a menu of the collections.

Without further ado…………………

 

Mistress Francesca – MY WEDDING ANNIVERSARY

PART I
This year our wedding anniversary happened on a Thursday and so I decided to divide the usual celebrations into two parts:
On the Thursday, a domestic celebration, between me and sissy slave m, with a long session of BDSM and then, on the following weekend, the highlight of the celebrations: SPA afternoon and evening for the girls on Saturday and Sunday, renewal of marital vows and reception.

All this to increase my pleasure and my level of domination and at the same time, the total submission of sissy slave m … an opportunity also to experiment with some new ideas that the wonderful dominatrixes who frequent this BLOG have suggested to me.

Thursday evening:
Thursday morning I ordered sissy slave m. to wake up before getting ready to go to work so that we can start celebrating our 15th wedding anniversary the right away.

As you know, dear Scarlet, I am very romantic and I care about these celebrations. Sissy slave m. came to wake me up with the breakfast I ordered the night before: espresso, pink grapefruit juice, 2 wholemeal rusks with organic strawberry jam. On the tray he also carried the gift box he gave me for our anniversary. Obviously I am in control of all home finances, and sissy slave m. has only a very small daily budget for the expenses necessary to go to work and return (bus or metro tickets and little else). Since, however, I like my slave to give me gifts, he also has a credit card, whose accounts are under my control, which he must use only and exclusively to give me, regularly, magnificent gifts. I like the idea that my slave is totally penniless for himself but still has to buy expensive gifts from his cruel Mistress. Also I can always punish him if I don’t like the gifts …

This time the gift is a magnificent ‘tennis’ bracelet made up of 15 emeralds. The sister of sissy slave m has a splendid jewelry store and, therefore, the slave is also lucky enough to save. My sister-in-law also knows about sissy slave status and the nature of our relationship, and supports and approves it – because she knows how much her brother needs it. We are friends and sometimes she is also a guest at my house, even if in those cases despite being served by her brother, she does not participate directly in his submission.

Of course I can’t punish him for this gift, so I decide to reward him. I make him take a pair of my fire red patent leather mules, with 15 cm of heel and 5 cm of platform and, while I enjoy my breakfast, the sissy has the honor of devoutly and passionately licking my shoes, paying attention to not wet my feet with his tongue. Scarlet this is a huge power rush for me, to see him so humbly at my feet licking my shoes devotedly, desperate for excitement, as he immediately becomes aroused. In fact, I immediately feel him moaning with desire and excitement, cruelly repressed by his cage, while he licks the shoes of his Mistress submissively.

After breakfast I am also very excited and, therefore, I take my vibrator and, while the slave continues to lick my shoes, excited and desperate, I cum, verbally insulting him and reminding him of the abject condition of his status as cuckold sissy slave in total chastity.
Then, it’s time for sissy slave m to get dressed to go to work, not before I gave him fifteen serious rattan cane shots on his bare butt. Leaving the house, kissing my feet before going out, like every time, he declares his love and his total submission and I, totally satisfied, spit in his face before sending him to the office.

On his return, the celebrations continue. First, as soon as the sissy has stripped of her ridiculous men’s clothes, I take him to the dungeon where I tie him in strappado, naked except for the chastity cage, a corset, and a pair of shoes with 12 cm heels without platform, with the ankles tied together. I add the humbler, which I love, so that the pathetic sissy balls are exposed to my sadism.

So I start the ritual punishment of our anniversary: 15 shots with each of my torture tools:
the first 15 strokes I adjust with my leather riding crop; it is not very painful but the blows are very serious and I carefully take aim at the upper part of his thighs, very sensitive to pain. Obviously the sissy must count every hit and thank her Mistress. Every three or four strokes, with absolute peace of mind, I hit the slave’s balls and his moans of pain and despair excite me incredibly!

I then move on to my Long Wooden Paddle, with which I strike violent blows on the sissy’s butt, while she desperately tries to keep her balance in her tiring and painful strappado. At this point, pain begins to take over my poor sissy husband (who is not in the least masochistic and therefore really suffers corporal punishment) and I see how hard it is for him to keep a count of the blows, and I feel him more and more worried and sobbing.  Arriving at the fourteenth hit I decide to exaggerate and the last hit I settle it with decision on the exposed balls of the sissy … His scream is inhuman and very exciting, and is followed by the beginning of a heavy cry, interrupted by sobs among which, fortunately for him, he can count the blows and thank me!

My excitement, at this point, has reached the point of no return … then I take my strap on with the double dildo and, pushed into my soaking vagina the dildo of my competence, I present myself in front of the sissy sobbing and, turn on the vibration of the internal dildo, I offer him the external one to suck. I confess Scarlet that I love when the sissy is forced to take my strap–on in her mouth and also when she has to give blowjobs to some of my lovers or, (worse for him), to other submissives. I know how humiliating it is for him to have been totally feminized and transformed into a Sissy and, most of all, how humiliating it is to have to undergo oral and anal sex while his cock is in constant chastity … and to know how humiliating and hard this is for him makes me love him even more!

I see him sobbing from the pain he just received in the balls and, without the slightest empathy, and indeed with growing cruelty, I order him to take my cock in his mouth and I fuck his mouth until I cum by the excitement of this act and for the vibration of my dildo!

Back from orgasm, I go back to the anniversary hits. Maybe the sissy hoped that the violent blow to the balls would mark the end of the punishment, and when she sees me take my Leather Two Finger Tawse, she starts to implore in tears… Obviously I let him go on for a few minutes and then, after spitting in his face, I order him to stop and count the shots. I settle the 15 in quick succession, enjoying every moment of the suffering of the poor sissy, and then I move on to my Leather Flogger, having finished the blows with which, I fuck the mouth of the sissy again until another orgasm.

The best is yet to come though! There are still my Silicone Single Tail Whip, delicious, with chromed metal handle, not very long but very painful and, finally, my rattan dog. The last thirty shots sissy slave m receives almost in sub space, from which I reawaken him by forcing him to give me the third blowjob for my third orgasm.

When I free her from her strappado, she falls to the ground. Than, without receiving orders, she begins to lick the floor just around where my shoes rest, thanking me for the painful punishment she received and swearing her eternal love. Delighted, I spit on the ground a few times and the sissy, devoted, collects everything with her tongue.

So I use the funnel to make the sissy slave drink my delicious pee and give her the toilet paper I use to eat. Then, I send the slave to prepare a fresh and light dinner: Caprese salad (tomatoes, mozzarella and basil) fresh fruit and sparkling wine ‘franciacorta’, while sissy slave m has the honor of licking the soles of my shoes while I eat.

After dinner, I relax in the cool porch while the sissy cleans the kitchen and, when he’s done, he kneels in front of me. A truly romantic moment begins. In fact, I insult him, reminding him of his role and his status as a lowly sissy servant, slapping him and spitting and hitting him with the taps on the balls and he, at every sentence, and spit and blow, reaches his hands in prayer and thanks me; and he prays me keep him forever as my slave!
Very excited, I order the slave to kiss my feet and I masturbate with my fingers, like a high school girl, for the fourth orgasm of the evening.

I decided that, after all, it’s our anniversary and so the sissy deserves a small prize. I therefore bring the sissy to my room and, which almost never happens, I make him lie down, naked except for the corset, cage, collar and shoes, on my bed. I tie him in a tight hog tie and I gag him. Then, won by the romanticism of the evening and by the devotion of the sissy, I start to tease him which rarely happens. I start by licking his neck, behind his ears and on his face, around the gag. Immediately I hear him react, despite the great surprise, with moans of incredible excitement and I see his poor desperate cock swell in the narrow confines of the cage. I then move on to the nipples, which are, as you know, extremely sensitive, and I work on them with my tongue and fingers, leading my poor slave to an incredible paroxysm of excitement and frustration.

In the meantime, I mind-fuck him by reminding him of his BAV status and reminding him that his next chance to get out of the cage will only be on September 2nd. He cries, moans, trembles like a leaf, jumps in despair and rolls his pleading eyes, until I see him on the verge of losing consciousness due to the excess of emotions. So I take off the sissy gag and offer him my present.

I give him the opportunity to sleep here in my huge bed with me, remaining tied and gagged and with a big but plug in his butt or, alternatively, he can be freed and go back to sleep unbound in his pathetic bedroom / cell. Obviously he begs me to be able to sleep so tied and accepts without saying a word the big but plug and the big penis gag that I impose on him. Before I gag him he finds a way to declare, with a pleading look
“I love you Mistress!”
“I know, sissy!” I answer, before gagging him. I masturbate for my fifth orgasm and fall asleep in a delicious sleep. Sissy slave m, for its part, will sleep, I am sure, happy and fulfilled in its condition of slavery, which perfectly suits him.

A perfectly successful marriage… and Saturday and Sunday other celebrations await me and my guests, and other tribulations await my slave sissy.
To be continued…

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.

Degrading food and drink

On my Facebook account I came across a video with a VERY WICKED Domme surreptitiously having her slave eat and drink in a public cafe in rather degrading ways. A Facebook friend put me onto a Twitter account showing many videos of many of her tribulations for her slave also involving nectar, funnels, his toothbrush, etc. Weirdly, never does her name appear.

The original video that grabbed my attention is on the Twitter account on 3 October 2018. She then regularly appears in this account up to November 2019.

Facebook Video

Twitter video

I absolutely love this woman! Whoever she is?

 

 

 

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.

 

Find Paperback                                           Find it in ePub format

Purchase for AMAZON KINDLE

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While doing something else

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Retired dominatrix humiliates for fun

Continuing on the basis that many of you do not read the comments, (And why should you. There is no threshold moment that is ideal to read the comments on any particular blog), below is my compilation of a series of comments from SamuelRowBottom.

I can’t see it will ever happen, but I would adore to put bitch-boy through a day or two of some triple domming with myself, Nanny Julia and Mistress Jane!

Comment Compilation

Yes Mistress Scarlet, they are in the south west, UK. The daughter was a professional who I visited to lose my virginity in 2008. Upon my failure to rise to the occasion, she suggested I would be better suited to visiting her mother – who had different specialities. After a few meets I was completely subjugated by her mother – Julia. Or Nana Julia to me. She found that I had certain work skills she could utilise and it has become a trade off of my abilities for the opportunity of spending time with her, and often her daughter. She must enjoy it for what it is though as she often orders me to visit even if she has no requirements of my skills in the preceding month.

Nana Julia was a nurse, became a professional dominatrix for a while, but then went back to nursing. It’s been nearly 30 years since she was a professional dominatrix but she has indulged occasional whims through contacts that her daughter sent her way. Being dominant to males is part of her whole character and so she has made it part of her life without needing to hire premises or indulge in ‘topping from the bottom’ – an aspect of being a professional dominatrix that she did not enjoy. No mention has ever been made to me of the father of her daughter – I believe she was a single mother rather than divorced or widowed. The only male company she needs is the obedient plaything type.

Regarding potties, I am forced to make the best of my white and yellow Mothercare pot though it can be very uncomfortable as my testicles get quite squashed by the front pee guard. I’m not always sitting either as it has been gaffa-tapped to my bottom so that I have to waddle around with my rubber pants around my ankles and my potty stuck to my bum. Almost a nursery version of a humbler – only much, much more humbling. It seems to amuse the two cruel ladies in my life.

They like nothing better than to tease and humiliate me during nappy changes or potty time. Sometimes they will do it gently and be amused when my ‘birth defect’ rises to its very best quivering 4 inches. I feel humiliated by my erection, my face flushed with shame at showing them my pitiful, attention-seeking willy. They find my embarrassment hilarious and more often than not their scorn and mockery makes it wilt pretty fast, but on occasion it will be tugged, and forced to squirt like a toileting chore. Post ejaculation I will feel utterly wretched, but they just pour on more scorn as they watch my red dick dwindling out of sight. They know I feel at my most uncomfortable at this moment and make the most of it. I have to cope.

When a weekend visit is arranged with me in attendance they have a lot to catch up on. Once dressed as a baby and put in my playpen they will have a cup of coffee and chat away politely, but at any moment either of them might snap out at me and have me trembling with fear. They know that this sudden change keeps me nervous and very intimidated. I am also fearful that the situation might escalate and they will both start snapping at me till I crumble and start to weep. This can be hard to avoid but never receives any sympathy. Quite the reverse in fact. If I act like a cry-baby they love to twist the knife and ridicule me all the more. They love it when I’m so scared that I wet my nappy.

Mother and Daughter take me to task regularly and enjoy themselves at my expense. It is not a 24/7 relationship but when they demand I visit I am completely there for the entertainment of the Mother. They like to keep me as their baby, but they have made it clear they don’t like baby boys and silly little wimps like me deserve relentless humiliation. I do get to escape for a few weeks at a time. When she wants to play though, I have to attend.

My playpen has a few dolls and teddies, plus a wooden train engine. The most embarrassing doll in my playpen is ‘Hilda’ a hideous fat blow up doll upon which I must sometimes show off my sexual ‘prowess’ whilst sucking my dummy and parting my legs for Nana to insert a butt plug. I usually fail to satisfy Hilda and have to stand in the corner with my baby frock pinned up, my rubber pants at my ankles and an A4 sheet of paper pinned to my bib with ‘failure’ written on it.

 

I thought you might be interested in an update on my life as a subjugated adult baby – especially as my last visit gave me cause to believe that Nana Julia or her daughter Jane might be followers of your blog. I had hoped this wasn’t the case as I am a little terrified that they might be tempted to explore the properties of Linnex on an already timid part of my anatomy.

Recently Lady Jessica wrote a contribution to your blog which you titled ‘ A Novel Humiliation’ and I feel that this may have contributed to the embarrassing ordeal I suffered last weekend. It was time for me to attend my monthly visit to Nana Julia. She had texted me instructions a couple of days before ordering me to abstain from making ‘biggies’ and to wear my butt plug until my arrival. I hate this instruction, which happens three or four times a year, as it always means that Nana is even more deeply interested in my discomfort and humiliation than usual on these occasions. The evening before travelling I received a further text and I was disheartened to learn that daughter Jane would be in attendance for part of the weekend and was looking forward to ‘playing with diddums’. As stated recently on your blog, Double Dom sessions are the most intense: a perpetual tag team of escalating abuse and egged-on entertainment. If I could have found an excuse not to attend I would have, but to frustrate Nana’s plans is a very bad idea. So I had my required body shave and then endured a sleepless night as I wondered what was in store for me this time.

I arrived on Saturday morning, uncomfortable and embarrassed. Nana Julia answered the door to me and took me straight up to the nursery where she stripped me and checked that my fat butt plug was firmly in place. Jane had spent the previous night there and was waiting in the kitchen. Nana said “Let’s make you look all pretty for Jane shall we?” She talced my fear-withered privates and proceeded to dress me in a terry nappy held together with big pink nappy pins. A disposable is the norm but Nana really wanted to make me look stupid today, so the big bulky nappy was followed by a voluminous pair of yellow rubber baby pants with rubber frills at the legs and all over the rear. I was stood before the full length mirror and Nana laughed at how ridiculous I looked in this get up, but she told me that as I was a ridiculous little maggot anyway it suited me perfectly. This verbal assault was hardly a new experience for me, yet because my visits are only monthly such disdainful comments are as piquant as ever. My particularly silly attire and my need for the toilet made me feel more emasculated and vulnerable than ever. My bottom lip began it’s quivering dance and I started to sob. Nana put her finger under my chin and looked Into my watering eyes with amused contempt. “Awwww, big baby. Baby want his rattle? Or baby want his potty pot?” That shut me up. I didn’t want to be reminded of my impending trip to the potty.

The baby talk makes me cringe. I have never gotten used to it. It makes me feel so embarrassed and ashamed of myself. Just her words can bring forth genuine tears that just prove her point – that I’m a pathetic cry-baby. Sniffling miserably I was put into a frilly pink frock that was so short it failed to hide the nappy at all. With little white woollen booties in place, my shaved legs looked ludicrously long and thin, culminating in that preposterous pumpkin shell of giant nappy and rubber pants. A large satin bonnet was secured onto my head and a dummy was stuffed into my mouth. Nana stood back to admire her handy work. She was clearly delighted by the ridiculous parody of babyhood I presented. My beetroot red face and my limp-as-a-rag, defeated, countenance complimented my shameful outfit perfectly. Despite my shame I felt my weedy penis starting to swell, not that there was any danger of her noticing, wrapped as it was in that monumental nappy. She shook her head as if in disbelief. “What a prat.”

I hung my head and bit back more tears. Whist baby talk is mortifying, the inclusion of plain insults never lets one forget the reality of the dynamic between a strong woman and a weak male. Once again Nana gripped my chin and forced me to look at her. “POTTY TIME!”

Her reminder of my uncomfortable predicament was badly timed. My tummy groaned. I really did need the toilet, but I really didn’t want to do it for an audience. My traitorous swelling shrivelled up pretty quick after that. Nana took me by the scruff of the neck and marched me down to the kitchen. Jane burst out laughing when she saw me. She was delighted that her mother had really gone to town with my infantile outfit, much more extreme than usual. I waddled next to Nana looking like a complete idiot. To my horror I saw that Jane had placed the old porcelain chamber pot on a plastic sheet in the corner of the kitchen. I am usually forced to use a modern plastic Mothercare potty, but the porcelain potty is special. It may be less infantile but it is also less ‘modest’ for baby boys, and being bigger, the perfect receptacle for constipated babies such as me at that moment.

Nana Julia prodded me towards her daughter. “Go and ask Auntie Jane to put you on the potty you dirty little boy.” Jane laughed at me. “Has he been a dirty boy?” Dummied as I was all I could do was mumble disjointedly through my tears.

“What was that? Googoo Gaga?” She sneered. “What does that mean? Is the twat trying to tell me something?” Nana Julia offered her viewpoint on what my incoherent noise meant. “Dirty boy has stuck something up his botty like a pervert and needs to poop it out. Put him on his pot-pot and help him with his problem. “

Jane started to laugh and Nana did too. The verbal shredding was a much fun for them as other Doms get from beating. Jane stripped me of the entire baby outfit save for the bonnet, booties and dummy. She flicked my penis a few times because it amuses her to see the tiny limp thing trembling, shrivelled with fear and about as masculine as a My Little Pony. I very rarely get an erection in front of Jane; she scares me too much.

Nana took me by the scruff of the neck and as she sat down she pulled me across her lap. Jane walked behind as her mother pulled the cheeks of my bottom apart to show off the plug protruding from my very stuffed rectum. “Just look at what this dirty boy has done.”

“Oh he is a dirty boy. And look at his ugly testicles all squashed on your thigh.”

“Urgh yes, that’s so revolting.”

“POTTY TIME!” Jane laughed, slapping my bottom cheeks hard before dragging me off her mother’s lap and plonking me down on the potty. She stood back and I found myself looking up at the two smirking women as I squatted uncomfortably on the pot, my scrawny penis dangling miserably on the rim. I made a move to cover it from their mocking eyes but Nana snapped at me. “Hands on head!” I obeyed instantly, always fearful of her outbursts.

Nana rubbed her chin exaggeratedly. And I knew that this meant she was about to suggest something spontaneous (preplanned in advanced by both of them). “Baby does look upset, but silly baby left his rattle up in the nursery.”

“Oh dear, that is a pity.” Jane pondered. “Perhaps he’d like a balloon.”

“What a good idea.” Nana untied one of the threads that held a bright green balloon and handed it to Jane. “Would you like to do the honours?”

“Love to.”

Jane approached. “Baby want a balloon?”

I went to take it but as soon as I tried Nana snapped back at me to keep my hands on my head, warning me that if I didn’t she’d make me regret it. “Oh dear.” Jane sighed, “If only we could attach it to something else.”

“I know,” Nana said at this point as if she’d just had a blinding moment of inspiration. “Why don’t you tie it to his little worm? Is there enough of it?”

“Aww diddums.” Jane mocked as she crouched in front of me and tried to tie the thread just behind the acorn head of my penis. She fiddled for an age to loop the thread and fasten it, my little dick waggling this way and that as she worked, but eventually she managed it. It was about the longest contact between her fingers and my prick I’d ever experienced yet still there was no danger of an erection. In fact I may have been softer when she’d finished than before. But once finished the balloon went up, the thread tightening and dragging my lightweight limpness upward too. It looked humiliating stupid. My flaccid prick pulled thin, the pink head sagging wearily the other side of the knotted thread.

“Oh look mother, will you look at that! Dirty baby’s willy is pointing straight up at the ceiling.”

“Oh how rude!”

“Silly baby, how is baby going to piddle in his potty with his silly little winky pointing straight up in the air?” Jane remarked. “Well, we’ll leave you with that dilemma, maybe if you hold on long enough it’ll deflate.”

Nana laughed at this notion. “I doubt it.”

I was left alone sitting on my potty. I contemplated pushing the butt plug out whilst I had the privacy of solitude, but I couldn’t bring myself to; the need to pee had become more urgent. Nana and Jane returned twenty minutes later when they heard me crying in a state of shock and shame. My plastic sheet was soaking wet and I was peeing everywhere. They just stood there laughing their heads off as they watched my stretched dick hosing a great arc of pee everywhere except into my potty. I kept my hands on my head and tried to wiggle about to get my willy squirting in the right direction, but all my attempts failed and I just sprayed all over like a complete toilet training disaster. I got a soundly smacked bottom and I was made to stand in the corner wearing my ‘potty training failure” placard.

Afterwards I was made to mop up the floor with my nappy, and then Jane renappied me in it whilst her mother supervised with sneering remarks. Sopping wet and cold, I was soon sobbing again.

And at this stage it was still only Saturday morning! Yet I was thoroughly humiliated, weeping and still butt plugged and constipated. But they were amused. Jane in particular was having a whale of a time as she only attends my shaming weekends once in a while. The experience was one of the most intense ever, and there was another female visitor on the Sunday whose attendance made for a deeply degrading constipation cure. In three weeks time I’ll be back for more and I’m already getting nervous about it because I’m wondering if Linnex will be finding its way into my nappy?

(The helium filled balloons were from an event I was not privy to earlier in the week. A celebration. I do not know that Jane deliberately retained them with me in mind after possibly reading your blog, as neither Nana Julia or Jane allow me any insight into their lives outside of my visits, but I felt that there might be a connection with the recent blog post that mentioned balloons. The balloons in question were the large metallic ones in star shapes – blue, green and red with party slogans. With respect, my flaccidity in said situation rendered my penis extremely soft and whilst certainly not pencil thin it was thin enough to be notable and remarked upon.)

My limits when it comes to physical punishment have not been tested; an over-the-knee spanking and a butt plugging is as far as she has taken physical discomfort with me so far. Nana Julia is more into the emotional control: scolding, belittling etc. She would rather see me cry because of her words and her humiliating schemes than the physical abuse of my person. She knows I am a wimp and is happy to tease and humiliate me for it.

 

 

I have to do a potty dance occasionally and flap my wee-wee about in desperation whilst sucking my thumb. My performance is always greeted with raucous laughter which makes me feel terribly uncomfortable and full of performance anxiety. Failing to use my potty warrants a spanking of course, whilst wearing a nappy yanked up into a wedgie. I’m sopping wet by the time the spanking is over, so Nanny always gets her way.

Nanny enjoys humiliating me and teasing me. She is quite expert at making the ordeal of my enforced babyhood a miserable affair, with cold wet nappies and arduous knicker washing duties. She loves to see me getting tearful and to hear my voice break, and as soon as it does she will start mocking me by impersonating my whimpers. She has a photo album of my embarrassing sessions, including pictures of my red, shrivelled birth defect, which she will show to female visitors whilst I’m stuck in my highchair. Their laughter makes me hang my head in shame and they will start interrogating me till I cry. Nanny then strips me and makes me stand in the corner with a potty on my head, enjoying the sight of me sobbing so hard that my little wee-wee trembles like a catkin on a windy day. Nanny is never satisfied by a session unless I have cried bitterly so she can sneer at me and call me a cry-baby to my blotchy red face. Although I escape for a month I always return. I masturbate furiously between sessions, enjoying my miseries in retrospect, but there is little to enjoy in the sessions themselves other than the fuel they provide for my degradation fantasies in the interim.

In regard to pee, Nanny often empties a baby bottle full of her cold piddle into my nappy, but she is not opposed to squatting over the side of the tub whilst I’m having a baby bath and telling me that my bath water is her favourite toilet.

Most of my experiences with dickie discipline are on the flaccid member, as I am too intimidated by Nanny to become erect. The mockery that greets this fact adds to my deep shame and low self esteem during my nursery visits, compounding the issue and reinforcing limpness as the norm.

Nanny sometimes expresses regret that I am circumcised as she would quite like to nip a clothes peg onto the foreskin to stop piddles during No.2 potty training. She sometimes draws a comedy sad face on my mushroom head with an indelible sharpie just for the added comedy value of making my thing look like a sad, crying worm. Although this is not physical discipline it is painfully embarrassing, especially when I’m forced to display it to the derisive laughter of female visitors. Almost always I am flaccid during these humiliations.

Nanny has a friend called Rita who is over 60, quite large in frame and very busty. I am made to suckle at her heavy pendulous breasts as Nanny knows it terrifies me, but even so Ms Rita insists I remain flaccid inside my nappy. This would be almost certain anyway but to ensure it, part of the routine is for Nanny to empty a whole ice cube tray down the front of my nappy prior to my breast ‘feed’. A couple of ice cubes would melt quite quickly but 14 ice cubes barely melt at all over ten minutes or more and my wee-wee shrivels to the size of an acorn and my scrotum clenches up as small as a walnut. I’m usually crying within a few minutes and Nanny will check and confirm to Ms Rita that I’ve achieved baby dick proportions before Ms Rita heaves out one of her big white bosoms and drops it onto my face. I have to keep suckling as best I can through my tears.

Nanny will occasionally smack my thighs to start me crying again should I start to contain my sobs. It is very degrading indeed to be over Ms Ritas lap, face swamped by her heavy breast, mouth plugged by one of her big nipples, whilst Nanny watches and reprimands me for my dirty behaviour. Ms Rita insists I make loud sucking noises at her nipple as both she and Nanny find it very funny, so I am forced to make a babyish fool of myself for their delight. My nappy is cold and damp. As the cubes shift and melt, icy rivulets run down into my bum split making my anus tighten in shock. Afterwards, Ms Rita attends my nappy change to make fun of my blue/grey stump.

Nanny now likes to point out the immense difference between Ms Rita’s womanly endowments and my weedy little frozen ‘toddler dick’. Nanny sometimes uses English Mustard as nappy cream – a rubber gloved finger pushing it up my bottom and a dollop on my penis head. Less painful I’m sure than Deep Heat but more than enough for this wimp. Nanny has not yet used nettles, but she uses crushed seeds from her garden as an itching powder which she is happy to sprinkle liberally down the front of my nappy. She gets a big laugh out of seeing my hips jumping about in my cot like I’ve got ants in my pants.

 

Thank you, Mistress Scarlet, for allowing me to share my life as a little boy with you. I think you did tell me to share any new regiments Mommy had for me to follow. I was not sure if you were just doing the polite thing or if that is what you wanted. I hope after telling you my new regiment that you don’t think you would have been better off not hearing it or visualizing it because it is not for the squeamish.

Sometime back when the weather started to get cooler Mommy called me into her home office to have a talk. She said that while she had hoped this would work itself out over time that she now does not have patience anymore and it is time for her to intervene. Of courses, I had no idea what this was about, but I was getting scared. She then told me to go to her sofa and wait for her. I was sitting on the floor in front of her sofa as she came into the room with an electric heating pad and a small bottle of cream.

Mommy asked me to stand up and spread my baby blanket over the sofa and lay down. I was getting nervous again because as you know little boys have no place on the sofa unless nursing or from to time to time yum- yum time. Mommy normally likes to sit or stand for a yum-yum time, but sometimes will layout for me to yum-yum. She then placed the heating pad over my balls and said she will keep track of the time and be back. Mommy told me the pad will get hot but do not let it burn me.

Mommy came back checked my genitals and said good boy nice and hot. She then removed the heating pad and spread my legs more and grabbed the loose skin of my scrotum underneath my testicles and began to pull and stretch my scrotum skin but not my testicles, very, very far out. It did not hurt that much just some burning and tingling. She told me that my scrotum was too tight and while that is something a grown man would want it is not what little boys have. She said a little boy like me needs to have soft and supple scrotum with lots of loose skin so my balls can drop over time.

Mommy said every boy needs to have the frustration of dropping balls and she would not mind one bit if mine touched the floor. ( a very scary thought ) After Mommy was finished stretching and pulling she told me to stand up and put the cream on my balls and not to get it on anything in the house. Mommy said we will need to adjust our schedule because this will become a daily thing we do for now on.

I must admit to you Mistress Scarlet that in my mind at the very first this new regiment would not have much of an effect and I did not think it would have much or any visual effect. I was so WRONG! And it happened fairly quickly too. I remember the first day I noticed a big change. We had a hotter than normal winter afternoon and I started to feel a growing sensation around my scrotum area. It is very hard to describe this sensation other than saying it is a pure horniness that keeps building up with every step or movement. It is not an erotic horniness or a lustful one either. It does not trigger any kind of sexual thoughts or wants; it is just this building up of feelings of madness that I am horny, and it is getting worse with any kind of movement I make.

An erection would be welcome at this point just to get my mind off this new sensation I was having but that was not going to happen. I could not think straight or focus on anything so doing my chores was very difficult. I thought to take look to see if I could see anything that might be happening. What I saw was frightening, a big sack that looked almost empty because of all the loose and baggy skin. My bag was just hanging there, and I could clearly see the areas that the skin had been pulled and stretched the most, like little wrinkles of added weight.

My first thought was, I was the elephant man down there. While my description above was the first time I experienced these new feelings, it is not as maddening now all the time. I do almost always feel heavy and wiggle down there and with a very soft scrotum, any touch is amplified a lot. Mommy said she is happy not to have a little boy that looks like he is ready to burst out his yucky cum. She also said something about regressing well, but I do not know what that means. I am very worried about what the summer might bring.