Tag Archives: petticoating

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.

Mommy Wife

Continuing with my series of posts of collections of comments from regular contributors, (as many of you understandably do not read the comments on posts as there is no threshold moment when all the comments on a post would have been received). I provide below comments about a truly delightful, innovative, female supremacist I describe as – Mommy Wife.

This is the first time I have used comments from a male about their Domme. The comments are from Eddie.


You are so right by saying to be carful for what we wish for. A few years into my marriage my wife would tease me about my smaller penis size. It is almost 5 inches hard on good days. While that is not good it is not world record bad either and I would tell her so. She told me that she planned on showing me just how small it was to her. I said sarcastically I wish you would. I hope you remember that remark she said. A few days later Mommy ..( that is what I have to call her now even in public, but not in front of family) had a very short baby shirt with poo bear on it. Also adult baby socks, she had a penis pacifier, all kinds of body hair removal things and some kind of machine I did not know what it was used for. ( I found later it was permanent laser hair removal device ) after seeing all this and being told what was going on, I said what, no diapers? She said no not a home I don’t want anything to hide your little soon to be hairless wee-wee. So yes, be careful what you wish for.

Thank you so much for your interest Mistress Scarlet. I am not sure you will be able to share my situation with many people because it will not be a PC kind of thing. Mommy is to the point and blunt and doesn’t play around with words. Mommy hates men she will even go as far to say that she hates all men. That said she doesn’t hate all male’s and will tolerate a selected few. Mommy told me she noticed that I had a lot of air in my head (her way of calling me dumb) and explore me a little more. Mommy doesn’t come out and say to anyone that she is a lesbian the most she will say is that she enjoys females in every way. Mommy suspected that I had a smaller than normal penis and if that was true she would have no choice but to treat me as a small boy. (These are not her exact words but I am trying not to be long winded here) I am now for all intensive reasons her little boy. I have no assigned age somewhere from just starting puberty to all the way back to a baby. She often tells me and some of her friends that I am her retarded baby. Most deem me as retarded for this or that reason. While that hurt me a lot at the start I now find that term as a sign of endearment because I might not every be capable of being a real man.

When going out I am dressed like a small boy could be Dressed. A Disneyland character t-shirt of my choice and I only have light weight pants that have no zippers and the pockets cut with plenty of croch room in them. Mostly sweat type pants or scurb pants that kind of thing. Boys with little hairless pee-pee’s don’t need underwear, but sock’s can be worn in nasty weather. Mommy has no other name than Mommy and in the house or out in public that is who she is and that I am treated very embarrassing so, just like a small boy.
One thing that is very noticeably about Mommy is her almost OCD behavior when it comes to how she feels about males. Mommy believes that all males should be kept with a hard on. Hurting, horny and frustrated with very few exception’s. I learned on my first days with Mommy, after my body hair removal is that all little boys fidget with their pee-pees and do not stop until they are told. To insure that I will be dining that Mommy found the right size penis ring for me to wear. It fits around my penis and goes all the way to the bottom. When I am completely falcid the ring can slip off. That is a very big no-no. It does not take a lot work to keep my penis slightly large enough to keep it on. One hand on my pee- pee and my other hand has my thumb in my mouth. Of course that is not a all day or night event, but I do spend a great deal of my free time that way. Sometimes Mommy will stop what she is doing and give me a hug and pat my bottom and that is the most special feeling ever. Mommy has spent a great deal of time training me what erections stand for her and me as well.

You must understand that it is MOST important to Mommy that know one would think sex between us has ever happened nor sex of any kind with anyone or any gender other than a hand has ever taken place. Boys cocks stay hard…Boys balls stay full! On many of my long duration erection brainwashing treatments I began to see and understand what she means that to someone like me with a small penis that erections feel normal and not having one is abnormal. Mommy has me doing one of the 4 different types of erection training daily if not all. 1st is the normal fidgeting at the top to keep erection started and going. 2nd is the brainwashing erection with very slowly and lightly movements of the middle finger and ring finger. Fast enough to stay erect but slow enough not to cum. These can go on for an hour or more and always feels like a very,very,very long time to me. 3rd is I bring my knees to my chest with feet’s up in the air a rub up and down with a flat palm and fingers. Mommy tells me lots of times that is how she did it when she was a little girl. 4th most scary, Mommy has me on her dinning room table tied and penis torture of different kinds, many times with vibrations from wands.

These are times I feel insanity will happen for sure. When no more chores are left and Mommy doesn’t want my help I spend allot of time locked in the room. She has two cameras with mic and speaker. One is like a baby monitor she can take with her and the other is tied into her home security system that is recording all the time movement is detected. She also has a phone app that she can use to see and hear everything know matter were she is. She puts two empty baby bottle’s in the room that I can make pee-pee in. I also spend a lot of time in the living room on my baby blanket in front of Mommy’s coach. I have my black female baby doll, my blocks, coloring books and my tablet to watch cartoons on. This time is also used for breasrfeeding or yum-yum time ( that can happen anytime all the time) spankings or erection brainwashing. Punishment spankings can happen any time too and they are painful and the way I am treated afterwards is just as painful. I feel many times my whole world is falling apart. Never want to make Mommy mad like that! Making (Ice cream) her word for me that means ejaculation or cum is always met with a punishment spanking. All males should be kept hard, horny and frustrated or in short for me, so I can better understand them because I am not so smart. Boys cocks stay hard and boys balls stay full. When I have work and it is always the graveyard shifts I spend more time in the locked room.

Mommy has me dress up as her little girl from time to time and one thing she told me is that she gets lonely for female company and that helps her with that. Unlike most males who are dressed in female entire unwantedly this is not for humiliation purposes. It is during these times I get to eat almost whatever I want and play videogames and Mommy is so very nice as almost a different person. My female clothing is not over the top really and I don’t have that many female clothing to speak of. Mommy normally likes the white sundress with a bow or ties in my hair. Mommy still doesn’t allow underwear I guess in this case I should say panties. I also have a pink long shirt with unicorns on it with puppy slippers. While things are ever changing I thought I would share some of the highlights here with you.

My wife who an have to call Mommy has not placed me into total chastity yet, but she has spoken about it now and then. She has me in intercourse chastity with a penis ring and a lock and ever changing sharp charms placed on it. No reasonable person would what that in them, not even a comdom will last very long before it rips apart. I am getting very scared that I will only be allowed hands for the rest of my life. She loves public humiliation for me with me having uncontrollable erection. I do not see this stopping it is one her favorite tortures. I feel a little better about my fate when I hear about born again virgins. I mean at least I am not alone with this fate.

I have been referred to as it, so embarrassing when it is done in front of waitress or friends. Also being called over to someone like they were calling for their dog. I finally got brave enough to ask mommy why she did that. She did not understand what I was talking about and she told me to try to make some since when I talked for now on. Something about that day and age that most woman were dominant to the children. Today kids are like best friends to the parent. Not judging because I am not smart enough for that, but it was much different in those days.

Maybe I am just kidding myself but in the Mommy Dom relationship I do not feel like a slave nor asked to act like one.. I fear punishment ever so deeply and yes at times Mommy scares me to death. I think that makes me more not wanting to sleep and hope to find away to be on her good side again. I can relate to everything being said here because after Mommy found me I have found a peace of mind that I thought was impossible to have. So yeah that makes me sleep better at night. I truly respect bitch boy level of submission and have learned allot from him. Mistress Scarlet has done a great thing for bitch boy. Not very many people left in the world who are as kind as she is in that she had to change her life and way of thinking to give bitch boy a peace of mind.

I feel so lucky NOT to be aloud to cum when I hear about other boi’s having to use a brush or having to eat boi cum they make. Mommy says little boi’s don’t make goowey messes. I do spend a great deal of time in a erection state so I guess some goow sneaks out unseen.


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



Miss Anne

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

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

Miss Anne

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second Interview with Jordan, Cortney’s servantboy

The first interview posted on this blog was very warmly received and greatly enjoyed by many. Cortney, (Fetlife username – MissCortney),  and Jordan have graciously provided more.

I will add one caveat. Jordan is obviously very lucky that, as he says below, he came out as a submissive to open minded family and friends. It isn’t always like that and I would be very, very cautious coming out to vanilla people. It can go very wrong indeed. I know this may sound wrong, but I suggest don’t come out to anyone you don’t need to, to live the life you want. Your choice of course.

Second Interview

What are some highlight moments from your day-to-day life as a submissive?

Being able to submit to you everyday. Having a partner that accepts me and loves me for who I am and being able to submit to you, as myself, on my knees serving and worshipping you. It feels content and more at home than ever before. Even through the rough parts I don’t like so much.
I really look forward to chances to cum because you control the frequency of my orgasms and I go days or more without them. It gets increasingly frustrating as the days go on but at that moment when you pull the keys out I get really excited in my chest. Obviously the feeling of the orgasm itself is amazing but I feel like that goes without saying.
Whenever I get your approval or praise anytime you’re happy with me or call me a good boy. That always excites when I’m pleasing you because I know that I’m doing my job and I feel useful in my place.

What are some ways my actions or words instantly send you into submission?

Anytime you call me ‘bitch’ or ‘servantboy’ or refer to me in any derogatory way or sexually tease me in anyway. Times when you randomly grab me by the hair, push me to the ground and tell me to kiss your feet. When you have terse commands, short and direct. There are times when you snap your fingers at me and tell me do something. Anytime you give me a command rather than asking for something really.

Do you think your submission has made you a better person outside of the relationship? Explain.

It’s made me more open to being myself out in public. It’s given me confidence in my day to day life to be more honest. This has become such an important thing and I care more about that and maintaining our relationship and not disrespecting you by trying to hide it from everyone – even though it’s scary and humiliating sometimes – I’m proud to wear your collar out in public now. I want to be that example for people. You don’t have to be afraid to be yourself out in the world and if people don’t like it they can look away or move on.

How do you handle pain as a sub? Any coping techniques?

There’s nothing I do, I just fucking take it. (laughing from both) Nothing I can think of. I’m completely lost in the moment. I’m not thinking of anything but the direct pain and if you have anything to say to me I’m listening whole heartedly through the pain. It basically gives me a single mind focus of you and what you’re doing and the pain I’m receiving, and there is no coping.

Do you feel submissive receiving pain?

Yes, I’m basically feeling like a piece of meat and feeling – I don’t know how to explain it – lost in this crazy fucking feeling. It is kind of like a high, but not exactly a relaxing high. It just puts me in this weird state of mind. I’m lost in the moment and I focus on each strike and the feeling. Thinking about it now, I’m scared of you but I’m revere you at the same time. It’s really hot to see your lack of empathy for me in those moments but it’s also scary. It becomes this trippy feeling in my head and mixing that with physical pain – I don’t know if that’s what subspace is?

How does ass licking and face-sitting/smothering make you feel? Has it always been a turn on?

It makes me feel really submissive! It was conflicting feelings at first. I’d seen it in porn when I was younger and was intrigued by it, but it also kind of grossed me out. I didn’t want to admit that I liked it because it was also humiliating – an ass is generally considered one of the dirtiest parts of a person. I found myself strangely intoxicated by the whole feeling. I find your scent’s intoxicating, my brain receives it in a positive way even though it’s not traditionally a pleasant smell. It puts me into a state that I think would be subspace. Presently, you’ve conditioned me so much over the years to be turned on by your smells and it’s humiliating to think that’s all I’m given to orgasm most of the time. Not always your ass, sometimes your feet, and used to be your armpits for awhile. Yet, it strangely gives me the contentment I need deep down.

What are your thoughts on subs that top from the bottom? And have you ever done this in the past?

Definitely did in the past somewhat. I wanted more of the pleasurable things and less of the servitude and work. I don’t know if it was topping from the bottom necessarily – I never told you what specific scenes to do – but I would try to push the bedroom stuff a lot more. I didn’t really want to do the chores and mundane tasks just to get what I wanted. I wanted all the pleasure without the pain or work.

It seems odd to me because if you’re really submissive then what you actually want is the person to take control. I think, sometimes, subs topping from the bottom are with people that aren’t really dominant or at least haven’t expressed or explored their dominance yet. And they are with a sub that has these fantasies and the way males get when we’re horny, we’re so single minded. At least from a males perspective, I can’t speak for a female submissive. As a submissive male, you get so horny and single-minded, and I imagine if you’re not with someone that’s expressing dominance much you might have a desire to guide it to a particular scene. But to me, I think it would leave you unsatisfied in the end if you had been the one topping and controlling the situation that happened, because then you’re not really even being dominated…

What advice would you give to a budding submissive?

If there’s something you seem interested in, try not to feel embarrassed or ashamed of it, because that’s something I know I felt from the start. Continuing to feel ashamed of something that you’re into, especially if you’re not hurting anyone, you’re basically making it into a bad thing yourself, by hiding it and harbouring all these negative feelings for it. The moment where I finally accepted my submission openly – not shouting it at the world but more, it’s here if you want to see it now – was so fucking freeing. For submissive men to be able to accept themselves and to just give in and go with it. It might open other doors to new pleasures you might not have otherwise. For lifestyle submissives specifically, be prepared to accept a reality that’s much different than the fantasy.

When you accepted your submission and told your friends and family about it, how were their responses and the entire experience of sharing your true self?

It was positive for me because it was a very underwhelming reaction from everyone. Everyone was just like, ‘okay’, and they were interested in it. I expected a much bigger reaction. It was definitely freeing to see people not judging me. That being said, I know there’s tons of people out there that do or would judge me for it, but I guess it doesn’t matter to me as much when it’s just random people. It’s the people in my life that I was more concerned with their thoughts/opinions.

What do you think has made our female led relationship as successful and strong as it has been?

Open communication is number one, for sure. Honesty. Consistency from both sides. That’s when I noticed a big difference in feeling subjugated everyday as opposed to in short bursts. You are literally always on me now. You’re always controlling. You enforce rules which I have to live by, or else. That in turn, keeping me in my place all the time, has allowed to me to grow as your sub, and serve you better and more whole heartedly.

In our relationship specifically, what are you most grateful for?

You, Mistress.

Present for a sissy?

Well I am not going to get into the debate about the appropriateness of this transgender doll. I guess it has been produced to further the acceptance in society of trans gender people which seems a good thing on the face of it. It has been spotted on sale in Siberia, Russia of all places, and has been reported in the UK tabloid press.

There have been transgender dolls produced in the USA before but I think this is the first with a little birth defect. Poor Ken and Action Man didn’t have a birth defect of any kind.      :-(

Of course, my take on it immediately focussed on how humiliating I think it would be for bitch-boy and other sissies to have the doll in his dolly collection.

I had already followed such an approach with the male doll I transformed into a sissy doll for bitch-boy; but it was absent a little birth defect, which I think gives this doll from Russia a huge edge in terms of humiliation. The nature of the mocking, comparative comments an imaginative Domme might make are mouth watering.

Of course it has apparently shaved genitalia, in fact shaved all over which is perfect for a sissy. I would also shorten its little dress so its useless birth defect was on show all the time. Giving it its own little chastity device would be very amusing too I think. Perhaps made of of some flexible wire. Alas, I don’t think the doll will ever be available outside of Russia, but who knows.


My 16th journal –  LINK


Brief Interview with Jordan, Cortney’s servantboy

Given the extremely positive and numerous comments in response to the post about Mistress Cortney and her servant boy, I publish this post in which are the contents of a brief interview with Cortney’s servant boy, Jordan. I am sure this post will be received in the same very positive way.

The only comment I will make is about Jordan not now knowing if he is a switch or not. It does seem to me that many submssives are capable of deriving some pleasure being dominant to another submissive.

Certainly my lesbian submissive, Play-toy, took CONSIDERABLE pleasure seriously abusing bitch-boy. And bitch-boy would find pleasure in ‘interfering’ with a female sub in profound and vulnerably exposed bondage. Not that he ever will get to do so! (I know this though because of once being contacted by an attractive female sub who fantasised about being put into profound and vulnerably exposed bondage and being ‘interfered’ with by a mixed gender couple, and I checked with him. But I decided against.) But given the choice of a life of only topping, or of only being submissive, both Play-toy and bitch-boy would not hesitate for a nano-second before picking a life of only being submissive!

I guess a short period of topping would be a novelty pleasure for them, but they know without being properly dominated, they would be miserably discontented.


Cortney asks the questions:

The Brief Interview

How does submission appeal to you and some thoughts on your day-to-day.

I’m often thinking of you and how I can serve you. Or sometimes to be honest I’m thinking I really wish I didn’t have to do this right now because every aspect of my life is controlled through you so there’s often times I’m doing things that I wouldn’t do if it was up to me. And not doing something I would want to do.. So it’s a constant thought of you, and it gives me this weird feeling – I can’t really explain it – just the contentment and it definitely makes me happier through the frustrating stuff. Sometimes it doesn’t necessarily make me happy in the moment – it isn’t obviously pleasurable – but then later on how it makes me feel is weirdly happy I guess. When you control me and dominate me it satisfies something inside of me that nothing else does, but I don’t know why and I don’t know exactly how to explain it.

What thoughts were you having around the time you were realizing you were submissive?

It was just more in the bedroom. I think I was just a switch – and I think I maybe am still a switch in certain ways – I don’t even know if I am a switch. Like honestly, I don’t know. I feel like you’ve just been beating the fucking dominantion out of me. I rarely ever fantasize about that stuff. I can’t even remember the last time I did. When I am fantasizing it’s just about you and it’s always me being submissive to you and wishing I could have you.

I don’t think I really wanted to be submissive so much (before the relationship) as I liked the porn aspect of it. Then, there was lots of stuff I’d seen, starting with ass stuff, I didn’t think I wanted an ass in my face because it was kind of gross. It’s like how your disgust factor goes down. This is really embarrassing. I feel like I was into it for the fantasy of it and then as soon as I would cum it would be like “oh, thats fucked”. I didn’t like the idea of being submissive because I was kind of always submissive socially and that often made me feel bad about myself.

Did you feel guilty or dirty from the first time I was sitting on your face?

Yeah, definitely. I loved it! But it also made me feel like, embarrassed and I wouldn’t want anyone to know. For me, I don’t like the taste of ass. It’s not like “mmm it tastes good” ya know? Everyone talks about “so tasty” and “delicious” and it’s not like that for me. I don’t know if it actually is delicious to other people. It’s not about the taste being good it’s like the – maybe I didn’t understand it back then – but it’s kind of like the degradingness of it.

What would you say to someone that questions or doesn’t understand D/s or a FLR? Like, if someone calls me a controlling bitch or thinks I’m manipulating you, how would you defend it?

I would tell them I’m really happy and this is something we’ve worked at together, it’s not a one-sided thing even though it may seem that way from the outside. I’m putting in effort, as well as her, to maintain this. I’ve relinquished my control to her, of my life, because that’s what satisfies me. And she’s giving me the gift of taking that control and giving me something that I need, that no one else can give me. Much the same way as any other relationship works. To each their own, if you don’t understand it, I guess.

How extreme is that Domme?

Something that has greatly amused me, particularly over the past couple of years has been receiving accounts of lifestyle regimes from other Dommes and at some point during my first read of their account, I think, ‘Wow, this is an extreme regime! Certainly compared to mine’. I keep reading and then come across words to the effect of, ‘Of, course my regime is nowhere near as extreme as yours, Scarlet!

Over the last couple of months this has happened a lot. It got me thinking, why do so many of us Dommes want to think, or happen to think, our regime is less extreme than others’? Guilt, embarrassment over levels of depravity and or selfishness? What could it be? Or is it simply natural perception. I will say here that not all Dommes display this trait. There are a few wonderful Dommes with extreme regimes that know they are extreme regimes and are very comfortable with that. Admirable and delicious indeed!

I have, I believe, concluded why ‘extreme’ gets measured in such an inconsistent way. For my own amusement I have concocted a scale. But it is not a simple totting up scale. It is a list of themes and, if on any theme, a Domme is far more extreme than me, then, I think subconsciously, I consider her more extreme than me overall, even if on another theme I am much more extreme than her. I think us Dommes get habitualised on themes in which  we are extreme. So we think our extreme things are average.

My list of themes are: (with my scores from 10, where 10 is the most extreme possible)

  • Percentage of time in vanilla mode as a couple. (5)
  • Percentage of chores carried out by the sub. (8)
  • Levels of pain during regular punishments and tortures. (7)
  • Levels of humiliation. (10)
  • Frequency of orgasms / denial of penetration for the sub. (5/10)
  • Time spent in tedium for the sub. (7)
  • Levels of cuckolding experience /  forced bisexuality. (6/0)

Here is how I am affected by the ‘everyone is more extreme than me’ trait.

I spend quite a bit of vanilla time with bitch-boy. If I read of a regime where there is no vanilla time, I immediately think, wow this regime is more extreme than mine! Regardless of the levels for the other themes.

bitch-boy carries out most chores but not always all. If I have him on a big chore and I would like some little ones done on the same day, I may well do them myself because I want chore time over so I can get into some serious BDSM! If I read a regime is 100% chores by the sub, I immediately think, wow this regime is more extreme than mine!

I always have bitch-boy taking more pain than he thinks he can cope with during punishment or torture. He begs with all his heart for it to stop but I keep going until I am satisfied. But he is not in shrieking agony. I read of a Domme whose regime includes, say, a very thick coating of Linnex to the entirety of freshly shaved cock and balls, so the sub is in shrieking agony for around 40 minutes, I immediately think, wow this regime is more extreme than mine!

I accept, or am proud that, the levels of humiliation to which I subject bitch-boy are extreme! Parody of a little girl outfit, playing with and talking to dollies, in front of an audience of mocking women he has never met before; if I can get that. But I am habitualised to that. I have done it for years, I don’t think it is that extreme. (bitch-boy is not habitualised to that at all!) But of course to a Domme who scores low on the humiliation theme, they think my whole regime is more extreme than theirs; even if they regularly invoke shrieking agony and I never do.

bitch-boy has a frequency of orgasms that ranges, during a normal say, six months, of roughly between ten days apart and three weeks apart. But he never, ever gets penetration. In fact, in addition, his releases are always under the sole of my shoe, or being very painfully wanked within the spikey bristles of a looped brush. Some Dommes who generate agony for the sub during tortures and never have vanilla time with their sub, (so I think EXTREME!), think I am extreme because their sub gets to penetrate them once a month while bitch-boy never, ever gets penetration. (Some Dommes never allow an orgasm at all of course!)

I accept I am pretty extreme when it comes to periods of tedium for bitch-boy. Hours colouring -in with dolly. Perhaps six hour daytime sessions in sensory deprivation bondage if I happen to have a female sub over I want to dominate uninterrupted for a long period. But then I read of a Domme who has her sub write school time lines for seven hours in a day and I think wow! Her regime is much more extreme than mine. I guess I am habitualised to the tedium I put bitch-by through and shocked by regimes of tedium by other Dommes I have not subjected bitch-boy to.

I do cuckold bitch-boy with female lovers, whenever I have a female lover. And I really rub his nose in my intimate sex I have with her, while he gets no intimate sex at all, EVER! But I do not have male lovers, because I don’t want that and so bitch-boy has never seen me penetrated by another male and certainly never been forced to suck another male as an act of fluffing. I read of a sub having to do that, I think, wow! That regime is so extreme compared to mine!

Then there is the complicating issue of applying more than one theme at once. So extreme chastity with cuckolding. Or extreme humiliation with tedium.


I hope I have not made this too complicated. I think I now understand the issue of Domme A thinking their regime is less extreme than Domme B, while Domme B thinks exactly the opposite.

I think being ‘extreme’ on any of the 7 themes I have selected, probably means a regime can be labelled extreme overall.  Ironically, while many of us Dommes seem to seek out why our regime is less extreme than the next Domme’s regime, it is a fact that at least 75% of submssives crave, at least in their fantasies, to be subjected to the most extreme regime possible. I think if, in one of the themes, we are ‘extreme’ we should be proud of that. That makes us attractive to subs and has our own sub in awe of us.

But my hat comes off to the Dommes that do not quibble. Those Dommes that proudly acknowledge their regime is extreme!

I do apologise if this post has been rather long and boring. The content was just a bit of a revelation to me.


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



Cortney’s story

Here is another generously provided account. This one from a fantastic young Domme by the name of Cortney. A real lifestyle girlfriend enforcing a pretty full-on regime that began when she was 20.
I have found it rare for women to come to be dominant young in life. The women I have come across, with a few of exceptions, have all come to dominance in their late 30s, or their 40s or 50s.
I hate stereotyping by any attribute; including age, but I do notice a delightful and impressive purity of approach in women who have come to dominance while young. An absolute feeling or sense that submissives are solely for using and abusing to make life easy and pleasurable for the Domme; AND that there is NO COMPROMISE to that; there can be almost no give and take, almost regardless of what the submissives may prefer or dislike. I know and understand why such an approach is the perfect fantasy for most submissives. There is zero ambiguity. The submissive has no influence over how they are dominated beyond pleading, or imploring, which may often be rejected. That zero ambiguity can be a huge 24/7/365 comfort for a submissive. Cortney is a superb Domme in this regard.
I adore her account and her attitude.
Our BDSM Beginnings

My name is Cortney – 27 years old – and I have been exploring bdsm and building a female-led relationship with my partner and submissive, Jordan – 26 years old – for the past seven years.

It wasn’t long into our vanilla relationship that we became intrigued by the kinky world of bdsm play. We started dating in January 2013 – my first REAL relationship at 20 years of age and first partner I trusted to explore some kinks that I’d heard about with. But, we didn’t start the relationship with me being dominant.

I believe it to be the pressures of tradition and societal upbringing that naturally caused us to presume the opposite roles then those we subconsciously desired. You know; the man in charge, sexually dominant and in control, the woman submitting on her knees and pleasuring the man as he wishes. *eye roll*

My mindset change began with realizing, first, what I didn’t like. He’d usually be on top, his weight alone pinning me down; he’d pull my hair and occasionally grip my throat; he’d put hand his over my mouth and call me his slut; he’d thrust his dick further in my mouth; he’d forcefully move me into new positions he desired. I felt used, a little degraded and it was distracting me from what I wanted and pulling me out of the mental high we all wish to achieve in sex .

At first, I didn’t speak up – years of oppression conditioned me to be silent. But our relationship was loving and trusting and that allowed me to blossom. I started to say ‘no’, to slap his hand away and resist his dominant acts. He was always fucking me till he orgasmed and I rarely did. I let him know of my dissatisfaction and he looked disappointed in himself, and his mindset started shifting his aim to pleasing me – bringing me to orgasm.

I can remember the first moment I felt in control of my pleasure. I had mounted him of my own volition, kissed him when I wanted to be kissed, gripped his hair and pulled his head back when it was enough. I held his wrists down and used his body, his manhood, for my pleasure alone. I let go of my thoughts, all reservations and inhibitions.  I listened to my impulses and acted on them. I felt strong and sexy and empowered, things I rarely felt. Jordan was really receptive, and by the end of it, looked a little lost in a miraculous way. A little in awe of me. From there we started incorporating more bondage, him relinquishing more control to me, and I would verbalize my dominance over him. We were freeing ourselves from the restraints of societal expectation, not knowing that it’d soon grow into a lifestyle that would, in fact, challenge society.

I used to find it really hard to reach orgasm in the beginning of our relationship, that’d we’d often both become exhausted and I’d give up. Gradually, orgasms began happening more, but still difficult to reach. Then all of a sudden, a few years into our relationship (coincidentally when our D/s element was picking up) I started having multiple intense orgasms – lasting minutes, squirting and leaking so much fluid, legs tensed and aching. It was phenomenal. I never attributed it to the power I was feeling but it now makes sense to me. 

After I began switching roles in the bedroom more often, he was falling further into submission and battling with self-acceptance and societal judgement of what was beginning to feel like his natural place. He liked being used for my pleasure and found himself wanting more intensity and less freedom. Despite seeing femdom on the rise in porn, it was still a filthy secret Jordan refused to admit to anyone he knew, besides myself.

I vividly remember the day that I believe sparked the explosion that is now our FLR. Him and I were walking the streets of Oshawa, Ontario, visiting one of the three sex shops that we liked there. We were filled with so much sexual adventure and still so uneducated on anything BDSM. What we knew was that he was an ass guy, and he wanted to try more ass play (giving), and I was super curious about having a tongue in my ass! I honestly don’t remember what we purchased that day – anal beads? Lube? Crotchless panties? I don’t know.. Anyway, we were on a mission – a journey – to get that hot moist tongue circling my asshole and send us both into ecstasy. There was a bit more hesitation (on my end) the first moment I was introducing him to my scent, though as I remember it, he was eager to get in there. ;] After that session, we discussed it and we needed an outlet. Somewhere to connect with people that share this interest and help us learn and grow and try out more. We found Fetlife and that has been our outlet ever since.

The ass licking turned to face-sitting, and then smothering while he’s restrained, and so forth.. I found myself planning more trips to Forbidden Pleasures and Naughty But Nice and finding new ways to control, tease and torture him. I became fascinated by chastity/orgasm control, light sadism, forced feminization, and exhibitionism. He accepted that he was turned on by being forced to do things he didn’t like.

Thinking back to our first years with BDSM, I find some of what we did laughable in comparison to where we are now with it. I can only imagine my mindset in another 5, 10 years. For example, when we were getting into chastity, I mostly only caged his dick when I would leave for work to ensure he receives no pleasure, no orgasms in my absence. But for the most part, if I was home, I didn’t think he required the cage. (Little did I know it is ABSOLUTELY necessary for his training and conditioning.) Eventually, I created a point-system for him to receive his freedom. Every day the cage would go on and he’d have a variety of tasks worth 1 – 3 points and he’d have to earn his release. I now find this method pathetic and unsatisfying because I was basically relinquishing control to my sub for him to decide when he wanted to complete tasks and he’d only be useful to me when he was ready for his cum, and then afterwards he’d become disobedient, bratty and inattentive.

Our entire FLR has progressed with the help of Fetlife linking us to fetishes we never knew about, groups and events geared towards varying fetishes, and all types of people to learn from. Fetlife is where we have been broadcasting insight into our FLR greatly; through photos, but I am considering a bdsm blog of my own to elaborate on our experiences and serve any purpose it provides. It’s been seven years since we delved into this kinky abyss and we have plenty of growth to come.



I’ve been wanting to write this piece for some time now. To enlighten and educate anyone interested in learning about the raw realities of our relationship. Every D/s relationship is different and I speak only for ours specifically. I hope this will provide a better understanding and also deter pathetic subs begging/harassing me for what they can’t handle.

I wouldn’t say that our relationship is not extreme BDSM at all. Yes it can be intense at times but I still consider it to be mild in the grand spectrum of BDSM and from what I’ve seen on Fetlife. Though for beginners, and anyone seeking BDSM play solely for sexual purposes, I don’t think MY lifestyle is necessarily for you. You will have to build up your femdom lifestyle in your own unique way. My sub endured years of training and conditioning to be compliant and content with where we are now. You can’t just watch some kinky porn, try bondage once and be able to step into the chastity device of my sub knowing how to serve. Yes, he is quite fortunate to have a full-time Domme, but I am also fortunate to have a sub so eager to serve, suffer and yield his life to me. He is attentive, patient, loyal, passionate, honest and diligent. I know not all of you first entering the realm of BDSM would be resilient enough to succeed as my sub. But with a compatible match, consistency and passion you can create a deep, trusting D/s dynamic that works for both of you.

Our female led relationship is a lifestyle choice, not just a kinky sex life. This entails many non-pleasurable and mundane responsibilities. We aren’t always horny / in play-mode. We are average people, living average lives. We have other hobbies and responsibilities. We have vulnerabilities and insecurities and passions. While we exercise our female-led relationship everyday, not every part of me is dominant and not every part of him is submissive. I can be passive, indecisive, or indifferent. I can be empathetic and soft. I can be lazy or tired or depressed or moody and have no motivation to express my dominance. But that’s okay, because everyone has bad days and my sub understands what I need at these times. The same with my sub, he has his bad days too. He can be lazy and stubborn and challenging. He can get emotional and sensitive and not in the mood to serve. But we keep trying, keep building each other up to be a better Domme and a better sub for one another.



Yes, he is always chastised (24-7) and I am in complete control of when and how he receives orgasms. There is no specific schedule or system, I like it to be at my impulse. I am not incredibly torturous and he is my handy sex toy, so usually, I will let him cum once or twice a week. These are the only times he is out of chastity, at which time he also gives the chastity device a thorough cleaning. BUT! He could be chastised for a week or more and it’s not always pleasant surrendering the freedom of your manhood and orgasms.

Included in the orgasm control is the fact that he can only receive pleasure through me. He is sexually denied other women, watching porn, jerking off to other women, nor can he flirt or entertain the idea of the receiving pleasure of any form from another women. He ONLY receives orgasm and sexual pleasure through worshipping/serving/pleasuring me. All I allow him is the freedom to browse Fetlife photos (while chastised) and he also quite enjoys reading the BDSM blog of MsScarlet. For my benefit, I get to hear about the stories he reads and often inspires me with new ideas for growth (and furthering suffering for him :P).



Servitude is the most consistent, everyday aspect of our FLR, and the most valuable requirement I’d expect from any sub that wishes to serve me. This is also the part that can be mundane and tiresome for a sub day in, day out. I command him to prepare the coffee maker every morning – despite him not drinking coffee himself. I have him cook me meals – he may be my table or foot stool while I eat and his food gets cold, he may eat at my feet, or I may be generous and allow him to eat with me on my level. He services me with massages – EVERY SINGLE DAY – and not just my feet or back. He often is required to massage my entire body while I relax and enjoy my shows.

He opens my doors. He carries my shopping items or pushes my cart when there’s too many to carry and then pays for my purchases. He takes me out for meals and pays the bill with no complaints. Everything we do together he serves me first. He packs my bongs and serves it to me on his knees. He chauffeurs me to do errands and anywhere I need to go. He refers to me as Miss in public, Mistress if no one vanilla is around. He’s required to clean up the apartment when it is needed. Even if he is given time to himself, he must be ready to serve at any moment I call him.

While the fantasy of servitude can be hot to some, the reality is that it requires a lot of discipline and dedication. We know that it takes consistency and we each have the responsibility to our role. Even if he is lazy, in the middle of a video game, desperate to cum and knowing he won’t be getting release; he must still get up and serve me that coffee, he must still kneel before me and massage my feet, he must still open my doors and cook my meals. And, if he denies, resists or takes too long to act, it is then my responsibility to set him in line, remind him of his place and assertively guide him in the right direction.

Along with the chastity, he also wears a collar at all times, except when working. The collar serves as, not only a constant reminder of his servitude but also, an act of humiliation when he goes out in public.



I have never actually considered myself a sadist. I don’t seek out sadistic porn, it does nothing for me. But for some reason I have grown to quite enjoy watching sub squirm and burst in sudden moans of pain as I lash him. My clit is starting to dance at the thought of him now, wriggling beneath me.

Sadism and degradation is exercised most in our sexual encounters and his punishments. For punishments it’s fairly self explanatory. If he misbehaves, he needs to be punished. Varying degrees depending on the extent of the infraction and this almost always entails some sort of sadistic session – cropping/flogging/shocking/etc – paired with bondage and verbal degradation, followed by a longer duration of chastity.

One of my biggest fantasies is kidnapped slave/mild rape play, in which sadism and degradation play a huge role. Our sex life isn’t always so physically pleasurable for sub as he’s choked, gagged, restrained, masked, objectified and used for my pleasure. I may crop or paddle or peg his sweet ass. I may call him degrading words and choke him of his. He becomes a pathetic, helpless bitch and by the end of it I have him loving every bit of it, wanting my cum all over him. I need this from a sub. I need to know I am not limited by narrow comfort levels and low pain tolerance. I need the depth of trust and acceptance in a sub that frees my dominance.



Humiliation is growing to be a more prominent part of our relationship, largely because I can see how it affects him – flicking his submissive switch instantly and I can see the fear in his eyes.

This could include..

  • Forced feminization – wearing panties, female maid outfit, frilly pink outfits. Not always in the privacy of our home. Could be in the backyard, on the balcony, or under his regular clothes when he’s out in public.
  • Cuck masturbation – having him chastised, licking my ass while I vibe my clit to porn, or denying him altogether as I get off.
  • Mental subjugation – relinquishing his life to me in its entirety (elaborated on in lifestyle control paragraph below)
  • Objectification – he’s often required to carry my shopping items or act as my furniture, remaining in awkward, uncomfortable positions for extended periods of time.



Sub also has to surrender his personal life to me. I may deny him his pleasure-foods and control how much he needs to exercise. I control how much alcohol he’s allowed to drink, if at all. XD. I control how much time he’s allowed to himself and how he’s allowed to spend that time.

I ultimately make all the decisions that matter to me. Don’t get me wrong, I will ask sub his opinion or to give me input, so I can make a more informed decision, and sometimes I am flat-out indifferent. But what matters, is that if I make a decision, my sub must accept it without complaining or arguing.

Our FLR is constantly evolving and intensifying. Over the years that we’ve been together we’ve had struggles – both in and out of the relationship – and the dominance/submission we provide one another has been healing to our souls and fulfilling in our lives.

Another Mistress Scarlet

I have come across another Mistress Scarlet. She is a pro dominatrix based in Glasgow, Scotland. Going by her video clips, she seems to be a superb dominatrix I have to say! (Caning a genuinely pleading client, and he’s in a chastity device. Delicious.) I am happy to share my name with her.

So to be clear though; she is not me. I live in the South of England and I am not a pro dominatrix.


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