Tag Archives: SPH

A BAV register?

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

 

Archive of real life letters

I have often written about how 15 to 20 years ago there were two sources of real life femdom material that shaped my dominance and lifestyle. The letters from lifestyle wives and girlfriends in the wonderful Madame magazines and also in the early years of the Petticoated.com website.

I have included on this website some material from the Madame magazines . (See the drop-down menu from the above Dommes’ letters  above menu tab.) And some photos in another post.

Well I have now come across a website giving access to the letters from lifestyle wives and girlfriends from the early years of the Petticoated.com website. It is a slightly confusing home page. If interested in FORCED male maids, sissy maids, diapering, parody of a baby role, parody of a little girl role, or parody of schoolgirl role, then I  suggest you click on an edition in the left hand column and then click on each individual letter in turn.

Some of the letters are gems of strict, pitiless wives and girlfriends using all their ingenuity and imagination to maximise the profound humiliation ans submission of wayward males.

I provide examples below, but there are far better than some of these that I came across during a cursory glance through. I confess though that the letter headed, Perfectly Proper Sissy Behaviour, was a hugely influential foundation for one of the themes of my treatment of my little puppet.

(I have mentioned specifically, the early years of the Petticoated.com website, because a few years ago it shifted from mainly letters from dominant women forcing males against their will into humiliating outfits, to  letters from and about transvestites and other males who thoroughly enjoy dressing up in women’s, little girl and or sissy attire. I have nothing against them at all but I am not interested in them or their lifestyles.)

 

Letter 3 PERFECTLY PROPER SISSY BEHAVIOR

Dear Editor,
 

As a firm believer in dress discipline for males, I do not simply dress my husband in sissy clothes.  I also insist that he behave in a manner befitting his very juvenile status in our household.   When properly petticoated (or in one of his equally charming sissy pants outfits), he is required to speak in a soft, childish tone, and to use a vocabulary appropriate for a five-year-old.  He must walk like a
proper sissy, mincing on tiptoes and keeping elbows pinned to his sides and wrists turned out.  He must sit and stand daintily, with knees together and skirt kept modestly lowered.  He must curtsey before entering or leaving an occupied room. He must ask permission to do most things, such as leaving the dinner table or “going potty.”  He must keep his pretty clothes clean and mended, his appearance modest and neat.  And he now answers to his sissy name, ‘Peterkins Winceyette’.
 
These and many other rules of ‘prissy perfect’ behavior enforce his petticoat discipline as effectively as his pretty clothes.  He has become used to wearing girlish outfits, but he still blushes with shame at having to act like a proper sissy, particularly in front of others.  Of course, I make sure he has plenty of opportunity to do just that.
 
The other day Peterkins was washing up in the kitchen after lunch.  He wore one of his typical sissy outfits.  A pink ruffled pinafore went over a crisply starched, back-buttoning white blouse with a broad Peter Pan collar.  A precious little pink bow marked the front center of the collar.  High-waisted, flyless velveteen burgundy shorts buttoned onto the blouse and showed a hint of the heavily frilled pink bloomers he wore underneath.  A binkie hung on a prettily embroidered leash that buttoned on to his pinafore above the left breast.  A lace-edged pink bonnet framed his lightly made-up face and tied in a big bow under the chin.  Frilly white anklets and black Mary Jane shoes completed the pretty picture.
 
As he finished his cleanup chores, Peterkins was no doubt looking forward to his afternoon nap.  That is the time when I am at my most gently maternal with him.  I undress him down to his frilly undies, put him into his soft flannel nightie with the drawstring hem to enclose his feet, and tuck him into his adult-sized crib. But on this afternoon there was to be no nap and cuddle time, for just as the last of the dishes were being put away, the doorbell rang.
 
Peterkins has been taught to suck his thumb whenever he feels anxious, and the ringing doorbell made him very anxious indeed.  His thumb leaped into his mouth, and he began sucking vigorously. (He is permitted to use his binkie only when directed to do so.)  He looked at me fearfully, hoping against hope that I would not make him answer the door.  One sharp glance from me dashed any chance of that. He knows from bitter experience that in his sissy clothes he simply cannot resist my wishes.  If I want to display him to a stranger at the door, then I will do so. He knows, too, that any attempt at resistance will only make matters worse for him.  Seeing my determined gaze, he realized there was no escape from his predicament. His eyes lowered, and his face registered sad resignation.
 
Terrified at having to answer the door, yet even more terrified not to, he was actually whimpering as he minced to the front hall.  He reached the door just as the doorbell rang a second time.  He opened it timidly, and in strode my sister Jean (whom I was expecting but he was not).  Jean has often seen Peterkins in his sissy clothes but never fails to find new ways to embarrass him.  He is dreadfully afraid of her – dreadfully for him, quite delightfully for Jean and me.
 
Removing his thumb from his mouth, Peterkins managed a timorous curtsey for Jean.
‘How very nice to see you again, Auntie Jean’. he said softly.
She smiled broadly, relishing the sight of this fully grown male dressed so babyishly and so obviously intimidated by her.   She approached the shrinking sissy, untied his bonnet, and retied it tightly under his chin.  His head moved under her firm touch.   She fussed with the little bow on his blouse.  She straightened the frilled, cross-over straps of his pinafore and fluffed out his collar.  Satisfied with her efforts, she stepped back to view him again.
‘Oh Peterkins Winceyette’, she teased, ‘you look so very masculine today, with your cute little shorts.  They are very sweet indeed, but I’m afraid they’re not really very adult, are they, dear?’
Moving behind him, she encircled his waist with her arms and toyed with the big buttons holding the shorts and blouse together.  ‘Only very little boys wear button-ons like these, Peterkins — little boys and big prissy sissies.  Which one are you, my dear?  Hmmm?’
Peterkins looked as if he might swoon, and never did manage to answer her questions.

No matter.  She got his full attention by clapping her hands sharply and announcing, ‘Teapot!’  Peterkins knew only too well what that meant.  I have trained him to perform several children’s songs, as I believe they are another excellent way to instil in him the proper attitude and demeanor.  At the top of the list is ‘I’m a Little Teapot’, complete with the appropriate hand gestures. Jean likes it so much that she insists on him performing it whenever she visits. He doesn’t like doing it, but of course, that makes his efforts only more entertaining.  He knows he must perform with a pretty smile and a proper little girl’s enthusiasm, and this particularly embarrasses him.  He is several years older than Jean, and there was a time when she considered him attractive.  Now she can look at him only with amusement tinged with disdain, particularly when he becomes our charmingly reluctant ‘teapot’.  It must be a cutting reminder to him of how far he has fallen in her eyes.  I love watching him perform, his shyly lowered eyes unable to meet Jean’s commanding gaze.
 
Jean was not quite satisfied with his ‘Teapot’ rendition this time, so she stood him face to the wall in a corner and instructed him to keep practicing.  She and I sat down to tea in the living room as his gentle childish patter serenaded us from the hall.  She occasionally called out from the couch to correct him, a reminder that she was still keeping an eye on him.  He made a fetching sight, chirping away in the corner and adding the obligatory curtsey after each rendition.  His plump bottom, perfectly moulded by the sweet little velvet shorts, bobbed enticingly up and down with each curtsey.
 
When Jean was almost satisfied that he had achieved the proper little girly tone and gestures, the doorbell rang again.  Of course Peterkins was now reduced to jelly again.  Not knowing what to do, he put his thumb back in his mouth, and  Jean and I couldn’t help laughing aloud at the silliness of it.  His can be so sweet when he’s helpless.
 
Jean left him in the corner and answered the door herself.  This time it was Grace, the 18-year-old young woman who used to babysit for Jean’s little girl.  Grace had not met Peterkins, but Jean and I had told her about him.  As she expressed continuing curiosity about him, we invited her around to see him when Jean would next be visiting – on this afternoon.
 
Grace took one look at Peterkins in the corner, paused in disbelief, and started to laugh.  She tried to restrain herself, covering her mouth with her hand, but that only made her laugh harder.  She could only point at him and continue laughing helplessly.
Poor Peterkins didn’t know what to do.  He remained in the corner, furiously sucking his thumb and casting furtive sideways glances at Grace.  He couldn’t bear to look at her yet couldn’t seem not to.  He might have stood there all day if Jean hadn’t taken him by the hand and introduced him.
 
‘Grace’, said Jean, ‘I’d like you to meet Peterkins Winceyette’.
The absurd name prompted another titter from Grace, as did a shy curtsey from Peterkins.  ‘How do you do, Peterkins Winceyette’, Grace smiled.  ‘What a perfectly lovely name!’
It was all dreadfully and delightfully unfair.  The poor sissy was trying so hard to be good but was finding only more embarrassment for his trouble.   As Grace looked at him delightedly, Peterkins hung his head in defeat and began to cry.
 
Now it was my turn to comfort him.  Following our usual routine for times like these, I put him next to me on the couch and cradled his head against my chest.  I popped the pacifier in his mouth and made him nurse quietly as I soothed him with sympathy and baby talk.
‘Oo, poor ickle Peterkins.  Mommy knows ‘ow tewwibly fwightening it is when big stwange ladies see just how ickle and pwecious oo are. . . .’
 
Peterkins does like to be babied but becomes ashamed when I do it in front of others and he is exposed as the complete baby he is.  Closing his eyes, he managed to escape his shame momentarily, and melted into my arms as I cuddled him.  Slowly his sobs subsided. Then he opened his eyes to discover Grace bending forward and looking directly at him only inches away from his face.
‘Boo!’ she said playfully and pressed her index finger against the tip of his nose. Grace could not have been more gentle, but her overture made the big baby dissolve into tears again. Jean and I roared with laughter.
 
‘Well, he may not be the ideal little girly-boy yet’, observed Jean, ‘but he does seem to be the perfect cry baby’.  Turning to Peterkins, she nudged him and teased,
‘Ickle Peterkins has lost all his cuwwidge, hasn’t he?  I wonder where it could be?’
 
This prompted a new game, in which Jean led the poor sissy around the room and made him look high and low for his lost ‘cuwwidge’.  It didn’t seem to be on the mantelpiece, or under the couch, or in the magazine rack.  Peterkins was required to inspect each area and to tell ‘Auntie Jean’ that no, his ‘cuwwidge’ wasn’t there and he didn’t know where it might be.  Jean pretended to be stumped, but a mischievous sparkle in her eye told a different story.  Announcing that Peterkins must have thrown his ‘cuwwidge’ away, she brought a trash basket from the den, placed it on the living room floor, and told Peterkins he had better look in there.   Peterkins glanced nervously into the basket and said no, his ‘cuwwidge’ wasn’t there either.  Jean wasn’t satisfied.  She made him get down on hands and knees to look.  When he still couldn’t see anything, she pushed his bonneted head deep down into the wide mouth of the basket.  This prompted a fresh outbreak of tears from Peterkins, particularly when Jean wouldn’t let him up.  What a prettily submissive sight he made!  Fully debased and obedient, he kept his head in the basket where it belonged.  When Jean finally allowed him to raise his head, she had a camera ready to record his woeful, tear-stained face as it emerged from the basket.  When we saw that defeated, helpless expression, Grace and I couldn’t help laughing.  I congratulated Jean on how thoroughly she had conquered my sissy.
 
A gentler soul, Grace took pity on Peterkins.  She knelt beside him, cradled his head in her arms, and kissed his tears away.  She obviously didn’t need any help from me in comforting him, so I left her in charge.  As we sat down to tea, she decided to make Peterkins her little ‘sissy puppy’.   She placed him on his knees beside her at the table and made him gaze at her with his ‘paws’ held at his chest and his mouth vigorously working his  binkie.  Every so often, she would reach down, pull the binkie from his mouth, and allow him to nibble a crumb or two from her fingers.  Responding to her gentleness, Peterkins made a charming, docile pet and even formed a shy liking for his new mistress.  All agreed that we found a new babysitter for Peterkins that afternoon.
 
The visit ended as Jean insisted on one more round of ‘Teapot’.  Peterkins managed to get through it this time without blubbering, smiling timidly in response to our grins.  He finally seemed to realize that a sissy can find satisfaction in pleasing the women in charge of him.   Before leaving, Jean placed a well-placed pinch on his inner thigh, making him squeal one more time.  For her part, Grace planted a very wet kiss on the lips of the startled sissy, then stuffed the binkie back into his mouth before he knew what had happened.  With a giggle and a wave, she, too, was gone.
 
When put to bed that night, Peterkins did have to be spanked.  That was because his little male symbol became entirely too excited when Peterkins was required to tell me how he felt about his babysitter-to-be.  Of course, this kind of punishment is all part of his petticoat training as well.  Perhaps I can devote a future letter to a description of my methods for keeping his little wee-wee under control.
 
Suffice to say, for the moment, that I do insist on perfectly proper sissy behavior.
Yours very truly,

Ms. Q.

 

Letter 2SISSY DISCIPLINE FOR CONCEITED MALES(from ‘Rubber Life’ 1970s)Dear Ms.Behr & LindaLatex,

I could not believe my eyes! At last, here in Canada, a publication dealing with what is, without doubt, the most effective method possible to control insignificant males who think they are really God’s gift to society. Diapers, didies, napkins, or, using the most effeminately babyish possible term, nappies.

These, combined usually with rubber panties, are accessories which, when worn by a man of conceited demeanour, cannot help but render him a helpless, quiet, shy, cowering, blubbering reduced shadow of his former appraisal of himself.

My reason for writing is to set out a few things which I consider to be basic to baby discipline, and perhaps a criticism or two as I ramble on…

1) Any boy or man under petticoat or diaper discipline must feel very little boyish, sissyish, and helplessly so.

2) He should always be shaven from neck to toe. Especially cleanly about his pubes.
 
3) He should not been able to masquerade as a woman or girl. His hair should be short (boyish as of old). If in dresses he should have no wig. In truth, he is better dealt with in sissy clothes than in dresses.

4) He should never have access to his own privates.  Thus, all clothing covering his trunk must button down the back. Rather than buttons, unless very small, hooks and eyes or small domes are the most difficult for him to handle, and still very easy for his mummy, nurse, or governess.

5) Baby doll pajamas are worn by girls and women nowadays. They are not for big boys, or men, in diapers and rubber panties. Such males should wear baby style nightdresses without openings for their hands, or else one-piece sleepers buttoning down the back with a drop seat and, of course, feet and hands covered. The baby nightdress should be longer than the man or boy, and should have a tape in the hem so that it may be closed at the bottom so that he cannot walk, and creeping or crawling would be very difficult. The big baby’s nightie should be so fastened, and sleepers should have a blind front, thus denying the male access to that part of his anatomy he must never, ever, touch for any reason.

6) Many of his outer garments should be locked about his neck and/or waist using a light chain and padlock.

7) Little boy rompers, sailor suits, side-fastening satin shorts with wide leg openings buttoning to one of two rows of large buttons sewn to a blouse, are excellent sissy wear. Fastened to the upper row of buttons, these shorts leave room for only his rubber panties, and cradle and pull up between his bottom cheeks. Without rubber panties or a rubber concealing device, his privates would be in danger of showing at the leg openings. Fastened to the lower row of buttons, his little satin shorts would allow room for good bulky diapers, but those, along with his shiny rubber panties, would protrude well below the leg openings of his little shorts. If the punished one has a Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit, even the jacket should be permanently buttoned or tacked in front, and would in fact fasten by a row of hooks and eyes down his back.

8) He must not be permitted use of the toilet. He might be permitted use of a potty – once a day, but not more often. Lots of bottle fed milk and water, fed with a rubber-nippled nursing bottle, will assure wet nappies. On special public shame days, he may be deprived of his rubber panties so that his wet state will be clearly displayed.

9) His baby harness should be fitted so that his wrists may be fastened there too, so that his hands cannot get into mischief. A night harness is a good idea too.

These have been just a few thoughts which might be useful. All men and boys should be kept the babies they are.

Yours truly,

Linda

 

 

My 16th journal –  LINK

One month caged 24/7

The lock-down is an opportunity for some experiments. One experiment has had me take advantage of the fact I am no longer leaving the house for lunches with friends, yoga, clothes-and-shoes shopping, etc.  An experiment of consecutive long days of humiliation / tedium. I am working on the long journal entry on that three day experiment for a Journal I will publish in a few months. (No. 17).

Another experiment which is the point of this post. On the 1st May, it will be the one month anniversary of a second experiment. On that date it will be one month since bitch-boy last had a full erection. He has been double padlocked in his chastity cage since 3rd April. (He has not had an orgasm since 28 March. But the experiment is not about orgasms it is about erections.  (The gaps between the bars of the cage are wide enough for him to clean himself without its removal. And he can even do a pretty good job of shaving his crotch and balls.)

He normally gets to have an erection, even if there is no orgasm, every time we have a full-on domination day. I love to play-with-his-boy’s-bits on the sofa for at least an hour on a domination day. He is edged and rock hard the whole time.  I love to use the stinging nettles and use ruler smacking on his rock hard erection when indulging in dickie-discipline. But for the experiment I have, at great personal cost to me, foregone these pleasures! Yes, I have had to make terrible sacrifices! (As I commented in the previous post, there is something difficult to describe that is so arousing and erotic when tormenting the birth defect when it is remaining rock hard. He might be whimpering and pleading, but his defect remains hard and strains at inviting more torment.)

The effect on bitch-boy has been quite devastating it seems. I tease him at least once most days and his birth defect strains against the bars but is nowhere near fully hard. I have orgasms just about every day most often using his tongue. He actually feels I literally own that part of his body. I guess I do. It is attached to him but owned by me! And as its owner I have decided, on a whim, it does not get to be hard. I am sure he actually misses being edged for an hour or more and perhaps even misses being hard as part of dickie-discipline.

The inequity of my frequent, languorous orgasms and him never being out of the cage, even for a moment, is subjugating him in quite a profound way. I get the most wonderful feeling of power and especially ownership, every time I see him naked. It is arousing and deeply satisfying. I feel contented, depraved and pitiless, and absolutely powerful.

I will probably end the experiment not long after the one moth anniversary so I can indulge in the pleasures I have been missing out on, but if I do, that little birth defect may well find itself 24/7 caged for another month, or more.

 

My 16th journal –  LINK

 

 

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.

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.

 

 

The video premiere party

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

The Premiere

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Shaming Video Premiere

Last November I posted a link to a shaming video of husband-slave pussie made by his cuckolding Mistress-Wife, Carla. The wonderful Carla. LINK. LINK. LINK.
The post and video received very little in the way of comment which surprised me. When the video was sent to me, Carla felt pussie’s voice should be edited out so he could not be recognised. I had bitch-boy do the grunt work for this editing, leaving only the sound at the end of the video, of Carla’s delightful, mocking laughter.
Ever since though, petrified pussie has been teased over a second version of the video being posted with his voice not edited out. He has been fretting a long time and constantly tormented about it. Well it has been decided by his betters that the unedited video version should be posted. And it has been: HERE.
Carla has decided to have a movie premiere party and is inviting 10 guests to her home to watch pussie see the unedited version have its first public showing.
Below are two emails I received from Carla about the details of this.
I will plan to have the premier party next Friday evening, January 24th.
So let me tell you what I am planning. Today pussie is going to write out invitations to the party. The invitations will read something like this:
Please join me at my home this Friday at 7:30 pm for the premier of the world wide posting of  pussie’s hilariously humiliating cheer video. Following the cheer routine, pussie will be providing further entertainment for everyone! Cocktails and dinner will be served.
Very soon pussie will hand deliver the invitations to the guest list – ten friends and family. The sissy will be wearing the spiked chastity device, pink pom-pom pants and pink ski sweater which fits tightly over its stuffed 38DD bra ( you have pictures of both), pink mohair mittens and 3″ mary jane heels.  The guests all live within a 15-20 minute drive from my home but pussie will be made to walk and use public transportation so it will take the sissy 2-3 hours to deliver the invitations.
pussie will of course serve at the viewing. After the viewing (and I am guessing many cocktails wine etc) I am going to tell everyone that the poor sissy has not been allowed any relief since Thanksgiving. I am going to ask for a vote, by a show of hands, as to whether pussie’s video performance has earned the sissy the right to try for relief. If no, well too bad, but if yes I will have pussie pass out the following ballot questions, ( no I did not think of the ballot idea myself but read about a similar idea)
  1. May pussie play with its wee-wee as is or should the wee-wee and balls first be prepared for playing?
  2. If prepared first should the wee-weevand balls be?
    a. scrubbed with sand paper
    b. scrubbed with coarse burlap
    c. smacked with wooden ruler, and if smacked how many times
    d. any combination of a,b and/or c
  3. Whether or not prepared as in 2 above should the wee-wee and balls be lubricated before pussie plays with it?
    a. If lubricated should it be with baby oil
    b capsaicin creme
  4. If lubricated with either baby oil or capsaicin should 1,2  or 3 coats of lubrication be applied?
  5. What position should pussie be in while playing with its wee-wee?
    a. standing straight up legs spread open or not
    b. kneeling with legs spread open
    c. sitting cross legged like little girl
  6. How should pussie be allowed to stroke its wee-wee?
    a. with both hands
    b. with one hand only
    c with index finger of left hand only , other fingers taped back and other hand tied in back ( just to be clear using one finger is meant to resemble a young girl masturbating herself. As pussie is right handed, using the left index finger will make it more difficult for the sissy to apply pressure to the wee-wee so more frustration!)
  7. How much time should pussie be given to make sissy dribbles?
    a   one minute
    b   five minutes
    c   ten minutes
    d   no limit
  8. Should pussie be made to drip dribbles, if made , into
    a. its hand
    b. floor
    c. doggie bowl
  9. If pussie does make sissy dribbles, should it
    a. be allowed to wipe up dribbles with paper towel
    b. rub dribbles all over face, and if so how long before sissy may wipe dribbles off face
    1. immediately
    2. rest of evening
    3. 24 hours
    c. lick up dribbles on all fours like dog
  10. if pussie does not make sissy dribbles should it:
    a.allowed to resume serving with no further punishment
    b. punished by
    1. wee-wee smacking
    2. spanking, paddling etc
  11.  After all is done should wee-wee:
    a. be left alone
    b. rubbed with baby oil or soothing creme
    c. rubbed with capsaicin ( and if so how many additional coats?)
Each vote will be by a show of hands.
To be honest Scarlet I am more than a bit excited about this LOL!!!! I of course welcome your or anyone elses thoughts and suggestions.
pussie is already busy at work writing out the invitations. A bit time consuming as each word must be written using pink, red, violet and yellow inked pens alternatively! Oh and the sissy is wearing its thick white lopi wool mittens with no fingers or thumb. Any error and pussie must redo the entire invitation. It has taken an hour so far to do two of them. So amusing to see the sissy struggle!!
When we use hand votes for each item, it will also allow discussion if anyone has other suggestions. My guess is pussie will find this a most miserable experience.  But then again maybe my guests will take pity on the sissy:))
I will let you know how this all turns out.
Carla
Good Morning Scarlet,
Great! pussie has just left to deliver all of the invitations. Have to say the sissy looked positively ridiculous in the pom-pom pants outfit:). Having pussie swallow a Viagra pill before leaving insured that the cruel spikes in its chastity device will be digging into the sissy’s wee-wee for the next few hours. Poor thing will be both  humiliated and miserable delivering the invitations-but that is the way a sissy should always be!!

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

 

Managed Comments and dangling images

Managed Comments

A few people have posted comments to my alternative blog, Scarlet’s Guide for Women: Sex AND Relationship Nirvana with a submissive.

As you know the sole purpose of this blog, is to help women, who have never tried being dominant, to take  THE FIRST STEP. Therefore please note that I will not be approving any comment that I think might, for any slightest reason, contribute to dissuading such a woman from taking the first step.

I am however taking account of comments on my alternative blog but not approving them for public viewing. Of course, all comments are welcome on this blog, even comments about my alternative blog. They all get published on here!

 Dangling Images

My previous post on this blog was about images that really affect me where a squatting submissive has his caged birth defect hanging down unobscured for all to see, and how I do not know why I am SO AFFECTED by such images, ESPECIALLY when the Domme in the image is in everyday attire.

Some people found the link to the two images worked and others did not. I would firstly suggest trying the link on subsequent days as the BDSMLR site can sometimes have a fault lasting a whole day. I do not know how or where else to post such images as an alternative to BDSMLR. (I do not post ‘obscene’ images on this blog as I do not want to risk deletion of this blog for rule breaking.)

If anyone who has the link working can post the image elsewhere and send me the link, I can also publish that link.