On Sunday, while I ate my lunch (prepared by bitch-boy), I had him
clean the bathroom. I told him to make a very good job of it. I think he knew
what I meant by that.

So my lunch finished and time to inspect the cleaning. I found one
of my hairs on the bath panel. Having informed bitch-boy that meant a caning
for slovenliness, I lifted the toilet seat and told him it was his lunch time.
He sighed so deeply and looked so sad.

The next ten minutes were spent with me dropping a spoonful of
cherry yoghurt onto the white china rim of the toilet and him licking that off.
Again and again until the yoghurt pot was empty. This is something I do quite
often so I assume he had properly cleaned the rim of the toilet in expectation.
His choice. It is delightful to look down at him, while his head dips down to
lick away, and all the while I verbally abuse him.

Once his lunch was consumed, it was time for the caning.

I have met a new local domme friend, Mistress J, and we have each visited the others’ house to double up on the helpless male sub within. She is very, very tall, has the most beautiful face, dresses with perfect sophistication, has a truly haughty firm expectation of complete submission in the males, is delightfully creative and is very, very cruel.

bitch-boy suffered severe humiliations and punishments during her visit, including eating the food we had both chewed and spat out, being whipped by my new friend with the chain section of a doubled over dog leash and some severe humiliations including having to perform nursery rhymes with actions in the most sissy way imaginable.

We have already set dates to visit each others’ houses again and the prospects for a long-term relationship are looking very good. bitch-boy is so intimidated by this prospect, and so he should be! I am so very, very pleased with the whole thing!

Four hours of total sensory deprivation bondage for him again yesterday. I seem to be addicted to this style of torture of him!! It was Nurse Nasty style this time. Those many of you who have read my journals will know, in detail, what that means for poor bitch-boy. (Yes there were lots of applications of Deep Heat embrocation cream after the pores of the little object had been opened nicely with a, so hot flannel.)

One of the many treats I subjected bitch-boy to on one of my visits to him was when I used the syringe with a pencil sized nozzle to feed my nectar down into his funnel gag. Laying on his back, with no pillow, he struggles to swallow the ‘sweet’ tasting nectar. I found I enjoyed his frantic swallowing and his almost panic-state that he might choke, just as much as inflicting the taste and degradation I was subjecting him to. I portioned out the syringe squeezes to be generous enough so that he struggled and panicked each time I delivered a fresh jet of nectar. It was such a power rush, I just had to ‘attend’ to myself after a while. I still seem to be getting worse with what I find stimulating. Never mind.

This entry will be lacking in some detail because I have started preparing diary journal number 5 for publication and a fully detailed description of this special day’s events will appear within – where I can linger over details in a way which I think is inappropriate for shortish, sharpish blog posts. (I think journal number 5 will be almost entirely full of 2012 events, such has been my move to rather extreme ‘behaviours’ as a matter of weekly course in this wonderful year.)

The day started with him removing his pin lined restraint I had padlocked onto him Christmas Eve bedtime, and then he showered under my direction. Then into his pink maid’s outfit and back into his pin lined penis restraint. He begged not to because of the sore places on his little clitty, developed through the night, but I simply told him to find virgin skin for the pin points to rest against.

I then gave him a list of chores to do, prepping in the kitchen, while I had a leisurely bath that he first ran for me. I then dressed in a very sexy outfit and it was time to open the presents. He had spent a lot of money on me, particularly some very, very expensive underwear (which fitted me perfectly). I had also bought myself some very expensive underwear as one of his presents. His presents have been described in earlier posts. How he hated me putting his necklace on him and laughing at the words it displayed. (I LOVE COCK).

I also had twice as many presents as he did. Obviously, completely appropriate. All the things he had bought me were exactly what I wanted. I felt very, spoiled and worshipped. And very cruel and decadent considering all his presents were to give me pleasure at his shameful, painful expense. With all the presents opened, the room hung heavy with depraved atmosphere. I decided to give him a caning for insufficient gratitude for his presents. He really whined throughout because he said he was so sore from the previous day.

He then had to tidy-up and then iron the table cloth and one napkin for the main meal table setting, while I relaxed and more closely examined and enjoyed my huge array of presents. He then spent the next two hours setting the table for one and cooking the main meal while I relaxed making calls and flicking through a magazine.

Finally it was time for the meal. I had already started on the champagne and I allowed him a glass of tap water before he served. The starter was cooked fig and warm duck meat with blue cheese slivers, all on fine sliced baguette. He bought two plates of the starter into the dining room. I sat at the table and indicated he should sit at my feet on the polished floor boards. I told him he would not be using a plate. He looked so sad and begged a little. I told him it was what would give me the most pleasure for my Christmas meal so that was that! He did get to sit by my beautiful feet in a beautiful pair of shoes – an honour I think.

I took a mouthful of my starter – delicious! He is a fantastic cook! I then attended to his plate. I dropped some duck meat onto the floor. Then I dropped some cooked fig which made a little plop sound as it hit the boards. Then I spread some blue cheese onto a baguette slice. He was sobbing a little by now. I told him to look up so he could see me drop a mouthful of spit onto the baguette slice and then, I dropped it onto the floor and placed the sole of my shoe on top. Then I told him to listen as I pushed down and the baguette crunched.

Once he had licked the sole of my shoe clean he had to eat the rest from the floor without using his hands, while I looked down at the top of his head and enjoyed some more of the starter from my plate. And so we continued, in the same fashion each eating our own portions of the starter. Four baguette slices each in all. I was so taken with the imagery, I had bitch-boy take a photo of me squashing the food. During his initial whining he had begged me not to use the shoes to squash the food because they are the pair I had only recently worn to the Club Pedestal event (previous blog entry). I had walked all around a public fetish club, visited the toilets several times etc. I was unmoved by his aversion on the apparent grounds of hygiene. (Looking at the photo, I can see why I was approached by so many slaves that night, all begging to be allowed to worship my feet. Pretty feet – beautiful, sexy shoes!)

For the main course, I allowed him a plate on the floor, and a knife and fork. Again his cooking was perfection. I was too full for a pudding.

Meal finished, I retired to the sitting room to watch a DVD and sent him into the kitchen to tidy everything up. There was a great deal of tidying and washing-up to do but he did have his new pink rubber gloves adorned with yellow, rubber flowers (one of his presents) to brighten the chores! And so the day continued in the same vein with a good number of other torments and humiliations for him.

Last Christmas day had been somewhat of a subjugating ordeal for him, this one was much worse. By the mid evening I could tell he was utterly subjugated and conquered. The fact that it was Christmas day, normally a time for some relaxation and drinking and fun (even for him, up until last year) clearly intensified the effect of my cruelty and exploitation. But he knew for weeks before what was in store for him and he knew what presents he would be getting – yet look at what wonderful gifts he nonetheless bought for me. Keeping him in awe of my dominant sadism clearly fills his submissive soul with the need to keep me happy. What could be a better way to live ladies – if you don’t live so yet, think about living so. If your man is submissive, the world can be your oyster if you choose.

It was such a beautiful day yesterday. Sunbathing for me, outdoor chores for bitch-boy. He was naked but for leather collar and spike lined leather restraint strap, both padlocked on. I was naked but for six inch heeled platform mules. His task – perfectly weed all of our flower beds.

While I lay in the sun and watched him on hands and knees, I realised he would need clothing within an hour to avoid sunburn. Two minutes later, I threw his overalls on the lawn next to him and told him to watch. I squatted and pissed on the overalls and explained to him that he would be wearing them when I decided he had had enough sun. He had to come and use his tongue on me after that – I felt so wonderfully mean!

An hour and a half later and he had been wearing his damp overalls for half an hour. I was sitting in the shade, reading. I wandered over to him and told him to lay on his back. Again I squatted down and made him watch while I again pissed on the overalls he now wore. Chest down to legs. Pure delight!

At the end of the day, after he had been weeding for around 4 hours, I had him strip, used string to bind his wrists and he knelt while I sprayed him with cold water from the hose. What a sad little bitch-boy – I did laugh!

I doubt I will be using the toilet indoors anytime we are out in the garden this summer.

UPDATE: My journal 5 is finished. Just the cover photo to be taken this week and then I will publish.

I have added some further exchanges at the foot of the page, you get to by clicking on the ‘Advice‘ tab above.

A number of blog readers thought my use of special ice cubes in bitch-boy’s funnel gag was a nifty idea. Special because they are made either of my urine, or bitch-boy’s semen mixed with water. So he gets the drip-drip taste when in total sensory deprivation bondage for an hour or three with no further effort or visits on my part. Well I have evolved the principle and I don’t think I have mentioned this evolution.

The cubes seemed to last about twenty minutes. Not long enough. The solution was simple. I have a range of plastic food containers. Some are the size of a pack of playing cards. I now use these to form a special ice chunk. These large slabs of special ice fit snuggly into the funnel gag but do not block it and they last over an hour. Delightful!

While I sit downstairs relaxing and sipping a very pleasant glass of wine, I think of poor, poor bitch-boy upstairs, blindfolded, ear-plugged, funnel gagged, completely immobile head, neck, arms and legs and the constant drips of a special flavour.

Regarding the post below: – On each day of last weekend, his lunch was a yoghurt, spooned a bit of a time by me onto the white porcelain of the toilet rim. His hands were bound behind his back while he licked it up.

I did allow him to clean the toilet first but of course that did also mean cleaning a toilet every morning!

A small amusement I have made reference to in one of my journals, I thought was worthy of a mention in my blog.

The context is that if bitch-boy is dressed as a sissy maid, or little sissy girl, or schoolgirl, there is a default rule that he must curtsey to me whenever entering or leaving a room I occupy. However I sometimes utilise his curtseying to even further remind him of his inferior status.

I will set a pair of my shoes by the wall at the entrance to the room I am likely to be occupying for some time. bitch-boy is then reminded that, as a pair of my shoes has a higher status in the world than he does, then – as well as curtseying to me whenever entering or leaving the room, he must also curtsey to the pair of shoes by the wall, whenever entering or leaving the room. So, on entering the room, he has to turn to the side and curtsey to the shoes, then turn to me and curtsey. And on leaving the room he has to turn to me and curtsey and the turn to the side and curtsey to the shoes. He does find this very humiliating and I find it particularly amusing. Obviously if I have a female guest present, he finds it even more embarrassing!

You may recall from an earlier blog post that each week I set bitch-boy a target number of images he has to post on my tumbler site that week. Not one more, not one less. I check these images and if there are any he posts which I do not find arousing, he is punished. Given his cock is locked in its tight tube and his sexual releases are quite rare, he finds this weekly task rather frustrating! LOL. Well he brought to my attention a site this week that he thought more closely aligned to my particular turn-ons than any site he had ever come across before, (Obviously not CUM across!). He was right. The site is entitled Gynarchy / Gynarchie / Female Supremacy / Femdom.

It caused me to analyse why I liked it so much. The main reason is that the Dommes depicted on this Tumbler site are not naked, in fact rarely even in underwear. What this evokes is 24/7 real life domination. During most moments of domination under my roof, I am fully clothed, (albeit sometimes in provocative clothes and footwear) – because I don’t walk around all day naked or in just my underwear, but domination does go on all day.

The Dommes depicted on this Tumbler site are almost never in leather or PVC. This means there are very few images depicting dungeons of Dominatrix. I have said before that I fully applaud the profession of Dominatrix, but a Dominatrix tableau does not really evoke real domination. It evokes a male client who sets the limits and leaves when he wants to. (I know there are some Dominatrix who have a true domination relationship with a few of their clients – but this is rare.)

Another outcome of the Domme being dressed in the images is CFNM. I love Clothed Female Naked Male! I must stress I love to see a timid, embarrassed, naked male in front of one or more dressed, relaxed, mocking women. (I hate it when, under the banner of CNFM, one finds a depiction of a muscle bound, big cocked male loving being the centre of attention – showing off in front of a group of fawning, dressed women!!!!)

The men depicted in the images of this Tumbler site are almost always suitably helpless or used. Helplessly bound, or caged and/or being used as ashtrays or boot sole lickers, or lamp stands, or seats or working on chores or being led on a leash, etc. etc.

Bitch-boy’s find means that until he has exhausted the entire site archive, he has plenty of images to re-blog onto my Tumbler site in order to meet the targets I set him. That alone is his reward.

You may have come across the wonderful looking Humiliator Gag System . Does anyone know of a supplier in the UK? I so want to get one for bitch-boy. I really want to see him on hands and knees in bondage, sweeping the floor with the floor brush accessory. Sweeping it again and again and again!

Well, neither blog readers nor bitch-boy (on pain of punishment for failure) could find a UK stockist of the Humiliator Gag System. Extreme restraints in the UK sell the toilet brush attachment, but no other attachments and not the gag itself!

So I think I will be going to the source. The US makers, who do ship to the UK. (JT’s Stockroom in the US sell the items too but for twice the cost as the makers.) I love many of the attachments and I fear a good amount of bitch-boy’s hard earned cash will get spent when I place my order! The floor brush is a definite, the toilet roll holder too, and the toilet brush is, of course, a given.

The site has so many interesting things. The evil one-way blindfold looks superb! If it works as advertised, well what a joy for me and my cruel friends and what a horrific experience for bitch-boy that will be. Does anyone have experience of this one way blindfold?

I noticed, in answer to a question to bitch-boy on his Q&A section of this blog, that he answered as follows:

“I do not know the exact date of the last time I had sexual intercourse. Once I was in chastity, Mistress Scarlet began gradually reducing the frequency of me penetrating her, the times became longer and longer apart until one day it just never happened again. Because I know which house we lived in at the time, I do know it was at least 7 years ago.

My last wank without another person present was even longer ago, as soon as the first chastity device was introduced.”

bitch-boy’s answer got me thinking about the evolution that has taken place regarding his ejaculations. Regular readers will know that (unless he is undergoing a serious punishment period for a serious infraction), he gets to ejaculate between once every ten days to two weeks (sometimes three weeks). I make his ejaculations forceful and powerful for him. I do so because he then knows just how much pleasure I am withholding from him on a daily basis, just because it amuses me to do so – and its cruel and controlling. And I take great pleasure from being cruel and controlling.

Something I had not really thought about was the degrading attributes that now accompany each of his ejaculations. I am amazed how these attributes moved from an occasional special torment, to become the normal state of affairs – without me thinking about this evolution. Attributes as follows:

I think it is probably three years since he ejaculated free from a session of dickie-discipline first. Probably in the last two years there has been at least one application of Deep Heat embrocation cream as part of every dickie-discipline session. He has been in serious bondage during every single ejaculation for about two years. Even if we are away staying in a hotel on a long holiday, the Deep Heat and his wrists secured to his collar, have been in play. It must be two years since he ejaculated free of the taste of my piss or his semen in his mouth, thanks to the ice chunks and funnel gag. Even on holiday he will have been pissed on in a walk-in shower, and into his mouth, before moving to the bondage/ejaculation stage.

And it is unimaginable to me that , in the future, not even a single one of his ejaculation events will ever be any different, unless I have found ways to make them even more degrading or controlled. This evolution thing, over the years – is hard to keep tabs on. What starts as a special twist, ends up as an integral part without one realising it. Its interesting.

Following up on my blog post of yesterday, bitch-boy actually ended up being locked in his diapers and plastic pants, (and heavy rubber collar and baby reins) for over 13 hours. He was so sorry for himself. I laughed and laughed as he answered my interrogation questions about his day as we drove home from the station. (There was a slight whiff of ammonia in the car.)

After only around 4 hours the diapers became too inundated and his plastic pants began leaking. He tried wearing a second diaper over the top of the original diaper and plastic pants. LOL. He also had to put a large bin liner on the chair with towels over the top if he wanted to sit down (once all his chores were finished.) In addition, the buckles at the rear of the baby reins had made very deep indentations into his shoulder blades. Oh he did feel sorry for himself!

He has an extra pile of laundry to do this morning as a result of his ‘situation’ yesterday. He also has a serious caning to start the day with because, amazingly, he failed to do one of the chores on the list. (He had obviously got into such state with his tribulations.) I texted him often yesterday – I could not stop thinking about the awful time he was no doubt having while I was having such a pleasurable day. I did feel very, very powerful and very cruel. I like to feel those things.

Mistress Jane is visiting next weekend. Wonderful! I love her dearly. So mean and clever and attractive and fun. In our email exchanges this week, I had emailed her a list of things I do with poor bitch-boy from time to time which she has still yet to witness/take part in. Much to bitch-boy’s misery, one of the things Mistress Jane chose from the list for next weekend is bitch-boy having fresh urine squirted into his funnel gag when he is in TSD bondage on the BDSM bed. (I have some syringes with nozzles the thickness of drinking straws.)

I responded with a question which I felt truly demonstrated the cruelty and power wielded by us. ‘Whose urine should we use, yours or mine?‘ Mistress Jane responded at the top of her game as always, that it would only be fair (to us) if we used both her urine and mine. bitch-boy could not have looked more sad and anxious when I told him about her response.

Many of you will know the first published work on male submissiveness and female dominance and sadism was a novel entitled Venus in Furs, written by Sacher Masoch. And from it the word ‘masochism’ was born. There are many films entitled Venus in Furs. Most are rubbish. I have noticed one film which is called Venus in Furs – La Vénus à la fourrure (dated 1995). It looks, from the trailer, like it is a very good film. Copies on Amazon are however very expensive. Has any blog reader seen this version all the way through and would they recommend it. Particularly female readers of my blog. 

Those of you who read Volume 6 of my journals may recall that in the Autumn of 2013 I was very sad that I was about to be deprived of two of my favourite things until the next summer. Those things being using nettles on bitch-boy’s bottom and clitty, AND having him do hours of rotary clothes line duty. To make up for my loss I introduced Winter Default rules.

Well these rules applied all winter just gone and summer is now all but on us, but to bitch-boy’s dismay I have decided the default rules now apply all year round.

An edited excerpt from Journal 6 now follows explaining the rules.

‘So bitch-boy, all the default rules apply while you wear any item with a hem, including an apron. So that includes, your Victorian maid outfit, your sissy maid outfits, your prissy sissy outfits and your school girl outfit – and anything else with a hem that I have failed to remember.’

‘The first rule relates to what is now referred to as your little clitty bells. Before I have finished dressing you in any outfit with a hem, you must have two little bells tied by pieces of six inch pink ribbon, to the frenum piercing ring in your little clitty. I may remember most times but if I ever forget you must politely ask if you may wear your little clitty bells. That’s whenever you are dressed in anything with a hem, do you understand?’ He again looked like he might burst into tears as he whispered his acquiescence.

‘If I forget and you do not remind me, and I subsequently remember, it will be thirty with the cane. I may test you on this by pretending to forget. The next set of rules relate to deportment. Whenever you are wearing any item with a hem including an apron, you will walk by placing each foot directly at your centre line and your steps will be of no more than 15 inches. In addition whenever you walk with both hands free, they will be holding your hem at your sides and raising that hem upward and outward. And your little pinky fingers will be pointed outward. If you are walking with one hand free, that free hand will be holding your hem at your side and raising that hem upward and outward. And your little pinky finger will be pointed outward. When you are standing still in front of me receiving an instruction or for any other reason, you will be holding your hem at your sides and raising that hem upward and outward. And your little pinky fingers will be pointed outward. ‘ I paused and sipped my coffee. Again he was slowly shaking his head from side to side.

‘In addition, whenever you hand something to me or take something from me, you will use both hands and you will bend at the waist because I will not be reaching toward you. Now we come to curtseying. You will perform a full curtsey whenever you enter or leave a room occupied by a superior female.’ He was now clearly overwhelmed and thoroughly horrified. I was having delightful fun!

‘The final curtsey rule relates to my shoes and boots.’ bitch-boy’s face again acquired a quizzical mask.

‘Whenever you pass a pair of my shoes or boots which I am not wearing, you will perform a quick bob-curtsey to them. Because they are superior in status to you aren’t they. They are more important than you, aren’t they! So I guess it will be in your interest to put them all away whenever you get the chance.‘ I laughed loudly. He was close to a state of disorientation as the full horror and pervasiveness of all the new rules sunk in.

‘Be clear that all these rules will apply when we are alone and, when we have any superior female guests visiting. And remember each infringement will mean 30 with the cane and I won’t care if you end up with 300 strokes in an afternoon. Now repeat all of the deportment rules to me.‘

I thought this was interesting although the end is a shame.

FILM.

I am back from a holiday. Normal service will be resumed.

I received a comment to which I provided the answer below. I thought it was interesting enough to be a blog post.

bitch-boy hates sweet corn. I have force fed him that often. Obviously he gets force fed my piss on an at least weekly basis and my friends’ piss too from time to time. Undiluted liquid or Ice-Chunk. He also is force fed semen/water mix Ice-Chunks. Cigarette ash added to his food is a common thing for him, sometimes including the butts. Eating food from the floor and the soles of my shoes, or the soles of my friends’ shoes is a pretty regular occurrence. So he gets food mixed with piss, spit and my toenail clippings on a regular basis. Whenever possible I make sure he watches it being prepared. So his misery can begin before the first mouthful even passes his lips. And he is always bound, as a minimum, wrists behind back.

I have arranged with my Play-toy for her to stay over for the night on her next visit. At bedtime, she and I will make love in the ‘marital’ bed while a sissified bitch-boy stands in his mincing pose, in chastity restraint, and watches. My lover and I will then sleep in the marital bed while bitch-boy sleeps on the floor. If my lover and I use any toys he will have to lick them clean. He will get up early to tidy the house and then bring us coffee in bed, at the time we have decided we wish to be woken up. He will be in no doubt as to his cuckolded, bottom of the pile, status! Poor bitch-boy.