What is your opinion on your submissive’s RIGHT to occasionally kiss your boobs? My husband is totally hot for my full, pink 36D melons, but since he became my slave,I gradually weaned him off of them.
Part of the problem is, I’m not as attracted to Joel as I used to be, he’s kind of chubby now, and having his hands groping me when he brushes by in the kitchen is not that pleasant. I don’t mind him going down on me, but I’ve outlawed intercourse, especially since meeting my young lover, Emilio.
Joel took the no more fucking pretty well, but he really misses kissing and slurping on my titties. At first I made my boobs a rare reward thing—you know, after Joel hand-washed the curtains and scrubbed the hardwood dining room floor with Murphy’s Oil Soap instead of joining his golfing buddies. I’d reward him by unbuttoning my blouse and letting him have a few glorious moments…it was messy, but I could tolerate it.
But now I am seeing Emilio, who is young, gorgeous and very jealous, and he doesn’t want Joel to touch my breasts at all! He is a bit insecure because Joel has a big job at Microsoft and poor Emilio is just a barista at Starbucks…
I have assured Emilio that Joel and I are mostly platonic now, but Emilio doesn’t want Joel to play with my boobs at all, and he also loves to tease Joel when we are making love…telling Bos “Gringo, these chabobs are mine.”
And quite frankly, sure, Joel wants the reward of kissing my boobs, but I think my husband should do the house chores for the sake of doing them, and to avoid me taking him over my knee, pulling his trousers down and giving him fifty with a frying pan!
Sometimes when he gets sulky about me not letting him touch my chest, I whip Joel with an extension cord, or the aluminum piping from my closet organizer, and still he begs, it’s getting a little annoying.
I already have Joel on a rewards system of sorts with the chastity belt—every six weeks or so, if his behavior has been good, and he’s written his punishment sentences (500 times a day in a composition book “I worship Mistress Bethany”)
And he’s kept up the housework, gotten his workplace bonuses and generally not been a shithead, I allow him to jerk off onto this exotic black plate I bought online, and then I have him lick up the white spooge, but perhaps a month and a half is too long to wait for a big reward. What do you think?
God, he goes ON about my tits, telling me that he would rather cum every 90 days and be able to play with them more often…
And Joel looks so sad when I walk around with my big breasts bouncing in a snug pink halter top, and maybe I tease him too much! But I don’t want him slobbering on my boobs, and neither does Emilio! What do you think?
B.V., Greenwich , Rhode Island
Dear B. V.,
I had this problem with my husband as well—he was all over my mammaries…and I did the rewards system too…prancing around with my bra on, teasing him with my husky voice and waving the cleavage in his face, to get him to do new and different things, like lick out the contents of my boyfriend’s ashtray, and that kind of thing—and I eventually decided my husband shouldn’t get to touch or kiss my boobies except on Christmas, if he gave me a decent present.
But once a week I allow the poor thing to jerk his wee-wee…edge it, without cumming for twenty minutes to an hour, while kneeling in front of me while I play with my breasts, slowly taking off my shirt and bra and then toying with my long pink nipples, and talking sexy to him…
I tease him of course “You’re not eligible to play with my honeys, you’re just a little faggot and these boobs are for real men’s tongues…you can just look at them and suffer…”
But he gets to see them a bit, and it takes about half an hour, while the children are at morning Mass on Sunday. The rest of the week, he is locked in his chastity tube, and my blouse is buttoned up tight!
It breaks my husband’s heart that he can’t touch my beautiful, shiny areolas, but on the other hand, he does have the little tit-show to look forward to on Sunday morning if he behaves himself, and watches the family while I go on dates with my boyfriend.
Hope this helps!
My new wife Miranda is just a gorgeous woman, and thanks to your old blog and some of the other femdom sites on the Internet, I am learning how to get her to dominate me. Mira is not fond of giving blowjobs or excessive amounts of sex, and when I told her she should just wear a bikini (she has a fabulous figure) and tie me naked to the bed, she was thrilled!
Mira especially liked the part about wearing sexy clothes while I walked around naked, since it seemed to get me so excited. When she tied me to the bed, I encouraged her to whip my butt with an old razor strop and to tease my penis while refusing to remove the hot bikini, and she thought that was great, though not all the time, of course.
Miranda likes having time to herself, and I told her she could have her own room if she liked—so I only get to see her in the nude on very special occasions. She has a key to her room, but can enter mine whenever she likes! It’s a marvelous experience, as I am continually humiliated.
At first Mira was nervous about the chastity belt idea, but she’d had a lot of problems with her first husband—not being too into sex, she’d pushed him away a lot, and he’d retreated into masturbation and then cheating on her, which meant he didn’t treat her too well….
But after a few weeks in the CB-6000, I was so horny, I’d do anything for my precious Mira! Cleaning, cooking, massages, it drove me crazy being so sexually denied.
When I get very,very horny, I strip naked except for the belt, and get on my knees in front of her. And I beg for a Bikini session. The other day I did it while Mira was in her short-shorts, and she had a girlfriend visiting who was wearing a miniskirt, and it was humiliating to have them laughing at me, and Mira actually denied my request, insisting I spend another week in the belt for embarrassing her.
But Miranda has twin grown daughters from her first marriage, who have just come back from five years of teaching English as a second language in Saudi Arabia . Like their mother, Sienna and Vienna are gorgeous, shapely ash blondes, and I think Vienna once did a modeling shoot for Frederick ‘s of Hollywood .
But Sienna is a bit of trouble. She is bewitchingly pretty, and wears these micro-miniskirts and tight Billabong tops. Recently Sienna found some of my porn, the BDSM stuff, and then when she got in an argument with me because I wouldn’t lend her the car, she ordered me to take my pants down and she whipped me with her hairbrush.
I can’t believe I actually took my trousers down, but the girl hypnotized me, Debbie. Fortunately, no one else in the family was at home, but I was terrified that Miranda would find out, and Sienna now has her own set of keys to my car.
Although I am physically bigger than Sienna, I have a feeling this may happen again. What can I do to build up order in my family?
Dear Dave—that’s a mystery as to what to do. If any readers have a good idea, they can e-mail me at email@example.com. Until then, the safest thing you can do is not spend time alone with Sienna. My husband is often bossed around by our niece, who is not really a domme…but I often have to interfere to keep her from taking advantage of him!
My dad was a strict man. When I pissed him off, he made my sister and I take off our clothes and shit outside in the yard, in the snow…when we were in college! Sometimes he’d force Lavender and I to sniff each others assholes, as we crouched naked in the snow, shivering, and he’d get our brother, Clenard, to throw snowballs at us, and shoot at our naked butts with a BB air pistol.
Clenard had no loyalty—he was just relieved that at the moment Father wasn’t dressing him in drag and doing creepy shit like Super gluing Clen’s penis to his belly so he was forced to pee in his own mouth.
Father also kept Uncle Peasemarch in the basement, naked and often in old fashioned colonial stocks, whenever Uncle got on his nerves… Uncle could have left at any time, but so many of us were under Father’s spell!
Father often wouldn’t allow Uncle Peasemarch to urinate for hours….he’d have Uncle P. banging on the pipes to get our attention, to be unlocked from the little penis guard that prevented him from urinating.
We kids, of course, didn’t understand how Uncle Peasemarch could hang around and put up with all this. We of course didn’t want to risk being thrown in the street!
Lavender eventually joined the Air Force and we never saw her again. I hope she has a decent life somewhere, with lots of therapy. I saw a different side of Dad. He was troubled, and more than a little sadistic, but I honestly believed he wanted the best for us.
Amazingly, now I have a submissive husband. Not always, from what I understand. Vaughn is former CIA, ex Middle East Special Forces. He can drill the heart out of a walnut at 200 yards , and used to own revolvers and Kevlar vests, AK-47s, and semiautomatic pistols and a Fabrique Nationale with battle scope—and he gave it all up, Vaughn did, to be my mincing sissy bitch.
I regularly rub depilatory on Vaughn’s skin to get rid of the body hair, and after he retires next year, I will be having Vaughn put in small but definite breast implants. Right now, of course I just have him running around in drag a lot of the time.
Whenever I am afraid that Vaughn’s macho-ness is returning (as he gets mucho cash and civic awards for his contract work with a military corporation) I hire male prostitutes to take turns raping Vaughn’s mouth and anus while he’s made up with makeup and wig to look like Jenny McCarthy! It seems to reduce him to what he really is inside—just a sad little homo!
Well, not really a homosexual—Vaughn is straight as an arrow—but he’s learning to endure male cock, and learning to suck it in a way that makes even experienced male hustlers go nuts for his skill.
Now and then I will have my hairdresser and his friends come over and have Vaughn blow them to satisfaction, as they think my hubby’s a real hunk!
In a way, Vaughn reminds me a great deal of my brother, Clenard, in that he can’t control his erections.
I tie Vaughn down and stroke his cock with my manicured fingers, slowly teasing the head until it gets very bulbous, and then I order him to go limp, and he can’t do it within the thirty seconds that I decree!
I usually cane his cock to make it go down again, but what can I do to get him to go limp on his own? That’s one big problem I’ve got.
Perhaps it’s because I give him little tests. Sometimes, I will keep massaging his cock while I order it to go flaccid, other times I’ll open up my shirt and show him my breasts and say “Imagine my nipples in your mouth, Vaughn…wouldn’t you like that?” And of course he just gets harder and more erect, and this puts me in a white-hot rage!
My friend Lucie, who I met at our local BDSM society, has far more control over her husband than I do in that sense.
Larren and their son, Alaric, both strip naked when Lucie comes in the house, and although Larren is terribly aroused by Lucie, when she points at his erection with a manicured finger, it goes limp immediately!
Lucie does do things like use a Taser on Larren’s penis, and often rubs it with sandpaper, but I just don’t have the willingness to do this with Vaughn’s cock, perhaps I am too much of a softie, what do you think?
The other issue I have is with Vaughn’s sons from his first marriage. Sinclair and Simmons are two tall, strapping boys in their early twenties, both home from long stints in the Air Force.
We get along fairly well, but of course I told the boys if they wanted to live with us, they would have to turn their paychecks over to me, and observe a bedtime, eight during the week, and nine-thirty on the weekends.
Simmons protested that he thought he should, at the age of twenty-five, be allowed to have something of a night life, girls and that sort of thing.
As you can imagine, I immediately stripped Sim’s clothes off and gave him thirty with Vaughn’s fiberglass fishing rod, and after Sim burst into tears and grabbed my legs, begging me to forgive him, I gave him an icy cold enema, and nothing more has been said about the incident.
Both boys understand my rules—they could live on their own and do as they liked, or live with Vaughn’s slutty, drunken first wife—but they want to live with us!
I have them on all day housework schedules on the weekends, and am training them, along with their father, to give “rainbow parties” wearing different shades of lipstick and blowing local Hispanic gang members. It seems to be working out well.
But the downside of all this is, since Sinclair and Simmons both work as TSA agents at the airport, I can’t lock them in metal chastity devices, and they keep masturbating on the side, even as I give them vicious whippings with my bullwhip and various canes when I find evidence of stained Kleenex and that sort of thing. What can I do?
My husband has the same uncontrollable penis problems. I think sometimes that I keep him in chastity for too long a period (and of course the needy little bastard supports this theory) but it’s really no excuse for disobedience.
What I’ve started doing is after I tease him a bit with my slippery hands, and am all tarted up in a pink nightgown…he’s begging of course to cum, is I rub habaneras peppers on his cock and balls and it burns his testes into submission, and after a while all I have to do is wave a pepper in his face and he goes limp.
My husband is such a wretched little perv that you can just tell how he is obsessed with sex, and getting it on with me, which will never happen again. Truly, it’s kind of sad, you know?
In the case of your stepsons, I advise you put them in plastic chastity devices, which won’t show up on security screens, and if they keep breaking the little ties, you can threaten to throw them out…that would probably take care of the problem.
I so appreciate the advice you gave me and my wife, Cressida. Cress is really enjoying being the dominant and the key holder of my chastity belt.
Cress was once quite demure, she’s a willowy honey blonde, but she’s really been getting great pleasure out of whipping my bare ass now that you’ve encouraged her through your telephone counseling sessions.
Sometimes Cressie will beat me with a wooden paddle, and other times she’ll take me out to the back yard, and order me to disrobe, and whip me with a switch cut from one of our rosebushes. It depends on how angry she is, whether she’ll cut the thorns off or not.
It’s especially sadistic when Cress wears gloves to protect her dainty hands from the thorns but then ties me to the picnic table and slashes me with thorns and needles, laughing uproariously as I scream.!
Afterwards, Cress will attach a dildo with an oral plug in my mouth and have me kneel on sandpaper and shove my face in and out of her pussy, making her twat so horny I t just has to explode!
“After all, baby, your own wee- wee doesn’t do me like the dildo does!”
Then she has another strap-on dildo that she uses on my ass, making me lick the shit off of it, afterwards. Once or twice I’ve vomited after this exercise, and she made me lick that up as well!
Sometimes when Cress is menstruating, she will make me suck her Maxi-pads dry, giving me one helluva bloody mouth.
Cress is very elegant looking, and weighs about 90 pounds , but she’s tough—she spent ages seven to sixteen in Uxbridge County Orphanage, and then was in a teen gang—and after she got her act together and went to college, Cress was captain of the school kickboxing team! And she has a black belt in about five of the karate/Kung Fu disciplines.
So, even if I got sick of her cruel treatment, Cress would be able to take me, it seems.
We’ve been experimenting with lengthening periods of chastity. As with most submissives, my fantasy of chastity is far more exciting than the reality, which is kind of mind numbing and difficult. Especially since Cress is getting all the action she can stand.
Cress married me because I am stable—I run a nice accounting firm, and she’d reluctantly given up hot sex with Mazariegos, her married Hispanic security guard lover. Now she realizes she can have the best of both worlds. I find this a little heard to bear.
Sometimes Cress will tie me naked to the bed, waving her gorgeous tits in my face. She is usually dressed in a slutty tube top and a denim miniskirt, and then she’ll unlock my chastity device and run her long nails up and down my swelling, bulging penis, mocking me for not being able to satisfy her.
“Hayden, you might as well cut that dickie off and donate it to a tranny, they’d get more out of it than you ever will, you pitiful little ladyboy, you!”
I used to have such a thing for the hottie girls in my high school. I was president of the Chess team and I was a Mathlete, kind of thing, and the leather girls with the tight clothes, smoking their clove cigarettes and the big thuggy boyfriends…so hot!
So Cress dresses in the role, and tells me what a sad little wimp I am, and how she’ll get her boyfriends to beat me up…and she torments and tantalizes my poor penis until I am almost out of my mind!
“Oh, Hayden, you just never will be able to please me in any tangible way, will you, baby? What kind of a sissy faggot would let his wife go and get pounded by Mazariegos and just be satisfied with jerking off on his knees? No real man that I’ve ever met.”
Cress is always the adoring wife in public, and she helps throw parties for some of our clients and work people—but when she and I are alone, I am relegated to walking on egg shells so I don’t upset or offend her.
“Take your pants down, Hayden, you little queer. I’m so sick of you telling your buddies dirty jokes on the phone. Maybe I should have them come over and make you blow them, to show how little of a man you really are!”
Sometimes Cress will have me wearing only my boxers and carrying a paddle or a hairbrush from room to room, so if she’s annoyed, she can just pull down my shorts, take the brush and throw me across her knee!
My wife teaches racquetball for Hambrick Township and thus has one powerful forearm!
After a few minutes, I am blubbering, and then she makes fun of me and sends me to the corner until I can compose myself and return to cleaning the house, or whatever it was that I was supposed to be doing.
Cress is winsome, with full lips and she spends a good deal of time rubbing up against me, it makes me just crazy. I am horny constantly.
She doesn’t let me hang out much with my friends anymore. The days of hunting trips and football parties are pretty much over. When the house is spotless, but Cress wants nothing to do with me, she makes me copy lines from the dictionary. I have a five page a day quota from Websters, and if I don’t make it, I pay!
I wonder how all this began and I think it was with my mother, who made me play violin while the other boys were playing stickball in the street outside our Bronx home. I was in love with my mother, I think, and my father gave me many harsh beatings when he caught me in my mother’s panties and high heels, mincing around with a purse.
Mother was also quite strict, and she caned my bare buttocks when I was late getting home from school—I had twenty minutes and had to sign a chart when I got in—and Mother would often castigate me for illegal masturbation.
“Hayden, your mind is in the gutter! I am going to beat your palms with a ruler until they swell!”
Mother sometimes would put me in the bathtub and scrub my genitals for nearly an hour and then rub lotion on them, telling me I had to stay “pure”.
But watching Mother’s bouncing cleavage in her severe velvet gown just made me crazy and of course I would end up sneaking off to beat my meat in the closet, and when Mother or Father caught me, all hell would break loose!
I was so lonely after my folks died, and Cress has made me feel as loved as her punishments and attentions bring me back to the old days. What would I do without you, Debbie? Thanks again.
Dear Hayden—you’re a star! Keep being a good submissive for Mistress Cressida and have her call me anytime
I used to enjoy living in a group house with a bunch of my old friends from college, until my dominant girlfriend, Cheryl, made them all aware of my submissive side. Now everything has changed.
This morning, for instance, after I got out of bed, my friend Bill—or we used to be beer-swilling, bimbo chasing buddies—whistled for me to bring him coffee and croissants in bed. The coffee was instant, and this pissed Bill off, so he reached over and twisted my nuts (I am required to stay naked while in the house) and threw some of the hot coffee on my nipples.
I was exhausted because the night before, I’d been serving the Vondrich triplets, Casimir, Vladimir and Olga…Cas and Vlad (the Impaler) have huge cocks, and Olga rapes with a cucumber. They live in the basement of our house and make me jump with every Slavic request!
I knew I had a big day ahead of me, I had to wash and wax all three of my housemates cars, and do extensive landscaping and housework, but first I had to placate Bill, and he ordered me to get in bra and panties and high heels and run down the street to the convenience store to get good coffee, and I pleaded with him to let me dress in “real” clothes..but there was no getting out of it, Bill waved his leather belt in my face, and I knew what I had to do.
Ironically, at work, I’m a Petroleum Engineer, and I supervise a staff of ten, one of whom is Bill, who was unable to get his graduate degree—but regularly he comes into my office for a quick bee-jay…leaving his boss’s mouth filled with cum as he goes about his business, doing my filing and photocopying.
My other roommate, Claire, used to be hopelessly in love with me…and I treated her shabbily until I was put into chastity by my girlfriend, and now I am so sex starved that Claire can enthrall me with just a smile, and I spend a lot of time burrowing between her legs whenever she whistles.
Sometimes Claire, who has a key to my chastity belt, will tie my hands to the bedposts of her Princess bed and she’ll stroke my cock until I am begging and crying for release. She really knows how to make me crazy, and is still angry about how I used her for fuck-buddy stuff, while having more serious relationships with hotter girls.
Claire does white glove inspections of the house and when she finds dust anywhere, she gets the dog-whip out and makes me dance and scream in acute misery.
I was in much better shape when I kept this sort of thing away from my friends…I used to see Mistress Pounceby, who spanked and tortured me, for a fee of course, and then I met my girlfriend, who does it for free…although I buy her many expensive gifts!
My girlfriend, Melanie, is just an amazing girl. Long, dark hair, 32 C boobs, friendly and cheerful in public, but a cruel domme in the bedroom. Mel has been married twice to submissive men, and I met her through a local BDSM group, and I tried to explain to her that I was in “The closet” and didn’t want my friends or workmates to know of my submissive interests and longings.
After all, I felt I wanted a whole life—and when you’re a submissive, often you are basically kept in 24/7 service, right? I had a motorcycle, played sports, loved movies. I didn’t want to lead a life like Melanie’s ex-husband who she calls “Snout”
Snout and Melanie are divorced, but she still lives in his house and keeps him in a small maid’s room down the hall from where she occupies the master bedroom. Snout comes home every day from the brokerage that he presides over, and he strips at the door, does housework, and then goes into the maid’s room, where he is confined except for bathroom trips!
Melanie, who suffers from rage issues, periodically goes into the little room where there is a carpenter’s wooden horse in the corner, and she orders Snout over the horse and wears her arm out on his narrow ass until he is weeping. (And Snout is a tough guy, it takes quite a few swings of the cane before he breaks down.)
I remember the first time I saw Mel, we were at a BDSM party, and I was there on my own. I, along with a bunch of other lonely guys (and girls) was gazing at her…she had this incredible Veronica-Lodge look about her. Why she approached me is still a mystery.
“So where’s your dominant tonight, Tiger?”
“How-how did you know I was submissive?”
This query sent Melanie into nasty peals of scornful laughter. Her boobs jiggled merrily in the snug cashmere sweater she was wearing, and my dick got really hard, although I’d jerked off in the bathroom twice since being at the party (I do miss jerking off…being in chastity is a bitch!)
She had a whiff of Obsession perfume around her chin and ears, and we got in a long talk about the scene and what it meant to us both. Mel told me that usually she dated older submissive men, and it was interesting to meet a young athletic guy who was in touch with his desire to be a slave-pig!
Melanie and I went out for about three weeks before she let me get physical with her—we made love a couple of times, and then she basically told me that we had to either go kinky or normal—and I wanted to be her sub!
So then one night Melanie tied me down and began massaging my naked body, teasing my cock until it was swelling and almost lunging for her pretty hands…and then she distributed clothespins up and down my shaft and along the sensitive areas on my inner thighs. And, when I complained it was a little painful, she took a ruler and obligingly knocked them off, and then mocked me for crying so easily.
“That’s all I need, a weeping little bitch” Mel said as she slapped my left nipple with the ruler. “What’s going to happen when I take your pants down and cane you in front of your friends because you were late for a date or told an offensive joke—are you going to take it like a man, or be a little crybaby?”
“But Melanie (ow) I can’t have you punishing me in front of people I know—”
And shame on her, she reached down and slapped my face hard…with rings on her fingers and those long red nails scratching!
And then she grabbed my chin. “Astin, if you want to be involved with me, you’ll have to settle for a real, hard core female dominated relationship where EVERYONE will know the nature of it. Otherwise, I’ll find someone else.”
A month later when Melanie and my friends from the group house had me in earrings, makeup and full drag clothes…watching as I went down unhappily on drunken men at a local single’s establishment, I guess I understood the full meaning of her ways…it really was a heartbreaking awareness, though!
The decision to put me in chastity was a tough one for Melanie—but she knew she had to keep my fervor for her at a fever pitch, and she had to trust that I wouldn’t be home jerking off when she was going out with other men.
I had fantasized about being locked in a belt, but, like the first time I got blistered by Melanie’s hairbrush, my buttocks screaming in reddened pain, the fantasy was far more of a treat than the reality.
Now of course I go for months at a time without cumming, but the first two week period I had was just unendurable…especially with beautiful,raven haired full lipped Melanie teasing me and making me go down on her constantly…and then when Mel let the girls in my group house know of my submission, they began teasing me as well!
It’s a hard life, Debbie…but what can I do?
Dear Astin—be a man and enjoy it! How many men just get to fantasize about a life as a slaveboy, and you are LIVING IT! You are a lucky slave!