As is usually the case lately, I must apologize for the delay in getting to this posting. It will be a fairly long one, so perhaps that will make up for all of this lost time.
Sunday, the final day of the Masters golf tournament, which represents the Holy Grail of golf tournaments for my husband Karl! Still in his chained state, Karl awoke to a not-so-gentle poke of my foot as I ordered him to serve me breakfast in bed. I fear that he hadn't had a great night of sleep, as there really wasn't any comfortable resting position with all of those chains around his body, but off he went to the kitchen, clanking all the way.
I had slept wonderfully well, comfortable with the thought of a chained slave at the foot of my bed. I'd highly recommend it to all Femdoms out there, at least the ones who enjoy the concept of a helpless male suffering for their benefit with no hope of release. A bit of Sadism 101, I suppose, as is the joy of just lounging in bed while said male moves his chained body down the stairs, into the kitchen, preparing breakfast for his Dom, placing it on a serving tray, and making his way back upstairs, somehow avoiding spilling the juice, coffee, and all the rest, and placing it in front of Her Highness to enjoy. Delightful! As was the foot worshipping opportunity I rewarded him with while I was eating. There's just something special about munching on your bacon and eggs while your chained husband is sucking your toes. Give it a try ladies!
After I was done and had sent Karl off to clean, dry and put away the breakfast dishes (yes, not being totally heartless, I did leave him my leftovers to eat while he did all of that), I had Karl kneel before me in the living room and informed him a bit about the events still to come.
"Slave, Mistress Vanessa and Princess Patsy will be arriving later this morning. You'll greet them properly at the door with your usual foot kissing ritual and usher them into the living room where I'll offer them cocktails which you'll be expected to serve. They are both very curious to see and inspect the naked and chained slave that you've now become. You'll be serving all of us lunch, but first I've promised them both a little "painting of the toenails" session. You'll first remove their old polish, prepare their toes for a base coat and then perfectly apply a new coat of polish. The word "perfectly" is to be taken very seriously. This will be your first test today that will decide whether or not you get to watch the Masters. The ladies will determine whether the job you do on their toes is worthy of such a reward, and that will in turn determine whether you'll be allowed to try your hand at a second and final test after you've served us lunch. Is this understood? You may nod your head."
Karl hadn't spoken a word since Saturday morning, and a head nod was really the only chance he had at any communication, so nod he did. I sent him on his way to fetch a variety of toenail polish colors and to set up the footstools and other "tools of the trade" that we kept on hand for my regular pedicures. Karl had become quite proficient at this sort of service over the years, and I daresay that I'd trained him to be almost the match of the best professionals in this area. Whether or not the chains he wore would affect his abilities remained to be seen.
"When you've finished all the toenails, you'll go into the kitchen and prepare lunch. I've stocked the refrigerator with all sorts of salad makings and I think we'll offer the ladies their choice of Caesar or Cobb, so make certain right now that all the ingredients are readily available. I'm sure we'll like cocktails refilled while we're waiting, so be prepared to serve those to us as well. We'll be doing a close-up inspection of your toenail polishing while we're waiting, and I seriously hope that you won't have disappointed me in that regard."
So Karl was kept busy preparing for Patsy and Vanessa, and I did a few chores outside of our patio in preparation for Karl's second test of the day, assuming he made it that far. I had told the ladies several days before just what was to occur as Karl's second test, and Patsy said she had come up with something special for the occasion. I'll get to that later.
The ladies arrived on time and their reaction upon seeing Karl was epic. Vanessa found his chain bedecked body hilarious and laughed hysterically, and Patsy gasped out loud and said "Oh my God, he looks like Marley's ghost!" Patsy is a great lover of all things British, especially classic English literature, and for those who didn't recognize the reference, she was referring to the great Charles Dickens classic "A Christmas Carol". Jacob Marley's ghost appeared to Ebeneezer Scrooge on Christmas eve to prepare him for further ghost visitations that night. Marley was Scrooge's business partner when alive, and his ghost came dragging along (I'm paraphrasing from memory here) "the chains he had forged in life" due to his greedy and miserly personality, much like Scrooge's. Marley was doomed to drag these chains through eternity and served as a warning to Scrooge to change his evil ways. If you're not familiar with this great story, do check it out in its original form or one of the many movie versions that have been made.
Well, Patsy did crack me up, and I'm sure that Karl understood the reference and probably shivered inside a bit when thinking about dragging those chains around forever...and ever...and ever. Vanessa circled around Karl, yanking at his chains, "trying all of them out", and enjoying the spectacle. "You look lovely in my shackles, slave Karl. Maybe I can borrow you for a few days. I'll ask your Mistress." Karl had already turned red from the embarrassment of being paraded naked and chained in front of Patsy and Vanessa, but I do believe he turned white for a moment at the thought of being in the control of Vanessa once again.
Eventually the ladies (me included) bade Karl to act as bartender and we all had our favorite cocktails in place as nail polish colors were discussed and toes were bared in preparation of what was to come. Karl went about his duties with his usual expertise while the rest of us talked, drank and all-around enjoyed the vision of an enslaved, chained male pedicurist tending to our toes by removing the old polish, applying a base coat, and ultimately painting those happy toes a bright, new color.
Despite having to stop several times to fetch us cocktail refills, Karl did his job with surprising speed and efficiency. Clearly, it pays to train a foot slave well, even if it takes many years of effort. We sent Karl off to prepare lunch and examined his toe work closely. Both Vanessa and Patsy pronounced the "painting party" a success, with oohs and aahs about the exactness of Karl's work and the fun of seeing him do it while all chained up.
When lunch was served by a clanking Karl, we had our meal in the dining room with Karl running back and forth for more of this and that at the ladies' behests, and when it was time for clean-up I had Karl on his knees before me as I told him that we had found his work very satisfactory. This, I told him, would allow him to perform his second test of the day, and that would determine whether or not he could watch the Masters. I then threw a handful of keys on the floor.
"These are the keys to all of the locks for the chains on your body, except your collar. You are to remove all of the chains and return the shackles to Mistress Vanessa. You may now talk once again, and I expect to hear you thank Mistress Vanessa for allowing you to wear them. When you finish all the clean-up, you're to kneel before Princess Patsy and await the little surprise she has for you. Now get started."
Karl later told me that the removal of those chains was an almost ethereal experience. Unencumbered for the first time in a day and a half, he felt as though he was floating on air, and had a huge new sense of pity for anyone who was forced to drag chains around on a regular basis, as so many slaves in olden times were made to endure. He had fumbled around finding the right keys to each lock, much to our amusement, and returned the shackles to Vanessa with "Thank you Mistress Vanessa for allowing me to be shackled with your prized possessions." Vanessa just laughed and said "Anytime, slave. I look forward to the next time."
I told Karl to gather up all of the chains and put them in the basement, then do his lunch clean-up, and report to Patsy. I told him that he was allowed to eat any leftovers while cleaning, and to drink a lot of water as he was sure to be sweating it off soon. He gave me a quizzical look , but properly said "Yes, thank you, Your Highness", and off he went.
Eventually, he found his way back to us on the patio where we had gone to await the next "event" of the day. Now naked except for his collar, and unchained, Karl knelt before Patsy and awaited whatever was to come. Patsy attached a leash to his collar, said "Crawl behind me" and led Karl off to one of the bedrooms where she had deposited a bag shortly after her arrival. Patsy knew what was coming up next, and had put together something special for Karl.
In the meantime, Vanessa and I took care of some final preparations around the patio and awaited the arrival of Patsy and Karl. We really weren't sure about what Patsy was doing with Karl, but we both suspected it would be some sort of period
ostume, as that was one of Patsy's specialties. Well, we weren't wrong, as it turned out. Patsy came outside with Karl still on his leash, but standing up, and we were amazed at a sight not often seen since the early part of the 20th century.
Check out the Etsy website at www.etsy.com and in the Search box put RC1325. That will take you to a picture of two "classic" male golfers and give you a good idea of how Patsy had dressed Karl. He had on a cap like the man on the right, a shirt like the man on the left, and was wearing a red and white diamond decorated tie (over his collar!) that matched his socks. He was wearing his golf shoes that Patsy had evidently fetched from our garage, and was carrying his golf bag full of clubs on his shoulder. For pants, he was wearing knickers, or more accurately known as "plus fours" as Patsy explained, since they were 4 inches longer than the usual knickers one sees. Evidently, this was a typical male golfer outfit in the 1920-1930 era. As usual, Patsy had done herself proud, and Karl just stood there as Patsy removed his leash and turned him over to me for test number two.
Karl had told me some time before chain day about "divots" and the golf clubs that make the best ones (see my previous post, two posts ago, entitled "Chains-And A Golf Lesson"). So I told him to take out his pitching wedge, his sand wedge and his nine iron, and I led him to a spot about 10 feet off to the side of the patio. There on the lawn, I had placed three newly purchased rose bushes and I had staked off an area 6 feet long and 2 feet wide. There were also several 40 lb bags of planting soil/fertilizer blend off to the side which our local nursery owner had told me was perfect for rose bushes. Another two bags had wood chips in them.
Karl was looking at me quizzically, clearly wondering what was going on, so I enlightened him. "For your final test of the day, you'll be doing some digging and planting. You'll need to use your golf clubs to yank out enough divots from the specified area to dig a hole 6 feet long and eighteen inches deep for these 3 rose bushes. I want the hole to have straight edges all the way around. Neat and tidy. When the hole is properly prepared, you'll start emptying those bags of soil and planting each rose bush in the ground. One on the left side, one in the middle and one on the right side. You can use any golf club you wish to pat the soil down and then you'll spread wood chips around the bushes to make everything very professional looking.
"Oh yes. With each stroke of your clubs you'll cry out the word "FORE". I fear that you might be a bit hoarse before this is all over, but that's just one of the prices you must pay to watch your beloved Masters. You'll be able to grab a bit of water whenever you hear the jingle of my bell, as that will mean that we need you to run into the kitchen for more food or drink for us. You'll remove your shoes on the patio when you hear the bell, take our "orders" for refreshment, run into the kitchen, gulp some water, place our items on a tray, run back out and serve us, put your shoes back on, and get back to work planting what will hereafter be known as the "Masters Roses".
"I suggest you don't tarry long in accomplishing all of this, as the tournament will be on television in about two hours. You'll need to finish digging and planting and serving and gathering up those divots before you'll be allowed to watch, and I suppose you'll be rather sweaty and dirty and will need to grab a cold shower before I can put you in front of a TV, so as they used to say back in the Roaring 20's, Tally Ho slave, and off you go!"
Karl took a long look at the rose bushes, the staked off area, the bags of soil and chips, the golf clubs, the ladies lounging on the patio and let out a long sigh - for which I planned to punish him later - and said "Yes, Your Highness". And tally ho he did.
Well, I suppose you can imagine the rest of that test, although I must admit that even I could never have anticipated just how grueling it all became as the day wore on and Karl made stroke after stroke accompanied by "Fore", and ran back and forth over and over to the kitchen. His arms were like rubber at the end, and after a day and a half of dragging around all those heavy chains, it quickly became his workout of the year. Luckily, he was in excellent shape from regular gym visits and is a naturally strong male, and I did make him pause a few times, ostensibly to serve us crackers and cheese by hand, but really to give him a bit of a break and make sure that his breathing was regular after a few minutes rest. Also, the bulge in his knickers around his zipper as he fed us attested to the fact that he was doing just fine.
It took over three hours, but slave Karl actually did all that I ever expected of him, and probably a little more. The roses were beautifully planted and landscaped, and will undoubtedly serve as a delightful reminder of the 2018 Masters Golf Tournament. The three of us gave Karl a round of applause, peeled off his sodden clothes and rushed him into the shower for a reviving cold blast of water followed by some hotter water to ease his sore muscles. Karl deserved a bit of pampering after all I'd put him through, so I set him up in the basement where we have a large screen TV and an extra refrigerator with food and drink, and left him to watch his golf in peace.
The ladies and I hung around upstairs playing cards and admiring our newly painted toes, talked and laughed and drank as we so often did, and when Karl emerged from the basement many hours later, I had him say good night to Vanessa and Patsy, thank them for being part of his Masters day, see them to the door, do some last second foot kissing and send them on their way. Once they were gone, I sent Karl to the basement to fetch my favorite paddle, and when he returned I had him bend over the sofa.
"Do you remember that sigh, slave?"
"Yes, Your Highness. I'm sorry that happened".
"So why did it happen?"
"I was just overwhelmed by the things I had yet to do, and it just slipped out, Your Highness."
"Yet you managed to accomplish all that I had planned for you, didn't you?"
"Yes, Your Highness".
"Do you think that 20 strokes with this paddle will remind you in the future not to let a sigh escape your lips when faced with a task of my design"?
"I'm sure that it will, Your Highness."
"Well, I'll make it 40 just to make certain".
And so I did. Oh yes, we did finish the evening in bed together, but I'll leave that part to your imagination.
Friday, June 22, 2018
Saturday, May 26, 2018
CHAIN DAY
Going back now to Saturday, April 7, 2018, the day before the Master's tournament finale. I think that Karl and I will remember it as "CHAIN DAY" for quite some time to come, but undoubtedly for different reasons. For me, it turned out to be erotic, very erotic. For Karl, well I guess the proper word would be "burdensome", though perhaps a bit of erotic as well, as things turned out.
I had prepared for the day by borrowing some of Vanessa's vast collection of wrist and ankle shackles. To these, I added my own special neck collar which was leather with a metal strip in the middle, a lockable clasp, and several "O" rings attached. Clover nipple clamps with a small chain in between were on hand, of course, and a ball collar/stretcher just in case I needed a bit more metal for appearances sake. I had made several trips to various hardware stores, etc., to purchase lots of chain in various lengths and thicknesses, as well as locks to go with the chains. I definitely received some quizzical looks from store clerks, though no one said anything until I went to a farm supply store and asked for their heaviest duty chain in a 14 foot length. The clerk asked me what it was for, and I told him it was going to be used with a tractor to pull a large tree stump from the ground, so it needed to be the heaviest and strongest chain they had. That seemed to satisfy his curiosity, and I had him bring it to my car after I tried to lift it myself. No question, that chain was HEAVY duty!
On Saturday morning, I informed Karl that he was in slave mode for the weekend and was not to speak unless spoken to. Then I had him go to my car and fetch the various chains and locks from the trunk. I wanted him to see all of them and wonder about their potential usage in his near future. Of course, he said nothing, and I let him keep wondering as I ordered him to strip and stand straight up, chest out, stomach in, and all that sort of thing, and remain at attention in front of the pile of metal in front of him until I returned to the living room. He complied, and as I glanced back at his ramrod pose, I noted that his cock had also complied with my "at attention" order. How nice.
I'd thought a lot about my choice of dress for the day. Leather seemed to fit the occasion, so I went with a black leather mini skirt, spiked black leather heels and a black leather vest over a dangerously skimpy black lace bra. I left the vest open to give my slave a nice view of my midsection and the very generous cleavage above. Oh yes, black satin gloves up to my elbows, and my favorite black leather riding crop held by my side as I went back into the living room. I believe I looked quite daunting, and I certainly felt that way as well. Daunting, and already turned on with thoughts of the day to come.
I paraded in front of and around Karl, tapping my crop against my leg, watching his face turn slightly red as his cock went up a notch or two, and rewarding that appendage with a tap..or two..or maybe three with said crop. I definitely had his full attention, but I must admit that I was beginning to feel like I was in the middle of some "B" movie scene about a Gestapo interrogation or somesuch, and that wasn't what I had in mind at all. So I put the crop aside for the moment and got down to the real business of the day which involved dressing my slave in preparation for the fun to come.
So I attached and locked the collar to his neck. Then on to the wrist and ankle shackles, nipple clamps and ball collar. Between the shackles, I attached 3 foot lengths of chains, secured with locks. Not enough to hinder movement very much, but I wanted his hands and legs free to work and the chains to rattle when he moved. Then came the big chain, the piece de resistance, so to speak, I lifted one end of this massive piece of metal and attached it with a large lock to one of the "O" rings on the left side of his collar, followed by the same thing on the right side. I was behind my slave as I did this, so the chain was now hanging down his back and onto the floor with the bottom of the chain in a loop and dragging on the floor about a foot behind my slave's feet.
I had slave turn around several times and walk across the tiled floor. The sound of the various chains clanging around plus the very look of all of it was exactly what I wanted. I looked at slave and gave him his first order as a chained minion:
"You may now prepare my breakfast and serve it to me in the dining room. You know what I like and how I want it prepared and served. I'd advise you not to make any mistakes. Get started and don't make me wait a long time." And so he did, as I basked in the sound of those chains being dragged across the floor, followed by the look of him when he arrived with serving tray loaded with eggs, sausage, toast, butter, juice, jam, coffee. Balancing it all carefully while already sporting a sheen off sweat on his body. After he put it all on the table, I had him kneel next to me while holding the tray. "You may gaze at my feet while I eat breakfast. Keep your torso straight and be still, and keep that tray straight out in front of you. For now,I don't want to hear any jiggling of those chains."
I glanced at slave Karl, completely enjoying the look of his body and his head bowed downward, all bedecked with chains as he struggled to keep still and maintain a solid hold on the tray. I took my time, replacing the now empty glass, cup, small plate, silverware and large plate back on the tray as I finished with them. "Bring it all back into the kitchen, slave, and bring me another cup of coffee. You can clean up while I drink it. Quickly now, get started!"
When I finished my coffee I went into the kitchen where slave Karl was still drying and putting away all of the breakfast dishes, and I just leaned against one of the counters and enjoyed the view. I was already turned on with the reality of my "slave in chains" fantasies, and I was about to deal with that turn-on for the first of many times during that day.
"Slave, when you're finished, you may drink one glass of water, and then crawl into the living room. I want you on your knees in front of me within the next five minutes." The sound of that crawl was unmistakable with all of those chains resounding against the floor, and the sight of Karl at my knees covered with chains and locks had me very wet and more than ready for some servicing. I lifted my skirt, revealing a panty-less, already glistening pussy, and said "You know what to do, slave. Keep your hands flat on the floor and get to it!"
Based on the positioning of our bodies, requiring Karl to keep his hands on the floor meant that he'd have to strain upwards with his head to reach the promised land with his tongue, and that meant supporting that huge chain hanging from his collar while he licked away. One more burden for him....one more delight for me. Such a delight, in fact, that I kept him at it for several orgasms (mine, of course). Long enough to satisfy me for the time being and to get his arms and neck quivering with the strain of holding his position. And to think, the day was just getting started!
After that first little "session", I had Karl stand at attention before me once again. "You did very well, slave, both with your breakfast service and the much more delightful servicing afterward. Keep in mind that your day is just beginning and that you'll be judged with everything I order you to do. You'll be punished for any shortcomings, of course, and you can expect to remain in chains for the entire day and night. Those chains are now an important and inescapable part of your existence for as long as I care to keep you in them. Is that understood?"
"Yes, your Highness."
"Very well, slave. You'll continue to speak only when required to answer me. Groans, gasps or yells are also considered a form of speech, so see to it that nothing escapes your lips without my real or clearly implied permission. Is that understood as well?
"Yes, your Highness."
"I'm going to test your resolve now, slave. Do not make me unhappy."
With that, I reached for Karl's nipple clamps. They'd been on for much longer than usual, and I knew
that the nipples must be somewhat numb by now. It was time to get the circulation going once again, and what better way to do that than by twisting the clamps back and forth, pulling on them as I did so. Karl had been through this sort of thing many times in the past, and he knew to clamp his mouth shut while he endured the agony that I've been told is very difficult to endure. His mouth shook with the effort of keeping his mouth shut, but he somehow managed to avoid making any noise at all. I'm always amazed and heartened to witness what a male sub/slave will put up with to please his Dom!
When I had finished and Karl had survived without a sound, I congratulated him. "Well done once again, slave. Could it be that the threat of punishment has a direct bearing on your ability to follow orders?"
"Yes, your Highness."
"So are you saying that without the threat of punishment you wouldn't follow my orders?"
"Uh, no your Highness." Karl quickly stammered. "I'm honored to follow your orders no matter what the situation, your Highness."
I loved screwing with Karl's head this way. "So when you agreed that the threat of punishment has a direct bearing on your ability to follow orders, you were lying Right?"
Little beads of sweat were now forming on Karl's head as he realized that he was caught in a verbal mess. "I didn't mean to lie, your Highness. I just...."
"You "just" agreed to whatever you thought I wanted to hear, right slave? You didn't bother to think about what you were implying, did you? That's really very stupid, isn't it slave?"
"Yes, your Highness. I'm very sorry to have been so stupid."
"Hmm," I said, and with that I reached forward and quickly yanked the clamps off of Karl's nipples. Not expecting anything like that, Karl let out a loud yelp from the pain.
"I told you to keep your mouth shut, slave, unless you have permission to speak. Yelping is speaking, as I warned you. I'd advise you to learn from this. Now go into the basement and bring the wide leather paddle up here." Karl started for the basement, but I grabbed his collar chain and pulled him back. "Wait, slave. Turn around and face me." Then, one at a time, I slowly replaced each nipple clamp. Very slowly, as I let my fingers release the spring that holds the clamp in place, bit by agonizing bit, as Karl squeezed his eyes and mouth shut and uttered not a squeak. "There, that's better. Now get me the paddle."
Chains clanging across the floor, chains clanging down the stairs, chains being dragged across the concrete floor in the basement, chains clanging as they came back up the stairs and across the floor again to me, and the paddle being offered to me as my slave in chains waited on his knees. Ah, chains!
"Drape yourself over the back of the sofa, slave. Count with each stroke, followed by "Thank you, Your Highness. No noise!"
Whap. "One. Thank you, Your Highness."
"Louder, slave! With more feeling."
Whap. "TWO! THANK YOU, YOUR HIGHNESS!!"
And so it went for 50 solid strokes, with the resulting red ass that I would enjoy all day. Just another embellishment to my slave's chained body. Well, I could go on and on about that day, but let me condense a bit. There would be many more servicings for me and many more punishments for Karl. He would be tasked with washing and drying my dirty clothes, ironing and folding nearly everything, and bringing them up from the basement to the living room, then up to the bedroom and into drawers and closets, dragging those chains all the way.
(A quick aside, as the remembrance of Karl doing the ironing in chains with the ruffled pink waist apron I had attached to him is brought to mind with an inner giggle).
Yes, he was fed, watered and allowed to rest, in a way, on his back, over the chains digging into said back, while servicing me with his head under my Queening seat. Perhaps not a pure rest for him, but definitely a pure delight for me. Yes, he scrubbed floors; yes, he vacuumed; yes, he sweated and strained; yes, he served me lunch and dinner; yes, he felt the paddle and crop more than once; yes, he had erections go up and down and dribbled plenty of pre-cum; no, he didn't orgasm even once, though undoubtedly, yes, he surely took great pride in all the many orgasms he brought forth in me:)
Lest you imagine that I'm nothing more than a sadistic bitch of a Dominant, I will add that just before Karl cuddled up with his chains to sleep at the foot of my bed, I did allow him to watch an evening wrap up of the third day of the Masters golf tournament. He was very grateful.
The story of Sunday will be next to come.
I had prepared for the day by borrowing some of Vanessa's vast collection of wrist and ankle shackles. To these, I added my own special neck collar which was leather with a metal strip in the middle, a lockable clasp, and several "O" rings attached. Clover nipple clamps with a small chain in between were on hand, of course, and a ball collar/stretcher just in case I needed a bit more metal for appearances sake. I had made several trips to various hardware stores, etc., to purchase lots of chain in various lengths and thicknesses, as well as locks to go with the chains. I definitely received some quizzical looks from store clerks, though no one said anything until I went to a farm supply store and asked for their heaviest duty chain in a 14 foot length. The clerk asked me what it was for, and I told him it was going to be used with a tractor to pull a large tree stump from the ground, so it needed to be the heaviest and strongest chain they had. That seemed to satisfy his curiosity, and I had him bring it to my car after I tried to lift it myself. No question, that chain was HEAVY duty!
On Saturday morning, I informed Karl that he was in slave mode for the weekend and was not to speak unless spoken to. Then I had him go to my car and fetch the various chains and locks from the trunk. I wanted him to see all of them and wonder about their potential usage in his near future. Of course, he said nothing, and I let him keep wondering as I ordered him to strip and stand straight up, chest out, stomach in, and all that sort of thing, and remain at attention in front of the pile of metal in front of him until I returned to the living room. He complied, and as I glanced back at his ramrod pose, I noted that his cock had also complied with my "at attention" order. How nice.
I'd thought a lot about my choice of dress for the day. Leather seemed to fit the occasion, so I went with a black leather mini skirt, spiked black leather heels and a black leather vest over a dangerously skimpy black lace bra. I left the vest open to give my slave a nice view of my midsection and the very generous cleavage above. Oh yes, black satin gloves up to my elbows, and my favorite black leather riding crop held by my side as I went back into the living room. I believe I looked quite daunting, and I certainly felt that way as well. Daunting, and already turned on with thoughts of the day to come.
I paraded in front of and around Karl, tapping my crop against my leg, watching his face turn slightly red as his cock went up a notch or two, and rewarding that appendage with a tap..or two..or maybe three with said crop. I definitely had his full attention, but I must admit that I was beginning to feel like I was in the middle of some "B" movie scene about a Gestapo interrogation or somesuch, and that wasn't what I had in mind at all. So I put the crop aside for the moment and got down to the real business of the day which involved dressing my slave in preparation for the fun to come.
So I attached and locked the collar to his neck. Then on to the wrist and ankle shackles, nipple clamps and ball collar. Between the shackles, I attached 3 foot lengths of chains, secured with locks. Not enough to hinder movement very much, but I wanted his hands and legs free to work and the chains to rattle when he moved. Then came the big chain, the piece de resistance, so to speak, I lifted one end of this massive piece of metal and attached it with a large lock to one of the "O" rings on the left side of his collar, followed by the same thing on the right side. I was behind my slave as I did this, so the chain was now hanging down his back and onto the floor with the bottom of the chain in a loop and dragging on the floor about a foot behind my slave's feet.
I had slave turn around several times and walk across the tiled floor. The sound of the various chains clanging around plus the very look of all of it was exactly what I wanted. I looked at slave and gave him his first order as a chained minion:
"You may now prepare my breakfast and serve it to me in the dining room. You know what I like and how I want it prepared and served. I'd advise you not to make any mistakes. Get started and don't make me wait a long time." And so he did, as I basked in the sound of those chains being dragged across the floor, followed by the look of him when he arrived with serving tray loaded with eggs, sausage, toast, butter, juice, jam, coffee. Balancing it all carefully while already sporting a sheen off sweat on his body. After he put it all on the table, I had him kneel next to me while holding the tray. "You may gaze at my feet while I eat breakfast. Keep your torso straight and be still, and keep that tray straight out in front of you. For now,I don't want to hear any jiggling of those chains."
I glanced at slave Karl, completely enjoying the look of his body and his head bowed downward, all bedecked with chains as he struggled to keep still and maintain a solid hold on the tray. I took my time, replacing the now empty glass, cup, small plate, silverware and large plate back on the tray as I finished with them. "Bring it all back into the kitchen, slave, and bring me another cup of coffee. You can clean up while I drink it. Quickly now, get started!"
When I finished my coffee I went into the kitchen where slave Karl was still drying and putting away all of the breakfast dishes, and I just leaned against one of the counters and enjoyed the view. I was already turned on with the reality of my "slave in chains" fantasies, and I was about to deal with that turn-on for the first of many times during that day.
"Slave, when you're finished, you may drink one glass of water, and then crawl into the living room. I want you on your knees in front of me within the next five minutes." The sound of that crawl was unmistakable with all of those chains resounding against the floor, and the sight of Karl at my knees covered with chains and locks had me very wet and more than ready for some servicing. I lifted my skirt, revealing a panty-less, already glistening pussy, and said "You know what to do, slave. Keep your hands flat on the floor and get to it!"
Based on the positioning of our bodies, requiring Karl to keep his hands on the floor meant that he'd have to strain upwards with his head to reach the promised land with his tongue, and that meant supporting that huge chain hanging from his collar while he licked away. One more burden for him....one more delight for me. Such a delight, in fact, that I kept him at it for several orgasms (mine, of course). Long enough to satisfy me for the time being and to get his arms and neck quivering with the strain of holding his position. And to think, the day was just getting started!
After that first little "session", I had Karl stand at attention before me once again. "You did very well, slave, both with your breakfast service and the much more delightful servicing afterward. Keep in mind that your day is just beginning and that you'll be judged with everything I order you to do. You'll be punished for any shortcomings, of course, and you can expect to remain in chains for the entire day and night. Those chains are now an important and inescapable part of your existence for as long as I care to keep you in them. Is that understood?"
"Yes, your Highness."
"Very well, slave. You'll continue to speak only when required to answer me. Groans, gasps or yells are also considered a form of speech, so see to it that nothing escapes your lips without my real or clearly implied permission. Is that understood as well?
"Yes, your Highness."
"I'm going to test your resolve now, slave. Do not make me unhappy."
With that, I reached for Karl's nipple clamps. They'd been on for much longer than usual, and I knew
that the nipples must be somewhat numb by now. It was time to get the circulation going once again, and what better way to do that than by twisting the clamps back and forth, pulling on them as I did so. Karl had been through this sort of thing many times in the past, and he knew to clamp his mouth shut while he endured the agony that I've been told is very difficult to endure. His mouth shook with the effort of keeping his mouth shut, but he somehow managed to avoid making any noise at all. I'm always amazed and heartened to witness what a male sub/slave will put up with to please his Dom!
When I had finished and Karl had survived without a sound, I congratulated him. "Well done once again, slave. Could it be that the threat of punishment has a direct bearing on your ability to follow orders?"
"Yes, your Highness."
"So are you saying that without the threat of punishment you wouldn't follow my orders?"
"Uh, no your Highness." Karl quickly stammered. "I'm honored to follow your orders no matter what the situation, your Highness."
I loved screwing with Karl's head this way. "So when you agreed that the threat of punishment has a direct bearing on your ability to follow orders, you were lying Right?"
Little beads of sweat were now forming on Karl's head as he realized that he was caught in a verbal mess. "I didn't mean to lie, your Highness. I just...."
"You "just" agreed to whatever you thought I wanted to hear, right slave? You didn't bother to think about what you were implying, did you? That's really very stupid, isn't it slave?"
"Yes, your Highness. I'm very sorry to have been so stupid."
"Hmm," I said, and with that I reached forward and quickly yanked the clamps off of Karl's nipples. Not expecting anything like that, Karl let out a loud yelp from the pain.
"I told you to keep your mouth shut, slave, unless you have permission to speak. Yelping is speaking, as I warned you. I'd advise you to learn from this. Now go into the basement and bring the wide leather paddle up here." Karl started for the basement, but I grabbed his collar chain and pulled him back. "Wait, slave. Turn around and face me." Then, one at a time, I slowly replaced each nipple clamp. Very slowly, as I let my fingers release the spring that holds the clamp in place, bit by agonizing bit, as Karl squeezed his eyes and mouth shut and uttered not a squeak. "There, that's better. Now get me the paddle."
Chains clanging across the floor, chains clanging down the stairs, chains being dragged across the concrete floor in the basement, chains clanging as they came back up the stairs and across the floor again to me, and the paddle being offered to me as my slave in chains waited on his knees. Ah, chains!
"Drape yourself over the back of the sofa, slave. Count with each stroke, followed by "Thank you, Your Highness. No noise!"
Whap. "One. Thank you, Your Highness."
"Louder, slave! With more feeling."
Whap. "TWO! THANK YOU, YOUR HIGHNESS!!"
And so it went for 50 solid strokes, with the resulting red ass that I would enjoy all day. Just another embellishment to my slave's chained body. Well, I could go on and on about that day, but let me condense a bit. There would be many more servicings for me and many more punishments for Karl. He would be tasked with washing and drying my dirty clothes, ironing and folding nearly everything, and bringing them up from the basement to the living room, then up to the bedroom and into drawers and closets, dragging those chains all the way.
(A quick aside, as the remembrance of Karl doing the ironing in chains with the ruffled pink waist apron I had attached to him is brought to mind with an inner giggle).
Yes, he was fed, watered and allowed to rest, in a way, on his back, over the chains digging into said back, while servicing me with his head under my Queening seat. Perhaps not a pure rest for him, but definitely a pure delight for me. Yes, he scrubbed floors; yes, he vacuumed; yes, he sweated and strained; yes, he served me lunch and dinner; yes, he felt the paddle and crop more than once; yes, he had erections go up and down and dribbled plenty of pre-cum; no, he didn't orgasm even once, though undoubtedly, yes, he surely took great pride in all the many orgasms he brought forth in me:)
Lest you imagine that I'm nothing more than a sadistic bitch of a Dominant, I will add that just before Karl cuddled up with his chains to sleep at the foot of my bed, I did allow him to watch an evening wrap up of the third day of the Masters golf tournament. He was very grateful.
The story of Sunday will be next to come.
Friday, May 4, 2018
CHAINS - AND A GOLF LESSON
I've been strangely obsessed with chains lately. Big chains, little chains, fat chains, skinny chains, but especially huge, heavy chains. Well, not just chains, but chains with a purpose, and this, of course, involves my husband Karl. Though he's more used to being trussed with rope, he's certainly no stranger to chains being used to connect things like his wrists and ankles to each other, and of course the thin chain between the two ends of his clover nipple clamps is definitely an old favorite.
But this was different. I wanted to see Karl festooned (such a nice word, isn't it? ) with chains. Chains wrapped around him and draping from his head and shoulders. My friend Patsy, who fancies herself a bit of an expert on matters related to psychology, has assured me that my desire to cover Karl in chains stems from the death of my friend Pete. Patsy claims that the chains represent a need to keep a loved one close at hand, under complete control and incapable of escape and/or sudden disappearance. I lost Pete, she says, and I'm not about to lose Karl. Thus, the chains.
Well, that's a nice theory, and perhaps there's some truth to it, but the sexual charge it gives me to see Karl wrapped up in heavy metals can hardly be related to Pete's death. My other dear friend, Vanessa, just laughs at Patsy's theory, and puts it quite bluntly: "You're just a sadistic Dom who loves to torture your husband. Nothing wrong with that, right?" Now who am I to argue with that?
At any rate, Karl has felt the cold metal quite a bit in the last few months, and my sadistic Dom mind came up with a rather unique idea to celebrate Karl's "chainhood".
Which brings us, in a very roundabout way, to the subject of golf. Particularly the Masters golf tournament which is the Holy Grail of golf tournaments for viewing on television, at least according to Karl. To say that he looks forward to it every year would be a gross understatement, and naturally I love to take advantage of that situation, as my faithful readers might remember. Karl has come to expect that he'd have to pay some price for the privilege of watching the Masters, but I think he was surprised and confused when I began asking him golf related questions a few weeks before the actual tournament which takes place in early April.
My main question concerned those chunks of grass and earth that are upended and thrown forward when a golfer hits the ball on the stretch of grass between the tee and green known as the fairway. Karl explained that these chunks are called divots, and they occur when the golf club hits down on the ball. "Down and through" were his exact words. To which I responded "That makes no sense. If you're smashing a club downward into the ball, why isn't the ball pushed into the ground?"
Karl chuckled a bit (for which he would pay later) and explained to me that the club went down only after a backswing with the club was changed into a forward swing as the golfer thrust forward and hit the ball, creating a "down and through" situation. The force from the speeding club allowed the head of the club (the iron part at the bottom of the club) to continue through the ground and forward toward the green. I still couldn't see how the ball got so high in the air with a club crashing down on top of it, down and through or not, but he patiently explained that the metal head of the clubs were angled so that the ball actually went forward and rose in the air off the head at the same time that the head continued downward into the ground, and a divot was created when the club continued its forward arc into something called a "follow through". The height of the ball and the length of the stroke varied from clubhead to clubhead, and there were a good dozen of these metal clubs to choose from. He went on about club length and backspin and a lot more that I won't bore you with until I was fairly dizzy. I finally stopped him from any more explanations and asked the question I really needed an answer to:
"That's enough Karl. What I want to know is which of these iron clubs makes the deepest cut and the biggest divot?" Karl gave me a quizzical look, but he was much too smart to ask WHY I needed this information, and after some thought said "Well, you can get a big divot with any club, but most commonly the biggest ones are with what's known as the "short irons", which would be the nine iron, the pitching wedge and the sand wedge."
That was what I needed to hear, and I cut off the conversation before Karl could go into some long winded explanation about these three clubs. No doubt he was frustrated, as he could probably go on for hours about anything golf-related, but enough was quite enough. I now had the information I'd wanted, and my diabolical golf day surprise for Karl was going forward perfectly.
A few days before the Masters, I told Karl that if he wanted to watch the tournament he'd have to be in slave mode, and that his behavior would determine whether or not he'd be allowed to watch the event. He'd serve my needs on Saturday without any viewing of the tourney, but on Sunday, the final day, he'd have a chance to see the entire finale. On that day he'd be serving me, Patsy and Vanessa, and once again his behavior would determine how much of the tournament he'd be allowed to see. The TV coverage went from early afternoon and on into the evening, so we'd see if he did well enough to watch it all or even any of it.
Karl nodded and said "Thank you for the opportunity, Milady." He bowed and kissed my extended hand, to which I responded "Now kiss my feet and remember that as of Saturday, you'll refer to me as "Your Highness". If I were you, I'd start getting into the proper head right now."
And so he did. I'll finish this with my next posting.
But this was different. I wanted to see Karl festooned (such a nice word, isn't it? ) with chains. Chains wrapped around him and draping from his head and shoulders. My friend Patsy, who fancies herself a bit of an expert on matters related to psychology, has assured me that my desire to cover Karl in chains stems from the death of my friend Pete. Patsy claims that the chains represent a need to keep a loved one close at hand, under complete control and incapable of escape and/or sudden disappearance. I lost Pete, she says, and I'm not about to lose Karl. Thus, the chains.
Well, that's a nice theory, and perhaps there's some truth to it, but the sexual charge it gives me to see Karl wrapped up in heavy metals can hardly be related to Pete's death. My other dear friend, Vanessa, just laughs at Patsy's theory, and puts it quite bluntly: "You're just a sadistic Dom who loves to torture your husband. Nothing wrong with that, right?" Now who am I to argue with that?
At any rate, Karl has felt the cold metal quite a bit in the last few months, and my sadistic Dom mind came up with a rather unique idea to celebrate Karl's "chainhood".
Which brings us, in a very roundabout way, to the subject of golf. Particularly the Masters golf tournament which is the Holy Grail of golf tournaments for viewing on television, at least according to Karl. To say that he looks forward to it every year would be a gross understatement, and naturally I love to take advantage of that situation, as my faithful readers might remember. Karl has come to expect that he'd have to pay some price for the privilege of watching the Masters, but I think he was surprised and confused when I began asking him golf related questions a few weeks before the actual tournament which takes place in early April.
My main question concerned those chunks of grass and earth that are upended and thrown forward when a golfer hits the ball on the stretch of grass between the tee and green known as the fairway. Karl explained that these chunks are called divots, and they occur when the golf club hits down on the ball. "Down and through" were his exact words. To which I responded "That makes no sense. If you're smashing a club downward into the ball, why isn't the ball pushed into the ground?"
Karl chuckled a bit (for which he would pay later) and explained to me that the club went down only after a backswing with the club was changed into a forward swing as the golfer thrust forward and hit the ball, creating a "down and through" situation. The force from the speeding club allowed the head of the club (the iron part at the bottom of the club) to continue through the ground and forward toward the green. I still couldn't see how the ball got so high in the air with a club crashing down on top of it, down and through or not, but he patiently explained that the metal head of the clubs were angled so that the ball actually went forward and rose in the air off the head at the same time that the head continued downward into the ground, and a divot was created when the club continued its forward arc into something called a "follow through". The height of the ball and the length of the stroke varied from clubhead to clubhead, and there were a good dozen of these metal clubs to choose from. He went on about club length and backspin and a lot more that I won't bore you with until I was fairly dizzy. I finally stopped him from any more explanations and asked the question I really needed an answer to:
"That's enough Karl. What I want to know is which of these iron clubs makes the deepest cut and the biggest divot?" Karl gave me a quizzical look, but he was much too smart to ask WHY I needed this information, and after some thought said "Well, you can get a big divot with any club, but most commonly the biggest ones are with what's known as the "short irons", which would be the nine iron, the pitching wedge and the sand wedge."
That was what I needed to hear, and I cut off the conversation before Karl could go into some long winded explanation about these three clubs. No doubt he was frustrated, as he could probably go on for hours about anything golf-related, but enough was quite enough. I now had the information I'd wanted, and my diabolical golf day surprise for Karl was going forward perfectly.
A few days before the Masters, I told Karl that if he wanted to watch the tournament he'd have to be in slave mode, and that his behavior would determine whether or not he'd be allowed to watch the event. He'd serve my needs on Saturday without any viewing of the tourney, but on Sunday, the final day, he'd have a chance to see the entire finale. On that day he'd be serving me, Patsy and Vanessa, and once again his behavior would determine how much of the tournament he'd be allowed to see. The TV coverage went from early afternoon and on into the evening, so we'd see if he did well enough to watch it all or even any of it.
Karl nodded and said "Thank you for the opportunity, Milady." He bowed and kissed my extended hand, to which I responded "Now kiss my feet and remember that as of Saturday, you'll refer to me as "Your Highness". If I were you, I'd start getting into the proper head right now."
And so he did. I'll finish this with my next posting.
Saturday, March 24, 2018
THE SADDLE CAME LOOSE
As I write this, I'm sitting at a small desk in my basement, typing away, and looking up now and then at my husband Karl, who is naked and suspended by his arms (feet on the floor) from the basement beam across from me. His head is down, looking at the floor, he's been brought "to the edge" four times in the past hour, and he's been admonished to not go over the edge and to keep his head down or suffer a session with my whip. I can honestly say that I doubt he could be any happier. Why? Well, therein lies a tale, doesn't it?
The title of this entry refers back to my last posting (BACK IN THE SADDLE) which I wrote a full 6 months ago. At the time, I was thrilled to be typing with two hands and had fully expected to be posting regularly once again. Things changed quickly when the phone rang with a message from the elderly care home where I volunteer. My friend Pete had come down with a relapse of his earlier bout with pneumonia, and things had taken a dark turn for him.
Those of you unfamiliar with Pete and our relationship can check back on my postings in 2016 for more information, but suffice it to say that we were very close and I was about his only source for visitation. When I arrived at the home, I was shocked to see just how much he had deteriorated in the few days since I had last seen him. He was having trouble breathing and his hacking cough was absolutely frightening. I stayed with him that day and returned day after day to give him what solace I could and to keep him talking and aware that somebody besides doctors and nurses cared about him and wanted him to get better.
We became even closer during this time, as Pete seemed to want to go over his personal history and revealed just about every thought and life adventure he'd had along the way. I shared with him as best I could given my desire for privacy, and bits of my life as a Dom invariably crept into the conversations here and there. Not much, but enough to let him know that I trusted his discretion and valued his input. Days crept into weeks, and I suppose you could say that Pete became something of a father figure to me. It was a comfortable feeling, but it became harder and harder to watch him get weaker and weaker, and I had to come to the conclusion that I was watching a man who I had come to love and respect slowly and painfully die.
I'd never experienced anything like this before. Those of you who have gone through this know how draining it can be to see something like this happen and to feel the helplessness involved. It had devastating effects on my own life as well. I became obsessed with being by Pete's side, and had lost all desire to involve myself with my usual Dom persona where my husband Karl was concerned. I just couldn't get myself in the right head while watching Pete die, and I couldn't even read the blogs I usually read or comment on other situations in the blogger community.
I also felt terribly guilty about shutting out Karl to some extent and ignoring what I considered my duty to keep the D/s relationship strong. It was not a happy time, and when Pete finally did pass away shortly before Christmas, I fell into a depression of the sort I'd never felt before. Karl couldn't have been more understanding and loving during this period, continuing to serve me in many ways without my having to ask and putting no pressure on me to return to my usual "natural Dom" way of life. He is truly a wonderful man.
Gradually, the depression lifted and about a month ago I started reading and commenting on my favorite blogs (special thanks to fur sissy for his wonderful fiction works) and the cloud that I'd never before experienced began to lift. My juices began to flow once more, and that takes us full circle to the beginning of this posting and explains why Karl could be so happy hanging from the rafters and being lovingly tortured by me.
I do apologize to all my faithful readers who have been wondering what happened to me. Hopefully, you understand where I've been the past 6 months, and hopefully the year 2017, which began with flu bugs and ended with death, will fade from memory and be replaced with health and positivity. For now, I've got to get back to Karl and put some clamps on those nipples. I'm certain that he'd want it no other way:)
The title of this entry refers back to my last posting (BACK IN THE SADDLE) which I wrote a full 6 months ago. At the time, I was thrilled to be typing with two hands and had fully expected to be posting regularly once again. Things changed quickly when the phone rang with a message from the elderly care home where I volunteer. My friend Pete had come down with a relapse of his earlier bout with pneumonia, and things had taken a dark turn for him.
Those of you unfamiliar with Pete and our relationship can check back on my postings in 2016 for more information, but suffice it to say that we were very close and I was about his only source for visitation. When I arrived at the home, I was shocked to see just how much he had deteriorated in the few days since I had last seen him. He was having trouble breathing and his hacking cough was absolutely frightening. I stayed with him that day and returned day after day to give him what solace I could and to keep him talking and aware that somebody besides doctors and nurses cared about him and wanted him to get better.
We became even closer during this time, as Pete seemed to want to go over his personal history and revealed just about every thought and life adventure he'd had along the way. I shared with him as best I could given my desire for privacy, and bits of my life as a Dom invariably crept into the conversations here and there. Not much, but enough to let him know that I trusted his discretion and valued his input. Days crept into weeks, and I suppose you could say that Pete became something of a father figure to me. It was a comfortable feeling, but it became harder and harder to watch him get weaker and weaker, and I had to come to the conclusion that I was watching a man who I had come to love and respect slowly and painfully die.
I'd never experienced anything like this before. Those of you who have gone through this know how draining it can be to see something like this happen and to feel the helplessness involved. It had devastating effects on my own life as well. I became obsessed with being by Pete's side, and had lost all desire to involve myself with my usual Dom persona where my husband Karl was concerned. I just couldn't get myself in the right head while watching Pete die, and I couldn't even read the blogs I usually read or comment on other situations in the blogger community.
I also felt terribly guilty about shutting out Karl to some extent and ignoring what I considered my duty to keep the D/s relationship strong. It was not a happy time, and when Pete finally did pass away shortly before Christmas, I fell into a depression of the sort I'd never felt before. Karl couldn't have been more understanding and loving during this period, continuing to serve me in many ways without my having to ask and putting no pressure on me to return to my usual "natural Dom" way of life. He is truly a wonderful man.
Gradually, the depression lifted and about a month ago I started reading and commenting on my favorite blogs (special thanks to fur sissy for his wonderful fiction works) and the cloud that I'd never before experienced began to lift. My juices began to flow once more, and that takes us full circle to the beginning of this posting and explains why Karl could be so happy hanging from the rafters and being lovingly tortured by me.
I do apologize to all my faithful readers who have been wondering what happened to me. Hopefully, you understand where I've been the past 6 months, and hopefully the year 2017, which began with flu bugs and ended with death, will fade from memory and be replaced with health and positivity. For now, I've got to get back to Karl and put some clamps on those nipples. I'm certain that he'd want it no other way:)
Tuesday, September 5, 2017
BACK IN THE SADDLE!
I'm thrilled to report that I'm typing this entry with two hands once again! Finally, I can get my readers up to date on the first 8 months of this very strange year. Medical issues have dominated for much of the 6 months, and the related miseries, both physical and mental, have taken their toll. Both Karl and I had very nasty bouts of the flu, and my friend Pete in his assisted living home had it much worse with a bout of pneumonia that had me worried that he wouldn't recover. He did, thankfully, and is his feisty old self once again. I was sick much of the time that he was, and that limited my visits to see him, but we kept up each other's spirits via good old fashioned phone calls.
Then, of course, came my ill fated dip in the ocean, and I've already written about that. I'm still feeling the effects in my shoulder and wrist, but to a much lesser extent, and I'm ready for a comeback in the last quarter of this year. I can type again, and I can drive again, Karl is healthy as well, and life can hopefully get back to normal. At least as "normal" as a FLM, D/s, and s/M relationship can be said to be:)
Speaking of that lovely relationship, I do have a few updates on matters of the proverbial "kink" to report. First, I must mention Vanessa and David. After David's ordeal by fire at the hands of Vanessa earlier this year, he's settled in as a strong contender for Vanessa's affections. Of course, Vanessa's affections include a heavy dose of slave driving and hard core dominance, but David seems to have thrived under her "tutelage" and the two of them are getting along famously. Vanessa orders, David obeys. Sounds like some other couple, hmm?
Actually, I did get a bit of time with David on my own. While Karl was over in England for 10 days, and I was still sick with the flu, Vanessa got tired of hearing my complaints about the unkempt condition of my house without Karl around to do his usual cleaning chores, feeding chores, etc., etc., and "volunteered" David to spend as long as necessary to help me out. She dropped him off early one morning with instructions to follow my orders and work at whatever I told him to work at, for as long as it took, even if it took days.
How strange it felt to be dominating someone else's submissive! Well, it didn't take me long to get into the swing of things, as the saying goes, and I had a lovely time ordering a totally compliant David around all day and half the night. Being the kind hearted person that I am, and realizing that his body was going to be sweating profusely before it was all over, I had him remove all of his clothes from the start. So, naked but for his chastity device (evidently Vanessa didn't quite trust me completely), off he went on the first of many rounds of chores that I had planned for him.
Oh yes, I must admit that I did place some heavy chains on him in the form of ankle and hand restraints that kept his feet about a foot apart and about half that for his hands Just enough to make the day a bit more memorable for him and to allow me to enjoy the sounds that chains make when being dragged and banged against furniture and floors as he "hobbled" around the house. After all, in all fairness that was a typical situation for Karl when he did his chores, so why should David have any less of a challenge?
David was very well trained. He dutifully vacuumed, cleaned floors, dusted woodwork, scrubbed the bathrooms and more, and I rarely had to use my crop to move him along, though it was fun to see the expression on his face the few times that I did. If I had felt better physically, I surely would have been a bit harsher, but I so appreciated his efforts that I was not my usual sadistic self. At noontime, Vanessa arrived with cold cuts and sandwich fixings, and David prepared lunch for the two of us, serving it up on platters while we fed him from a dish on the floor. I'm sure he was used to that, and he performed his waiter duties so flawlessly that we allowed him a bit of foot worship under the table as we ate.
After Vanessa departed, I had David doing a week's worth of washing, drying, ironing and putting clothes away. I rarely spoke to him other than giving orders, but I was curious to hear his side of his relationship with Vanessa, so I quizzed him a bit in the late afternoon and found that he was absolutely dedicated to his new Mistress and her happiness. His somewhat frail body belied his enthusiasm for doing her bidding, and his energy at the tasks I set for him showed that he was "doing it for his mistress" and wanted to please me as her representative on this day. All in all, having him help me out was a pleasure, and I gave Vanessa (when out of David's earshot) a glowing report of his time with me when she picked him up that evening.
Next, there is a matter to report on concerning Karl and his trip to England. I'll save that for the next posting.
Then, of course, came my ill fated dip in the ocean, and I've already written about that. I'm still feeling the effects in my shoulder and wrist, but to a much lesser extent, and I'm ready for a comeback in the last quarter of this year. I can type again, and I can drive again, Karl is healthy as well, and life can hopefully get back to normal. At least as "normal" as a FLM, D/s, and s/M relationship can be said to be:)
Speaking of that lovely relationship, I do have a few updates on matters of the proverbial "kink" to report. First, I must mention Vanessa and David. After David's ordeal by fire at the hands of Vanessa earlier this year, he's settled in as a strong contender for Vanessa's affections. Of course, Vanessa's affections include a heavy dose of slave driving and hard core dominance, but David seems to have thrived under her "tutelage" and the two of them are getting along famously. Vanessa orders, David obeys. Sounds like some other couple, hmm?
Actually, I did get a bit of time with David on my own. While Karl was over in England for 10 days, and I was still sick with the flu, Vanessa got tired of hearing my complaints about the unkempt condition of my house without Karl around to do his usual cleaning chores, feeding chores, etc., etc., and "volunteered" David to spend as long as necessary to help me out. She dropped him off early one morning with instructions to follow my orders and work at whatever I told him to work at, for as long as it took, even if it took days.
How strange it felt to be dominating someone else's submissive! Well, it didn't take me long to get into the swing of things, as the saying goes, and I had a lovely time ordering a totally compliant David around all day and half the night. Being the kind hearted person that I am, and realizing that his body was going to be sweating profusely before it was all over, I had him remove all of his clothes from the start. So, naked but for his chastity device (evidently Vanessa didn't quite trust me completely), off he went on the first of many rounds of chores that I had planned for him.
Oh yes, I must admit that I did place some heavy chains on him in the form of ankle and hand restraints that kept his feet about a foot apart and about half that for his hands Just enough to make the day a bit more memorable for him and to allow me to enjoy the sounds that chains make when being dragged and banged against furniture and floors as he "hobbled" around the house. After all, in all fairness that was a typical situation for Karl when he did his chores, so why should David have any less of a challenge?
David was very well trained. He dutifully vacuumed, cleaned floors, dusted woodwork, scrubbed the bathrooms and more, and I rarely had to use my crop to move him along, though it was fun to see the expression on his face the few times that I did. If I had felt better physically, I surely would have been a bit harsher, but I so appreciated his efforts that I was not my usual sadistic self. At noontime, Vanessa arrived with cold cuts and sandwich fixings, and David prepared lunch for the two of us, serving it up on platters while we fed him from a dish on the floor. I'm sure he was used to that, and he performed his waiter duties so flawlessly that we allowed him a bit of foot worship under the table as we ate.
After Vanessa departed, I had David doing a week's worth of washing, drying, ironing and putting clothes away. I rarely spoke to him other than giving orders, but I was curious to hear his side of his relationship with Vanessa, so I quizzed him a bit in the late afternoon and found that he was absolutely dedicated to his new Mistress and her happiness. His somewhat frail body belied his enthusiasm for doing her bidding, and his energy at the tasks I set for him showed that he was "doing it for his mistress" and wanted to please me as her representative on this day. All in all, having him help me out was a pleasure, and I gave Vanessa (when out of David's earshot) a glowing report of his time with me when she picked him up that evening.
Next, there is a matter to report on concerning Karl and his trip to England. I'll save that for the next posting.
Friday, August 4, 2017
FUN AT THE SHORE - NOT!!!
Well, so much for R&R. I'm sitting at my keyboard doing "hunt and peck" typing with my left hand, and I am not left handed. Our vacation at the seashore had me getting hit from behind by a large wave near shore, and that resulted in a tumbling and swirling event that left my right wrist severely sprained and my right shoulder yanked nearly out of its socket. No broken bones, but more than enough pain and sleepless nights.
As a result, I've spent the past month all bandaged up with probably another month to go before things are somewhat back to normal. My dominant personality does not accept injury very well at all. Sort of a "how dare you" backlash going through my head every day. Typing is difficult - thus my blog silence - but I did want to keep in contact at least enough to let my readers know that this too must pass eventually, and I will be back in stride - hopefully - very soon.
Karl, of course, has been wonderful. Waiting on me hand and foot, but that's not awfully different than our everyday lives, is it:) Vanessa has been great as my chauffeur whenever I get sick of being housebound, and Patsy as well has come through.
I'll stop for now, as I've made so many typos with this left handed stuff that I thought I'd never get this done, and I'm royally pissed off about the whole thing. I hope all of you are well, and I will, as always, welcome comments even if it may take me longer than usual to respond.
As a result, I've spent the past month all bandaged up with probably another month to go before things are somewhat back to normal. My dominant personality does not accept injury very well at all. Sort of a "how dare you" backlash going through my head every day. Typing is difficult - thus my blog silence - but I did want to keep in contact at least enough to let my readers know that this too must pass eventually, and I will be back in stride - hopefully - very soon.
Karl, of course, has been wonderful. Waiting on me hand and foot, but that's not awfully different than our everyday lives, is it:) Vanessa has been great as my chauffeur whenever I get sick of being housebound, and Patsy as well has come through.
I'll stop for now, as I've made so many typos with this left handed stuff that I thought I'd never get this done, and I'm royally pissed off about the whole thing. I hope all of you are well, and I will, as always, welcome comments even if it may take me longer than usual to respond.
Wednesday, June 7, 2017
A QUICKIE
I had all the best intentions four months or so back when I said I'd be posting more often. Unfortunately, life got in the way in the form of illnesses for Karl and I (seriously awful flu viruses) , and some more health matters to deal with outside the family (more later). Feeling physically miserable is not the norm for either me or Karl, and it put things on hold for months. Then, Karl had to go to England for 10 days on business matters, so all in all we've hardly had the time or energy to do much of anything that would be of interest to my readers.
Happily, things are back to normal, we both feel healthy again, and I should have some recaps of the last few months coming up blog-wise. I have been able to read and comment on other blogs during this time, and that helped a lot toward keeping me somewhat involved. It does seem to be quiet out there in D/s blogland these days. Thankfully, my friend fur sissy has become more active again, and the I'm Hers blog has been very interesting, among others.
At any rate, I'm sorry for this period of silence, and that will extend at least to another week or so as Karl and I get away for a much needed escape to another location for a session of "R & R". I hope to be back on the blog parade soon. My best to all of you.
Happily, things are back to normal, we both feel healthy again, and I should have some recaps of the last few months coming up blog-wise. I have been able to read and comment on other blogs during this time, and that helped a lot toward keeping me somewhat involved. It does seem to be quiet out there in D/s blogland these days. Thankfully, my friend fur sissy has become more active again, and the I'm Hers blog has been very interesting, among others.
At any rate, I'm sorry for this period of silence, and that will extend at least to another week or so as Karl and I get away for a much needed escape to another location for a session of "R & R". I hope to be back on the blog parade soon. My best to all of you.
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