What an appealing face.
We have a guest at home at present, one of Goddesses girl friends came for lunch. I served them both through lunch, have made them a couple of cups of tea, and done all the washing up while they sat and chatted in the kitchen, observing me. Goddess has summoned me once or twice to do this or that for Her, and I have responded promptly and with humility. While I am happy that I have acted with humility, I am not convinced I have “communicated the Femdom Supremacy relationship” as stipulated in my perfection rules. How on earth wood I clearly communicate this without looking like a total plonker?
Hopefully Goddess has been satisfied with my humility and service. If not, She is obviously free to punish me for it, in which case I would have to roll the dice twice. Assuming an average of five on each roll (because the fucking dice appears to be loaded!) that would be 56 strokes including discipline strokes. I have never had so many! I would die!
One thing is for sure. If Goddess does decide that I have not communicated the Femdom Supremacy relationship clearly, then in future I will really go to town on doing so – though just how, I still do not know!
Originally posted 2011-07-12 20:00:29.
My wife has worked her way from 2? wide dildos 10 years ago when my thin cock wasn’t up to the task to her now fucking a silicone dildo that measures 3-1/2? diameter. As soon as she has conquered each dildo she orders the next size up. She usually moves in 1/4? or 1/2? increments every 3-6 months or so. She just moved to 3-1/2? from 3-1/4? over the last month. She enjoys penetration that provides maximum bulk and especially enjoys the burning sensation the first few weeks after she upsizes. Over the years her cunt has just gotten bigger and bigger and looser. She fucks and stretches with her dildo practically every night. It is part of her bedtime routine. Puts hair up, brushes teeth, fucks a huge dong for 40 minutes before going to sleep. Her cunt is always loose and she doesn’t start to even grip until she has something around 3? diameter inside her. Her cunt stopped recovering from the stretching a long long time ago. She doesn’t actually gape but she can take a fist without any preparation within 30 seconds at any time of day. Often she will ask me to put my hand inside her when she is falling asleep. Sometimes it is still there in the morning. My hand comes out looking gross and white and wrinkled after being inside her all night. When we do this my hand smells like her cunt no matter how many times I wash it during the day.
I can’t remember the last time she offered any grip on my cock. It has been so many years. She still lets me fuck her quite often, but she really can’t feel me. She says its relaxing but doesn’t feel like she is being fucked. Sometimes she will come if I bang her hard enough and align my pubic bone on her clit and make a point of grinding this part of her pussy but this is quite rare and sometimes I suspect she fakes it just to maybe make me feel better anyway. To get myself off I have to insert my hand and jerk myself off while it is inside her. She is so loose I need to do this anyway to stay hard as I usually loose my wood within a few minutes of entering her. She doesn’t make fun of me but for the most part its pretty much a non event for her. My cock is 6? long but if I am less than 4-5? deep inside her it just falls out.
I was a bit insecure the first few years when she started buying bigger and bigger dildos and was using them all the time and it didn’t take long for me to notice her pussy was becoming looser from the constant stretching but for years now I have just come to accepted it and for the most part I still enjoy watching her climax on toys that are thicker than wine bottles. She will just casually tell me she has ordered a new toy and each time even after all these years I am still shocked when I first see her new purchase. I think even if I had a big cock she still would have gone this direction because the toys she uses now are heaps bigger than any human cock anyway. There isn’t much I can do but keep jerking myself off. If I could rewind the clock I probably wouldn’t have bought her the first larger dildo to try. She showed interest in trying bigger and I jumped at the chance to see her with something a little larger than my cock. Never expected it would go the direction it did and even when she started buying bigger toys I thought it was only a matter of time until she would loose interest. Guess I was wrong.
Response to Replaced By a Dildo
A Different Kind of Cuckolded Feminized Husband
A Different Kind of Cuckolded Feminized Husband
Walking into the bedroom where I’d just changed into my costume, Debra looked me over with approval. “That Little Orphan Annie” outfit is just the thing for you.
I smiled in agreement. “Thanks. It fits very well which is surprising. Since Annie was an immature girl, I don’t need to wear a bra. What a relief!”
Now it was my turn to check out my wife’s outfit. Deb is not a big busted gal, which is one of the things that drew me to her. I mean, how much tit can a guy get into his mouth anyway. Her nipples were extra large which really made for some passionate sucking. We both got off on that!
Seeing her in the Marilyn Monroe outfit she looked even sexier than the blond bombshell had looked when she was alive. While a woman’s face, and figure are important in attracting men, her personality can really make the difference. This was another aspect that drew me to Deb, back in our dating days.
Her personality! For me the combination of naiveté, shyness, and feminine helplessness that she put on so well, distracted most from the dominant woman inside.
These matched my one open and closed sides very well. Her shy girl vs my pushy masculine while her dominance vs my femme side made us perfect for each other. Few were privy to our less-seen sides.
“Ready to go?” I asked.
“As ready as ever,” she said grabbing my ass while we were walking out the door.
I put on a girlish giggle and wiggled my butt in response.
“Perfect! Just what Paul needs.” I heard her whisper to herself. Whatever could she have meant by that? We were into the car and shortly drew up to the home of our good friends, Erica and Paul. The inside and outside lights were ablaze giving the house a true party atmosphere.
Many guest had arrived before us and were milling about drinking, talking, and for some, a little flirting. Not so uncommon, though is it? Flirting, I mean. Wine, loud exuberant music, beautiful people, and the need to just let go after a stressful week at the high-pressure jobs many of us held. Even middle aged folks such as Deb, Paul, Erica, and I could feel the arousing sense that seemed more prevalent than usual.
A few hours later, the party had taken on a more mellow feeling. The level of tension I had felt upon entering seemed to have increased. I had wandered outside to stand away, and look back at the party. Through the open door, I saw Deb chatting with a three others we often met at such gatherings. What caught especially caught my eye was the hand of the Paul standing next to her. He was resting it on her left cheek with Deb either not realizing it was there or not caring, or… maybe she was enjoying it. He leaned over to whisper something in her ear. She smiled and put hand on his cheek, then he turned and left.
I was just about to take a step back toward the house. I wanted to confront Paul Slap his hand off of Deb’s bottom, when I heard a deep voice from behind me, “Hi, sexy,” it said.
Just the guy I wanted to see. The irritation I felt in witnessing Paul’s cavalier touching of my wife’s bottom, was tempered, by the sweetness of his intimate comment.
“Paul, I…” said turning to face him, but he was so close that spilled my glass of wine onto his costume. “Oops!” I said feeling suddenly clumsy at spoiling his costume and intimidated by his proximity. I used the napkin in my hand to brush away the dampness. “So sorry!”
He stood silently as I brushed, and brushed, and brushed, until looking up at his face several inches above mine. I stopped brushing, letting my hand simply rest on his chest. An overwhelming sense of desire washed over me. I felt my face blushing, betraying my deepest thoughts to him. His cryptic smile told me he understood.
I wanted to pull my hand away from his chest but he put his hand on mine holding it there. My breathing was becoming more shallow, fate had taken over. My mind was lost in a swirl of thoughts which came down to: “Run!” and “Stay!”
“Stay!” won. To make matters worse (or was it better), I felt my cock twitch. I was attracted to this man! Oh, Shit!
His hand! No longer holding it against his chest, he was pushing it downward, guiding it to a new destination. I already knew its goal and felt my cock harden further.
“Annie,” he said speaking to me, distracting my eyes from where my hand was being taken. “I’ve been watching you for a long time, wanting to meet you like this. Your costume says everything about you that I’ve long suspected and now know. You are perfect for what I need.”
He’d released my hand but I continued to move it downward until it came to rest on the large bulge in his pants. “It’s so big!” I said gazing into his eyes.
“It’s OK, Annie. Everything is alright. You’ll get used to it. I think your mouth will be the perfect fit for it.”
My hand was cupping his hardness. I gasped at his audacity. How could he? “Paul, I’m married. I can’t possibly…’
He cut off my objection by putting his lips upon mine and kissing me softly. Gradually the kiss became stronger as I kissed his mouth back until we were holding each other is the passion that only new found relationship can bring.
Moving his face back from mine but only a few inches he confirmed my own thoughts. “Yes, you can and you will. Soon all you’ll want is my cock.”
“Your cock?” I repeated and looked into his eyes. Then said it again, but more confidently this time. “Your cock!” I was breathing heavily.
“Oh, Gawd,” I wondered. “What’s happening to me?”
“Acceptance,” Paul said, putting his hands on my shoulders and gently pushing on them. “You’re accepting what you’ve wanted for so long.”
I didn’t need his hands to direct me; I knew what I had to do. “Your cock!” I whispered.
“Yes, my cock. The center of your new world.”
I was on my knees now, fumbling at the unusual arrangement of his costume’s fly. I didn’t see nor hear other foot steps behind me as Deb joined us. Those old desires suppressed from my child hood, rose to the surface, as I pulled Paul’s beautiful cock from its nest.
Taking the submissive pose, I looked upward at his eyes wanting to see his expression as I showed him the skills that were flooding back. Lapping the precum dribbling out in a continuous stream, the flavor brought back old memories. “Mmm…” I purred softly, lapping his warm, salty precum, longing for the promised treasure in his balls, knowing it would soon flood my mouth.
Hungry for more, I slid my mouth over the end of his cock. He groaned.. His hands moved to hold my head in place while he fucked my face. “Gawd, but you are good. I knew you would be.”
His hands were unnecessary for I was fully committed to sucking him off. He knew it too but as a dominant man, he felt it necessary to at least appear to be forcing me to be his cock sucking slut.
In far too short a time, he pulled back, his cock slipping from my mouth. “That’s enough, annie, I don’t want to cum in your mouth. This load is special; it belongs up your pussy.”
Rising quickly, I agreed. “Yes, I want you to fill me completely.” We were both stripping off our costumes. Only the sense of becoming Annie would remain. Naked now, he led me to a place that had been prepared for our first mating. A blanket had been spread with candles at either end. This is where he would deflower me, marking my bottom as his alone.
His words distracted me from seeing our wives witnessing my conversion. “She asked to watch. I was sure you wouldn’t mind.”
Looking back at his face, I shook my head. “N.. n… no,” I agreed nervously. Deb was setting up a video camera on its tripod, aiming it and pressing the RECORD button. The little red eye staring at me was putting every second of my complete submission on tape.
She stepped forward and knelt beside me. Her soft lips felt different somehow, not like Paul’s at all. Hers were too feminine. I longed for his. When her hand reached to cup my balls, I cautioned her, “Those belong to Paul now.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. You won’t need this any longer,” she said lifting my left hand, to slip off the wedding band she’d placed there only five years ago. Walking over to Paul, she said, “Will you wear this for me since my husband doesn’t need it?” I had just been cuckolded and it felt wonderful.
He smiled and said, “Yes, you’ll be needing a man to take his place.” They kissed as Deb slipped it on his right hand.
Turning back to me, Paul knelt and held out a necklace to me. I took it from his hand to read “my name is Annie,” on one side and “i belong to Paul.”
“It’s beautiful, Paul. Yes, I accept it. Would you fasten it on me, please. I felt his fingers caress my neck as he did. “It looks good on you, honey,” he said. “Now I truly own you.” My eyes misted over, almost spilling down my cheeks into tears, I was so happy.
Now, down to the business everybody came for.
“On your back,” he ordered me. I knew what to do yet thrilled at his dominance, at taking over my every thought.
As I lay back with legs pulled up, and my hands spreading my cheeks, I saw my wife watching. He caressed my pink pucker lightly causing me to flinch. “Easy, Annie,” he said. “I won’t hurt you any more than necessary. You know that don’t you?”
“Here we go, baby,” said Paul sinking his massive dick into my hole stretching to accommodate him. “Breath fast, it’ll be easier.”
When it was over, when I ‘d been thoroughly fucked into femininity, I said, “Thank you, Paul, for seeing who I really am.”
He kissed me again. Annie spread her wings and soared.
Also by Daydreamer: She Made Him Her Boyfriend’s Sex Slave
Originally posted 2013-06-04 19:14:11.
Cressada Laverge lowered her lids and gloated over the ease with which she was subjugating Malcolm to her complete domination and imposing her firm will upon his rambling family estate, and the two teenaged nephews he supported. She had long yearned to punish them all, and her friend, Mrs Truella Murdstone would be a wonderful ally in her plans. Cressada’s fully rounded hips and magnificent bosom writhed in anticipation, surging from within at the thought of Malcolm’s place in her schemes. Little did that love-dazed man realise what was to come
[Little indeed, one might say! The new bridegroom finds he has to wear a dog collar and is then set to work scouring the hotel bathroom while his wife and Mistress goes out on a shopping trip. He then discovers a whip is his bride's suitcase, and this is soon put to work when she returns. Malcolm is ordered to clean her shoes]
Emotion squirmed within Malcolm’s loins, half love and half grinding fear, as he saw Sada’s strong, tapering gem-laden fingers grasping the handle of the whip. She fondled the lash, dangling the flexible tip before his panic-widened eyes, and pulling the whole supple length of it through caressing, dagger-nailed fingers, while Malcolm, breathing hard from he feared to know what feelings inside himself, at her feet, his spotless handkerchief ready in his hands.
“Put that damned rag away.” Cressada struck the arm of the chair with the doubled whip. “When you wipe your Mistress’s shoes you will do it reverently, with your tongue!” Malcolm looked up, gulping with awe at the derisive smile and her threatening flourish of the whip as he hesitated. Sada’s eyes narrowed. “So…my pet is not full of the proper respect and reverence – yet!”
“Yes, Sada,” he stammered, throwing himself belly-prone before the glittering black-shod feet. Street dirt clouded the brilliance of the patent leather at the heel tips and just above the soles. He began removing the dirt, his tongue polishing the leather and gathering the debris which he swallowed. In his haze of adoration and awe he knew that this was the only true way to keep his wonderful Mistress’s shoes clean. With whimsical amusement in her eyes, Cressada toyed with the whip, watching his willing debasement. The pungent taste of patent leather filled Malcolm’s mouth, flavoured by the admixture of dust and offal from the street. His lips laved the pointed contours of the gleaming shoes and felt the dainty garlands of pearls at the slipper throats and sucked the terrible thin spikes of the nearing six inch heels.
Originally posted 2011-07-15 11:14:00.
“Hi Chastityboy, it’s Miss Catherine, is your Mistress in?”
“No, sorry Miss,” I replied, “She’s still at work.”
“Oh, can you let her know I’ve called. I’ve spoken to Chris and he’s fine for dinner on Saturday. In fact he’s really looking forward to it.” I could tell she was really enjoying rubbing my nose in it. When Miss K got home I told her the “good news” and she actually gave me a big hug saying “Isn’t it exciting”.
To be honest one of the main reasons I’d agreed to become a cuckold is because I didn’t actually think she’d go through with it. I still think this might be some big wind-up, now involving Catherine too. That hope seems to be fading.
Miss got me to open a bottle of white wine and then called Catherine back. They spent an hour talking about Saturday, about Chris and even I got a mention. Apparently when Catherine told Tony about my new status and the chastity unit he said he always thought I’d been “a pathetic wimp” anyway. Nothing like the support of your mates, eh?
The other bizarre turn of events occurred on Tuesday morning when I went to get a clean pair of shorts out of my draw. I hinted at it in my last post but I’m still embarrassed about it. In fact I’m becoming to wonder if Miss is actually trying to get me to snap. My boxers had disappeared and she has replaced them with female underwear – a couple of thongs, bra and suspender belts in either black or white. I told her to stop messing about but she said I’d look pretty and sexy in ‘my’ new undies. I didn’t and I still don’t – I look absolutely ridiculous, like an extra on the Rocky Horror. Hairy legs and stockings is never a winning look.Thankfully even the white bra showed under my shirt so Miss didn’t press me to wear it to work.
Originally posted 2008-03-28 07:53:40.
Kinque Number One
House of Milan started out the magazine with a dominatrix, male slave cover photograph.
Kinque = ‘kink’ or ‘kinky’?
Originally posted 2012-10-19 12:33:42.
Jackie Miller – celebrated fetish and glamour model – posing with a whip.
This was the first photograph of Jackie Miller that I recall seeing. She seemed so rough and elemental that all my masochism was aroused. Whatever she wanted I could obey. Nothing she wanted would be nice.
Two more photographs from the same – Irving Klaw? – photo session.
Punishment by Domination, Jackie Miller is the dominatrix on the right.
More photographs of Jackie Miller.
Originally posted 2013-01-26 08:07:55.