Female Led Relationships

Well after my last post I feel a bit foolish to have to admit the weekend didn’t go quite how I expected (understatement of the year).

On Friday evening I kept singing “I can’t wait for the weekend to begin”. In hindsight that was pretty stupid. Miss A wanted to go out and let her hair down so dragged me to our local pub. I’ve stopped drinking in the evenings, not wanting to keep waking up during the night with the POI digging into me and having to make several trips to the loo. Miss didn’t seem too concern and was knocking back G’n’Ts like they were going out of fashion, whilst I limited myself to a couple of pints. I was the most sober person there and Miss started to really flirt with a couple of my mates, Chris and Jason, which didn’t impress me in the least. When we got home Miss A told me “You need to lighten-up…and if you think you’re getting any tonight you’ve got another thing coming.”

Predictably I had to make three trips to the loo during the night, being woken each time with the POI stabbing my shaft. As I told you in my last post I was planning a Champagne breakfast for Miss on Saturday morning and I’d bought and hidden a bottle of Champers to surprise Miss A. My expeditions to the toilet gave me a chance to retrieve the Champagne and put it in the fridge to chill.

In the morning everything was going well. Miss was still asleep so I prepared the Breakfast and brought it into her and woke her up. She loved it, announcing it was so wonderful and thoughtful. I knew I was back in her good books and was certain the weekend proper could now begin. However when we had finished breakfast, Miss got up out of bed.
“Oh, god, look at the time,” she said, “I’ll be late.”
“I thought we could spend the day in bed,” I said, almost pleading and imploring her.
“I promised I’d go out shopping with Catherine today. Sorry Darling.” She replied giving me a peck on the cheek before getting dressed.
As she left she turned to me and said “Thanks for a brilliant breakfast, Chastityboy. I’ll see you later.”

At about 6 that evening my mobile went and it was Miss A.
“Hi Chastityboy, Sorry, we got completely carried away shopping. I’ve got a really sexy new outfit, so we’re going to have a girly night out with Marie and Kelly. Don’t wait up!”
Before I had a chance to answer the phone went dead and I was dumbfounded.

Miss A got home at around 12.40am and I was already nodding off in bed. I pretened to be asleep because I was still pretty pissed off, but when she came into the bedroom I had a peek and could see what she meant about her “sexy outfit”. She looked good enough to eat. She got undressed, went into the bathroom for a minute and came back in and got into bed. And before you ask no she didn’t “wake me up”, she turned the light out and went to bed.

As you can imagine by Sunday evening I was getting increasingly frustrated. It was then that I made a big mistake. When I was locked in the CB3000 on NYE I’d promised to give Miss complete control over my sex life and NOT ask to be released. I ‘m sure you’ll understand how desperate I was getting and I broke that one promise.

Miss A was furious. “You promised you wouldn’t ask for release,” she responded furiously.
“I know, but it’s been 8 days now. I’m sorry but…”
She didn’t let me answer.
“I don’ ant to here any buts. You made a promise and now you’ve broken it. You can’t say goodbye to sex for another week at least. And I’ll sleep on what other punishment you deserve” she announced before turning over and turning the table lamp off.
So there I was, on Sunday evening, still locked-up, frustrated and lying there wondering what I had just done. I’ve spent all day kicking myself and vowing to do pretty much anything to win her round.

Originally posted 2008-03-19 19:00:11. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

At 11pm Angelina called to see if I was OK and then told me she’d be staying over at Chris’ flat. I hadn’t expected that and she must still have been at the party because we could hardly hear each other, so I just said “OK” and the phone went dead. It seems just when I feel I’m beginning to accept things something comes up that throws me totally off course. It took 20 minutes before I decided to phone her back and ask her to come home if she could. Twice I started dialing the number and twice I hang up. However on the third attempt I decided I had to call her, but her battery must have run out because her mobile went straight to voice mail.

I went to bed but just kept tossing and turning. The bed seemed so cold and empty without her.

I had just finished breakfast on Saturday morning and was just cleaning the kitchen when Miss got home…with another love-bite on her neck.

“That’ll get them gossiping at work,” she told me. “It was pretty much all they talked about last week.”
“What did you say?” I asked in a panic.

“Well I couldn’t tell them about Chris, could I? So they now all think you’re a stallion! How funny’s that?”
I blushed and then asked her what had happened last night.

“Oh, you can guess. Chris has asked me not to talk to you about me and him.”

I felt deflated. Just as I thought we were getting closer again I seemed to be being pushed out…again.
Miss could see my disappointment so she suggested we had another “girlie night in” and announced we were going into town shopping.

Usually traipsing around load of shops would have been boring, but because we were also shopping for clothes for me it added excitment to an otherwise tedious Saturday afternoon.

We both got some new lingerie and we also bought a floaty black top and black mini-skirt for me. I was a bit horrified when she suggested I tried them on in the shop, but then giggled at the look on my face and told me she was only joking.

We looked around a few shoe shops and then came across some black high heels. I don’t know how high they actually were but there was no way I’d be able to walk in them.

“Nonsense, if girls can do it so can you. It just takes a bit of practice.

We looked everywhere for a wig but couldn’t find one so Miss said she’d look on the internet at work for one.

We had a great evening messing about, Miss teaching me how to apply my make-up but she didn’t mention Chris at all, which surprised me. I can’t explain it; I don’t want to even think about him, but at the same time it’s always in the back of my mind.

On Sunday morning Miss insisted I put my new clothes and make-up on. I had a bit of a headache from the wine we had drunk the night before, but she told me women didn’t have a choice so neither should I. I reluctantly agreed but didn’t feel in the least “sexy”

Originally posted 2008-04-03 07:00:37. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

Working extra hours at work and then getting home, having to shave, put my make-up and female clothes on, make dinner and do my chores is a real drag (no pun intended), but that’s not to say I really mind that much. Miss A and I did sit down and have a long chat after my last post, and it did make me come to realise and understand certain things. I know now that is laughable for me to “be her man” because I can’t be.

Allowing my masculinity to be locked away, accepting dressing as a girl but most importantly “accepting” Miss A’s relationship with Chris changed how she thought and looked at me. She did admit that although she still loved me, she was not “in love” with me. I have to admit it did make me cry, but she was so soft and sensitive and we ended up cuddling into the early hours.

So the outcome?

Yes, I am still wearing the CB-3000. To be honest it’s so long since I even started to get aroused it doesn’t even feel like I could or ever did.

Yes, I am still dressing as a girl; underwear all day and full make-up, my wig, clothes and heels in the evening and at weekends.

The one positive thing is Miss A is not interested in getting a new boyfriend, although she did admit if she met a guy she liked she would start seeing him. As you can imagine I have, literally, been bending over backwards to keep her happy (she is still pretty cut up and upset about Chris) and make her life as easy and fun as possible. She has taken the break-up out on me somewhat, but I suppose that’s to be expected, as we are so close. She does have Miss A Catherine, but she hasn’t spent that muh time with her because Tony is one of Chris’s best friends. I do think she feels that Chris may have been scared off because of me, and she did insinuate that if I’d been “more of a man” she would never had to start seeing him in the first place. I suppose she has a point. I’m glad that it’s just us two again and I really am trying my best to make this work and keep us together.

Things have got “back to normal” so to speak, although the first Sunday after we had our heart-to-heart I was punished far more than I had before. I had my hands cuffed behind my back, as I do every Sunday when I am unlocked and cleaned. Miss A came up and gave me a hug…for a moment I thought it would lead to some intimacy between us…and in a way I suppose it did. Before I knew anything about it she’d quickly raised her knee between my legs. I fell to the floor in agony, banging the side of my head on the bath. I could hardly breath, it felt like my testicles had been pushed up into my stomach and I was in a cold sweat. Miss A quickly knelt next to me,

“Are you OK?” she asked with a real look of concern and worry on her face.

I tried to answer but all the breath had been knocked out of me and I could only nod.

“I’m so sorry, darling, but you know you deserved that?”

Again I could only nod.

For the rest of the day I had a dull ache in my testicles, which I suppose served as a reminder that I will never be “her man” and I had no right to even suggest it. I shan’t even be thinking of it again.

Originally posted 2008-04-18 14:30:36. Republished by Blog Post Promoter

The Art of Ruinging a Submissive Male’s Orgasm

“Bobbie is routinely granted relief on the last Thursday of every month at 8-25pm. I am always home on a Thursday as one of my favourite TV programs commences at 8-30pm. Note the timing, Bobbie has five minutes of ‘pleasure’ each month! Something I never take away from him. He has all month to look forward to it as his right! From a life of gratification, how and when he wanted it, he now has five minutes of regimented ‘pleasure’!

Thursday is his night for ironing. He is expected to be in the laundry, (downstairs and attached to his bedroom) prior to eight o’clock. At eight twenty-five exactly he is required to report to me in the lounge room, curtsey and ask, “Please Mistress, could you attend to my needs please?”

He also has to present me with a special timing device that we use. This is a five minute timer kept on the lounge bureau, since it is quite attractive and a true antique timer that uses falling sand as the measure. It is also a nice conversation piece. He hands me the timer which I immediately invert and place on the coffee table, before advising him, “Yes, please go and prepare yourself.” I then give him the key to his chastity belt. The timer has started.

He must run downstairs to his room and remove outer clothes and chastity belt, leaving on his panties and Lady Jane shoes and hurry into the laundry toilet. I am usually there first. It is in a large space with no walls around it, he is not allowed any privacy in life. I am dressed casually, certainly not attired for his titillation, unless he is turned on by yellow rubber washing up gloves. The only time I wear such items for I have no use for same other than this forthcoming chore. Bobbie places his hands on his head and stands before the toilet. (Time elapsed: 1 minute). I then advise, all part of the rigid routine, “Lid up.” He turns, raises the lid and stands with his cock over the toilet bowl.

I stand behind him and gently stroke his nipples. The poor dear is so starved of sexual attention that he is usually erect within seconds. As soon as he is erect, I cease my ministrations and pull down his panties to the tops of his thighs so his cock pops out before I advise him “Condom.”

He is required to have placed a condom, out of its package, on the toilet cistern before he comes upstairs to me. This he quickly, trying not to fumble in his haste and waste precious seconds, rolls on to his organ. He knows that he must minimise contact and not fondle his organ unnecessarily.
Condom in place he advises, “Ready Mistress.” (Time elapsed: 2 minutes).

I then very quickly and vigorously, almost viciously, from behind, jerk his organ with my rubber gloved hand. He is so tense that it rarely takes even a minute before he is ready to spurt. I am watching this very closely and as soon as I note a slight start of a spasm I stop, take my hands away, step back and watch amused as he spurts, in a most frustrating fashion into his condom.

I assure you there is no orgasm when this method is employed, try it yourself and see! The look of frustration, total and utter frustration, is a picture to behold. Even now after several years of this treatment, he cannot quite comprehend just how frustrating the experience is. It leaves him yearning and desiring satisfaction, dreaming of what he used to experience. He remains totally unrelieved of his sexual tensions and urges, indeed they are multiplied ten-fold as a consequence of the frustration of being so near, yet so far from an orgasm. All that has been released is his semen, not his sexual tension. (Time elapsed: 3 minutes).

There is of course no time for him to ruminate on this, for the timer is still running in the lounge room, his five minutes of pleasure is ‘running out’ fast!

I quickly whisk off his condom and tie a knot in it before tossing it in the toilet. I don’t want to risk him fondling his weenie!

“Toilet paper” is my next command. Bobbie must immediately peal off some toilet paper and hand this to me before placing his hands back on his head. I quickly wipe his cock before throwing the paper into the toilet bowl too. I then pull up his knickers whilst he remains standing, still with that peculiar bemused look on his face – unable still to grasp that it is over, he feels emptied, yet totally unsated, unsatisfied and more in need of sexual orgasm than ever!

“Dismissed!” I advise. He turns, curtseys, politely says, “Thank you Mistress.” (Time elapsed: 3 minutes 15 seconds).

He now hurries, in fact he runs into his adjacent bedroom to quickly replace his clothes and chastity belt (the lock will lock without a key), before hurrying back to the toilet to flush it. And he does dash around now in panic mode! (Time elapsed: 4 minutes 15 seconds).

Then he must run upstairs and into the lounge where I will be once more. He looks with blessed relief at the timer as the last grains are falling. Once more he curtseys, before showing his belt is on again. It is always in place!

“Get back to your ironing.” Is my cold, disinterested response. (Time elapsed: 4 minutes 30 seconds)
“Yes, Mistress” he replies in a most sincere manner, “thank you.” He must advise this with sincerity and he must not rush his words, though he is right now very anxiously watching as the last grains of sand slowly, inextricably, too quickly for his liking, fall from the timer.

He then literally turns on the spot, rushes out, and runs downstairs, as required, to the laundry. It is not far from the lounge and once there he immediately picks up the iron ready to start and calls up in a loud clear voice, the only time I allow him to shout to me from another room, “Iron at the ready, Mistress.”

I now stop the timer, knowing he will be waiting for the next hour or so with bated breath, praying the sand had not run out before he picked up his iron once more, for that is the official end of his period of pleasure. Knowing that this rush and concern over the consequences of being late will have further deflated any possible enjoyment of the moment. It’s all over in less than five minutes, no slow, sensuous strokes of his engorged cock, no gradual winding up to a crescendo with an explosive orgasm followed by a relaxed post-coital winding down to savour the effects and tingling sensations as the orgasm lingers and slowly cruises through all the pores and nerves of his body.

No. Bobbie’s time has now come and gone! Five minutes exactly each month, that’s it. No more, no less. Routine strictly adhered to so Bobbie knows exactly what to expect. Five minutes, not a second longer and he is back to his ironing. Though in reality it is really only a minute or so of actual playing with his weenie!

We had a lovely “vanilla” night on Tuesday when our friends Kelly and Simon came round for a meal. At one point when Angelina asked me to pour her some wine I answered “Yes Miss”, but luckily no one noticed. I was however nervous that Angelina might at some point accidentally refer to me as Chastityboy which wouldn’t be quite so easy to disguise or explain but luckily I needn’ have worried.
We were both knackered after they had left, but before I could jump into bed Angelina handed me my collar.
“Just in case you’d forgotten,” she said with a wink.
I have to admit, having spent the night as Paul I had, but dutifully fixed it round my neck.

Last night I got home early with a plan. I’d read on an excellent Yahoo group that some guys are able to escape the CB3000 and I thought I’d have a little experiment. There was no way I could pull it forward from the front with the Points Of Intrigue there but I tried to push my balls back through the cuff. With quite a bit of pressure my left testicle popped through and I was hit with some major pain between my legs. It felt as if my ball was going to explode and I had a deep, dull ache in the bottom of my stomach (any guy who’s ever been kicked in the balls will confirm this HURTS LIKE HELL!!!). I paused for a couple of minutes and started to try and push my right testicle through the cuff. The more I pushed the more it hurt and in dawned on me that there was no way it was going to pass through and join the other one…and even if it did how was I going to get it back on? At that moment I heard the front door and reaised Angelina was home. Quickly glancing at the clock I realised I’d spent nearly an hour on my futile escape attempt. I jumped up, suddenly remembering the dull ache in my balls, pulling my boxers and trousers back on, and went into the lounge.

Angelina glared at me and I panicked – how the hell did she know what I’d been up to?!? It turned out she didn’t, but there I was fully clothed minus my collar! She marched me back into the bedroom and ordered me to strip and then secured the collar around my neck.
“Wait here,” she said curtly and left the room, coming back in with the spatula from the kitchen.
“Please, not that again,” I pleaded, covering my crotch with my hands.
“Lie on the bed and take your hands away,” she ordered, before sitting on the bed.
“What the hell has gone on here?” she demanded, immediately noticing my left ball absent from the cuff.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” I lied, “It must have slipped out when I was at work.”
“Slipped out?” she asked raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure it didn’t have any help?”
“No, I was in the office and I felt it move.” I figured I had nothing to lose. Thank god she doesn’t know about this blog!!!
“Well we best put you in a smaller cuff hadn’t we?” she replied.
She went over to the chest of drawers and got our handcuffs out of her knicker draw. She ran the lead from my collar down my back (and boy that steel is cold) and attached the handcuffs to the end. Ordering me to put my hands behind my back she snapped the cuffs into place before again leaving the bedroom.
She came back in with her purse, opened the small pocket at the back and brought out the keys to my padlocked CB3000. Sitting on the bed she reached out and unlocked me from my cage.
“Ergh, what a smell little willy!” she exclaimed, “Follow me.”
She took me into the bathroom and ran the basin full of water. Getting a sponge she lathered it up and then lathered it around my cock and balls. God it felt good – the first attention it had received since New Years Eve. Not surprisingly it sprang into life.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Angelina asked looking up at me and staring me in the eye.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I can’t stop it.”
“Well I can,” she replied, pouring a glass of cold water and throwing over my growing cock. Another glass followed it and an erection was “thankfully” (sic) diverted.
She lathered up my cock again and got a disposable razor and shaved the base of my cock and my balls. Of course a cnother couple of glasses of cold water were needed, before Miss A dried me off. She gave the CB3000 parts a quick was, dried them off and lead me back into the bedroom.
She got the box with the spare CB parts out and got the next cuff size down out (the middle size). Pulling my cock and balls out from my body she used her other hand to fit in, snapping it shut. Poking my cock into the main part of the unitshe used her index finger to stuff my cock as far down into it’s cage as it would go. The POI and the main pin were added and the padlock snapped back into place. I was surprised how tight the cuff was on me, when you see the cuffs together they hardly look any different, but now my balls bulged out even more than they had before.
I was sent to make dinner whilst Miss A went for a bath. After dinner she suddenly remembered I hadn’t had my punishment so the spatula was brought out again and I received six stinging stroked to my poor, exposed balls. The rest of my evening was spent tiding the bathroom (“Especially all that water you’ve got all over the floor!”) and then a basket full of ironing, whilst Miss A settled in front of the TV with a bottle of wine.

I woke up in the night (nothing new there then) with an intense pain in my genitals. It felt like I was being pinched either side of my cock. I went to the loo and the pain seemed to subside, but after I’d been back in bed for a few minutes it returned. I looked over at Miss A sleeping and knew I couldn’t wake her. God she looks more beautiful the more I look at her. I couldn’t believe my luck in being able to lie next to such a sleeping beauty. I vowed to myself I wouldn’t let her down again, and do everything exactly as she told me.

I woken in the morning I was rather alarmed to see my balls had swollen up and the pinching feeling a actually starting to burn. I told Miss A and was meant with “Oh well, you’ll get use to it.” Charming!

I’ve always been a rather arrogant and proud person but I was now exploring a new side of me. I was no longer the male peacock preening and strutting. I was learning something about being more caring and thoughtful…no longer putting myself first, but rather this beautiful and divine woman.

Originally posted 2008-03-22 04:00:12. Republished by Blog Post Promoter