This is a blog entry I have been avoiding, hesitant to write about it. But I need to human-up and just write it, despite the humiliation I am feeling. By the way, whenever I use the word humiliation it is always the good type.
Several days ago I posted the autobiographical life story of a 24/7 BDSM consensual slave at http://www.assdisc.com/slavegaillifestory.html. It contains nothing I wrote myself (other than the brief introduction at the top) and it contains a whole lot of non-consensual and horrifying experiences. The woman who sent it to me indicated that her Owners felt it would be therapeutic for her to type it all out. I don’t know about that because I would have a very tough time recounting those type of horrors but I am glad that she is in a very happy place now.
Ok, I’m stalling. Let’s get to what happened yesterday.
When I got home from work in the late afternoon I immediately saw my wife clearly ready for me to give her enjoyment. I think you know what that means. What a great way to begin the weekend! So I quickly removed my clothes and jumped into bed to assume the appropriate position with my head near the foot of the bed but my wife told me to sit up on the edge of the bed instead. I was a bit afraid that she would try to insert into me that huge dildo from a few nights ago (since that is the position to begin a strap-on session), afraid because my behind is still tender from that and I’m just not ready for it again. But she had something worse in mind. And by worse I mean in a good way, despite my tone I enjoy all of this amazing stuff.
She went into the kitchen and retrieved something from the freezer. It was an ice pack and I knew what that meant. I guess I had made an off-hand comment about the warm weather today and that prompted her little devil inside to do its creative work.
I think I whined but I knew it wouldn’t do any good to beg. She put the freezing ice pack on my shoulder and it hurt. She moved it to my thigh and it hurt. I was already yelling and squirming when she simply pressed it against me and rubbed my entire body with it, everything below my neck. I screamed and fell back on the bed and she just kept rubbing me with it. I could tell from her body language that she was particularly delighted to press it up against the middle of my back and despite my begging, intermittent screaming, and panting just to try to catch my breath she was relentless. Inner thighs, backs of my upper arms, oh my gosh my sides just above my hips. I think it sounded like I was laughing and then gurgling but they were uncontrollable noises of pain.
It had to be about 5 minutes of that torture, maybe only 3. Either way, it was not just a few pats and seemed to never end.
Then she commanded me to give her the enjoyment I had anticipating. I jumped to the task and gave it some extra effort. I was hoping for our next activity to be standard mutual enjoyment (again I hope you are following along with my euphemisms) but instead she found two different ways for me to give her enjoyment which at least did involve me receiving direct physical enjoyment at the same time (in other words I was inside her). Then she abruptly seemed done so I asked if I could receive enjoyment but she told me no and she added that I would need to put on the chastity device this weekend.
Oh no! We hadn’t used the device in weeks and I was already overdue for a usually twice weekly orgasm. She has been controlling the timing of my orgasms for the past several weeks without a device (I am not allowed at all to pleasure myself even just via a bit of touching) so the presence of the device does not really change the timing — although it prevents me from getting hard so that is a change in itself — but what alarmed me is that I would not be allowed needed release last night. Ok, I admit it’s not “needed” but it sure is wanna wanna.
But the device would have to wait as my wife still had plans for me. She told me to lie face down as she plugged in the neon wand (somewhat painful static electricity which she applies to my skin) to the wall outlet. I don’t know what happened, maybe she detected my relief at not being face up (I was very conscious not to reveal my relief at being on my stomach so that I wouldn’t give her any ideas!), but she told me to turn over onto my back. She restrained me spread eagled and went to retrieve the neon wand.
As she began to restrain me face up I knew what was coming. I’m no dummy. But I am a wimp. I cried. Not just a few tears but full-on crying and sobbing and tears were running down my face, even though the only pain I had felt was from the ice pack (did I say the only pain as if it was just a small amount??). I tried a little begging but I knew it was useless, she had the sadism lust in her heart and I could tell this from her body language.
As expected, she zapped my groin. Not just once or twice, not just several times, but over and over and over. And not just on the shaft but also right on the head several times. I’m having to take a deep breath now just typing this out (I’m not joking).
Fortunately, I was not restrained so much that I could not jerk around so the zaps all lasted just a fraction of a second until my body jerked away. And in reality there were probably “only” a couple of dozen zaps in that area, if I could venture a guess.
I was a basket case whimpering, screaming just after a zap, my body jerking, etc. My wife moved on to apply the wand to a few other parts of my body and I could not move enough away so several of those zaps lasted a few seconds each and those were quite painful, too. I like feeling victimized? Yep. And I had no choice.
Then my wife put away the wand and gave me a brief caress to calm me down. By brief I mean one second or so. I don’t stay in a state of horror for long so I was fine when she got on the bed next to me and looked closely into my face. She asked about how I took out the trash the previous night.
I knew that she was going to be telling me that I did something wrong. But it seemed strange because she had already tortured me. Usually a punishment (funishment) is administered after a lecture. I told her that I had put on my jammies and carried the trash out. She asked if it was dark out or light and I thought a moment and said dark. Then it hit me. I had turned the outside light on and forgot to turn it off so it remained on all night.
I had done the same thing last week. Oh shit. She could see that I knew what I had done.
To my surprise she removed the restraints and told me to get up and put on the french maid dress she had bought for me earlier in the week. So far I have had to wear this every day when I am home, including now. It definitely feels strange and humiliating to be wearing a dress, something I had never done before. On top of that it is strange to be wearing anything at all in the house when it isn’t cold and there is discomfort in having to deal with the corset-like dress and the thin shoulder straps which keep falling down. But I obey, of course.
To continue my recounting of last night, my wife led me to the light switch for the outdoor light and told me to stand and stare at it. The switch is in a corner of the living room so this was pretty much corner time. I had never served more than maybe 10 minutes of corner time at any one time before but I knew it would be longer this time. There is also a mirror right there and my wife told me to look at the light switch and also look at how ridiculous I look in the mirror. She then left me to do other things in the house.
There I was watching myself receive corner time punishment, in a french maid outfit.
With nothing else to do I began to think, here I am with my universe reduced to this tiny corner and not allowed to be comfortable, not allowed to walk anywhere else, while billions of other people in the world are free to walk about pretty much whereever they want. I could be sitting comfortably at my PC and reading FetLife etc. but noooo. There goes my wife just strolling around the house while I am stuck right here. It felt very dehumanizing. I have never been in a cage before but I imagine that this is how it feels.
After about 10 minutes my wife brought a cup of water which she said I could drink if I needed it. I thanked her for her kindness. She then brought the hard wooden paddle we purchased several weeks ago and which she loves (I admit it, I absolutely love it too) and she began paddling my behind through the flimsy dress.
Not much protection there, it hurt like heck when she got going and I had to be careful not to bang my knee on the nearby end table as my body jerked around from the pain.
My wife paused and commanded me to look at my face as she beat me.
That was another strange experience. I look at my face in the mirror most every day when I shave or brush my hair and I always have control over the muscles of my face. With a hard paddle raining down on my behind, though, my face kept contorting into sudden brief expressions of pain and anguish. That poor guy is being tortured!
On the rare occasions I watch BDSM videos (porn) I usually feel sorry for the guy being tortured, even though I know he is enjoying it and I too would enjoy that treatment from my wife. Still, I usually empathize with the poor suffering victim.
I did that in this case. I felt sorry for the guy in the mirror who just from his face was obviously being tortured.
The strangeness made me start laughing and my wife laughed along with me. Much later she told me that she particularly enjoyed this.
I think I spent about a half hour of corner time with a few interludes of paddling on my behind. My wife gave me another lecture on my transgression and asked if I learned my lesson. I heartily answered yes and agreed that I would not forget to check the light switch — the one I had been staring at for the past half hour — in the future. Much later in the evening I found that her conditioning/brainwashing worked, I checked that switch carefully as I went out to pull in the trash barrels.
Finally, the slave treatment was over and we enjoyed dinner together. But then the slave treatment quickly returned.
I washed all of the dishes (that is not slave treatment, that is what I do as a vanilla husband although in the past I didn’t used to do it in a french maid’s dress!) and my wife told me to go back into the living room where she was watching TV, instead of allowing me to go back into the PC room to look at my FetLife posts and e-mail.
I knew part of her mindset here. She purposefully did not allow me any PC time when I got home and she would disallow it now after dinner, too. More control over me.
My wife had me retrieve knee pads she had brought out from a closet somewhere and I put those on. We have hard tile floors everywhere in the house. She told me to kneel at her feet and she set an almost palm-sized rubber ball on the floor. She told me to push the ball along the floor into the PC room in the back of the house, only using my nose.
So much for relaxation after dinner. I crawled slowly through a couple of rooms and down a hallway, pushing the rubber ball ahead of me and making sure it doesn’t go off sideways into another room. I was surprised that I was able to do this without a mishap, though it was somewhat slow going.
Done with that task I knew that I wasn’t done with everything. She had me run some very warm water and add soap to a washcloth to wash her feet as she sat on the couch in front of where I was kneeling, and then she had me apply lotion to her feet as I gave her a long rub. This has been a regular occurrence lately.
It’s kind of a tease and denial, too. I have a fetish for my wife’s feet, they are a big turnon to me though I knew I wasn’t getting any satisfaction last night from what she had told me earlier. To rub my wife’s feet with my hands is somewhat of a turnon to me but to rub with my lips or tongue is a huge pleasure for me. However, with lotion on her feet that kept my mouth away as that is just yucky so here were two beautiful feet in front of my face that I simply couldn’t use my mouth on. That’s tease and denial to me.
My wife at this point asked me “Are you still glad to be my slave?”, knowing how rough she had been treating me so far, and I replied “Yes Princess, it is my pleasure.” Much later, I gave a less flowery and more sincere yes oh my gosh yes. This is bliss to me. Don’t let my whining and complaining give you the impression that I don’t love it.
Once the foot rub and lotion was done I was told to take off the french maid’s outfit and put on the metal chastity device. I had been hoping she would forget she had said that earlier but no such luck for me.
With the device on I was ready to just sit and read FetLife posts but my wife was still not done with me. She had me lie on my naked back against the cold hard floor and put my bare feet up on the couch next to her and she proceeded to implement bastinado on me.
It wasn’t hard bastinado and the pain wasn’t bad but it lasted for probably 10 minutes of light-moderate whacking of her thin flexible stick on the soles of my feet.
Then, finally, I was told to sit on the couch at my PC. But first she had to give a whole bunch of swats with that stick on my bare behind and that hurt almost as much as the paddle. I was yelping again with each blow.
What a long blog post. No wonder I am so fatigued now, and I thought that was due to the memory of all I went through last night.
Do you feel sorry for a BDSM consensual victim when you see or read about their pain and suffering?