Dealing with jealousy, FemDom style

I admit it. I am a jealous husband. Especially when it comes to Mistress Laura's ex-boyfriends, I am ungracious and pathetically insecure. I fret and I sulk and I become a complete pain.

I think part of this stems from an unconscious “ownership” mentality with respect to my Wife. This mentality went unchallenged for all the years that I was the head of the household.

Recently, my jealousy was starting to become an issue.

Mistress Laura has an ex boyfriend, David, on the East Coast. David is married, non-kinky and monogamous. David and Laura have maintained a friendship over the years and they still love each other. David lives close to Mistress Laura's family and is in touch with her brothers and sisters. Over the years, he has become part of my Mistress Wife's extended family.

Because of recent family news (births, illnesses, the usual stuff) Mistress Laura has been spending a couple of hours on the phone, talking with David. I did not like this at all. I was not openly disapproving (I do know my place), but I was grumpy, sullen, mopey. Very attractive behavior, all in all.

She tried talking with me. Here's how one of the early conversations went:

“Tom, do you have a problem with me talking to David as much as I have been? I'm sensing a lot of hostility about the time I'm spending on the phone with him.”

“No, Ma'am.” I said, defensively, reflexively and without much thought. Then, a moment later, I added: “Yes, I feel jealous. There's not much I can do about it, because you obviously have the right to talk to whoever you want, but I don't have to like it.”

“Well, I almost feel bad, talking to David, because you seem so miserable.”

To my Mistress Wife's gracious statement of caring for my feelings, I replied like an oaf: “Whatever. I don't really care. Like I said, I don't have to like it, but you can do what you want.”

In retrospect, I can see that I was not really being a good partner. I just wanted to shut the conversation down and move on, and refused to feel the root feelings. Shut it down, compartmentalize it, let's move on. How stereotypical. :-)

We had a few more conversations. Some of the conversations deteriorated faster than others. In some, I was openly hostile to the topic from the beginning. I kept repeating that “I'm jealous and a bit angry and there's not much I can do about it.” I would leave each conversation more miserable and I don't even want to think what my Wife must have been feeling.

She got tired of dealing with the issue in a vanilla fashion.

Yesterday morning, I was woken up at 5AM with one hand firmly in my hair and my Mistress's other hand grasping my (her!) cock and balls firmly.

“Are you awake yet, slaveboy?”

The shot of adrenaline had certainly woken me up and my cock was instantly hard.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good.” She let go of me and motioned for me to kneel on the side of the bed. “David is leaving for work in about an hour. I want you to crawl into the other room, get me the portable phone, and crawl back.”

I did as she commanded, aroused by being ordered around. As I was crawling away, she laughed and commented “cute butt.” that made me feel good. When I brought her the phone, she once again had me kneel beside the bed.

She was sitting on the bed, with me kneeling beside her. She caressed my cheek lovingly, planted her lovely naked feet on the floor, and told me:

“I am going to call David now. You are to be completely silent and kissing my feet the whole time. If I so much as feel bad attitude from you, you will be extremely sorry. Now, slaveboy, start kissing my feet.”

My heart was in my throat and my stomach felt jumbled up with love, adoration, lust. I planted my hands on either side of her feet, and started kissing her feet lovingly. Every once in a while, I would lick a little bit.

She dialed the phone and in a minute was chatting with David. She was joking and laughing and talking with her ex boyfriend while I was naked, my butt in the air, kissing and licking her pretty little feet. My cock was rock hard the whole time. I think the conversation lasted about twenty minutes. I did not feel jealous in the least; I think my mind was incapable of feeling anything other than lust and adoration while I was kissing my Mistress's feet.

When she was done, she pushed the “off” button on the phone and set it aside. She then leaned down and motioned for me to stop and kneel up, cupping my face in her hands, she said to me tenderly, “Now, my cute little slaveboy, that wasn't so bad, was it?” and she reached down and stroked my already rock hard cock.

“No, Mistress, it wasn't bad,” I said, blushing a bit.

She kept stroking me and told me to tell her when I was close to coming. In a few minutes, I was very very close and told her so. She then stopped abruptly.

“You will not be allowed to orgasm today, slaveboy,” she said, looking pleased with the effect she was having on me, “Now, kiss my feet again and crawl back into bed. We're going to cuddle and go back to sleep.”

I planted my lips lovingly on her feet, kissing each foot a few times, and crawled back into bed, where she spooned me from behind. I felt at peace.

Since then, she has re-iterated that she will call David or whomever she wants at any time, and that the least amount of moping or surliness will earn me a severe punishment.

Interestingly, I feel so much more secure than when she was trying to deal with my jealousy in a conventional manner.

More on cuckolding

Since writing the previous post (“Is she just playing with me?”) I have gotten some very nice comments. One correspondent, DH, wrote me a very nice concerned note privately, saying:

I am against cuckolding in most cases, even though I find the idea of being the so-called bull enormously arousing. I also endorse it in some corrective and advanced-practicioner situations.

Through the net I have “met” many who were happy with the wife having sex outside the marriage. I have “met" some for whom it is a train wreck in real life. Her having more partners for her pleasure need not be an exercise in denial or humiliation for you. They need not be linked at all.

First of all, before I go into this in more detail, I have to say right upfront that right now, I am not emotionally mature enough or enlightened enough to consider being a cuckold husband. Not that it's in my hands at all; if Mistress wanted, she could move me there in no time flat. With that preamble out of the way, I wanted to delve a bit into this particular expression of my Mistress Wife's sexual power over me.

DH's comments were very appreciated, and they caused me to reflect on the core of the erotic attraction to being denied sex even as my Wife could fuck whomever she wishes, however she wishes.

Part of my thrill is the denial, the humiliation, the power trip for my wife. I like the idea of inherent unfairness, unreasonableness, inequality; for example, my wife controls all the money and can do pretty much whatever she wants. I, on the other hand, always have to ask for permission for my non-routine purchases. She can have me pleasure her to multiple orgasms, then she can roll over and fall asleep. She can masturbate anytime she wants to. I, on the other hand, need her permission before I can even touch myself for any purpose other than cleaning.

The bottom line is: Her control makes me happy. Even if I am frustrated in that moment.

DH continued in his message:

I would point out that in many if not most of these happy couples the hubby remains the focus of the wife's actions and her other Lovers are no more than fucktoys or friends with benefits.

This is an interesting idea, but misses the emotional masochism inherent in the scenarios that attract me (like a moth to a flame). The fantasy, in its basest form, involves the dominant sadist wife inflicting physical and emotional pain on her submissive husband, while enjoying herself to the hilt with another man.

If the submissive husband retains the most vaunted role, the “true love” spot in the wife's heart, then he is secure... But the eroticism of the situation revolves around his insecurity.

As sick and twisted as that may seem, the danger, the insecurity, the abject shame and humiliation are at the core of the “enjoyment” of such an experience.

If I was being cuckolded, I know I would be miserable but I would also be turned on by such a flagrant display of power by my Mistress Wife.

My Wife has, from time to time, made me fall on my knees in pure adoration and lust simply by entertaining the idea that she may, some year in the future, choose to divorce me and keep my as simply her slave. That scenario pushes the same buttons: I would be insecure, no longer legally joined with her as an equal in the eyes of the law, and totally dependent on her. I would not be her submissive husband, just her slaveboy, stripped of all rights.

Now, this is where someone goes ahead and sends me a link to husband abuse information, right? :-)

Is she just playing with me?

Those of you who have been paying attention know that I am not into the idea of being cuckolded. At the same time, my Mistress Wife and I have had some conversations about this and I can't really tell whether she is just messing with my mind or if she is serious.

The other evening, I took my required shower before bed and presented my nude body to my Mistress for inspection. I asked my nightly question: "May I sleep in your bed tonight, Mistress?" and she said yes. So I hopped into the bed with her. She was dressed in her usual nighty and underwear. She spooned me from behind for a while and then we switched, with me spooning her from behind, and that's how we fell asleep.

I half-awoke in the very early morning with a raging hardon pressed into her underwear. I was aware that I had been rubbing myself into her and there was some precum oozing from me.

"Did you come?" my Mistress Wife asked.

"No." I answered her and slowed down my rubbing.

It's been a while since I've had any release. The last couple of times that Mistress Laura has played with me, she has had me service her with my mouth and with toys to powerful body shaking orgasms while denying me any release. It's her right to expect that kind of service from me without any thought of reciprocation and I am actually very happy that she exercises that right; the fact that she comes when and how she wants and I only get to come with her permission is an important mark of my YMB relationship.

"You can put a condom on and continue to rub yourself against me like that if you want to come," she told me.

I thought about it for a fraction of a second and said, "Thank you Mistress, but I would rather pleasure you." I had been having a very interesting dream, and I was still half in the dream.

"Okay," Mistress Laura said and she rubbed her ass into my crotch. I rubbed myself into her some more while letting my consciousness slip back into dreamland. In a few minutes, I was asleep again.

Later in the day, I tell Mistress Laura about my very erotic dream in the morning. The dream went like this:

I am at home, and Mistress Laura comes home, wearing a black dress, lipstick, eye shadow, perfume. There is a guy trailing behind her. He is taller than me, and slightly more muscular, with curly brown hair, sporting a mustache and beard. She motions towards the guy and tells me: "Go get some vodka, kalhua, and milk. I want some drinks and I intend to play around with Joe."

I obey, going to a local liquor store. By the time I come back home, she is already fooling around with this guy, kissing, groping, limbs intertwined. I put the drinks on the counter and watch as she pointedly strips Joe naked and starts fondling him, making him hard.

Looking at me, while fondling Joe's hard member, she says: "Strip, slaveboy, and come here and kiss my neck from behind."

I hurriedly undress and start rubbing myself on my Mistress Wife from behind. She is still mostly dressed. I am kissing her shoulder, licking the nape of her neck, and Joe is rubbing himself on her front, his hands roaming all over her body. At one point, he and she are french kissing and his hand is under her dress, massaging her beautiful breasts.

Next, she takes both of us into her bedroom and ends up on top of Joe, bouncing up and down on his cock, while I am licking and kissing her breasts and sucking on her nipples. She comes hard, while twisting Joe's nipple with one hand and grabbing my hair and pushing my face into her chest with the other hand.

"That was nice, boys." Mistress Laura says, while rolling off the bed and putting a robe on. She has me bring drinks for the three of us. That was the end of the dream.

Mistress Laura was thrilled and amused at the dream. She probed, "So, are you saying that you wouldn't mind if I brought another boy to the house?"

I answered truthfully: "Well, it was a dream, Mistress. But..." I looked down, blushing. "If you wanted to do something like that and prepped me for it, I would do anything to please you."

She smiled at me and caressed my cheek. I sank down to my knees and she tousled my hair, putting my head in her lap and running her fingers along my neck and shoulders.

"Good boy." She chuckled. "I find it interesting that neither you nor this Joe character got to orgasm, and that I was clothed for much of the dream."

Then, she thought for a second, and said: "That was a good dream, except for one thing."

"What's that, Mistress?"

"You were far too involved in the dream," She said, while caressing my hair.

She continued: "Here's what I would have done. I would have had you strip and kneel naked outside the door of my bedroom, maybe with some clothespins on your nipples. I would tell you to be quiet, and if you do want to make noises, you have to whine like a puppy. Then I would have taken Joe inside and closed the door."

"Mistress, I know I would be kneeling there, listening to you and whining to be let in," I said, my heart in my throat while my cock was rock hard from imagining what she was saying.

"Yes, you would probably be an ill behaved puppy. I would open the door then, clip a leash to your collar, and bring you inside."

I was breathing shallowly, swimming in her words, not knowing whether any of this could happen in real life, but not caring... Her tone of voice was telling me that she was turned on by the idea of humiliating me in this way, and I was turned on by that.

"I would take the penis gag out and force it into your mouth, clipping it in place..." She continued. This time, she had grabbed my hair possessively. I was emotionally miserable and painfully hard.

"Then I would force your face to the floor near the foot of the bed, where I would attach the leash to one of the legs of the bed, with maybe about a foot worth of slack. You would be forced to kneel, with your face on the floor, gagged, at the foot of the bed... Listening to me having fun with some other guy."

She caressed my head and neck for a few seconds more, letting the silence settle. I was feeling the charged sexual electricity of the moment, and the delicious sting of emotional pain... "Oh no, Mistress... I would do anything to please you," I remember thinking in that moment, afraid.

"Kiss my feel, slaveboy," She finally commanded. Then she asked me about my chores for the day and we shifted to other topics.

I have since replayed the above conversation in my mind many times. When I ask her whether or not she is serious, she just smiles and says, "If I was serious, there's nothing you can do about it, is there?"

Gulp.

Busy boy and some quotes

The last few days have been busy, and I've been unusually swamped with work, so I've neglected to post much. I'll be writing more over the next few days. Here are a few fun quotes from my Mistress Wife:

In the middle of a conversation where I am starting to get unnecessarily argumentative, while taking out her "little black book" (where she writes down transgressions that she punishes me for later):

"Would you please repeat that, slaveboy?"

Talking to some friends in my presence:

"He's just a little boy at heart who needs guidance and discipline. That's what I'm here for."

Talking about her control over our sex life:

"You guys always want what you can't have. If I take control of not just your orgasms, but also ration your chances to lick my pussy, you crave it. I get the double benefit of not just getting you to do what I want, but also rewarding you with my pleasure."

Discussing our relationship with me:

"FLR? LFA? TPE? ABC? Whatever!!! What we have is a YMB. You're My Bitch!"

Fiction: Fully Under Her Spell (Hypnosis, Domination)

[ed: The following is a work in progress. Feedback and encouragement to continue are welcome.]

I don't really know what came over me. I guess in some ways, I was just testing the boundaries, seeing how far my wife would let me slide. Her parents were visiting from the East Coast and she was going to be spending the day with them, sight seeing.

I was supposed to be cleaning house. Instead, I had spent the day sitting on the couch, drinking beers and watching ESPN. The coffee table had four empty beer cans on it and I vaguely remembered that there was a fifth one around someplace. There was a cheesy greasy plate of nacho crumbs on the couch next to me, the remnant of the nachos and cheese plate I had microwaved and eaten a couple of hours before.

I was wearing my comfortable sweats and a dirty T-shirt, still buzzed from my last beer, when she walked in. The look on her face was priceless! I'd like to say it was worth it, but it wasn't.

She was stunned, of course. I had always done exactly what she had asked me to do, without complaining; in fact, I had been eager to do it. This day, for whatever reasons, I just didn't. Like an old ratty sweater, I had slipped on the comfortable habits of my bachelor days: spectator sports, beers, greasy snacks. The only thing missing was my college buddies to play billiards with; of course, the bililards table was sold off cheap at the first garage sale that we had soon after we got married.

After a few moments of just looking at me, she asked in a calm voice "Is this how you've been spending your day?"

"Yes honey... I just thought I'd watch a little TV, and then I got sucked in and lost track of time," I was a little sheepish, but not really sorry. I had a fun day being a lazy slob.

I expected her to get angry, and I am guessing that she was angry, but she didn't show it. Instead, she just sat down next to me and put her hand on my thigh.

"You've had a hard couple of days, haven't you?" She began. Her hand was lightly stroking my leg from just above the knee to right below my hips. "And I'm guessing that somehow you needed to do this... Just sitting on the couch, like you are right now, and watching TV, like you are right now, and feeling my hand on your thigh... like you are right now... listening to the sound of my voice... like you are right now... Feels good, doesn't it?"

I was almost falling asleep, since her voice was so soothing and melodic. It was like all my attention was slowly being focused on her hand and unexpectedly, all my defensiveness was melting away. She had crept into my world slowly and without much resistance.

"You like the way you are feeling right now, don't you my boy?" She continued. I nodded.

"That's right..." She continued. "You know... It's easy to feel good... And you can stay right here... on this spot..."

She tapped my thigh lightly with her hand and the bottom fell out of my mind; I suddenly felt unmoored, floating. My breathing was deep and regular, and I felt as if I was in two places at once.

"That's right... You only need to stay right here... Only going into trance... as quickly as you feel good... It feels good to let go... letting go of control is why I am here, isn't it?"

She stood in front of me and tapped my right hand and then my left hand.

"You're going deeper and deeper now... I wonder which of your hands, my little boy, is going to raise up, almost of its own accord... Can you feel it lifting? Just a little bit? As you breathe in... Can you feel it lifting? Almost like a helium balloon is tied to it?... Or maybe like you have a question in class... Maybe you are curious too, about which one or both of your hands are going to raise up... do you want to ask your teacher something, my boy? Who is in control? I wonder... as I talk to each of both of you... It might surprise you... or not... maybe you can begin to sense it now... Oh my! It looks like both of your hands are lifting... up... up... UP... That's a good boy... Who is in control?"

To my amazement, both of my hands were raised as high as they could go, above my head. She grabbed the t-shirt I was wearing and pulled it off, while continuing to talk. I felt as if I could not move my arms from their position above my head. In fact, I was beginning to suspect that I could not move any part of my body.

With another light touch on my shoulder, she had me leaning backwards into the couch so that she could pull the sweats off. I was naked, immobile, and she was still fully dressed from her night out.

Her patter continued and I felt more and more relaxed, still floating, feeling like all my attention had become focused on her and her voice.

"And now, my boy... It's time for me to have some fun at your expense..."

She moved behind me and placed my hands together, where they seemed to stay, and continued to weave her spell.

"I'm sure you've begun to notice your awkward position... Sitting naked on the couch... with your hands above your head... You might even try to move... but you can't, can you?"

I tried to move my fingers and pull my hands apart. I couldn't do it!

"Uh... Ma'am... What are you doing to me?" I managed to ask.

"Part of you knows exactly what I am doing, my boy," she said. "You can't move... You are helplessly under my spell... You like that, I know." She glanced down at my penis, which had become completely erect. She walked around the couch, surveying the room. I tried again to pull my arms apart, but I couldn't. There were no ropes, but her hold over me was stronger than any ropes or chains.

To Be Continued?

September-Eleventh-Fatigue. Am I the only one?

This post isn't about my relationship.

I know what I want to say is probably not politically correct... Especially since I had some friends who died on this day five years ago at the hand of Islamo-Fascists...

The media is currently doing its 24 hour cry-fest of personal stories aimed at the viewer's feelings and attempting to evoke grieving and healing. Am I the only one who is sick and tired of it?

Personally, I moved past the shock and the grieving a year or two ago, and I've been coasting at the "Let's just kick some ass" stage. Am I the only one who feels this way?

After much work, I get to wear girlie things again!

In "Drilling, Training and Treats" I talked about how I lost the right to wear any girlie clothes or my party shoes. Mistress Laura has been deliberate and methodical and has used the extra leverage of knowing that even though I am embarrassed by wearing the items of lingerie and the high heels, I crave being able to wear them for her.

So, this last weekend started out as a lot of my weekends with Mistress Laura do: She told me when to be home on Friday and that she had a list of items for me to take care of. She also informed me that we were going to do an attitude adjustment session sometime this weekend, but that the timing was up to her. It might happen on Friday evening or it might happen on Sunday. I don't like ambiguity, but it's really her perogative, and I can't complain. :-)

When I got home from work, she told me to strip, get myself cleaned up (quick shower) and present myself to her and she would tell me her plans. So, I did as I was told, kneeling in front of her with nothing on but her collar and my wedding ring. Incidentally, she has taken to calling my wedding ring my "man collar"; she wears no wedding ring herself.

"You've been a very good boy all week," She began. "I've been thinking about letting you wear some of your girlie clothing again. Do you think you deserve it?"

"Only if you think so, Mistress," I said. I've learned not to be too eager or too cock-sure in my answers. Whether or not I deserve something is entirely up to her, and I have tried to rid myself of notions of "fairness" based on a sense of entitlement in my relationship with my Mistress Wife. She likes it better that way.

She smiled at that answer and told me that I would get to wear the softest silkiest black panties with lace tonight, while I was cleaning house, and she also told me that we were going to be rearranging a couple of rooms. So, I happily went and got the little black "Jockey" brand black lacey panties and put them on.

The rest of the weekend was spent in heightened anticipation of my upcoming attitude adjustment session and being bossed around by my lovely wife, while wearing girlie panties.

She brought up the attitude adjustment session a few times, saying that while I had generally been good this last week, I still needed to be spanked, and that she would keep track of minor transgressions and add 5-10 strokes to the caning that she planned to give me. This had the effect of making me blush with shame and desire every time she mentioned it.

Meanwhile, she worked me. I was cleaning, moving boxes, rearranging pieces of furniture, emptying and packing things all weekend, all the while cooking for her, bringing her drinks, giving her shoulder rubs and foot rubs at her whim.

On Sunday, she finally told me that she will actually get to give me my beating that evening. I was to get completely naked, lay out her paddle and cane, and to get my high heel shoes and put them on the bed, next to the paddle and cane, and be waiting on all fours on the floor in the bedroom.

I was tired, but I was aroused by the entire process: putting out her paddle and cane, putting my high heeled shoes on the bed, and waiting on all fours for her. By the time she came into the bedroom, I was rock hard and producing precum.

She touched my hard cock with her toes and chuckled, then ordered me onto the bed.

"Since you've been such a good girl this weekend, I'm going to let you wear your pretty shoes again. But only your shoes." She told me, pointing to my shoes. "I want you naked for me tonight."

I felt very happy to be able to wear the high heeled shoes for her.

Next, she pronounced that she would give me 50 strokes of the cane. I don't know why, but I usually can withstand a lot higher numbers, but this time, the fifty swats were hitting my pain tolerance (maybe I was feeling anxious or otherwise not up to par).

At the end of the beating, I slid off the bed and kissed her feet, saying "Thank you Mistress." I felt peaceful.

We ended the weekend by watching a DVD. Mistress Laura sat in her chair, and I was naked, except for my party shoes on, sitting on the floor at her feet.

Weekday domestic routine and a question for my readers

It's an interesting feeling being in the background. In my professional life, I am very much up front and center stage. I manage a team of software developers and I am often very opinionated and authoritative. In contrast, in my life with Mistress Laura, I am happily in the background.

I thought I would give a peek into my weekday routines, and ask my readers a question that I have been thinking about that relates to my routine.

Yesterday was a typical day. I woke up at 6AM, fed the cats, let the dog out, did some writing and then prepared breakfast for my Mistress. I brought her breakfast, kneeling by the side of the bed while she and I talked for a bit, about whatever she wanted to talk about.

I made the bed when she was done, took care of the kitty litter, garbage and recycling, cleaned the kitchen, vacuumed her office space, and went to work. This may seem like a lot, but since I have become a neat-freak, there's not much to clean most of the time (I am constantly picking up, instead of letting things pile up).

In the afternoon, after working on various work related projects and leading my teams, holding meetings and dealing with outside vendors, I get into my car and drive home. Mistress is not home yet, but I know she will be seeing a couple of clients this evening, so I stay out of the way.

She arrives home and says hello to me. I greet her with a kiss and her favorite ginger ale on ice. She goes off into her office to prepare for her clients while I continue to clean, do a load of laundry, and prepare dinner.

Her clients come and she meets with them. While they conduct business, I cook our planned meal of steak (marinated in red wine and cooked with black peppers) and baked potatoes and some vegetables. I set the table and light a candle so that when Mistress Laura is done, she and I have a nice meal.

When we are done, I feed the dog and clean up the dishes while she catches up on her mail and reading. With the kitchen back to the way I like it, I refill Mistress's drink and we retire into the living room, for some TV. She sits on the couch, while I sit at her feet. Sometimes I fold laundry while we watch television. On this night, I didn't have much laundry, so I massaged and kissed her feet instead.

After watching TV, usually we retire to the bedroom, where I give my Mistress Wife either a back massage or a thorough foot massage with lotion and we both go to bed.

So, here's my question: Before I became my wife's slaveboy, I used to do far less work on a daily basis and yet I was more tired and cranky. Now, even with the never-ending housework, and all the things I do during the day, I am happy. I would say that I am even low-level excited/ecstatic all the time. Do my readers have an explanation for this or have similar experiences to share?

I'm looking forward to reading your opinions and stories.

Vulnerability and the Myth of the True Dominant

Just as there are unrealistic ideas out there about what is a "True Submissive", there are also unhelpful beliefs floating around the collective consciousness regarding the "True Dominant".

My friend Richard wrote in his blog entry Dommes and Vulnerability about how Dommes are women first with all the softness and need for emotional support implied. In the ensuing discussion, Richard followed up by saying:

It was a real surprise to hear from a few women who feared allowing their humanity to come through might diminish their femdomly sex appeal.

That was a real surprise to me, too, but I think that the women are responding to something; they are responding to an imaginary construct of the True Dominatrix. Some of the attributes that this mythical creature possesses are:

• Ultimate detachment. Nothing the submissive does or says will move her, unless she chooses.
  
• Mind reading abilities. She can see into the submissive's soul and knows his deepest desires without him saying a word.
  
• She is a true sadist, and enjoys torturing him primarily because it thrills her.
  
• She is always in control of her emotions (always calm and logical, except when she needs to be angry and strict).
  
• She knows the perfect thing to say or do to her submissive, always.
  

I don't know about you, but the fantasy image seems cold and flat to me. It almost feels like a male image (always logical, detached, methodical) superimposed on the feminine. It certainly does not appeal to me in a real life relationship. It feels almost psychopathic, and while that may have certain charms in fantasy, it's not my idea of someone I want to give myself to.

My Mistress is a real person. She has her moods. She rages, she cries, she gets discouraged and depressed from time to time. She also laughs, has a great sense of humor, possesses a witchy intuition that a lot of women share, and is wise in many ways. She is not the cardboard cutout of my juvenile fantasies.

To those dominant women who are worried that showing your humanity will make you less of a dominant, or less appealing, I say: It is your humanity, your vulnerability, your grace and softness and your sadness and tears mixed in with your womanly charms and strength that brings me and a lot of other submissive men to our knees!

I know that if I want to really serve Mistress Laura, sometimes I have to just hold her and listen to her. When she cries, when she is vulnerable, when she is sad, she is still in charge, and I am still her loyal and devoted servant.

Drilling, training and treats

In order to keep our dog's obedience skills fresh, I have to constantly drill her. I make her heel, sit, stay, roll over, bark on command, etc. When she does what I want, I give her treats. In some ways, it is the same with a Lady and her slaveboy, though the behaviors may be a bit more complex. :-)

On Labor Day (yesterday) Mistress and I were sitting down to go over the list of meals for this week and the chores that need to be done. I was about to go and do the grocery shopping when Mistress Laura surprised me.

"After you do the shopping, get dressed in one of your pretty outfits and go and do a deep cleaning of the Mistress bathroom."

"Mistress, I already cleaned it well a few days ago," I complained. I guess my mind was not quite in the right space. In retrospect, I should have just enjoyed the humiliation and the opportunity to do something for her and said simply "Yes, Ma'am."

She just looked at me and said "Do you need some motivation?"

"No, Mistress," I said and left for the grocery store. As chess grandmaster Aaron Nimzovich once remarked, a threat is often more powerful than its execution.

I got back about an hour later, and after unloading the shopping, got into the frilly black lace panties and the black lace top with the spaghetti straps. Just putting these articles of clothing on starts to melt my boundaries. The feel and sounds of the lace against my body, and the sight of myself dressed in the outfit, with Mistress's collar on, turns me on by association. By the time I had put on the high heeled shoes, I had a raging hardon.

Mistress requires that I tuck my cock between my legs so I look like a girl with a shaved pussy, hold my legs closed, and walk over to her for inspection whenever I wear my cleaning outfit. It was hard to do (with my already excited state), but I walked carefully to the other room and stood up straight for her.

"Very nice. My cleaning girl is back," She petted the front of the panties, then with a slap on the ass sent me on my way. "Tell me when you're done with the bathroom, slavegirl, so I can inspect your work. You know what happens if you do a sloppy job."

So, I walked carefully, keeping myself tucked, got the bucket of cleaning supplies and knelt down to re-clean the bathroom. As with a lot of activities, once you begin, it's easy and even therapeutic. I found some spots that could use more scrubbing, emptied the trash can, re-filled the toilet paper, tidied up, and made sure that everything was gleaming white.

When I was done, I walked back to Mistress Laura, knelt in front of her, and waited.

She turned around after a couple of minutes and said, "Finished cleaning?" She caressed my cheek and shoulders, touching the straps of my silky/lacey top, and said "Good girl. Let's go see your work."

Of course, I was in heaven. I don't even know why I was complaining before. I followed as she made her inspection. I had a mental image of how happy the little dog is when I do some training and drilling of her basic obedience set, with her little tail wagging.

"Good work, slave. You can be trained," She said. Then she surprised me again by telling me to "Go turn down the bed, take off your heels, and kneel by the bed. I'll be there in a few minutes."

So, I turned down the bed and waited by the side, in my spot. My hardon throbbed, surrounded by the lacey underwear.

After what seemed like an eternity to my over-excited mind (it was probably no more than a few minutes), Mistress returned and sat on the bed. She touched my face lovingly and said:

"Have you been a good little slavegirl?"

"Yes Ma'am, I have," I said.

"Didn't you enjoy making Mommy's toilet spotless?" She cooed, once again, lightly brushing my neck and shoulders.

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as my eyes got blurry for a second and I could feel pre-cum starting to ooze from the tip of my penis. Yes, even though I had complained, I had indeed enjoyed it. "Yes, Mistress, I did."

"Good girl," her fingers danced on my skin, sending shivers as she lightly moved around my nipple, never touching it. Then, she lay back and flipped up her skirt; she was not wearing any underwear.

"Come on up here, slaveboy, and get your treat for being such an obedient husband," she pulled me up onto the bed and allowed me to lick her to an orgasm.

Drilling, training, treats; I was very happy to be serving her and simultaneously very very frustrated.

There was one mishap along the way. As she was having me lick her sweet pussy, she was weaving her usual tales; stories that transport me... Sometimes I keep track of what she is saying, but other times I simply lose track... This time, she kept telling me "Don't you dare come!" as part of her verbalizations... For some reason, every time she says this, my cock gets harder and my emotions get all jumbled up.

Well, at some point, and without warning, I found myself just going over the edge. It was like I was watching myself in some dissociated state, as it happened, like I wasn't even there.

Then, I realized: I had just come without permission. I was mortified and almost started to cry.

She cut through my emotions with a cruel laugh and said: "Keep licking me, bitch, that little act just gives me an excuse to punish you later... Keep servicing me. You really have very little control, don't you?"

So I re-focused and I managed to bring her to an orgasm after a little bit.

When I was cleaning up afterwards, she told me to strip out of the girlie clothes.

"You won't get to wear any of your pretty outfits until I say so. I want you completely naked now... Until you gain a little bit more control, you are banned from wearing any of the pretty outfits, or those cute little shoes."

I felt sad and wanted to do whatever I could to earn the privilege to wear my outfits again.

Now, in retrospect, I think that is interesting: The same things that I swore I was not interested in (dressing in feminine outfits) have now been firmly turned into rewards and treats.

Drill, train, treat, repeat.

I've created a delicious monster

Mistress Laura and I were relaxing on her bed, when she had me turn over so she could inspect my back and ass. She ran her hand over my back, and patted my bum.

Of course, I was loving it. I love being touched. Her soft feathery touches turn me on. Who am I kidding? Any kind of touch from my Mistress turns me on. Stroke me. Touch me. Slap me. Punch me. I'll take anything from Her and say "Thank you Ma'am."

"Hmmm... You have no marks left from our last time..." She said, running her hands over my ass and thighs.

"I'm going to have to do something about that," she said, kissing the side of my face. "Not because you've done anything wrong, but because I like it, and it keeps you in your place. We do have an attitude adjusment session planned for next week..."

I moaned in pleasure at the thought. This was also the most direct expression that she likes marking me. She has since talked about putting a more permanent mark on my body, on my always shaved smooth bikini area.

I hate needles, I don't like pain, and I despise tattoos, but if she were to put a tattoo on me, I would love it.

Song lyrics with FemDom themes

I was listening to the radio, and Garth Brooks's "Shameless" caught my ear. This song perfectly captures my feelings for my Mistress Wife.

Do you know of any other songs with such overt Fem Dom themes?

For example, for me, the following snippets ring especially true: "oh honey, I don't have a prayer. Every time I see you standin' there, I go down upon my knees." and "I have never let anything have this much control over me. I work too hard to call my life my own. [...] But it's your world now, I can't refuse [...]" and finally, "I'm shameless. I don't have the power now. I don't want it anyhow. So I got to let it go."

Here are the full lyrics:

Well I'm shameless when it comes to loving you
I'll do anything you want me to
I'll do anything at all.

And I'm standing here for all the world to see
Oh baby, that's what's left of me
Don't have very far to fall

You know now I'm not a man who's ever been
Insecure about the world I've been living in
I don't break easy, I have my pride
But if you need to be satisfied

I'm shameless, oh honey, I don't have a prayer
Every time I see you standin' there
I go down upon my knees.

And I'm changing, swore I'd never compromise
Oh, but you convinced me otherwise
I'll do anything you please.

You see in all my life I've never found
What I couldn't resist, what I couldn't turn down
I could walk away from anyone I ever knew
But I can't walk away from you.

I have never let anything have this much control over me
I work too hard to call my life my own
And I've made myself a world and it's worked so perfectly
But it's your world now, I can't refuse
I've never had so much to lose
Oh, I'm shameless.

You know it should be easy for a man who's strong
To say he's sorry or admit when he's wrong
I've never lost anything I've ever missed
But I've never been in love like this.

God It's out of my hands.

I'm shameless, I don't have the power now
I don't want it anyhow
So I got to let it go.

Oh, I'm shameless, shameless as a man can be
You make a total fool of me
I just wanted to you to know.

Oh, I'm shameless, I just wanted you to know
Oh, I'm shameless, Oh, I'm down on my knees