48 Hours in Cock Lock

Friday night was judgment day again. I met with Goddess Manuela to review how well I performed at work over the last two weeks. Because I worked very hard over the past few days I was able to overcome my laziness and lack of concentration at work during the first week and scored a 3 on a scale of 1 to 4.

As previously determined, my punishment for this mediocre performance was 24 hours in the chastity device Goddess Manuela had me purchase earlier -- the Cock Cuff. As seen above, this stainless steel device is very simply constructed -- a bent cock tube to prevent erection and a single handcuff that is locked closed behind the balls to prevent removal of the tube.

I placed the Cock Cuff on as Goddess Manuela watched carefully, placed the key in a sealed envelope and signed by name over the seal to show that I could not tamper with this during the required period.

Dog Food for Dinner

Goddess Manuela and I met for a session last night. She started by having me try on several of my new purchases from the BDSM Store. I had trouble attaching the vibrating nipple clamps to my tiny little nipples, so she told me to attach them to my balls. I found that the clamps were quite pleasant when clipped to my scrotum and the vibrator power turned up to the maximum. I modeled a black leather ballstretcher for Goddess as well. We chatted quite pleasantly about her recent vacation and our respective families and outside lives.

Then, Goddess Manuela asked me if I had eaten any dinner. I said that I had just had something light, a microwaved burrito. Goddess smiled and told me that she thought I needed more protein.

I knew what this meant. Last week, at Goddess Manuela's instructions I had purchased a dog dish and a can of dog food at my local pet store. I took a can opener and as Goddess Manuela watched, I cranked open a large 14 oz. can of moist dog food (IAMS Liver & Chicken for adult dogs). It smelled disgusting and it had a horrible slimy texture coming out of the can.

I slid the entire can of dog food into the shiny stainless steel dish I had bought. Goddess Manuela told me to put the dish on the floor, get down on all fours, smoosh my face deep into the bowl, and start eating. And so I did . . .

After a while, I asked if I could eat the remaining dog food sitting in my chair, closer to the computer. Goddess Manuela agreed because she wanted to get a closer look at my face as I chewed the dog food. This was so much nicer for me as well because I could see the obvious enjoyment gleaming in Goddess's eyes as she watched me debase myself.

You may have not given much thought to what dog food tastes like, but let me tell you that it tastes even worse than it smells. There is also something about its slimy texture that really intensifies the dog food experience. I really had trouble getting it down as I got into the second half of the bowl.

At times I started to gag and had to choke down the food, but I was always able to look at Goddess Manuela smiling and urging me on. It gave me great fulfillment to see how much pleasure she was having watching me.

Soon my cheeks and nose were covered with dog food from placing my face deep in the bowl. Goddess Manuela asked me to spread more dog food on my face and all over my chest for her amusement.

I begged Goddess Manuela for some water to help finish the meal. She agreed, as long as I put in a bowl and lapped it up like a dog.

Although I ultimately did not finish the entire can, I hope Goddess was pleased with her little pet's performance tonight. I have done many things in my life as a submissive but this was a real first for me. I hope it shows that I am capable of doing almost anything to please her.

Earning the Collar (A Fantasy)

It is late Friday night and Goddess Manuela and I are walking down Christopher Street in Greenwich Village, a traditionally gay neighborhood in New York City. We are looking in the windows of all the boutiques specializing in leather clothes and fetish wear. Goddess stops in front of one of these stores and points to a black leather collar in the front window of one of them. She tells me to go in. We walk in and she picks up the collar from the window display -- a thin, almost delicate leather collar with the word "SLUT" written on it in silver letters.

The Goddess holds the collar up to my neck in front of a mirror and asks me what I think of it. She whispers, "I had them custom make this collar to fit your thin neck, Velvet. And the lettering is sterling silver. What do you think of it? You want to be my slut, don't you?" I tell Goddess Manuela that it would be a privilege to wear it for her and be her slut. She can tell, by the growing bulge in my jeans, that I am very excited about the idea.

I look at the price tag -- it is $72 dollars -- and I take out my credit card to buy it. "Not so fast," Goddess says, "For you everything is just about money. I want you to earn this collar."

Goddess Manuela puts the collar back in the window and walks out of the store. I follow behind her. It is 11:45 p.m. on a Friday night. The many dance clubs and gay bars of this section of the city are crowded and just getting started for the night. There is a lot of energy out on sidewalks as the techno dance music from the nearby clubs escapes though open windows. Goddess Manuela studies a sign on the fetish boutique's door listing its business hours. The store closes at midnight and reopens at 10:00 a.m.

Goddess tells me, "I want you to come to my apartment wearing that collar by noon tomorrow."

I start to say, "No problem, Goddess," but she cuts me off quickly and makes me listen to her. She says: "First, give me your wallet, ATM card, credit cards, and all the cash in your pockets." I immediately hand these over and she places them into her purse for safe keeping. "Next," she says, "give me your apartment keys and your cell phone and, just to be careful, give me your watch also."

I obey Goddess Manuela's instructions, realizing that I am turning over all the valuables I am carrying with me, but I am not sure what the Goddess has in mind. "You'll get all these things back when you come to my apartment wearing that collar."

The Goddess puts my keys, phone and watch in her handbag and pulls out a black permanent marker, like a Sharpie. She tells me to take off my jacket and button-down shirt. I remove these, leaving only a plain white cotton t-shirt above my jeans. "This too?" I ask.

"No," Goddess says, "I plan to make use of that t-shirt." She uncaps the black marker and starts to write on the chest area of my t-shirt. I can't see what she is writing, although I am struggling to turn my head.

Goddess Manuela finishes writing and pulls a box of condoms out of her bag and hands it to me. At the same time, I am finally able to read the writing on my t-shirt, reflected in the glass of the store window. It says in big black letters, Blowjobs For $1

Goddess walks away and gets in a taxi before I even have a chance to react or complain.

I understand what Goddess has in mind for me. I gaze at the "SLUT" collar with its silver shining in the window of the boutique. And I spend the next twelve hours -- on my knees in the dirty bathrooms of gay bars, under tables in the corners of dance clubs, and in dark alleys and parking lots -- doing what it takes to earn that collar.

One Week in Lingerie

My Time of the Month

Goddess Manuela just left for her Valentine's Day ski vacation a bit early. I am sure that she will enjoy the beautiful mountain scenery, the skiing, and the romantic nights with her fiancé, all at my expense.

However, Goddess Manuela didn't forget about me. She sent me an e-mail with a very specific and humiliating assignment to perform while she is travelling:

I've had an idea for you. Since you are such a slutty boy, you should learn all the pros and cons of being a woman. I want you to go to the drugstore and buy yourself some pads for the menstruation (whatever you call them there). Make sure they're pads, those with side wings are even better. Also buy some insertable tampons. Buy the extra large size.

First, put one pad on your panty and sleep with it for a night. Take pictures for me and upload them on your blog. You must take pictures of your panty area only, while wearing the padded ladies panty.

Next morning, after showering, get a tampon and insert it in your lubed asshole, so it's totally hidden, only the string left out. Make sure you leave the string out, otherwise you'll need medical help to take the tampon out of your filthy ass. I want you to go to the office with your ass filled with a tampon. I don't care if you can't shit or fart, you will wear the tampon until you get home. You must wear a pad again during the night. I want pictures of your ass filled with the tampon and the padded panties on you. The panties must be lacy and see through.

On the day of our meeting I want you to sign on to Yahoo messenger earlier than our meeting hour and place next to your name a message saying "I have a tampon up my ass." And you should have it!

I immediately went to the drugstore and purchased a container of 18 Stayfree maxipads with wings and a box of 20 Tampax tampons (super plus size). The young black woman working the register gave me a funny look when I came to the counter with just these two items, but she rang them up without comment.



Update: Mon. Feb. 5 at 11:45 pm. -- The maxi pad seems a little large for my Brazilian-cut panties, but Goddess asked for something lacy & see-though and I do adore this blue and lavender combination:





I know these photos show just how desparately I need to have my legs and crotch shaved. Goddess Manuela plans to require this of me very soon.

Update: Tues. Feb. 6 at 8:39 am. -- Tampon going in . . .



Now the tampon is firmly in place and I have cute little white tail:



I am off to work like this.

Thurs. Feb. 8 at 7:15 pm -- This is my third day of wearing tampons in the day and maxipads at night. Having a tampon in my ass all day is not painful, but I am constantly aware of its presence. It feels "full" . . .sort of like you feel when you are on the verge of dropping a piece of shit into the toilet, except the feeling never goes away all day.

Fri. Feb. 9 at 8:30 pm -- For the last two hours, my status message on Yahoo IM has announced "I have a tampon up my ass" for all my contacts to see.

I believe that this is the last day of my "period." This has been an enjoyably humiliating experience. I still have plenty of tampons and pads left. I may need them again. In fact, I may need them for 3 or 4 days every month from here on . . .

I pay $3,000 to my Mistress's lover

I had previously agreed to pay for a romantic ski trip for Goddess Manuela and her fiancé Stefan to celebrate Valentine's Day. The time for the vacation is almost here. Yesterday, Goddess Manuela told me that the total cost I need to pay is $3,000, much more than I initially thought. To increase my humiliation, she insisted that I offer this gift directly to her lover.

I definitely found that requirement both emasculating and erotic. It was like buying an expensive dress just so the woman can use it to seduce another man or like a cuckold being forced by buy condoms for the man fucking his wife. But it was a very good reminder of my subordinate position in my relationship with the Goddess. The only pleasure I can receive is by giving her pleasure.

With that in mind I happily sent Stefan the $3,000 this morning, with this note:

Please take this gift and enjoy spending it on a romantic Valentine's Day vacation with your lovely fiancee. As I am sure you know even better than I do, Goddess Manuela is an amazing woman -- beautiful, sexy, intelligent. You are very lucky to be her lover and partner. I am content with my role as her slave and will do what I can to improve her happiness. I believe that she is happy when she is with you, so it is my pleasure to provide this vacation.

Spit on Me, Please (A Fantasy)

Brian re-read the e-mail message from Mistress Katrina again to make sure that he had not forgotten anything. It said:

Dear pussyboy:

Go to the bank today before it closes and withdraw $600 in cash. You need to make sure that you get this cash entirely in $5 bills.
After work, go home, shower & shave. Put on red silk bikini panties, light khaki or cream colored pants, and a plain white dress shirt without an undershirt. Be at the corner of Hudson and Christopher Streets with the cash at precisely 9 pm.

Mistress K

When he received the e-mail that afternoon, Brian had had to run to the bank to get there before it closed. But, he got there in time and was able to withdraw the $600 Mistress Katrina had specified. With the help of several tellers he was able to change all the cash into five dollar bills.

Brian had performed the rest of the tasks listed in the e-mail that evening and was walking down Christopher Street to his appointment with a fat stack of 120 $5 bills in his pocket and plenty of time to spare. In fact, he began to wonder if it was too easy. Mistress Katrina normally imposed much more difficult tasks and more stringent dress requirements when they met in public, such as making him walk to their rendezvous on all fours or meeting her in Times Square wearing only a leather harness and collar.

At any rate, Brian was looking forward to seeing his beautiful Mistress again and when he arrived at the corner of Hudson & Christopher he was not disappointed. Mistress Katrina was a vision of perfection. Tonight Mistress wasn't wearing one of her typical, elegant business suits but more festive club-going attire -- a red corset top, a flirty pleated black skirt, and 4" heels in red patent leather. Brian was always amazed how Mistress Katrina was able to ooze sex appeal from every one of her pores, yet never lose at bit of her refinement or sophistication.



Brian greeted his mistress with a kiss on the hand and then promptly offered her the envelope with the $600. She said, "Keep that. You will need it later. In fact, I have something for you." Mistress Katrina handed Brian a small rectangular box and told him not to open it until they reached their destination.

They walked two blocks south on Hudson until they were in front of one of New York's most popular lesbian bars. It was a pleasant Thursday night in early spring and the clubs and bars of Greenwich Village were crowded, and no place more than Henrietta Hudson. The bar attracted a very diverse crowd -- tough biker chicks with leather jackets and tattoos on their arms; slim hipster chicks with dyed hair and tattoos on their shoulder blades; glamorous "lip-stick lesbians" in high heels and Chanel dresses; butch dykes in wife-beater t-shirts; college girls experimenting with their sexuality; and even a few men there with friends or just to gawk.

Mistress Katrina said, "You may open the box now." Inside were what Brian thought were business cards. He pulled one out for closer inspection and, in fact, it was an elegantly embossed off-white business card.

"What a strange gift," he thought. Then Brian looked closer. Instead of his name and address, each of the cards bore the same small embossed message:

Please spit on me.
I will pay $5 for the privilegeof receiving your saliva.

Brian looked at Mistress Katrina, back at the business card, and then at the boisterous crowd of Sapphic women. "How do you want me to do this?," he asked.

"No talking. Just give a card to anyone who interests you and then hand over the money. We will be here until you run out of cards or run out of $5 bills."

To be continued . . .

This fantasy was inspired by a fun pro domme session and a gossip page news item, both from last November.

A Big Glass of My Own Piss

Yumm. It tastes good because my Goddess makes me drink it.

Lingerie Shopping -- The Reality (Part Two)

This morning I got up and under the button-down shirt and dress slacks I normally wear to work I put on Patricia Field bikini panties (black with pink trim) and sheer white thigh-high stockings. Quite a change from my normal boxer shorts.

As I rode the subway and walked the streets on my way to work, I kept wondering whether anyone could read my eyes or the way I was walking and guess the silky secret beneath my pants.

I left work early so I could do the lingerie shopping that Goddess Manuela had instructed. I went directly to the Victoria's Secret flagship lingerie store in Herald Square -- a two-story, brightly-lit emporium of all things frilly, satiny, and sexy. It was a Friday evening less than two weeks before Valentine's Day and the store was packed with women shopping for things to brighten up their boyfriend's or husband's winter.

I approached a salesgirl and informed her that I had been told to buy all the items on the list Goddess Manuela had given me. She helped me find a number of lacy pastel panties from the Sexy Little Things collection, but she assumed that I was purchasing them for someone else.

Then, I did a little shopping on my own, picking up several silky nighties (like the pink satin slip at left) that Goddess Manuela told me that I should wear each night in bed.

When I returned upstairs to the main lingerie area, I went to the hosiery section. I had a question about the meaning of the stocking sizes (A, B, C) and an attractive, very efficient Indian sales associate came over to help me.

She asked me how tall the girl I was buying the stockings for was. I said, "About my height." I paused nervously, then look the plunge, saying "Actually, they're for me."

She smiled and just said, "I see." She looked at the three silk nighties I was carrying on hangers and the shopping bag with several pair of panties inside and said, "Let me help you with those." I assume that they make a commission on sales at Victoria's Secret and she realized that she had a potentially big customer.

She helped me select several stockings and pairs of pantyhose and then walked me around to the various panty collections in the store holding my purchases. She helped me find the items on Goddess Manuela's list but also suggested several other items that she thought I should get. One time, the only pair of panties in the size and color I wanted were on a mannequin, so she happily took them off the mannequin for me and placed them in my bag.


Soon I had 16 pairs of panties of all colors and styles -- thongs, bikinis, regular briefs, hip huggers, Brazilian-cut -- as well as 4 satin slips or nighties, 3 pairs of stockings, and 2 pairs of pantyhose in my bag. The salesgirl allowed me to skip the long line at the main counter and had my purchases rung up at a side register. The total came to $440.

I came right home to show my purchases to Goddess Manuela. All my colorful new lingerie was in a distinctive, bright pink Victoria's Secret bag. It was a large bag, so it was obvious to everyone on the subway what I was carrying.

Lingerie Shopping -- The Reality (Part One)

Goddess Manuela had a fast and very positive reaction to my Lingerie Shopping fantasy. She wrote me the following:

Concerning your fantasy, I notice that we're on the same wave length. I want to control every aspect of your life my sweet, online and offline as well. I want you to buy yourself more women lingerie (pink, red, leopard print, pastel colours) and start wearing those at work everyday. You also must wear stockings underneath, but you're allowed to wear men socks on top, as I don't want to embarrass you at work or in front of your clients. I just want my little slut to feel sexy all the time. When you go to bed at night, I want you to wear sexy women nighties, babydolls. Take some pictures of yourself if we don't see each other that day/night.

That got me very excited and I immediately planned a trip to Victoria's Secret for the end of the week. When Goddess Manuela learned where I planned to shop she sent me a detailed list of panties and stockings to purchase that she created from the Victoria's Secret website. However, she made clear that I was not permitted to buy lingerie for myself on-line -- I needed to go to the store and tell the sales girl exactly what I wanted and exactly who it was for. Her note attached to the wish list said:

These are the items you must buy for yourself my pet. Go to the store and tell the shop girl that you've been instructed to buy these exact items. Then feel the satin and make sure you let everyone see that you can't wait to try them on.

:) Happy shopping!