Bring Out The Gimp . . .

I tried on my Halloween costume early at Mistress Alice's apartment tonight - a full gimp outfit with a leather straitjacket, faux leather pants and a leather hood with lockable blindfold and gag.  With the straitjacket and hood on I am really am quite vulnerable and helpless.

To preview the costume, Mistress Alice had me walk down the hallway of her large Brooklyn loft building past an open apartment doorway where I would be noticed.  After lingering in front of the open doorway for a moment, I started walking away, but someone called out, "Hey weirdo, come back . . ."  So I turned around and a friendly couple came out to greet me and enjoy my costume.

Despite it being only October 20, they had a bowl of fun-size candies ready and offered me one, assuming that I was trick or treating, I guess.  I accepted but then, because I can't use my arms in the straitjacket, the woman had to unwrap the candy and feed it to me through the mouth hole in the mask.  It was a nice moment. 

Truffled Mac & Cheese Flung onto the Sidewalk

At the conclusion of a three-day period of making me find my meals in trashcans (see here), Mistress Alice checked in with me.  Because she is a humanitarian at heart, Mistress Alice informed me that she was meeting a man for dinner tonight, they planned to eat outside, and she would be willing to throw me some scraps of food if I came by. 

While I had already scavenged a pretty nice meal for myself, I readily agreed to Mistress Alice's generous offer.  Mistress Alice and her date were eating at a romantic restaurant just east of Union Square in Manhattan.  They were taking advantage of the unseasonably warm October night to dine al fresco at one of three small tables adjacent to the sidewalk. 

I took the train to Union Square, walked by the restaurant and made eye contact with Mistress Alice, and loitered for a moment on the sidewalk near her table.  Without a word, Mistress Alice flung some of the truffled mac and cheese from her plate on to the sidewalk in front of me.  I quickly scrabbled over to the food, picked it off the ground, and ate it with my fingers.  It was creamy and delicious.  

Mistress Alice then threw another spoonful of the pasta at me, as well as a piece of bread.  I again got down on my knees, picked the pasta off the sidewalk with my fingers and jammed it in my mouth.  It was the type of mac and cheese with large pieces of pasta, so it was easy to pick up and eat with my fingers.  (I later learned that Mistress Alice had specifically selected that entree for ease of throwing to me, rejecting short ribs as too messy and risotto as too small to pick up by hand, so I know how thoughtful she is.)  I got so much food in my mouth I needed to stand a few feet away and chew my food for a minute.

It is hard to explain just how much I adored this.  Part of it was the deep humiliation of being thrown scraps of food on a busy Manhattan street while my Mistress enjoyed a wonderful meal seated at the table.  But more than anything it was the expression on Mistress Alice's face as she threw the food at me:  both gleeful and disdainful at the same time; a powerful combination of sadism, irony, and humor.  

Once I had finished chewing the food, I thanked Mistress Alice profusely and walked away to let her continue her meal with only a minimal interruption.  As I walked back to the subway, I ate the bread that she had thrown and thought about how lucky I am.                

I Eat Garbage For Three Days to Learn a Valuable Lesson

I was careless with Mistress Alice's money.

On Saturday night, I was horny after about three weeks in chastity and I whined a little to Mistress Alice.  She graciously gave me permission to "get my rocks off" as long as I did it on Chaturbate where some other guys could watch me.  I did so, but unfortunately while I was on that site I fell into some old, bad habits (of spending money on cam girls) and I spent $225 in tips to other women and transwomen as I masturbated on Saturday night and early Sunday morning (before re-affixing the chastity device on Sunday).

Foolishly spending that money meant that I had only $2 left from my weekly allowance as of Monday morning, with my payday not until Thursday.  On Monday, when I told Mistress Alice what had happened, she told me I needed to face real discipline.

She informed me that I was allowed to eat only food I found on the street or in garbage cans until my payday on Thursday.  And so began my three days of garbage scavenging in which I did not spend a single dime on food or on any other expense.  Here's what I ate:

Monday

It took some looking but at lunch time I went through multiple garbage cans in a nearby subway station and I found a small bit of thrown away Chick-fil-A sandwich that I had for my lunch in my fancy Manhattan law office.

Monday (10/16/17) - Lunch

Remnants of a Chik-fil-A sandwich from a garbage can in 

47th-50th St. Rockefeller Center subway station

For dinner I got lucky to find several items out in plain sight on my commute home from work, which I grabbed and added to my bag:

Monday (10/16/17) - Dinner
Abandoned McDonald's bag and leftover vegetable soup.
Both found in 50th St. subway station

And once back in Brooklyn Heights, I went through a few more garbage cans looking for dessert:

Monday (10/16/17) - Dinner, Dessert #1
Discarded apple found in trashcan outside the student dorm
on Clark Street, Brooklyn Heights

Monday (10/16/17) - Dinner, Dessert #2
Crumbs from a gingerbead cake
found in my neighbor's garbage can.

Monday (10/16/17) - Dinner
The full feast once it had been plated.

My experience the first day showed me that I would not starve -- at least in a garbage-plentiful spot like midtown Manhattan -- but that it did take some dedication to look in numerous garbage cans and even rummage around in them to find something useful.  Moreover, I learned my lesson as I ate the cold fries and soup and went to bed a little hungry. 

Tuesday

I got lucky the next morning and found a uneaten half of a breakfast sandwich in the small urban park right near my office building.

Tuesday (10/17/17) - Breakfast
Sausage, egg & cheese sandwich and the trash can I found it in.

At lunch time I got smart and searched the garbage cans in a little food court area in the underground concourse at Rockefeller Center.  A note to freegans, the homeless or others:   the discarded food is relatively plentiful there (and the garbage cans are relatively low, making them easier to retrieve things from for a short slave, compared to the high-topped subway and street trash cans).  I found a half bagel sandwich as well as some crackers I saved for dinner.

Tuesday (10/17/17) - Lunch
Salmon, cream cheese & tomato on a bagel,
from Rockefeller Center concourse garbage can

After work, I had less luck, so I made a dinner out of the unopened bag of Hale & Hearty soup crackers I found at lunch time and went to bed a little hungry.

Tuesday (10/17/17) - Dinner
Hale & Hearty Soup Crackers from
Rockefeller Center concourse garbage can

Tuesday (10/17/17) - Dinner
Neatly plated.

Wednesday

On Wednesday morning I went back to the Rockefeller Center food court area and found the destroyed remains of another breakfast sandwich.

Wednesday (10/18/17) - Breakfast
Egg & bagel sandwich remnants from Rockefeller Center trash can.

For lunch, I hit the trash cans at an Au Bon Pain near my office and an adjacent urban park.  There was definitely a risk that one of my co-workers could have seen me retrieving food from the trash, but a slave needs to eat. What I found was a medley:

Wednesday (10/18/17) - Lunch
Small crumbs from a chicken sandwich from Toasties;
an eighth of a yummy chocolate muffin from Au Bon Pain
and some vegan artificial butter

For my final meal, I went back to that same park and hit the jackpot.  A large portion of food from the Halal Guys food truck, with an unopened packet of white sauce (delicious, although the pita was soggy) and a decent quantity of Chinese food.

Wednesday (10/18/17) - Dinner
Chicken, lettuce, rice & pita from Halal Guys
plus chicken & vegetables from Chinese restaurant

I learned a lot in these three days.  First, I learned that it is quite a bit of work but I could probably survive as a freegan in New York City (although I might be lacking in fresh vegetables).  Second, I learned a little bit more about how far I would go to humiliate myself for Mistress Alice.  Finally, and most importantly, I learned a valuable lesson about the importance of obeying Mistress Alice and being careful with her money and not returning to my old habits.

Mistress Alice Humiliates Me From 3,600 Miles Away

While Mistress Alice was away, enjoying herself in Paris, I innocently went to a coffee shop in my neighborhood of Brooklyn to finish reading "The Secret History of Wonder Woman" on a quiet Saturday afternoon.

I checked in at the location on Life360, the app Mistress Alice uses to track my location at all times and it caught her attention, probably because this is a location where we had played once before.

Mistress Alice requested an update on what I was doing and where I was located and I sent the photo below, take from the couch where I was sitting.

Mistress Alice immediately ordered that I buy both their drinks, pat them on the back at the same time, congratulate them and then pee myself as I leave the bar.

I explained that the place, while it does serve alcohol, has much more of a coffee shop feel and that the two women didn't appear to be together.  

But I did what I could.  I could not bring myself to touch them unsolicited, but I went up to the bar next to them (to the right of the blonde) and awkwardly put a $20 bill on the bar and said, "Excuse me, here this is for your next drinks."  The blonde, who was looking at her phone, started to respond but I just said "Please" and walked away before she could respond.

I tried to pee as I walked out of the coffee shop but my bladder is shy and it was not until I was out on the sidewalk and paused that I could pee my jeans as I deserved.

I walked the few blocks back to my home in my visibly peed-in jeans with a large noticeable dark stain near the inseam.

Mistress Alice texted "We loved it!!" indicating not just her approval but that she had clearly shared my humiliation with others, presumably a real man she was enjoying the evening with in Paris.  I enioyed the feeling that with just a few quick texts Mistress Alice could control me from thousands of miles away.

Public Humiliation By Venmo

Venmo is a great, easy-to-use, and cost-free person-to-person money transfer app.  But in my "vanilla" life I've never much understood the "social media" aspect of the app.  However, under Mistress Alice's tutelage, I have come to savor the possibilities for public humiliation and public exposure of my financial submission that it allows.

By way of background for those who may not be familiar with the app (it is currently available only for use in the U.S.), a Venmo user connects his or her bank account to the app and then can make cost-free transfers of cash to other users.  The main use that Venmo's marketing seems aimed at is small person-to-person cash transfers, such as reimbursing a friend for a shared meal or taxi ride, or splitting utility or rent costs with a roommate.  Each transaction includes a description of the reason for the payment in text or emoji (such as a taxi, Chinese takeout container, etc.) and can be set to be visible to the "public," to only your "friends" on the app, or "private" (just visible to participants in the transaction).  Only the description of the transaction but not the amount of the transfer is made visible to non-participants.  Other users can then "like" the transaction as in Instagram.

As mentioned above, I never saw the desirability of publicly blogging one's mundane cash transfers in vanilla life.  But egged on by Mistress Alice (and encouraged by the fact that I don't use Venmo with my family or co-workers, only with younger NYC friends), I have started using "public" Venmo transactions as a form of self-humiliation and to reveal to some degree my financial submissive tendencies.

While I have continued to keep my weekly tribute payments to Mistress Alice "private," I have made a number of publicly visible transfers to Mistress Alice by Venmo over the last few months.  A sampling includes the transaction shown at the top and the following:

At Mistress Alice's command, going forward, I will be required to pay $40 for every orgasm I have and the payments must be made by public Venmo payment so that all her friends can read and enjoy them.

Slavid is a Pathetic Little Gnome

A photo from Mistress Alice's friend's birthday party.  Slavid is so short and pathetic it makes hot women smile.

Mother's Day Card for Mistress Alice's Mom

I wrote a Mother's Day Card to Mistress Alice's mom, thanking her very sincerely for raising such an intelligent, self-assured and superior young woman, and explaining that I was so happy and lucky to be owned by her daughter.   

Walking the Streets of Brooklyn in Only a Trench Coat and Lingerie

Mistress Alice instructed me to walk to my local coffee shop in Brooklyn on a Sunday morning wearing only lingerie -- a shiny pink camisole and pink lacy panties -- underneath a long London Fog trench coat.

The coffee shop was about four blocks away and I was excited and nervous as I walked down the busy sidewalks of my highly gentrified, family friendly neighborhood.

I was absolutely sure that everyone immediately could see there was something odd about the bare legs beneath my coat and my lack of shirt above and peg me as some as some sort of pervert -- perhaps a flasher, if not a cross-dresser.

But I walked there without incident.  I entered the coffee shop and ordered a coffee as I had been instructed.  To my chagrin, a male barista was on duty, instead of the usual woman who works there, and he gave me only a brief second glance as he served me.

Mistress Alice was sitting and waiting in the coffee shop with a friend.  After I left, they followed me, and a block later, I stepped into an alley where I opened my coat and showed my sissy pink cami to Mistress Alice and her friend and she recorded a video.  She laughed her wonderful laugh as a family approached and I had to scramble to cover myself.

Just another fun day of service to Mistress Alice.

Valentine's Day Session with Mistress Alice & Mistress Trinity

Mistress Alice in the Sanctum

I went to visit Mistress Alice while she was working at Pandora's Box today principally with the intent of handing her my weekly tribute in cash.  (Mistress Alice is preparing for a trip to Japan and I was bringing my tribute to her in yen for her convenience, as well as a Tokyo guidebook.)

However, it was the night before Valentine's Day and the club was having a party where guests and Dommes could mingle and talk and so I stayed for a while and Mistress Alice very easily talked me into a joint session with her friend and colleague Mistress Trinity.

Mistress Trinity

Mistress Trinity is blonde, stern and beautiful.  She has an amazing arm tattoo, a good sense of humor, and a commanding presence.

Our session together was in The Sanctum, Pandora's medieval-themed torture chamber.  What followed was an amazingly satisfying hour of ritual humiliation.  Mistress Trinity was the harsher, more traditional dominatrix and took a more active role, while my beloved Mistress Alice took a more sardonic and mocking approach to the humiliation.

Both of them verbally abused me.  Mistress Alice repeatedly spat on me and on the floor and made me lick it up.  Because I can't bend my head well, I had to use my fingers to lift her saliva off the floor and to my lips, and I loved every last drop of it.

I was allowed to worship Mistress Truinity's boots with my tongue and massage her feet.

  

The mistresses then put me in an adult diaper with panties on my head and laughed as I danced (very badly) for their amusement.  They collared me and paraded me out into the party in the diaper where all the Dommes and clients in attendance could witness my humiliation.

At the end of the session, Mistress Trinity commanded me to relieve myself and I unleashed my full bladder into the diaper.  Mistress Alice and Mistress Trinity then made me take the diaper off, lie face down in it and slurp up and drink my own urine as they watched.

Londay Day 2 - A Celebratory Drink

I pour Fallen Angel a glass of champagne to enjoy as I rub her feet and she watches TV as we relax for a few hours after a day of shopping. She asks if I will be drinking any champagne. I tell her I have an idea for more appropriate celebratory drink for me.

I go to the bathroom of her hotel room. Fallen Angel has left her toilet unflushed and its contents are a tempting pale yellow. I take a water glass, plunge my hand in and come up with a full glass of the mixture of her golden pee and toilet water. I transfer it to a nice wine glass provided by the hotel. My drink looks like a weak white wine and is really quite palatable -- only slightly acidic and actually rather refreshing.

I wash my hands and return the bedroom. Fallen Angel and I toast the New Year and both enjoy our drinks.

London Day 1 - In Diapers on New Year's Eve

I arrive in London and I am excited to meet Fallen Angel. It is a strange and very impulsive trip I have arranged as I have spent comparatively little time chatting with her on CamContacts and actually never spoken to her on the phone before we arranged this trip. But in throes of one D/s cam session, I offered and she accepted, and about a week later I find myself on the London Underground heading from Heathrow to our hotel.

I gave Fallen Angel my password and free reign over my Expedia account and she selected a nice 5-star hotel in a convenient part of London for us (separate rooms, of course). She was supposed to have arrived the night before but due to plane troubles she spent an unexpected night layover in Zurich and arrived in London just hours before I did.

I know that she understand the spirit of my fetishes when we she takes the letter, scratches out her first name, adds my full name and cellphone number to the bottom and then folds it and leaves it visible by the coffee shop table we are seated at.

A few minutes later when we make a stop at a drugstore on the Strand.

This is the filthy bathroom on the Metro-North commuter train that Goddess Noura made me lick.

Garbage Play

Mistress Alex, a particularly merciless domme hostess, introduces me to a fun new humiliation game. Step one: scamper downstairs to the building's outdoor trash area, reach into the garbage cans and bring back two or three bags of the neighbor's garbage. Step two: open the bags and show Mistress everything inside like a kid opening a stocking of Santa's gifts on Christmas morning. Here is a little of what we found inside over the course of a few days of playing this game:

• an almost empty yogurt container -- that needed to be licked completely clean
  
• half-eaten watermelon covered with coffee grinds -- that needed to be licked and eaten down to the rind
  
• a bag of used kitty litter with dried dogshit -- that need to be rehydrated until the dogshit was smooth enough to spread all over my face and chest
  
• several used menstrual pads dyed deep red with the heavy flow of one of my neighbors -- these needed to be steeped in piping hot water until a bright red tea formed and then drunk while Mistress Alex smiled.
  

The Flasher at the Coffee Shop

A fun Saturday evening was coming to a close, at least for me. Anne would probably spend more time at the bar with her beautiful friend B, but I could tell that she was ready to dismiss me. As I gave her cash for more drinks and for the taxi back to her hotel, Anne told me that she had an assignment for me.

She look at me sternly and said, "Tomorrow morning, I want you to wear nothing but a pair of pink panties under your winter overcoat and go walk around the block. . . . No, actually, I want you to walk down to your local coffee shop dressed like that and order your morning coffee and bagel."

It had been a very cold weekend and I could Anne relished the idea of exposing me to the elements this way. But that Sunday morning dawned quite a bit warmer than the previous days, so I had no real physical discomfort walking in just my overcoat and panties.

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.

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.

A Night with Goddess Manuela

Tonight was my second meeting and first real session with Goddess Manuela. She had a wonderfully commanding presence and she was quickly able to usher me into "sub space" -- the intoxicating and erotic psychological state resulting from relinquishing one's power to a superior female.

I soon realized that Goddess Manuela and I shared similar interests in Domination/submission. Neither of us was really interested in pain. We both shared an interest in the psychological aspects of submission and control; humiliation; and financial domination.

She made me undress in front of my camera and show her my pathetic body. She laughed at my small stature and weak chest. She inspected my cock and told me that it now belonged to her. She said that she was particularly interested chastity and orgasm control. She told me that I was strictly prohibited from masturbating or coming without her permission.

Goddess Manuela was dressed in a business suit again and sat regally in her chair as she gave me instructions. She made me visit the Western Union website and send her $100 immediately. She made me go to Trashy.com and purchase her a corset. Goddess Manuela said that Trashy would not ship to her Eastern European country, but that I better find a way to get it to her.


I purchased her the $400 velvet corset pictured above, but in black & wine colors, not pink.

Goddess Manuela then told me to humiliate myself in front of one of her friends, Selena. She told me to visit Selena by instant message and tell her what a miserable little slave I was and to offer a webcam view of my naked body on my knees ready to serve. Goddess Manuela told me to visit Selena's paysite later and spend 30 minutes there to repay her for wasting her time.

Finally, at the conclusion of our session Goddess Manuela told me that she had a fiancé. I told her this did not matter to me because I was content in my role as her slave. I said that in the future I would love to take them both on a vacation somewhere in Europe. I would pay for their dinners together at elegant restaurants and their rooms at luxurious city hotels, charming country inns, and historic hotels in renovated castles and chateaus. I would stay in the room next door and act as their valet -- bringing them breakfast in bed, washing their clothes, and packing their bags each day.

Goddess Manuela said it would be a fantasy of hers to make love to her fiancé on a bed covered with $20 bills provided by me, while I was forced to watch from the floor of the hotel room, on all fours like a dog, or while chained to a chair. We agreed that if I was a very good and devoted slave for the next six months that this fantasy might be able to become a reality in August.

A Session with Mistress Gisele: Part 3

A Golden Conclusion

I was nearing the end of my two-hour session with Mistress Gisele, so she took me back to the private room. She unfolded a large diaper and placed it on the floor. She told me to take off the panties and lie down on my back on top of the diaper. I knew what was coming next and I looked up in anticipation as Mistress Gisele towered above me. She stood with her legs on either side of my head and positioned herself where I could only see her rear. Then, although I could not see it, she must have pulled down the front part of her panties because suddenly there was a solid yellow stream of her piss coming down on my crotch. She must have been holding it in, because it was a strong rope-like stream of piss, lasting for 20 or 30 seconds and totally drenching my cock and balls.

After she finished, Mistress Gisele told me to wipe myself clean and get up carefully. I thought we might be done for the night, but then she pointed to the substantial pool of urine that had collected in the diaper. She explained that it could be messy to clean up if there was too much piss in the diaper and she told me to drink as much as I could. I got down on all fours and slurped up as much as I could take.

After that, we were done. Mistress Gisele allowed me to use the dungeon's shower to rinse off all her various wonderful body fluids. I tried to use make-up remover to take off the lipstick on my chest but it was a slow process. So, we decided that I should spent the night and next day with this under my clothes. It would be a secret reminder of my role in the world -- as the object of women's contempt and the literal target of their spit.

This was one of the best pro domme sessions I have had in several years.