Dangerousangleofadream - Femdom

Physical vs mental corrections

I have received in the last few weeks some questions via DM messages regarding the type of corrections Goddess Elise use to make sure my behavior is correct at all times. The questions comes as a response of this post I published talking about how women tend to be more strict dominants than males.

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Beta Forced Into Chastity on Tumblr

Strictness and gender in BDSM

I am not a masochist, I have never been one and I think I will never be one. I do not feel pleasure in pain for the sake of suffering. Nevertheless corporal punishment have been along history a common (and effective method) to ensure obedience of slaves and make sure error and mistakes do not happen more than one time. For me personally, corporal punishments does not have the best correction effect. The reason is that I do not enjoy pain, and in fact when I am suffering from corporal punishment, like whipping or caning, the only thing I could think is pain. If the punishment is intense enough my mind just enter in a block state, there is no learning, no regrets, no guilt for not doing my job properly...just the seconds ticking for the session to finish. I am extremely lucky Goddess Elise acquire me from my previous owner. Her interest when she needs to correct my behavior is focused on the purpose of the correction and not the punishment itself. For her punishments it is more work she need to do, when if I was behaving correctly that should not be needed. My main purpose is to make her life easier, extra work from her side is not acceptable at all.

That is the reason why Goddess Elise use more mental punishments. Some examples of this are:

Restriction on the human food intake, more dog food and less "human" leftovers.

Reducing my number of sleep hours to a bare minimum for a few consecutive days.

More duties. If I finish all my chores, I have to start over and over again until I am completely out of energy.

Long corner times.

Not allow the use of human furniture's at all for days (except at work of course)

Increase the number of toilet and ashtray duties (which are definitely not something I like to do)

Of course (and that is a constant) delay the chastity release date. Fortunately this still did not happen yet.

All of this are task not painful, but bring me to state of complete exhaustion. It is the perfect reminder that I am there to serve and make the life of my owner easier.

Er ist ein schwarzer Fleck in meiner Vita. Seit einigen Monaten gibt es ihn, keiner meiner Freunde weiß von ihm, er taucht nirgends auf. Er ist ein Komplize für gelegentliche Nächte, wenn mir nach roher Benutzung ist, selten auch einmal nur für Berührungen. Ein Gebrauchswesen, weder jung noch alt. Für ihn bin ich ein Schatten, den er herbeisehnt oder auch ein notwendiges Übel, so schätze ich es ein. Ich mache mir da nichts vor. Ich ficke ihn, obwohl er es nicht besonders mag, anal gefickt zu werden. Und ich wieder liebe es wegen ihm. So ist die Logik. Er bekommt sonst nicht den Kick, objektifiziert und benutzt zu werden. Der Fick ist die Brücke von seinem masochistischen Kopfkino zu diesen Nächten. Manchmal trägt er blaue Flecken und Striemen davon, seine anale Pussy ist fast immer rotglühend, weil mein Plastikschwanz zu gerne in dieses warme Loch hineinstößt. Aber seine Grenzen erreiche ich nie. Es macht etwas mit mir, ihn leiden zu lassen, auch zu wissen, dass jede Aussicht auf Besseres, auf eine Liebesbeziehung mit gegenseitiger Wertschätzung unsere Verbindung zerstören würde. Das Schicksal meint es manchmal so. Er behauptet, das zwischen uns sei etwas Lyrisches, er hadert nicht damit, zumindest nicht solange ich bei ihm.

He is a black spot on my CV. He's been around for a few months, none of my friends know about him, he doesn't show up anywhere. He's an accomplice for occasional nights when I feel like raw use, rarely even just touching. A utilitarian being, neither young nor old. For him, I am a shadow he longs for or a necessary evil, I suppose. I do not delude myself. I fuck him, even though he doesn't particularly like being fucked anally. And I, in turn, love it because of him. That's the logic. He doesn't get the thrill of being objectified and used otherwise. The fuck is the bridge from his masochistic head cinema to these nights. Sometimes he wears bruises and welts from it, his anal pussy is almost always red hot because my plastic cock likes to pound into that warm hole too much. But I never reach his limits. It does something to me to make him suffer, even to know that any prospect of better, of a love affair with mutual appreciation would destroy our bond. Fate sometimes means it. He claims that this between us is something lyrical, he doesn't struggle with it, at least not as long as I'm with him.