As Far As I'm Concerned, You're Just A Naive Little Virgin Until You've Squirted Your Saved Seed Through

Corporal Punishment

When I reformed our relationship into a wife-led marriage, my husband surrendered his power to me and accepted that corporal punishment would be a part of his future. To make our new dynamic as realistic as possible, true inequality had to be created and maintained, so I instituted domestic discipline into our marriage.

In the past, whenever he did something to anger me, our relationship would suffer and neither of us would be happy. Instead of dealing with the issue in a timely manner, hard feelings would fester and my resentment toward him would build. Instead of communicating my displeasure and disappointment in him, I would give him the silent treatment so he wouldn't even know why I was mad at him. I somehow expected him to read my mind or figure it out on his own.

When I took charge of the marriage, I decided to find a better way. With due consideration to his ideas and input, I designed a corporal punishment plan which I feel suits our new relationship dynamic the best. I created rules for us to live by, guiding him towards the behavior I expect from him. Some rules are minor, and some of them are zero tolerance, with serious consequences if broken.

The new way is so much better for both of us as problems are dealt with promptly ensuring no resentment builds. Before I punish him, I scold him, so he always knows exactly what he is being punished for eliminating any need for the silent treatment.

The minor day to day transgressions are taken care of during his weekly maintenance spankings which are done over my knee. However, broken zero tolerance rules must be dealt with in a stern manner.

These harsher punishments are rare and dealt with differently than scheduled maintenance spankings. For one thing, he doesn't lay himself across my lap. He has created, with his own hands, a purpose built spanking bench custom fit to hold his body at the correct height and angle for me to swing the cane or the strap comfortably while administering discipline. I love that he built it himself with such high quality as it shows he is committed to our new lifestyle and is fully invested in proper corporal punishment.

After fetching the implement bag, he puts leather cuffs on both his wrists and ankles. He walks up to the front of the bench and loosely clips his ankles in place to ensure he won't accidentally kick me when the pain gets intense.

He then puts on his leather deprivation hood and laces it tight followed by the ballgag. When this is done, he bends himself over the spanking bench. His hips are hugged on both sides by padded risers that prevent his torso from rocking off of the bench sideways keeping his bottom always lined up in the correct position to perfectly receive the next stroke, even if he is thrashing around. A hole is cut out where his genitals are, letting them dangle freely underneath, so that he can't hump against the bench and distract himself from the pain.

Once in place, he stretches forward to the extent of his reach and clips his wrist cuffs to the anchor ring in front of him. With his body stretched out taut, the muscles in his buttocks are tightened which adds to the effectiveness of the strokes. Although he is restrained hand and foot to the bench, he is still allowed a little wiggle room because I thoroughly enjoy watching him struggle and fight the restraints when I punish him. I've seen plenty of videos of dominant women caning or strapping their submissive and have trained him not to flinch or make a sound. How utterly boring.

My husband knows it's in his best interest to struggle against his restraints and scream, moan and grunt into his ballgag through the pain allowing me to fully experience his suffering. If he doesn't, I assume that I'm not swinging hard enough and put a little more effort into the next stroke.

With his ballgag strapped firmly into his mouth, no safeword can be spoken. With his wrists only clipped, not locked in place, he can free himself from the spanking bench in lieu of using a safeword. I will not swing an implement unless both wrists are properly clipped in place. The fact that he can free himself also keeps his punishment ultimately consensual as he can stop it anytime.

He doesn't know which implement I will employ until the white hot pain of the first stroke impacts his ass. Never in a hurry, I allow plenty of time for him to fully experience and appreciate the distinct pain of each stroke separately, giving him time to react, and for me to savor his reaction. I wait until the intense sting fades and he settles down, deciding he isn't going to free himself from the spanking bench (signalling his consent to continue) and has had sufficient time to feel dread for the next stroke he knows is coming. With random lengths of time between each stroke, he can't anticipate when the next one will land. When lining up for the stroke, I never let it touch his skin.

There are various reasons why his deprivation hood is used during punishment. When his sight is cut off and his hearing is diminished, it enhances his sense of touch and prevents any distractions, allowing him to concentrate his attention on the pain. This allows me to apply lighter strokes while still getting the desired outcome, resulting in less marking and irritation afterwards, as he has to be able to sit at work on Monday.

If he can't hear the implement cutting through the air, he can't anticipate the next stroke. I want to catch him off guard every time.

Another reason I hood him first, is because if I see his face, I will go easy on him and not deliver what I promised in disciplining him. The hood helps me to temporarily objectify and disassociate from him.

There is one more important reason I hood him.

It is to hide what I have come to accept about myself but don't want him to see. I have learned that I have a definite sadistic streak and administering corporal punishment has become a very raw sexual experience for me.

Nothing gets me hotter, faster, than swinging the cane or punishment strap and witnessing the reaction it causes. The struggling against the restraints, the screams, the whimpers, the moans, OH GOD, the moans. I feel so POWERFUL. It feels amazingly primal for me.

My husband knows that I get turned on from this, but has no idea how much it affects me. With him blindfolded, he can't see how excited I get. With his reduced hearing, he can't hear my soft moans as I play with myself while watching him struggle with the pain after each stroke.

He doesn't know that I strip naked when I cane or strap him. The effort of swinging the implement combined with the excitement his reaction stirs in me (my heart pounding in my chest the whole time), causes perspiration and my vagina to lubricate profusely, so it's best to be undressed.

Being naked also adds to the raw sexuality of the situation and allows me to apply nipple clamps to my breasts. The chain sways back and forth with the motion of my arm swinging the cane, creating intense stimulation as the clamps bite painfully into my nipples, helping me to share the experience of his suffering. Meanwhile, my fingers have complete access to roam my other erogenous zones. Isn't it ironic that I have become a partial painslut during HIS beatings?

It will always remain my little secret that some of the best orgasms I have ever had were from playing with myself while thrashing him. He will never know that my hottest fantasies often revolve around caning him into complete submission.

Those are just fantasies though. The reality is that I will only administer harsh punishment when he has broken our agreed upon rules and has earned it. But when he deserves it, why shouldn't I take as much pleasure from the experience as I can?

I simultaneously love and hate how obedient he is, as I love how he complies to my every want and need, but my sadistic side often wishes I could experience administering hard corporal punishment more often.

After he has received his final stroke, I let him lay there for a few minutes to compose himself. I remove my nipple clamps and massage my tortured nipples with one hand and touch myself elsewhere with the other, savoring the intense sensations, with explosive results.

When I've recovered myself, I take his hood off, and I immediately go into mommy-domme mode. After all, now that he has been fully corrected, he is my good boy again, but is still suffering the after effects. I suddenly feel an intense need to nurture him.

We both need aftercare, and what seems to work best for us is adult nursing. I feed him some water from a baby bottle and put him to my breasts to suckle for a while. I don't produce any milk, but dry suckling has a very calming effect for us both and we feel so close and intimate with each other. While on my breast, he will stare up at me with a look of total love and devotion, and I will kiss his forehead, pet him, and tell him what a good boy he is. I want to make it all better. After enduring the clamps, my nipples are quite sensitive, so his gentle suckling feels amazing.

The emotional roller coaster I experience through this whole process is so intense, but ultimately very satisfying for me. It can also be quite exhausting, and we will fall asleep as we lay there.

such joy

Tying him to the bed and ball gagging his mouth shut to keep him quiet while I edge him. Then pinching his nose shut every so often just to see him panic and start to struggle against his restraint. He’d look so cute doing all he can to fight back and I’d love to watch his eyes get all big and scared and watery the longer I hold it shut 🥰

The Jerk - Part 1

A planned wank to some femdom porn was all you wanted. The long day at work needed some relief, and as you settled down to load up your favourite leather clad bitches on the laptop, you took your cock out of your boxers and started to jerk off. You paid no attention to the sound outside as you were too busy listening to the creaking outfit of a vicious leather vixen, chastising you for being a weak little pervert.

The feeling was too good and you knew that it wouldn’t be long before you shot your load into your balled up sport sock….it was going in the laundry anyway and you couldn’t wait. The visual of the boots rubbing against the gloves of your porn star mistress started you off. The explosion of pleasure was tremendous as you jerked off into the sock….getting every smidge of orgasm out. You sat back and closed you eyes….breathing heavily as the hardness started to fade.

The feeling of cold steel against your throat made you instantly aware. And there she was….the black leather suit, the facemask and the cruel eyes glaring at you. She hissed a warning for you to keep quiet…..or else your cock gets cut off. You nodded and instinctively put your hands up. Her tight ponytail swished as she grabbed her bag of delights. The duct tape and zip ties fell on the bed, with the added peril of a pistol now in her hand. She stepped back slowly, the gun trained at your crotch. She ordered you to gag yourself….but as you went to rip the tape off the roll, she shook her head and pointed to the cum filled sock. You told her to fuck herself…..an act not recommended as the gun was pointing at you and she clicked the chamber. It was loaded and she wasn’t playing.

You stuffed the sock in your mouth, the cum still warm as you retched. She told you to wrap the tape tightly around your mouth again and again. You felt as if your head was going to explode from the pressure of the vice like gag….she indicated for you to stop and then ordered you to zip tie your ankles together….again, the gun was waved in front of you for emphasis. You clicked on the binding and she pushed you face down on the bed and bound your wrists. She got on top of you and took more tape….this time to reinforce the wrist tie and she pulled your hair spitefully.

Her gloved hand started to run up your body and stopped near your ass. You grunted and struggled as she ripped your boxers away and probed your hole….then reaching around to tug your balls. She dismounted and hauled you onto your back. Her fingers still probing your ass and the other hand gripping your cock. She looked over to the laptop and evidence of your entertainment was still on display. Her taunting was seductive and despite the situation, you could feel yourself shamefully getting hard.

She played the clip again and decided to reenact the video….grinding her leather clad body against you. Her high heels digging into your flesh. The jerking and rough anal play was doing things to you, making you feel desperate and used. Her eyes were burning a hole into you, her breathing harder and quicker as she abused you. As you thrust against her hands, you could feel yourself about to cum again and she let you orgasm. The gag just about kept your roars to a minimum as she wanked the Holy Spirit from you. Her gloves soaked in your filthy jizz. She took your tattered underwear and wiped her gloves clean….taking care to smear the rest over your tape gagged face.

It was just the start of her plans for you. She took the knife and cut your ankles free, and you were dragged to your feet. She explained that she didn’t intend to take anymore than she needed, but you would be a tempting toy to play with. She draped a dressing gown over you and grabbed your car keys. It was time to take the party elsewhere.

To be continued……

Feminist Task #1

Squeeze your balls and thank Feminism whilst doing it. 

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This is a task from an actual Feminist movement (who will remain anonymous). They want to play with you losers. When this post has 100 re-blogs, a new task will appear.