When at home it’s “Ma’am” or “Madame” but in public it’s a polite “Nancy”. People know She’s the boss but in a way that is attractive to other Women considering taking more control of Their relationship. What Women want from a Female-led relationship is a situation where he relieves Her of many – or all! – of the traditionally Female tasks of housework, freeing Her to pursue a career, education, personal interests, social activities, or simply to relax. men we know in FLRs are fully committed to their Wife’s happiness and take great pleasure in Her following Her interests. In a real Female-led situation the desires of Woman and man converge on these things; what She wants is what he wants and he does whatever is necessary to support Her. His pleasure derives from his Wife realizing Hers.

Women are broadly recognized as the Superior Sex, They will see fit to extend Their dress options to men. Feminist writers have suggested this as an enticement to men as to what they – men – will have available when we have realized Matriarchy and Women are firmly in control.

Wedding vows for a couple entering into or already in a Female-led marriage are specifically structured to support a role reversal over patriarchal norms. Her not taking a vow of fidelity can simply be very symbolic of Her authority and his acceptance of it, or it can empower Her to do as She pleases.

In the years before meeting Sue and Joan, i aspired to just such a marital relationship. A relationship where men took orders, did housework, and subordinated spending decisions to their Wives. Nancy’s family took that to another level altogether, demanding a measure of service that many “henpecking Wives”—and i use this term with respect and reverence—could never have imagined.

“Something new I have introduced into our female-led lifestyle,” says yet another sharing spouse. “After my husband undresses me I unhook the cups and allow him to suck while I hold him for extended periods of time. He really seems to appreciate this. Afterward he seems to be much more attentive to my needs and feelings.”

“I love having my breasts sucked and nibbled on and I have been known to make him perform breast worship for over an hour at a time. I call it tit worship, as that sounds sexier.”

“When I was about 20, I had a lovely girlfriend of similar age. I would suckle her beautiful breasts for long stretches of time in accordance with her instructions. Mothering became so important in our lives that she would have me suckle even when she wasn’t in the mood to have sex.”

A refreshingly different perspective can be experienced if the male understands that it his responsibility to worship the female whenever her breasts are exposed. If she exposes her breasts this should have a calming effect on the submissive male.

Most women in female-led relationships fully realize this, of course, and take full advantage. Some leading wives, I read, severely restrict their husband’s access to their breasts, except as a rare reward for exceptional devotion and service.

Other women, I’m happy to report, take the opposite tack, allowing their males regular intervals of prolonged breast worship, with apparently delightful consequences to both parties.

The bosom of a dominant Woman controlling an FLR symbolizes Her role as the ultimate provider of love, leadership and security to Her family. All are dependant upon Her and surrender themselves to Her authority for She is capable of leading and controlling their lives. Though Her children will be set free in adulthood, Her hubby will go deeper under Her control and belong entirely to his loving Wife.

I see more of her breasts now and sometimes I can touch, lick and suck. After she’s been working out or doing something that makes her sweaty she takes off her top and tells me to lick the sweat from her breats. Other times I just have to sit there and look at them and she teases me with them.

My husband nurses at my breasts every day. My breasts are quite large as they are producing amounts that he wants.  He takes milk from each breast for about 15 minutes each breast – and it arouses me to a point of orgasm. I don’t know if any other couples do this, but what one does in private is our own business – and we both love it.

Its no secret I keep my husband locked 24/7 now, and he has not had a “proper orgasm” as he calls it in over a year. He is usually edged or suffers a ruined one now and then. From time to time I may milk him by massaging his prostate, but only on what I think is a special occasion.

I have decided that there is to be no stimulation of his manhood until I say so, and I have told him that is going to be a VERY long time. So now it has been over 8 weeks since I I touched the pathetic thing with my fingers, I have stroked it with my very long nails and even have an old chop stick on my bedside table for inspection services you understand. When he goes to shower I go with him, and when I release him for washing I stand and watch, just to make sure we don’t have a replay of the other month when I caught him playing with himself in the shower. I still let him out quite regular in a morning to play with him, but now NO TOUCHING!!!! I love to scratch his balls and run my nail up his shaft to his cock head and just gently play around his wee hole and ever so softly push my 3 inch finger nail down his wee hole, all the time telling him how lucky he is to be getting this done to his sorry excuse for a cock. By doing this he becomes rock hard and begging me to wrap my fingers around and bring him to a climax…. even a ruined one….PLEASE…. NO WAY!!!! and just stop….. I sometimes push a sounding rod all the way down his wee hole and just lay there not doing a thing, just grinning and laughing at him, telling him how lucky he is to have such a cruel mistress……..
Yes he reaches out to hold his thingy, DONT YOU DARE!!!!!! I shout at him. This usually goes on for about 45 minutes to an hour and then it’s all locked away again, just like it should be. He puts his cage on now, I get to choose of course, and it is always my job to snap the padlock closed, that’s the final insult to his sexual freedom. So like I say, it has been over 8 weeks since his manhood has had any hand stimulation, and he said it is driving him crazy….that will do for me, just shows me I am doing my job right. When he asks when he will be permitted hand relief I just tell him “Maybe next year, but maybe the year after….or maybe never my darling”

And, i might add, that at our house and in the homes of other FLR couples, men may be present but are NEVER served! Men congregate in the kitchen TO serve! This is one of many protocols we have in Nancy’s family. This particular protocol is one of many written rules we have that set the household order and define male roles.

We have much in common in terms of our approach to serving our women and the assuming of our domestic responsibilities. i and other men i know in the lifestyle work from a schedule that parallels yours. Light cleaning every day with some heavier tasks also in play, circumstances permitting. I also have a daily tasks to tend to, laundry being one, ironing another.

And, as you note, serving the women is always top priority, so housekeeping may have to be postponed to accommodate their situation. If Nancy is going out of town on business, it’s my job to pack her bags. If the women are entertaining, then my priorities are focused on preparing a small meal, serving drinks, greeting the women, hanging coats, making drinks, and so on. A lot of work but a lot of fun too. In these situations housekeeping takes a back seat temporarily and often gets done in the wee hours of the morning after the women have left. I have two hours of personal time allocated each day, but it’s understood that this is only with the women’s permission AND if my work is done; otherwise, personal time has to be work time.

Heavy cleaning is done on weekends or when the women are away, much as you note. It’s a practical approach that allows me to focus my efforts appropriately. Any of the things i’m expected to do are spelled out. Nancy’s mother, Sue, has standards for everything—such as “52 Things That Add up to a Clean Living Room.” These are things She checks when inspecting my work—and She does inspect! Sounds burdensome but it isn’t; i know exactly what’s expected and do it.

“i wear an apron anytime i’m doing housework or tending to the needs of the women.

“Finally and ‘on-your-knees-cleaning’ refers to a thorough cleaning that necessitates one gets on their knees to do the work, not some sort of ritual thing.”

Joan then extended me Her hand; I genuflected and kissed it. “Very Good!” I recall Joan saying. Then, starting to get up from Her chair, She hesitated and said, ”Oh, why not?” She sat back down, crossed Her legs and extended me Her foot. I recall saying, “Oh, yes, Ma’am” as I knelt before Her and, gently taking Her foot, kissed it through the sheer taupe hue of Her nylons . It was the first of hundreds of times that i’d do this. “Oh, we are going to get on splendidly” Joan said, leaving me kneeling as She rose and left the room.

Perhaps the most powerful to me is putting on an apron, one that one of the Women has selected. It is a constant reminder of my role and of the Women’s authority. Women don’t wear aprons in Nancy’s family – men do.”

Although my Mistress has used feminization and chastity/denial right from the beginning ( 35years ago)to reinforce her dominance. we certainly do have protocols.
for example, I am never allowed to sit in HER prescence before being given permission. All it takes is for Her to point at the floor/ground at her side for me to kneel.
Yes we get some funny looks in the park or a station but we ignore them.
I am not permitted to address her by name when out. I must use either Mistress or Madam.At home it is Mistress only.

It matters not what I am doing, if She requires attention, I must attend to her immediately.
I do all the housework and washing/laundry, cooking, food shopping and errands.

As I am in chastity, I cannot provide enough with my tongue and strap on harness, for her pleasure.

Guys who practice wife worship are the luckiest guys. My wife’s friends all have seen how well she is treated and they have asked her how she does it. She has told them straight out that we have a WLM and that I am totally obedient to her and must please her any way she tells me to. Plus, she told them, I must do things to please her every day without being told. Her friends now know that I do all of the housework, laundry, most ironing and much of our cooking. And she has told them the best way to have a successful WLM, restricting my orgasms to no more than once a month, and add weeks for bad behavior. Masturbation is strictly not allowed! I know her friends have taken her advice and 2 of them now have a WLM with their husbands.

It reminded me of the many guys who do all of the housework and wait on their wife hand and foot and are not the least bit ashamed of it[and why should they be].

Mistress Kathy is equally up front about disenfranchising her submissive husband, or, shall we say, appropriating his franchise: “John is not only allowed to vote, but is required to vote. He, of course, votes the way he is told… This morning John and I went to vote. We voted early. On the way out I asked John who he voted for. He answered ‘the way you instructed me to vote, mistress.’ That earned him a ‘good boy.’”

“As election day approached, I had my husband kneel between the couch and the coffee table in our living room and I brought him the checkbook, stamps, envelopes, and information from all the female candidates’ websites, complete with a picture of her and address for sending her money… I made him write a check for each candidate (which I signed of course) and prepare all the envelopes to be sent out. I sat behind him on the couch supervising him and gave him an occasional gentle caress. Seeing my scantily clad foot soldier for the female gender on his knees licking stamps and filling out checks and envelopes was very sensual for me and when he was done, I wound up having him bring my vibrator and orally worship me for nearly an hour. I had some of the best orgasms of my life!”

“Afterward I did take off his CB and laid him down on the couch and stroked his penis. While doing this, I softly asked him which candidates he found attractive or powerful and I showed him pictures of the ones he identified. I then shifted my focus by telling him in a variety of ways how weak it must make him feel to know that women are taking over society and that his own wife keeps his little cock in a cage and almost totally denied. While doing this I looked into his eyes and saw him in the deepest state of subspace I’ve ever seen.”

“I think it is wonderful how you used the ever-increasing candidacy of women for high political office to take your husband deeper into submission to you and the female gender as a whole.”

Husband No. 2: “i am [another] one of the ones whose Wife instructs on how to vote. i was interested in politics and my Wife and i mostly agreed. When we entered on our FLR, my Wife’s opinions took precedence and i deferred to Her more and more. i now adopt Her political and business opinions and follow Her lead. She now overrules me when we differ… i just let my Wife make those decisions and i vote the way she tells me. In voting, my Wife will make out a sample ballot or write down who and what to vote for. Occasionally we talk about it, but Her decisions are final.”

“There are few limits to how far a dominant wife can push and control her husband if she handles him properly.”

All of the housewives who henpecked their husbands, a precursor to current FLR lifestyles. Darlene surmised that for every man like her husband, there were four or five husbands who were wife-controlled, but to a lesser degree. In Darlene’s case she controlled the money, the social schedule (which usually had hubby at home) and she didn’t do housework.

And when quickly asked how many boyfriends, she replied “Twenty or so, give or take a few,” to which she received a round of applause. When asked if hubby knew about her men, she said “Probably, but I didn’t give a damn! If he wanted to stay married, he had to shut up and accept it. And he did.”

The evening with Darlene was very empowering for women—and very exciting for submissive men!

Of all the consequences for infractions, I think penetration is for him hands down the most humiliating experience. The first time it was done, it was a consequence of his resisting my authority. I had my arms around him while he was doing the dishes, touching his butt, which I do regularly (see below), and he resisted. I wanted to start making love, but he was having a tantrum and said he did not want to. So I made a decision. I wound my hands around his waist and continued to feel him and told him to look straight ahead. Unfortunately I had to tell him several times and finally I lost my patience. I unzipped his trousers and whispered into his ear, “Get down on your hands and knees.” He started trembling, looking at me and asking, “Why?”

I repeated the command, pointing my finger down at the floor. I kept it down until he knelt down and obeyed. Then I went into my room and got the dildo. I think he expected a spanking. He always grits his teeth beforehand—he HATES to be punished—and returned with it. I pulled down the boxers and that’s when it started.

I hope I am not being too coarse or direct here, but the butt/bottom/posterior is the best place, I think, to humiliate a man. It’s the one spot they never have “invaded.” I don’t know how to say this delicately, but a strap-on should be used as a stern and straightforward punishment. The first time I did this, he cried. Make sure you dominate your little boy completely. I stayed in him a long time and gave him a little kiss, asking him, “Who’s in charge?” while still in him. He could barely get out an answer. “And what’s your job?” I asked next.

“To obey.”

“What?”

“To obey you.”

I recently have started a job, about 6 hours per day in the housekeeping department of a large hotel. This has helped my bathroom cleaning, and bed making, and vacuuming skills at home. When I am done my part-time job, I have to get home so I can have dinner on the table for my wife, do the dishes, and either clean or do some laundry.

Since the purpose of this job is education, of course the money is deposited into my wife’s bank account.

In Her house we have established a housekeeping schedule. A whole-house light cleaning is done daily as schedules permit. I say as schedules permit because lets be honest, one cannot always work a full day at the office, come home, cook, clean, shop, serve AND please Her, every day! Some nights we entertain, or go out, or simply devote the night to Her pleasure, BUT the tasks must be made up, naturally. So, light cleaning daily. Deep-cleaning at least 2 rooms on Sunday while She shops with Her Gal-pals

During this time, it’s important to note that i am to serve their slightest whim if she’s home. And, i am strictly prohibited from placing a single glance at the television, ESPECIALLY if it’s a sporting event

Infantilize. I love infantilizing my boy. It makes me feel so amorous towards him. I remind him that he really doesn’t know what he’s doing, or all the facts of the matter, and he shouldn’t worry about them. “Now, now,” I say, “I know this is difficult for you, so why don’t you go take care of those dishes/that dinner/go read, and I’ll figure it out.” Keep in mind that men are, in general, seven years behind women in their emotional growth. They need leadership and guidance, and they should understand they need to be told what to do. It will help them adjust to their roles.

As men committed to Matriarchy and Feminist causes, the men in our group feel deeply obligated to serve women and promote their interests.

Tom and I spend every Wednesday night working at the center. Both our wives are directors at the center, so we worship our wives by working at a place so dear to both of them. It is in this spirit that we encouraged the rest of the guys to join us and volunteer as a group to spend an evening there, doing whatever needed to be done. Our wives approved, so I also called the center for permission.

By their own proud admission, the women there are “angry Feminists” who don’t want men just showing up, supposedly to help out, and then causing trouble. Men have to be recommended by someone known to the center, preferably a woman, although a man with Feminist credentials will do. Sue and i recommended the guys to the center. When men arrive they have to sign in and show ID; the women want to know exactly who’s there. After we signed in, Connie, the woman in charge (wearing a top emblazoned “BITCH”), handed us all pink shirts to wear that identified us as volunteers who’d been signed in. These shirts are left over from past marches and rallies and adorned with a word or phrase.

Connie provided us some orientation: “If anyone of us—meaning the women—tells you to do something, you do it.” “When you’re done with a job, ask us for another.” Finally she added, “The restroom is at the end of the hall and everyone sits to pee!”

That was it, no small talk, no welcome, no going around the room for introductions, and certainly no thank you for coming. There’s never a thank you; it’s the women who are doing the men a favor by giving them an opportunity for repentance. We were told what to do and soon we were busy filing, copying, serving coffee, cleaning, vacuuming—whatever was needed, whatever we were told.

The women are demanding at the center, but that’s okay. As men we have to take responsibility for how patriarchy has unjustly benefited men at the expense of women. We realize that men—all men—have to atone for the sins of the past whether we, as individuals, were responsible or not. The women at the center realize that progressive gentlemen want to atone, but that doesn’t mean it has to be easy. To the contrary, atonement has to be hard, so the center makes it hard. They are very demanding. “Get to work,” “No chitchat,” “You call that clean?” and the like are often heard as the women make sure they get the most out of every male volunteer.

Sounds tough, but there’s very little turnover. Most men who volunteer come back to the small church basement on a regular basis and help as they can, doing things in the relative shelter of the center or even doing very public things like participating in Feminist rallies and marches.

In a manner of speaking John is my slave as well as my husband. Some argue that it is an ugly word, and that the word submissive should be substituted in its place. In a sense though my ownership of John extends well beyond simply being a collared submissive. In our personal life John has little freedom to come and go,  spend money, or arrange a social schedule. His responsibilities, his chores and duties are planned for him. He is told what to do and when to do it. Any changes from his preapproved schedule requires permission. Any spending of money beyond a small amount requires permission. Except for preapproved purchases such as gas and groceries he is not allowed to use a credit card. There are times when these controls frustrate him. He, however, has never rebelled against my authority. He understands that any type of rebellion would not last long, and there would be severe punishment associated with it.

It may be only my imagination but since collaring her husband I can see a different type of glow on Becky’s face. Much of the tension associated with equalitarian marriage is gone. Not only is her husband at Becky’s beck and call, but he is truly involved with the family. His television time is limited, and his days of playing for ever on the computer are over. He is not allowed turn on either the television or the computer without  Becky’s permission. This is a  simple yet effective rule that most women should have in their homes. I will repeat it. (No television or computer play without permission).

The abolition of male masturbation and porn, do that he behaves better. Teasing and male orgasm denial incredibly improve male behavior. Rare male orgasms give better behavior.
Positive reinforcement gives better results than punishment, if his masturbation and orgasm under control.

We went back to our usual FLR where I was the Dom and Karl was the sub, but didn’t involve slavery or 24/7 activity.  Yes, Karl was always at my beck and call, and the majority of our time was more or less normal, at least for us,  but always with the realization that I was in control and could and would exercise that control as if saw fit.  And I saw fit quite often, keeping Karl under my thumb, using and abusing him for my (and his) pleasure.

This wasn’t just a game any more.  I decided that if I were going to become a slavemaster I had to take on the attitude of a slavemaster and Karl had to take on the attitude of a real slave.  He had to surrender completely to my will and he had to do it 24/7.  I, in turn, had to commit to being in charge every minute of the day and night and accept that I was not his wife, but his ruler.  We had previously used “Your Highness” and not simply “Milady” to refer to me when we had our slave weekend years before, and now I was “Your Highness” again, and I was prepared to accept that situation and all that it implied.  It implied a lot of work on my part, physically and mentally, and a lot of physical and mental surrender on Karl’s part.   Karl was now simply known as “slave” and on the occasions when he was allowed to address me, I was “Your Highness”, and he quickly learned that his Highness was not joking around.

The last two slave sessions have found me carrying a whip all the time, and using it whenever my slave failed to satisfy my endless demands.  At times, I used it even when he did satisfy my demands simply because I found that I LIKE to use it.

Maybe there’s just something about being in control of a groveling slave that leads to a love of the whip.  I don’t know if that’s a fair assumption, but Karl had truly become a slave in his own mind, showing an attitude of “slaveness” that equaled my attitude of slavemaster.   He groveled well, he jumped to my commands, he worshipped every inch of me with relish, he accepted whatever I did to him and thanked me for it, and he MEANT it.

Since Karl’s basic slave fantasy has always been to be a SEX slave of a beautiful GODDESS,  I’m doing him quite a favor when I’m in the mood for “servicing”.  Of course, slaves pay a price for everything that they may deem pleasurable, and I certainly enjoy the sexual frustration (for him) that inevitably goes with satisfying my needs.

I had him kneeling before me, his head facing me and his forehead on the ground in front of me, my high heels resting on his back as I explained my goals for the day.  “Today, slave, I wish to be pampered and pleasured.  You will serve me all day, always available at my beck and call, ready to answer a snap of my fingers or the tinkling of this glass bell I’ll be keeping near me.  You’ll follow all commands quickly, efficiently and silently.  You’ll do nothing without a direct order from me, and that includes eating, drinking and going to the bathroom.  You exist to please me, to obey me, and to worship me, and your sole function is to assure my pleasure, and I plan to have a great deal of pleasure.  If you have a physical emergency requiring you to use the bathroom, for instance, you will raise your hand and await permission to speak.  This sort of “interruption” to my pleasure will be punished, of course, so I expect you’ll think twice before raising that hand.  Now clean my shoes with your tongue, then remove them with your mouth and take them to my closet.  Your hands will remain tied behind your back for now, and you’ll stay on your knees until you return to me and resume this position.  Now get started.”

I ran him ragged serving me in every possible way, requiring him to micro clean various areas of the house and do a variety of household chores such as washing, ironing, folding and putting things away, etc., to the accompaniment of the liberal use of my riding crop whenever he lagged a bit.  My verbal orders were loud and constant, and he wasn’t allowed to speak unless given permission.  I remained fully dressed, and the few resting periods he was allowed was spent in service as my footrest, boot licker, and sometimes corner dweller with nipple clamps and ball weights to provide a little spice to his “resting” times.

He spent the evening in his basement cage, and early the next morning I took him into our garage, removed his chains and collars, leaving him naked except for his chastity, put him in the trunk and drove him to Patsy’s house.  She also has a garage, and I dropped him literally at Patsy’s feet for his next day of slavery.

According to what I was told later by both Patsy and Karl, Patsy started his day by administering a sound beating to his ass with her strap as a testament to what was to come if he failed to please her.  She then dressed him in attire appropriate to a Lady’s handmaiden, circa the nineteenth century, complete with bonnet and maid’s uniform, and proceeded to apply makeup to his face as only Patsy can do.  She took a photo of “Karlotta” as she called him, and it was quite astonishing to see his transformation.  She spent most of the day instructing him as to proper comportment for a Lady’s maid, with emphasis on curtsying and feminine style movements and speaking patterns, constantly fine tuning him and punishing any missteps on his part with her strap.

She used a bell to call him when she needed him elsewhere, and he quickly learned to listen well for that bell or suffer the consequences.  By day’s end, he was quite the little handmaiden, flushed cheeks (above and below) included.  He spent the night in her private bathroom with instructions to clean and polish all the hardware (toilet, faucets, wash bowl, porcelain lined cast iron tub, mirrors, etc.) in the bathroom and grab any sleep he could as long as the job was done properly.

She fancies herself as more of a “punisher” than I am, and feels that her ends justify her means, with her “ends” being total dominance of the male through intimidation and fear.

When she dropped Karl off at my house, she only stuck around long enough to tell me that she had forbidden Karl to talk to me about his day with her, and that he knew that he would be punished severely the next time she had him at her house if he disobeyed her.  This was a typical Vanessa “tease”, directed at me more than Karl, and I had to chuckle at the trap she’d laid for both of us.  She knew very well that I would get the story out of Karl, and she obviously was enjoying the fact that I knew it would lead to punishment for him and that I had caused it.  Very clever and quite malicious.

When we were alone, I had Karl stand before me and turn around slowly several times to see what shape his body was in after two days as a slave with other Doms.  He was covered with welts on his back, ass, and thighs, and his lips and face seemed swollen.  No blood had been shed, but many of those welts were very red and nasty looking.  He looked absolutely exhausted.

He then revealed that Vanessa had forbidden him to speak of his day with her, and had threatened to punish him if he disobeyed her.  Of course, I already knew this, and I assured him that Vanessa’s punishment would be a trifle compared with what he’d get from me if he refused to tell me what happened at her house.  I don’t know if he totally believed me, but I knew that he really wanted to tell me about Vanessa, and this gave him an excuse to do so.  A typical lose/lose for Karl, but that’s life, especially for a slave.

Vanessa had wasted no time in showing Karl that he was in store for a day of hard work and endless punishment, complete with a heavy and authentic slave collar and hand and feet shackles.  He spent many hours cleaning floors in the kitchen and bathroom, which duplicated his efforts when he had done the same for Vanessa when I loaned him out previously.  This time, however, Vanessa wanted even more speed and thoroughness and made constant use of her whip to achieve results.  A beaten and exhausted Karl finally finished both floors and was immediately directed to make and serve Vanessa’s lunch.  While she ate she threw scraps of food on the floor for Karl and allowed him to drink by dipping her feet in a bowl of water and raising them up over and over while Karl licked and sucked the droplets from her toes.

So far, I had no argument with any of her methods, and she continued to work Karl very hard with vacuuming chores, washing and drying and ironing her clothes, and many hours spent cleaning her entire shoe collection and arranging them by size, type, style and color.  Karl had plenty of experience with shoe duties from my end of things, and except for Vanessa’s brutal use of her whip, there was nothing extraordinary about his day so far.  By late afternoon, however, things began to change.

Vanessa told Karl to draw her a bath and present himself on his knees next to her tub when the water was nice and hot.  She put a hood over his head, with only the nose and mouth holes open, got into the tub and directed Karl to clean her from feet to neck by using his hands covered with body wash.  She raised her right foot for him to begin, then her left, and then each leg in turn, then crouched while Karl lathered her pussy as she directed his fingers into her vagina and over and around her clit, emitting many gasps of delight as Karl’s hands did their “work” and his cock struggled mightily against his chastity restraint.  Karl couldn’t see a thing, but Vanessa’s reaction and his imagination was quite enough to arouse him royally.  Next came Vanessa’s ass, where once again Karl was directed to plunge his soap lubricated index finger into her hole over and over while she writhed in obvious ecstasy.

At one point, Vanessa told Karl that they weren’t breaking any of my rules, as his tongue wasn’t being used for licking or penetration, and she directed him up to her tits (more sighs of pleasure from Vanessa) and around her arms shoulders and back.  All in all, quite a bath, and Karl toweled her off afterwards.  Vanessa, now in a robe, removed Karl’s hood and told him to crawl into her bedroom and get on her bed, on his back, and wait for her.  Vanessa had a king sized, four poster bed and she proceeded to tie Karl’s hands and feet to the four corners, having him spread-eagled in the center of the bed.

Vanessa slowly removed her robe and gave Karl a view of her totally naked body as she grasped his chastity encased cock and said “Take a good look at what your cock can never have.  Too bad, but I’m horny as hell after that bath, and I’m going to get some relief, slave.”  She then went to her dresser and pulled out something Karl had never seen.  It was a strap-on gag with a long, black penis dildo in the middle, extending about 8 inches through a hole in its middle and about 4 inches out the other side of the hole.  The dildo was one piece (it’s called an “in and out penis gag” if you want to look it up), and Vanessa proceeded to strap it to Karl’s head so that he had the short penis end in his mouth while the long penis end faced outwards toward Vanessa.  Then she lubed the long end, saying laughingly that “I really don’t need the lube ’cause I’m already wet, but what the hell” and straddled Karl’s face while on her knees, lowering herself onto the dildo.  Up and down she went, slowly at first, then gathering speed as she let out moans of ecstasy.

Karl said he had no idea how long it lasted, but Vanessa was eventually just, as he says it, “plowing into my face with that thing, shrieking and laughing as she came, and she came over and over.”  When she was finally sated, she looked Karl in the eye and said “Guess what, slave, we didn’t break any rules from Your Highness (meaning me).  No tongue in my pussy, right?”  Karl, of course couldn’t say anything with half of the penis dildo in his mouth.  I now knew why Karl’s face and mouth looked swollen, but Vanessa wasn’t done.  She got off of Karl and left him tied to the bed with the in and out gag still attached, and said, “Hold that pose.  I’m going out for a bite to eat and I want to imagine you lying there just like that.”  She got dressed as Karl watched, and he wriggled around a bit to try to make himself more comfortable.  That was a mistake.  “I said hold that pose, slave!  Don’t you dare move around!”  She slapped his face several times, left the room and returned with a bowl full of water, and placed the bowl on his chest.  “You move around, and that water’s gonna spill, and if it does I’m gonna use my whip like you never felt before.”  Then she stepped back, looked at Karl and said “My, my, don’t you make a pretty picture for me to think about while I’m eating.  Have fun, slave.  I’m gonna need some more “relief” when I come back.”

Karl doesn’t know how long she was gone, but he knew he had to remain still and he was afraid he’d fall asleep from the sheer exhaustion of his day.  If he did that, he’d probably move around in his sleep and the bowl would overflow or fall, so he forced himself to stay awake, and suffered the cramps that prolonged immobility always bring.  Somehow, he managed to keep that bowl balanced, and when Vanessa finally returned, she came into the bedroom with a carry-out container, smiled sweetly at Karl and said  “I see you followed instructions, slave.  I saved dessert to eat with you.  Well, I’ll eat it and you can continue to hold that pose while you watch.”  She pulled up a chair, opened the container and slowly ate a piece of cake while “chatting” with Karl.

She said “I bet you’re probably hungry.  Well, if you do a good job on your next chore, maybe I’ll let you eat something.  We’ll just have to see how you do.”  She finished her cake, removed the bowl from Karl’s chest and proceeded to untie his hands and feet from the bed posts.  The in and out gag remained in place. “Now get out of bed and on your knees facing the side of the bed.  Hands behind your back.”   She used a metal clip to attach Karl’s wrist cuffs together.  She pulled off the slacks she was wearing and removed her panties, got her lube tube and re-applied some to the dildo, and sat on the edge of the bed facing Karl.  “You really are a pretty sight, slave.  Whip marks all over your back and ass and thighs, sweat streaks from a day of hard work, and that glistening cock coming out of your mouth.  Turns me on just looking at you, and knowing that I’m responsible for all those things.  I bet you just love pleasing your beautiful , black Mistress.  Doesn’t seem fair, though, that I had to do all the work when I fucked your face.  Now you can get to work yourself and use that thing in your mouth to get me off.”

With that, Vanessa laughed, threw her head back and said “Fuck me slave!  Long and hard until I tell you to stop.”  And so he did, plunging the dildo into Vanessa’s pussy and going in and out, back and forth, side to side as Vanessa yelled out directions to speed up, slow down, etc., and screamed with pleasure.  Karl told me that it lasted a long, long time and he was stunned by the number of orgasms Vanessa had.  I felt my teeth clenching as he went on with his description.  Jealousy?  Pissed off that she’d gotten herself fucked by Karl when I never imagined that could happen with Karl’s cock in a cage and his tongue off limits?  Anger that she’d outfoxed me?  Probably a lot of all of those things.

When Vanessa had finally had enough, she removed the gag from Karl, actually complimented him on his “work” and had him crawl into the kitchen where she threw some cold cuts on the floor and put down the very bowl of water that she’d placed on his chest so that he could drink while he ate.  His wrists were still behind his back, but he greedily ate and drank like a dog while Vanessa left to put her robe back on.  When she returned, she had Karl thank her for his meal, wiped her bare feet over the spots left on the floor, and had Karl lick her soles until they were clean.  She told Karl that it was late and she was tired, and said to him “It was really fun having you as a slave for today.  I can’t wait until I get you for a three day weekend.  Can you just imagine how much fun we’ll have!?!”  Karl managed a feeble “Yes, Mistress” while he shuddered inside, and Vanessa told him that he was not allowed to talk about what happened or suffer the consequences the next time he served her.  He slept at the foot of Vanessa’s bed with his hands still behind his back and his collar chained to the foot of the bed as well.

I live in an FLR with my wife and gave up total control of my finances and income to my wife years ago. She also makes me lock my wallet and cell phone in a safe when I get home, that only she has the code for. That way I can’t spend anything without getting her permission.

My parents got married in the 1950s and their relationship was definitely female led. As I was growing up, I noticed my mother made almost all the household decisions. Nothing really happened without her say so. She took charge of the finances, paid bills, shopped, and let my dad have only as much cash as she thought he needed.

My dad was always helpful around the house. One of his jobs was putting on an apron and cleaning up the kitchen every night. He did the laundry a lot and sometimes vacuumed. There wasn’t much discussion about it; my dad just did these things as part of his routine.

I can remember quite a bit of “motivational speaking”. My mother had a sharp tongue sometimes. If she was unhappy about something she and my dad would go off by themselves and I’d hear my mother’s voice getting very shrill. My dad was always pretty compliant after these discussions.

The first time I spanked him it was for something minor. After coaxing me several times, he kept trying to reach up for my breast. I wanted this bad little habit nipped in the bud. Frustrated and annoyed, I sighed and unzipped his trousers, pulled them down along with his boxers and walked quietly—and calmly—into my bedroom and brought out my paddle. It’s a plain wooden paddle, nothing fancy, but it is my prime disciplinary tool for boys. I stood in front of him, with his scared face looking up at me. He was still lying on the sofa when I said, “Bend over, with your knees on the floor and your arms over the sofa cushion.”

By the time I was finished, my boy was bawling. Hot tears ran down his face. He had experienced physical discipline before, so he already understood why this was happening. After finishing, I asked him, “Now, do you know why you were punished?”

In this case he didn’t, I went on to explain it to him: “There is no relationship if you don’t listen to me. Do you understand?”

He nodded, wiping tears from his face. He was young, and still trying to hide tears. So I continued, taking him gently in my arms and looking down at him. His bottom really hurt—it was so red—and he was struggling to pull up his trousers and underclothes.

“I know, it hurts a lot, but if you had listened to me, you would not have gotten punished. Do you see now why you have to listen to me? I just can’t let you do something that’s not good for us.”

He nodded again and began to calm down.

“Now go into the bedroom, take off your clothes, fold them, and wait for me. We’re both going to have some time to calm down. And when I come into that room, I expect you to be lying on that bed. Are we going to have any more problems with not listening?”

He shook his head, and did as he was told.

One was with a 78-year-old woman, Darlene, a proudly self-admitted “domineering bitch” who controlled every aspect of her marriage starting around 1960. She gave her interview at the center to a crowd of twenty, mostly women, who cheered and applauded as Darlene described her lifestyle. Her takeing charge of the marriage started when hubby acted up too much and she just totally clamped down on him, an interesting story of confrontation and female power in and of itself.

Doesn’t your slave ever need to orgasm?

No.  He needs milking, not an orgasm.  The only orgasm he needs is mine.

If you slave does not have orgasms anymore, does he get frustrated or angry about being denied something so fundamental to being a man?

He is not a man, he is a submale, so an orgasm is not fundamental to him.  Having his penis caged and controlled and being milked is.  At first he went through withdrawals like any other addict, but that soon passed.

And really, that is the point.  If he works hard enough, and does a good enough job she should be able to find all of the satisfaction he actually needs in her orgasm.

I love my husband, and love to make love to him, I just don’t let him cum. That pleasure is all mine. He can enjoy all the ecstasies from the union between our bodies, all the anticipation and all the expectancy, minus the orgasm. Those he gives to me, exclusively. When we lay down together afterward, I’ll be drifting in the blissful peace of a post-orgasmic glow, while he will still be floating high on an unpopped bubble swollen tense with denial. It’s beautiful.

Unfortunately, prostate milking is a necessity for the healthful maintenance of a male in long term/permanent chastity.  While it is an unpleasant chore for you, males are pathetic and will choose to view any physical contact, like her hand on his rump, as sexual.
A prostate milking tool is ideal for this task and rubber golves are a MUST.  Rather than the thin exam style gloves seen here that allow for the semblance of physical contact, I recommend that you go with heavy dish gloves or even industrial rubberized work gloves.  The more barrier you can put between you and the male the better it is for him.

Although of a later generation, this was Nancy’s family; the women controlled the money, made the decisions, and did what they wanted when and with whomever they wanted. The men? Well, can you say housekeeping?

Housework: Her twelve women reported that their men did housework and had a routine of it to tend to when they came home, although some did less than others. Housework for hubby was a constant, everyday routine; he had something to do, and that something took two-three hours a night on weekdays and could be twice that on days he was off work. Never mind that she didn’t have a job outside the home; he did housework and he did it because she insisted he do it; and he did how she wanted it done. Husbands were shown what to do, and if things weren’t done right, they would be done over and over again, if need be, until he got it right.

Controlling the money: By controlling the money, Women were able to establish and maintain control of their relationship. Checks came home in that era and were handed over to wives who took care of the banking, bills and expenses. Many of them also channeled money into personal bank accounts that they’d set up for themselves. Men on the other hand were given an allowance and required to stay within a budget. A man could ask for more but he’d seldom get it; her “No!” didn’t require justification.

All the women interviewed controlled their husband’s social life. If he wanted to go to a game, for example, he had to ask permission, which was seldom given, and always with limitations—on how much money he could spend and when he had to be home. This was a practical concern. “The more he spent, the less for me,” one woman commented, adding, “and I wasn’t going to have that!” Controls on his social life also were aimed at keeping him away from “bad influences” that might make him hard to control. when their men returned home, the wives expected to be told what went on.

One woman noted that she could be a “real bitch” when she didn’t get her way; and her hubby agreed and confirmed that her “motivational speaking” kept him in line. Men’s favorable comments about “bitching” stem from them appreciating women telling them exactly what they wanted.

And, yes, there was physical punishment administered by all the ladies surveyed, usually in combination with “motivational speaking,” often with a slap or two and a few kicks thrown in for good measure. What prompted such a physical reprisal? Usually insubordination of some sort or complaining on the part of a man.

The ladies and I decided to “take” Karl for one day apiece as sort of a “preview of things to come” exercise. I took the first day and spent most of the time re-training Karl with a constant barrage of orders to follow, with emphasis on his immediate and enthusiastic response to whatever I told him to do. He was in his chastity, which remained locked for all three days, naked with short chains between his ankles and wrists, and a ball collar and neck collar, both with leash attachment capabilities.

Housekeeping for three of her women friends’ husbands. She shares experiences, makes comments, and gives suggestions as to what she feels we can do better. We love it! We’re Feminists, she’s a Female Supremacist, but we all feel that everyone gets ahead when men do more or all of the housework. She’s interested in some of the things we do — domestic service, for example — and we’ve invited her to visit us and experience it firsthand. She’ll also visit the women’s center and hold a talk about Female-centric religions that many of us are pursuing or are interested in.

Sue, a personal friend also in an FLR, and I—with the help of Nancy’s mother—decided that putting appropriate rules in place would make these socials possible. The more rules the better, it was decided, in order to address any situation that might arise. Now we’re not talking about some impromptu party here. Rather, it’s about socials—well-planned, wife-approved, woman-supervised get-togethers with an organized agenda and proper decorum. It may be guys’ night out, but women are in control; and all of us—women and men—want it that way!

>It’s been great ever since, with women attending every meeting. The guys always prepare and serve some light fare and keep the ladies happy with good wine, great coffee and involvement in the discussion. It’s interesting (but certainly not surprising) the role reversal we have here.

Female Domination of the second sex. Often times a prohibition from a Mistress without ant reason at all goes a long way to teach the slave his slavery. It is about Womenhood dominating manhood and about Wives being revered and even feared as the Queens they are in a slave’s marriage to them.

We have the old version, my husband “Hates it” He knows I am serious when this comes out. Like Gazdi says, it is ok when he is limp, but the slightest bit of arousal it starts to hurt, and when I really tease him and he gets hard he says it becomes unbearable for him.

I am into my seventh month of chastity, prior to this I had no experience beyond simply being denied sex. At about the two and half month I started having real doubts and wanted out of chastity. However my wonderful Miss coached me through this time, reminding me it was my desire to please her and at my request she had purchased the cage to further this. Miss also provided me with distraction when she saw it was required and encouraged me to keep going. I am now thankful of her help, assurance and positive mind frame and would not have it any way else. She now wants me locked up permanently.

I have taken sex off of the table for the time being, as we get to know each other in this new relationship. I want to make sure these lessons stick, before we take it to the next level. We continued to have some sexual intercourse, but eventually I weaned him to the point where we no longer indulge in anything but sexual play, for my sake, while only allowing him to masturbate, when I am satisfied.

I’ve begun giving him more and more daily tasks. Since he’s not working full-time, he has more time to see to my needs. I’ve even taken to calling him in the middle of the day, when I’m at work, to tell him exactly how I expect to find things when I get home: A glass of wine and a nightgown on the bed, so that I get can undressed and relax the moment that I walk in the door. His reward is snuggling up after he’s done with the dinner dishes.

During playtime, I have him massage and kiss my feet. When I let him touch me, I guide and command his moves. It’s almost orgasmic to hear him say, “Yes, Diva,” as he goes from one command to the next, trying to please me. My Pet is still on sexual probation, so it has actually been quite a while since we have had genital-to-genital intercourse. He gets the scrunchy-face and tongue-biting thing going when I remind him, during playtime, that he is still on lock down. That’s when I give him new suggestions for how he can put his tongue to better use. His “Yes, Diva,” at such times is a little pathetic, but he gets right to work, as directed.

My wife has found out the longer she keeps me horny, the better my attitude, my housework, ironing and overall wanting to please her. Next year she has said no orgasms at all for 2014. This year I have had 2 orgasms, and I am hoping for one more in December before the year starts.

We have been in a WLM for about 12 years, we are both retired so I have the time for this class. I have been doing all of the housework, ironing most meals etc. But my wife always finds some fault with what I have done, and as a result I get punished by her, sometimes severely . I would love to learn to do housework properly. She goes out golfing, plays tennis or goes to the gym when I do housework, she does not want to stand over me. She will always find something not done properly, then it is more chastity time in my CB 6000 , corner time or other punishments. This course would help me serve her better.

I’ve been serving my Goddess for 7 years now. She is the sole earner and i’m her full time slave. She and her girlfriend have taught me all the housework. Recently my Goddess has got a scholarship for a Phd in a prestigious London Institution. I’ve been saving some money with her permission and begging her to allow me to buy PS4. But now i think i should beg my Goddess to let me join a course for a Nail Technician, since she’ll be busy with her degree and the least i can do is to serve her better. First, i and other men in an FLR take ownership of housework and we feel it’s a part of our roles and responsibilities. Nothing was needed to change that. i take pride in doing whatever my wife, her mother, or other female authority figures in my life tell me to do. Period!