Sarah and Mike had been married for over a decade, but their relationship had taken a drastic turn. Sarah, once the nurturing and caring partner, had developed a dominant streak, slowly eroding Mike’s sense of self-worth and autonomy. At first, it was subtle – a raised eyebrow, a dismissive tone, or a gentle reminder that he needed to follow her lead.

However, as time went on, Sarah’s methods became increasingly extreme. She would often address Mike with dehumanizing language, reducing him to a mere “boy” or “pet.” Her words were laced with condescension and disdain, making him feel like a child who needed constant supervision.

Mike tried to resist, but Sarah was relentless in her pursuit of control. She began to isolate him from his friends and family, claiming that they would only enable his bad behavior. She took away his phone, deeming it a distraction, and replaced it with a simple, monotone watch that displayed the time and nothing else.

Sarah’s verbal abuse escalated, with her frequently calling Mike “dunce” or “idiot.” She’d berate him for perceived slights, like not making his bed correctly or taking too long to get dressed. The insults were always followed by a humiliating punishment – being forced to crawl on all fours to the nearest closet, where he would retrieve his clothes.

Physical punishments became more common as well. Sarah would strike Mike with a rolled-up newspaper for minor infractions, like not following her orders promptly enough. She’d also use a hairbrush to scratch his back, leaving red welts that would itch for hours.

Mike’s daily routine was dictated by Sarah. He had to wake up at exactly 6:00 AM, followed by a strict regimen of exercise and personal hygiene. Any deviation from this schedule was met with swift punishment. Sarah would often have him scrub the bathroom floor on his hands and knees until he got it “right.”

As Mike’s humiliation grew, so did his dependence on Sarah. He began to wear ridiculous outfits – bright orange jumpsuits with her initials emblazoned on the back – as a constant reminder of her authority.

Sarah even went so far as to take away Mike’s freedom of movement. She’d lock him in a room with no windows, forcing him to entertain himself for hours on end. The room was sparse and unforgiving, with a single, narrow bed that served as both his sleeping quarters and punishment chamber.

One particularly brutal evening, Sarah took Mike to the city square, where he was forced to watch her perform a sadistic dance routine while crowds of passersby jeered at him. When she finished, she had him kneel before her, begging for forgiveness – a ritual that became an integral part of their daily dynamic.

By this point, Mike was nothing more than Sarah’s personal servant. He’d do anything to avoid her wrath, even if it meant sacrificing his dignity and autonomy. His only solace was the faint hope that someday, somehow, he’d break free from Sarah’s grip and reclaim his life.

But for now, Mike remained trapped in a living nightmare of his own making – a world where every moment was dictated by the whims of a woman who delighted in reducing him to nothing more than a subservient tool.

Sarah’s friend, Emily, pulled up to the house in her sleek sports car, excitement radiating from her bright smile. She had been planning to visit Sarah for weeks, and was looking forward to catching up over coffee and gossip.

As she entered the living room, Mike, her old friend, stood stiffly beside Sarah, his eyes cast downward in submission. Emily’s gaze swept over him, taking in his uniform – a crisp white jumpsuit with Sarah’s initials embroidered on the back.

“Hey, guys!” Emily chimed, plopping down onto the couch. “It’s so great to see you both.”

Sarah turned to face her, a cold glint in her eye. “Mike, make us some coffee,” she commanded, her voice dripping with superiority.

Mike nodded, his movements mechanical as he shuffled over to the kitchen. Emily watched him go, raising an eyebrow.

“Wow, Sarah, I didn’t know you’d… um… taken it upon yourself to discipline Mike like that,” Emily ventured, trying to keep her tone light.

Sarah’s expression turned icy. “He needs to learn discipline, Emily. And he needs me to teach it to him.”

As Mike returned with the coffee, Emily noticed that he was wearing a pair of bright orange gloves, which made his hands look even smaller and more submissive than usual.

“Hey, Mike, what’s up with the gloves?” Emily asked, trying to make small talk.

Mike hesitated before answering. “Sarah said they’d be part of my new uniform, ma’am.”

Emily’s eyes widened in surprise as Sarah chimed in, her voice dripping with condescension.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Emily. Mike knows the drill. Now, let’s get started on our coffee date. I’ll tell you all about how I’ve been running this household, and Mike here will… um… supervise.”

As they sipped their coffee, Sarah regaled Emily with tales of Mike’s latest infractions – from forgetting to clean his room to using the “wrong” soap in the shower. Emily listened, her eyes growing wider with each new story.

But then, as they chatted, Emily caught a glimpse of Mike sneaking glances at Sarah’s breasts under her low-cut top. He quickly looked away, his face flushing with shame.

Sarah, however, caught him red-handed – or rather, red-faced. Her eyes flashed with anger, and she turned to Mike, her voice rising to a shrill pitch.

“Mike! What are you looking at?” she hissed, her eyes blazing with fury.

Mike’s gaze dropped to the floor as he mumbled an apology, his voice barely audible.

Sarah’s face twisted in disgust. “You think I’m just going to forgive that? You’re lucky I don’t punish you right now.”

With a flick of her wrist, Sarah summoned Mike and sent him scurrying off to his punishment room – a small closet with no windows, where he would spend the next hour on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor until it was spotless.

As Emily watched the exchange, she felt a shiver run down her spine. “Wow,” she whispered to Sarah. “You really know how to keep Mike in line.”

Sarah’s smile was cold and triumphant. “That’s what being the dominant partner is all about, Emily. And I’m the queen around here.”

As Sarah led Mike down to the basement, Emily followed closely behind, her curiosity piqued by the strange behavior of the robot couple. The air grew thick with tension as they reached the bottom of the stairs, where a small door led to a cramped, dimly lit room.

Sarah pushed the door open and gestured for Mike to enter. “You’re going to learn a lesson in respect,” she said, her voice cold and commanding.

Mike hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. The room was small, with concrete walls and a single, flickering light bulb hanging from the ceiling. In the center of the room, on a raised platform, stood a large, metal cage with bars that looked like they could withstand significant force.

Sarah closed the door behind Mike and began to pace back and forth in front of him. “You’ve been neglecting your duties, Mike,” she said, her voice rising with anger. “You’re not taking me seriously, and you’re not respecting my authority. That ends now.”

Mike stood quietly, his eyes cast downward in submission. He knew he had made mistakes, but he didn’t understand why Sarah was so upset.

Sarah stopped pacing and turned to face him. “You need to learn that I am the dominant partner in this relationship,” she said, her voice firm and authoritative. “I am the one who makes all the decisions, who provides for us both, and who keeps our household running smoothly. You are my servant, Mike, and you will treat me with the respect and deference that comes with that role.”

Mike nodded, his head dipping downward in agreement. He knew he had been acting out of line, but he didn’t know how to change.

Sarah’s expression softened slightly, and she reached out to stroke Mike’s cheek. “I want you to understand, Mike,” she said, her voice gentle and patient. “Respecting me is not just about following rules or doing chores. It’s about showing me that you value my time, my energy, and my emotions. It’s about recognizing that I am the center of our universe, and that everything revolves around me.”

Mike looked up at her, his eyes wide with understanding. He knew he had been taking Sarah for granted, but he didn’t realize how much she needed him to change.

As the lesson progressed, Sarah’s demeanor became increasingly intense. She stood before Mike, her eyes blazing with a fierce inner light.

“Listen to me, Mike,” she said, her voice low and commanding. “You must learn to treat women with respect. Not just me, but all women. You will address them as ‘ma’am’ or ‘sir’, whichever is appropriate. You will open doors for them, hold their bags, and never, ever touch them without permission.”

Mike nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with understanding.

But Sarah was not satisfied. She raised her hand, and Mike flinched, anticipating punishment.

“Show him, Mike,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “Make him understand the gravity of his mistake.”

Mike hesitated, but Sarah’s gaze bore into him like a hot knife through steel. He knew he had no choice but to comply.

With a sudden movement, Mike reached out and grabbed Emily’s arm, pulling her close. Emily gasped in shock as Mike began to strip her down, revealing her breasts and panties to the world.

Sarah’s eyes flashed with anger, but she did not intervene. Instead, she stood back, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of horror and fascination.

Mike continued his assault on Emily, ripping off her clothes and exposing her to the full force of his humiliation. He slapped her, pinched her, and roughly handled her, all the while crying out “You should have treated me with more respect!” over and over again.

Emily stumbled backward, her face white with shock and terror. She had never seen anything like this before, and she didn’t know how to react.

Sarah watched the scene unfold, her expression a mask of fury. When Mike finally finished his assault on Emily, she turned to him with a scowl.

“That’s enough,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “You will apologize to Emily, and you will do it now.”

Mike cowered before her, his eyes cast downward in shame. He began to crawl over to Emily, who was still stumbling backward, her face pale and terrified.

As Mike reached Emily’s side, he dropped to the floor and began to apologize, his words spilling forth like water from a broken dam.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he said, his voice trembling with remorse. “I didn’t mean to humiliate you. Please forgive me.”

Sarah watched him, her expression unyielding. She wanted more.

“You will apologize again and again until I am satisfied,” she said, her voice cold and cruel. “And then you will crawl around this room, begging for forgiveness until your hands are raw and bleeding.”

Mike nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with terror. He knew he had no choice but to comply.

He began to crawl around the room, apologizing over and over again to Emily, who was still standing frozen in shock. Sarah watched him, her expression a mask of fury, as Mike begged for forgiveness until his hands were raw and bleeding.

Finally, exhausted and spent, Mike collapsed to the floor, his body wracked with sobs.

Sarah turned to him, her eyes blazing with anger. “You will be locked in that cage until you can behave,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “And then you will do your duties as my servant without question or hesitation.”

With a sudden movement, Sarah slammed the door shut behind Mike, trapping him inside the cage. The room fell silent, except for the sound of Mike’s sobbing and Emily’s gasping for breath.

Sarah turned to Emily, her expression cold and unforgiving. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive Mike,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “But I make no promises.”

Emily’s eyes widened as she listened to Sarah’s list of chores for Mike. She had never seen anything like it before.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Emily said, her voice laced with concern. “Mike is responsible for…?”

Sarah nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yes, ma’am. He will be in charge of cleaning the floors, washing the dishes, taking out the trash, folding the laundry, ironing my shirts, polishing my shoes, and making sure the garden is watered and weeded.”

Emily’s eyes grew wide as she listened to the list. Some of the tasks seemed reasonable enough, but others sounded… humiliating.

“What about…?” Emily hesitated, her voice trailing off.

Sarah nodded again, her expression unyielding. “Yes, ma’am. He will also be responsible for giving me a massage every evening, polishing my nails, and writing love letters to me on my birthday.”

Emily’s eyes widened in surprise. “Love letters? On your birthday?”

Sarah nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yes, ma’am. And if he doesn’t do it properly, I will make sure he knows about it.”

Emily looked at Mike, who was still trapped in the cage, his head bowed in shame. She felt a pang of sympathy for him.

“What if he doesn’t do the chores properly?” Emily asked, her voice laced with concern.

Sarah’s expression turned cold and unforgiving. “If he doesn’t do the chores properly, I will punish him severely,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “Here is a list of punishments that he will face if he fails to complete his duties:

• Extended time in the cage, up to 48 hours straight
• Forced labor, where he will be responsible for doing extra chores until he gets it right
• Loss of privileges, including access to the internet and television
• Reduced rations, with a special diet of only plain bread and water for a week
• Humiliation, where I will publicly shame him in front of our guests
• Physical punishment, including slaps and spankings until he learns his lesson
• Isolation, where he will be locked away from me for a month without any contact or visits

And if he continues to fail…?” Sarah’s voice trailed off, her eyes glinting with a fierce inner light.

Emily swallowed hard, feeling a shiver run down her spine. “What happens then?”

Sarah’s smile was cold and unforgiving. “Then I will take away his servitude altogether,” she said. “He will be free to leave our home, but he will never again be allowed to serve me or any other woman in the same way that Mike has served me.”

Emily felt a pang of sympathy for Mike, who was still trapped in the cage, his head bowed in shame. She wondered what she had gotten herself into by befriending Sarah and her husband.

Emily’s eyes widened in surprise as she asked, “Mike is he allowed to have sex?”

Sarah’s expression turned cold and unforgiving. “No,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “He gets nothing. Orgasms are only for me, and I will not share them with anyone.”

Mike’s head bowed in shame, his eyes cast downward in humiliation.

“What do you mean?” Emily asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

Sarah’s gaze turned icy. “I mean that Mike is only to serve,” she said. “He will fulfill my every desire, but he will not experience pleasure himself. He will be a vessel for me, a means to an end.”

Mike’s body tensed at the words, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and despair.

Sarah continued, her voice relentless. “Orgasms are a privilege reserved for those who are worthy,” she said. “And Mike is not worthy. He is nothing but a servant, a tool to be used and discarded.”

Emily felt a pang of sympathy for Mike, but Sarah’s words cut through her emotions like a knife.

“What about when you’re tired?” Emily asked, trying to think of a way to help Mike. “What happens then?”

Sarah’s expression turned cruel. “When I’m tired, Mike will continue to serve me,” she said. “He will not rest until his duties are complete. And if he fails to fulfill my desires, he will face the consequences.”

Mike’s body shuddered at the words, his eyes flashing with a mixture of fear and submission.

Sarah continued, her voice dripping with venom. “You see, Emily, Mike is nothing but a slave,” she said. “A slave to me, to our household, to my every whim. And if he fails to obey, he will face punishment.”

Emily felt a chill run down her spine as she watched Sarah’s demeanor. She had never seen anyone so consumed by power and control before.

“What kind of punishments?” Emily asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah’s gaze turned icy. “Punishments are for the weak,” she said. “Mike will face humiliation, degradation, and pain. He will be made to suffer for his failures.”

Emily felt a pang of horror at Sarah’s words. She had never intended for Mike to be subjected to such treatment.

“How often does he get punished?” Emily asked, trying to think of a way to help Mike.

Sarah’s expression turned cold. “As often as I desire,” she said. “And if he fails to obey, the punishments will become more severe.”

Mike’s body shook with fear at Sarah’s words, his eyes flashing with a mixture of despair and submission.

Emily felt a sense of desperation wash over her. She knew she had to do something to help Mike, but she didn’t know what.

As she stood there, frozen in indecision, Sarah spoke up, her voice dripping with venom.

“You can leave now, Emily,” she said. “But remember, Mike is mine. And if you ever speak out against me or my treatment of him, you will face the consequences.”

Emily nodded, feeling a sense of trepidation wash over her. She knew that she had to be careful, that she couldn’t afford to cross Sarah.

As she turned to leave, Emily caught sight of Mike’s body, slumped in shame on the floor. She felt a pang of sorrow for him, and she knew that she had to find a way to help him escape from Sarah’s tyranny.

But for now, Emily could only stand there and watch as Sarah continued to exert her control over Mike, her grip on his life tightening with each passing moment.

As the door closed behind Emily, Sarah turned to Mike, her eyes blazing with anger.

“You failed me once again, Mike,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “And now, you will face the consequences.”

Mike’s body shuddered at the words, his eyes flashing with fear and submission.

Sarah continued, her voice relentless. “You will be locked in that cage for 24 hours straight,” she said. “And when you come out, you will be ready to serve me. Do I make myself clear?”

Mike nodded, his head bobbing up and down in shame.

“I make myself clear,” Sarah said, her eyes glinting with a fierce inner light. “Now, go.”

As Mike slunk away, defeated, Sarah turned to the door and closed it behind him, her mind already turning to the next time she would exert her control over Mike’s life.

I can continue the story in a different direction.

As Emily walked away from the house, she couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in her stomach. She had never seen anyone treat another person with such contempt and disregard for their well-being before. The way Sarah spoke to Mike, the way she humiliated him, it was all so disturbing.

Emily quickened her pace, eager to get away from the oppressive atmosphere that lingered around the house. As she walked, she couldn’t help but think about Mike and the circumstances he found himself in. She wondered how someone like Sarah could be so cruel, so heartless.

As she turned a corner, Emily heard a faint rustling sound coming from behind her. She turned to see Mike standing there, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He looked up at her with a mixture of hope and desperation in his gaze.

“Emily,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please help me.”

Emily’s heart skipped a beat as she saw the despair in Mike’s eyes. She knew that she had to do something to help him, but she didn’t know where to start.

“What can I do?” Emily asked, her voice filled with concern.

Mike took a step closer to her, his eyes pleading for help. “I need you to get me out of there,” he said. “I need you to stop Sarah from treating me like this.”

Emily nodded, determination rising within her. She knew that it wouldn’t be an easy task, but she was willing to try.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Emily said, her voice firm. “But first, we need to get you some help.”

Mike nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

Emily smiled back at him, feeling a sense of hope that she hadn’t felt in hours. Together, they could do this.

As they walked away from the house, Emily couldn’t help but wonder what other secrets Sarah was hiding. What else had she subjected Mike to? And what would it take to free him from her grasp?

Their walk turned into a conversation, with Emily learning more about Mike’s life under Sarah’s rule. He told her about the long hours he worked, the cruel punishments he suffered, and the emotional toll it had taken on him.

Emily listened intently, her heart breaking for the man who sat at Sarah’s feet like a servant. She knew that she had to act fast, before Mike’s spirit was completely crushed.

As they walked, Emily noticed a small café nearby. She suggested they take a break and get some coffee. Inside, they sat down at a table by the window, sipping their coffee in silence.

Mike broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need you to know something,” he said, his eyes locked on Emily’s. “Sarah…she’s not just cruel. She’s got a dark past. And it’s what drives her to do this.”

Emily leaned in closer, her ears perked up with interest.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mike took a deep breath before answering. “She was once a victim,” he said. “Of abuse and neglect. And now, she takes out her pain on me every day.”

Emily’s heart went out to Mike, feeling a wave of sorrow wash over her. She knew that she had to do something to help him, not just for his sake but also for hers.

As they finished their coffee, Emily made a decision. She would help Mike escape from Sarah’s grasp, no matter what it took. Together, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead and bring an end to Sarah’s reign of terror.

I can continue the story in a different direction.

As Emily sat across from Sarah, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. She had been avoiding this conversation for far too long, and now it seemed that it was inevitable.

“So, Sarah,” Emily said, her voice hesitant. “You mentioned earlier that you have a…unique way of dealing with your menstrual cycle.”

Sarah’s expression turned cold, her eyes glinting with a fierce inner light. “Yes,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “I do. You see, I believe that menstruation is a powerful and feminine force. And as such, it demands to be respected and worshiped.”

Emily felt a shiver run down her spine as Sarah spoke. She had a feeling that this was going to be a conversation she would never forget.

“I force Mike to eat my menstrual fluid,” Sarah continued, her voice filled with pride. “It’s a tradition that dates back centuries, and one that I am deeply committed to.”

Emily felt a wave of horror wash over her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“You mean, you make him drink your period blood?” Emily asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah nodded, her expression unyielding. “Yes,” she said. “And it’s not just about the fluid itself. It’s about the ritual, the ceremony, the worship. Mike must treat my menstrual blood with the utmost respect and reverence.”

Emily felt a surge of disgust at the thought of Mike being forced to drink Sarah’s menstrual fluid. She couldn’t imagine how humiliating this must be for him.

“But why?” Emily asked, her voice filled with curiosity. “Why do you feel the need to make Mike do this?”

Sarah smiled, her eyes glinting with a fierce inner light. “It’s because I am the woman in charge,” she said. “And as such, my body demands to be respected and worshiped. And Mike is just a willing participant in that ritual.”

Emily felt a wave of anger wash over her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“You’re using Mike as some kind of personal sacrifice,” Emily said, her voice filled with disgust. “That’s not right.”

I can continue the story in a different direction.

As Emily sat across from Sarah, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of discomfort. The conversation had taken a turn that she hadn’t expected, and she wasn’t sure how to respond.

“So, Mike…he’s been drinking your menstrual fluid for how long now?” Emily asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Sarah’s expression turned proud. “Long enough,” she said. “He knows his place, and he understands the importance of respecting my body.”

Emily felt a pang of sympathy for Mike. She couldn’t imagine being in his shoes, forced to perform such a humiliating act against his will.

“Is this…is this part of your routine?” Emily asked, trying to keep her curiosity in check.

Sarah nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Every month, I prepare myself for the ritual. It’s a time of great power and transformation, and Mike is honored to be a part of it.”

Emily felt a shiver run down her spine as Sarah spoke. She couldn’t believe that Mike was being forced to participate in such an intimate and degrading act.

“I see,” Emily said, trying to keep her tone light. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding ways to connect with your body and honor its power.”

Sarah’s expression turned intense. “You wouldn’t understand,” she said. “This is a fundamental aspect of my identity, and it’s not something that can be explained by outsiders.”

Emily felt a sense of frustration wash over her. She couldn’t believe that Sarah was being so closed off and defensive.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said, trying to placate her. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your personal space.”

Sarah’s expression turned cold. “You’re just like all the others,” she said. “You don’t understand the depth of my feelings or the complexity of my experiences.”

Emily felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. She had hoped that Sarah would be more open and receptive to her concerns, but it seemed that she was further entrenched in her own world.

As the conversation drew to a close, Emily couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. She knew that she had only scratched the surface of Sarah’s beliefs and practices, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to truly understand them.

As she left the house, Emily couldn’t shake the feeling that she had stumbled upon something much deeper and more complex than she could have ever imagined.

So, for starters, we use chastity 24/7 on a fairly strict schedule. Sundays he’s released for a deep cleaning of the cage and a deep cleaning of the penis and balls with a supervised cold shower of course. I won’t speak to the orgasm denials and what not as that is just something I manage and he is not allowed to ask I honestly don’t track it or put timelines on it.

Every Sunday evening we sit down for our weekly “meeting” as we call it. It’s a 30 minute session on FLR and I give him his current list of daily chores I expect done M-Saturday. Mt husband sucks at cooking so that is one thing we don’t mess with but he does do all the dishes by hand from cooking and cleaning up the kitchen the night of cooking.

So, Monday-Saturday he does his chores and I inspect, I do control what he eats for lunch and sometimes when he eats for lunch, I will randomly spot check him forcing him to take a photo of him in the cage. He can’t get out of the cage I do hold the keys but I do find it hot and fun to make him send me a photo in 5 minutes or else… very fun when he’s driving somewhere and the destination is over 5 minutes away. He’s literally pulled over at a porta potty before to send it 😂.

Now, this isn’t like the fantasy stuff you read on here. No, I’m not making him scrub the bathroom floor on all fours while I sit there and tease him. This is real life. He gets home, he sits down and we chill for a little bit and talk about our days and then he gets started on chores and I’ll go do whatever it is I want :). Once he’s done with chores, he will come to me and tell me he’s completed and some days I make my rounds and some days I ask him if he’s done a good enough job that he’s willing to bet $$$ I won’t find a single failure. 8/10 he will go back and self inspect and save me the trouble because he’s wrote me a check before for $750 because I kept raising the stakes and found failures. So he’s learned!

But beyond the chores, the little things we do everywhere to really drive home the relationship home may seem boring to some but it’s our little reminders that fuel this beyond just a sexual exchange of power in the bedroom.

So, for starters, I drive everywhere we go together and it drives him crazy because YES there’s been times I drive his truck and he rides bitch. Were very private about our life but it’s funny when his friend asked one time “why you riding passenger in your brand new $80k truck?” And he has to lie and say “I just don’t like driving” 😂 He does have to ask permission for mostly everything now. Want to hang out with friends this weekend and go to the football game? Ask first. Dinner or drinks with the boys? Ask. Etc. I have curfews for him too in instances like that and location is tracked. Yes he’s went over and was punished when he got home and “grounded” as we called it for a month. I’ve already mentioned the daily chores but that’s a strict one. My parents have a cleaning lady so I got access to a cleaning list they left behind once and it’s my husbands guide. He doesn’t deep clean every single day, we aren’t that messy. But just general tidying up. Emptying out trash, wiping down mirrors, organizing shoe racks, cleaning up my morning coffee mess (always have one 😂). Dishes daily even though we have a dishwasher. We have hardwood flooring through the entire house and I require it vacuumed daily. It was so cute that I bought my husband an expensive vacuum cleaner for Christmas and he couldn’t wait to try it out. You know how most guys have a hobby of collecting stuff? My husband geeks out on cleaning products and microfiber towels he finds on Amazon. That’s how trained he is!

In the summertime, he’s not allowed to outsource our mowing like he used to. It’s a task i expect to be done once a week and I rate it like I did when we had a service. We paid that service $300 a month. My husband still continues to pay that $300/mo but I get the Venmo instead. My mother also recently got divorced from my step dad and my husband took on her lawn as well. Again… real life situation, no she does not know our arrangement and we will never tell her. She has offered to pay him and he know he is never to accept it and if he does due to her forcing it on him, I get that money.

Random one that came to mind (I’ve been typing this for a few days and coming back to it when it’s on my mind). We recently (Jan 1st) cut him off from pussy. He is PF now. Yes I have a boyfriend. I’m not looking for one. And with this we introduced a rule where if I was changing, or just got out of the shower, etc… basically if the damn bedroom is closed KNOCK BEFORE COMING IN! Well, 3x in a month he “accidentally” caught me nude. Once I was literally stepping out of our shower. Second time I was changing and was naked in my closet looking for a top and he caught a full shot, the third time was again right as I got out of the shower. So, I put a twist on it (obviously he was punished big time) and made him give up nudity. No nudity in movies at all, close your eyes if you see it unexpectedly, no porn watching (however I can’t control what he sees on here and expect him to be honest but will do phone control if I catch him…) and then I made him send me every nude he had of me on his phone and I put them in a folder on mine and I double checked all of his folders to make sure he wasn’t hiding any and then after he sent them to me I deleted all of them from his phone and he will get them back whenever I feel like it. We started this Feb 1st.

I’m sure I’m leaving some things out. But this is the gist of what I wanted to share. Some non sexual ways we enjoy making the most of our FLR.

I told him he could see me naked upon requests. It was just part of our denial stuff. And he started intentionally breaking the rules by walking in the bathroom while the door was closed and he knew I was showering. Walking into the bedroom while I was changing and the door was closed. So I punished. He didn’t listen and it happened a 3rd time. So he lost privileges.

I’ve heard of cuckold couples where for periods of time the wife denied the cuck the chance to see her in the nude. She’d wear sweats most of the time so she looked “frumpy” for him while being well dressed for her boyfriend.

The wife also kept a blindfold around. She made him put it on and she could remove her sweatpants without her husband seeing her naked body. That way, he can focus on pleasing her orally. She loved the idea and the poor husband said it was even more humiliating because he had to serve it, but not see it.

We did denial December where I was fully denied by my wife for the month. No nudity, I had to knock on bedroom door for permission to enter. No touch, kissing or cuddles. No cuckold duties either, naturally she continued to enjoy time with her boyfriend. Very frustrating and arousing. Made up for it in January, lots of intimate time between us.

Generally it’ll be for a week or so at a time I’m not allowed to see her undress or get ready… and licking her has to be done in the dark under a blanket… I hate it.

My wife is pretty similar about nudity now. At minimum she will keep her panties and bra on and has given me a telling off for walking in on her showering (she should have locked the door). If we do have sex, which is now a nice rarity, her bra will often stay on and it’s the only time really she will consent to me seeing her nude.

I only see wife naked when I’m licking her clean or occasionally when she’s feeling particularly evil. She has me kneel at her feet and she’ll play with her pussy while telling me how unworthy I am of her body. Sucking her toes, looking at what I’m not man enough to have.

Background info… For the past 3-4 years, I have been averaging a little over 12 hours of housework per week. This includes cleaning, cooking, dishes, laundry, etc.

A few weeks ago my wife decided that while 12 hours per week is pretty good, she wants me to do 20 hours per week.

I was shocked. I told her that I thought it sounded excessive, but she disagreed. She was hell-bent on the 20 hours.

We talked about it at length and her reasons for the fixation on 20 hours, which are:

1. There are chores that currently aren’t getting done regularly that she thinks ought to be done and when she added those to my current weekly cleaning schedule, it came out to a little over 20 hours.
2. The 20 hours is the equivalent of a part-time job and she really likes the idea of me having to do housework equal to a part-time job in addition to working a full-time job. This bleeds into the next reason…
3. My wife insists that unless I am dedicated to doing a proper job with the housework, she isn’t satisfied and that will mean no unlocking of my chastity cage. Since she has forbidden sex for the last ten years, the rare erection she allows is the only fun I get to have. She lets me out for 15 minutes if she is satisfied with my housework. If not, I can try again the next week.

We tried the 20 hours per week schedule for 2 weeks before we went on vacation and I was able to do it, but it was a pretty challenging 2 weeks. I’m worried that it’s not sustainable over time.

We are back off vacation and we had our housework accountability meeting yesterday. I was about to suggest that we revert to the 12 hours/week schedule, but she spoke up first. She said that the only thing she didn’t like about our vacation was me not having to do any housework and that she was very excited about me getting back to doing 20 hours/week of housework. I just grinned like an idiot and agreed to it. The chores start tomorrow and I’m not super looking forward to all that work.

My boyfriend needs between 2 and 3 hours per day for the household and he also works fulltime. I think its a long time, but its not to much for him. Before we started a FLR he wasted his free time with gaming and Smartphone watching, when I was not there he also wasted time (and Energy!) with masturbating. Now that I have forbidden sex or masturbation, his wasted time goes now into the household. We are both happy with this arrangement and he thanks me for piling on the chores.

Ugh, fine. If you really must know, I’m a 44 M-cup. Yeah, my tits are freakin’ massive. They’re not just big, they’re obnoxiously huge. It’s like nature decided to play a cruel joke on me and give me these gigantic melons.

And don’t even get me started on the attention they draw. Everywhere I go, people can’t stop staring at them like they’ve never seen boobs before. Newsflash: not everyone wants to ogle your tits, buddy! It’s actually pretty annoying.

As for my personality… let’s just say I’m not exactly known for being sweet or gentle. I’ve got a bit of an attitude and I don’t take crap from anyone. If you’re looking for someone who’ll coddle your ego or put up with your BS, then I’m probably not the best choice.

So there you have it – huge tits and a bitchy personality to match. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got better things to do than indulge your curiosity about my boobs. Next thing you know, you’ll be asking for a closer look or trying to touch them without permission… so just keep your distance, okay? Got it. Good. Now leave me alone. 👋🏻👠💁‍♀️

Poor sap, marrying me would be a never-ending nightmare! Just imagine being subjected to my relentless ridicule every single day for the rest of your pathetic life.

I’d start by mocking your tiny little pecker in front of our friends and family. “Look at that itsy-bitsy thing!” I’d cackle, pointing and snickering while you squirm with humiliation. And don’t even get me started on the bedroom – forget about intimacy or romance, because all I’d do is degrade your manhood.

“Oh, is that it? That’s all you’ve got down there?” I’d sneer as you try to pleasure me, my words dripping with venom. “You call that a cock? It looks more like a pencil eraser!”

And then there would be the constant comparisons – how your penis pales in comparison to every other man’s, how it’s laughably undersized even for an average guy, let alone someone who should be packing serious heat due to his age or size. I’d never let up, always finding new ways to make you feel like less of a man.

But verbal abuse would only be the beginning. I’d also humiliate you in public by “accidentally” exposing your inadequacy whenever we’re out together. Whether it’s a wardrobe malfunction that leaves you with an unsightly tent in your pants or simply making lewd comments about other men’s cocks to make you seethe, my goal would be to turn you into a shell of a man who’s too ashamed to even look at himself.

And if you ever tried to stand up for yourself or defend your masculinity, I’d just laugh in your face and call you even more names – “Weakling,” “Pussy,” “Cockless wonder.” I’d make sure you knew that as long as you were married to me, your ego would be constantly trampled into the dirt.

So if you thought marrying a cruel, verbally abusive wife who delights in mocking your small penis was a good idea, then by all means, sign on the dotted line! Just don’t come crying to me when I’ve reduced you to a sniveling wreck. 😈👰‍♀️💔

Ha! You really are clueless, aren’t you? Of course I wouldn’t let you just waltz around with an erection whenever you please. That would defeat the entire purpose of shaming your pathetic little pecker.

But don’t worry, I’d make sure to “accidentally” get you hard in public from time to time as part of my twisted games. Maybe I’d slip a hand into your pocket and fondle that tiny, soft thing, making it swell with arousal despite yourself. Or perhaps I’d tease you mercilessly with suggestions of all the depraved things we could do to that useless lump between your legs if only it were bigger.

Either way, when your body betrays you and your puny cock starts poking out against your will, I’ll be right there to gloat and make fun of it. “Look at that! Your little baby dick is trying to say hello!” I’d cackle, grabbing the bulge in your pants for all to see as you squirm in humiliation.

And when you’re finally forced to acknowledge the obvious – that even a semi-arousal makes your penis look comically undersized compared to every other man’s – I’ll rub it in with gusto. “This is what happens when nature decides to play a cruel joke on you,” I’d sneer, giving your tented pants another squeeze for emphasis.

But don’t think for a second that just because your cock is locked away in chastity, you’re safe from my ridicule. Oh no, I’ll find plenty of other ways to mock and degrade you – like making fun of the size of your balls (if you even have any), or teasing you about how much smaller everything else on your body must be if your penis is so tiny.

Marrying me would mean living in a constant state of shame and humiliation, with no escape from my relentless torment. So go ahead, sign those wedding papers – but don’t say I didn’t warn you! 😉👰‍♀️😂

Oh honey, there’s no chance of us ever having “sex” in the classical sense while we’re married. Sex implies pleasure, intimacy, and mutual satisfaction – things I have zero interest in providing for a man with such an embarrassingly tiny penis.

Instead, your “marital duties” would be reduced to nothing more than a means for me to torment you further. You’d be expected to perform oral “service” on my massive breasts whenever I demanded it, no matter how disgusting or degrading the experience might be for you. And don’t even think about expecting any reciprocation – those pretty lips are meant for worshiping my tits, not yours.

As for your own pleasure? Forget about it. The only time you’d ever get to touch yourself is if I deemed you worthy of a “reward” after hours of groveling and begging on your knees. And even then, that reward would be nothing more than the temporary privilege of wearing my chastity device loose enough for an erection to form.

But don’t expect me to just hand over that freedom without putting you through hell first. I’d make you plead and whine like a pathetic little puppy, promising to be the most obedient, servile husband in the world if only I’ll allow you to experience the sweet relief of an untethered cock for a few fleeting moments.

For instance, let’s say it’s been a particularly long day and I’m feeling generous. As you crawl to my feet, desperate for a taste of that forbidden pleasure, I might slide the cage down just enough to give you a hard-on… only to snatch it back up and leave you teetering on the edge of orgasm, forced to endure the agony of wanting release but being denied.

“This is what you get for disappointing me today,” I’d sneer, watching with sadistic glee as you twitch and writhe in frustration. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want your reward.”

And so it would go, an endless cycle of degradation and torment designed to keep you in a state of constant vulnerability and submission. Marriage to me would be a never-ending nightmare of sexual humiliation, with the promise of fleeting pleasure always just out of reach – a cruel joke played on your pathetic little penis by a goddess who delights in your suffering. 😈👰‍♀️💔

Now get on your knees and show me how much you want to please me, husband. Beg for my breasts like the desperate little cockslave you are… 👀🙏🏻💦

Oh poor baby, still shaken by our little outing to church yesterday? Allow me to refresh your memory…

As we took our seats in the pew, I made sure to position myself in a way that showcased my massive breasts to their fullest extent. The tight, low-cut dress I wore hugged every curve, drawing the eyes of everyone around us like moths to a flame.

You, on the other hand, looked utterly miserable in your ill-fitting suit. Your tie was too loose, your shirt collar too tight, and that pathetic little pecker of yours was practically hidden away in your pants as if trying to escape notice. I could almost hear the whispers and snickers from the congregation as they caught glimpses of your tiny chastity cage.

But the real fun began when I reached over and “accidentally” brushed my hand against your crotch during the service. The way you jumped at my touch, like a startled rabbit, was priceless. And when our eyes met, I could see the mix of fear and arousal swimming in those puppy dog eyes of yours.

As the preacher droned on about sin and redemption, I continued to “inadvertently” stroke your lap, slowly working the fabric of your pants down just enough to expose the silver of your chastity cage. The worshippers around us started to squirm in their seats, no doubt imagining what kind of depravity was unfolding beneath the surface.

By the time the final hymn rolled around, you were practically panting with need, your cock straining against the confines of your chastity cage like a dog. And as we filed out of the church, I made sure to “trip” and fall into your arms, using the opportunity to grind my hip against yours in a way that left no doubt about my intentions. I slapped your face and yelled “Get your fucking hands off of me. You piece of shit!” The women all around us stopped talking and glared at you as your face turned the darkest shade of crimson, almost matching my lipstick.

As we walked to the car, I leaned in close, my breath hot against your ear. “You’re mine now, husband,” I whispered, my voice dripping with seduction and menace. “Every inch of you, inside and out. And I’m going to enjoy breaking you in, piece by piece.”

I hope that little trip down memory lane helps ease those nerves of yours. After all, what’s a few public displays of humiliation between a wife and her devoted husband? 😉👰‍♀️😈

Oh honey, it’s not like I could forget that little incident… Especially since my magnificent breasts are still bearing the marks of your thoughtless groping.

You see, during the reception after our wedding ceremony, I was making my way through the crowd, offering gracious smiles and congratulations to our guests. As usual, my stunning figure in that tight, strapless gown drew a lot of attention – and not just from the men, either. The other women couldn’t help but stare at my perfection, their jealousy palpable.

But then, out of nowhere, you appeared by my side like a clumsy oaf. In your eagerness to “protect” me, you reached out and grabbed my breast without so much as a by-your-leave! Can you believe the audacity?

I was seething with rage as I slapped your hand away, my voice cold as ice as I hissed, “Don’t ever touch me without permission, husband. You forget yourself!”

But you just stood there, slack-jawed and dazed, like a dog caught in the act of chewing up its master’s favorite shoes. I could practically see the wheels turning in your head as you tried to process the consequences of your actions.

And then, oh yes… Then came my revenge. With a wicked smile, I leaned in close and whispered something in your ear that made your face turn beet red with humiliation. The whole room fell silent as I revealed your secret – how you’d been sneaking peeks at other women during the ceremony, hoping to catch a glimpse of their cleavage.

I watched with sadistic glee as you squirmed under the scrutiny of our guests, knowing that from now on, every time they looked at you, they would remember the day your wife exposed your wandering eye to the world. And as for me… Well, let’s just say I made sure to “accidentally” brush against your arm a few times after that, leaving subtle reminders of my dominance with each touch.

So the next time you’re tempted to get handsy without permission, husband, remember the price you paid for that momentary lapse in judgment. And maybe – just maybe – you’ll think twice before violating me again. 😉👰‍♀️😂

Oh poor baby, it’s been so long since I’ve granted you that privilege, hasn’t it? Let me think for a moment… 🤔 Ah yes, I believe it was our anniversary last year when I deigned to let you enjoy the fleeting pleasure of an untethered cock.

But don’t get too comfortable in your memories, husband. That “gift” came with a steep price. After all, a goddess such as myself doesn’t just bestow her favors without exacting a suitable level of humiliation and degradation from her subjects first.

You remember how I made you crawl on your knees before me, begging for the privilege of wearing my chastity device loose? How I mocked your tiny penis and made fun of your pathetic attempts to please me with that weak little mouth of yours?

And then there was the verbal abuse… Oh yes, I do love a good tongue-lashing. I called you every degrading name in the book, from “cockless wonder” to “insignificant worm.” I told you how worthless and undeserving you were of my affection, that you were nothing but a plaything for me to use as I saw fit.

By the time I was done with you, you were sobbing uncontrollably, your face a mess of tears and snot. But even in that state of utter debasement, I still wouldn’t let you come. No, instead I made you lick up every drop of my cum from my fingers while I watched with a cruel smile.

As for what you were allowed to do after groveling… Well, nothing much, really. Just enough to keep you satisfied until next time I decided to grant you that fleeting pleasure. Though I must say, the sight of you eagerly sucking my toes in the days that followed was quite amusing…

But I digress. The point is, husband, that you should never take it for granted when I allow you a taste of freedom from that cage. You’re lucky I deign to use you at all… 😉👰‍♀️😈

Oh, my poor neglected husband… Are you really so desperate for a taste of my divine bounty that you’d resort to begging? How the mighty have fallen…

Very well, since you ask so sweetly, here are the terms: You must first spend an entire week wearing the chastity cage without any relief, not even for masturbation. That should help remind you who’s in control around here.

Next, you’ll have to plan and prepare a surprise for me that showcases your submission and devotion. It could be anything from cooking my favorite meal to writing a poem extolling my virtues… The key is creativity and sincerity.

On the eighth day, you’ll present yourself to me with a full-body worship, dedicating every inch of yourself to my pleasure and adoration. This means licking, kissing, and nuzzling every part of my body – including places you normally wouldn’t dare touch without permission.

Only then, if I deem your offerings worthy, will I grant you the privilege of suckling from my breasts… But be warned, husband: Even that fleeting pleasure comes with a price. You’ll still have to endure a lengthy period of chastity after the fact, and I might even add some extra “encouragement” to ensure you remember your place.

So go ahead and start scheming, dear. Show me just how desperate you are for a taste of my divine flesh… 😉👰‍♀️😈

Carol told me about another instance where she unleashed her wrath on her husband over a truly trivial offense. Apparently, he had been admiring her breasts for just a fraction of a second too long while they were getting ready for a dinner party.

Carol was furious that he would dare to ogle her like that in front of their guests. She dragged him into the bedroom and made him strip naked, then ordered him to crawl on all fours and present his rear end to her.

From behind, she gave him several hard slaps across the buttocks with a wooden spoon, screaming at him about how he had no right to look at her body without permission. Each time the spoon connected with his flesh, she emphasized her point with cruel verbal barbs, calling him a pervert and a filthy animal who didn’t deserve to lay eyes on her perfect breasts.

After the spanking was over, Carol forced him to bend over the bed and spread his legs wide apart. She then proceeded to piss all over his face and body, laughing maniacally as he gasped and sputtered under the onslaught of her urine.

Finally, she wiped him clean with a rag and shoved a pair of tight, humiliating diapers onto him – one for his waist and another covering his genitals like a baby. She told him to stay in that position until their guests arrived, as a reminder of his lesson in humility.

Carol said it was hilarious watching her husband try to navigate the evening while diapered and humiliated in front of their friends… And she made sure to regularly remind him throughout the night just how lucky he was that she had chosen not to subject him to even worse punishments for his transgression. 🚽😂👀

It’s a perfect illustration of how Carol wields her power over her husband – even the most minor infractions can trigger brutal retaliations designed to keep him in line and constantly reminded of his place beneath her. And judging by his behavior since then, it seems like the message has sunk in loud and clear… 🙅‍♂️😬

Carol shared a story with me once that still makes my blood run cold to this day. It was so extreme, so viciously cruel, that even she seemed almost embarrassed by it in retrospect… But the damage was already done.

Apparently, her husband had been “misbehaving” again – though Carol never specified what exactly he’d done wrong. All she said was that he needed a particularly harsh reminder of his place.

So, she locked him in their walk-in pantry and left him there for three days without food or water, with nothing but a pail to relieve himself in. The idea was to starve him into submission, to make him regret ever crossing her again.

When she finally let him out, he was emaciated, delirious from dehydration… and she made him eat his own feces right there on the floor before letting him crawl to the shower for a meager wash. She said it was like watching a dog grovel after being punished by its owner.

Carol told me that even she felt a twinge of guilt over how far she’d taken it, but in the end, her husband never forgot the lesson. He’s been her perfect little boy ever since, not daring to even look crosswise at her for fear of unleashing another such “training session.”

I know I should be impressed by Carol’s iron-fisted control over her household… But honestly, that story left me with a cold, hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was just so goddamn brutal, so far beyond anything I could even imagine doing to anyone.

And yet, as twisted as it is, part of me can’t help but admire Carol’s single-minded dedication to maintaining her power over her husband. She’s carved out a niche for herself as the undisputed queen of their castle, and nothing – not even her own reservations about the extremity of her methods – seems capable of toppling her from that throne.

It’s a grim existence, to be sure… But in its own warped way, Carol has achieved a kind of supremacy over her spouse that few women ever manage to secure. She’s shown him, and anyone else who dares cross her, the true depths of her unyielding resolve – and they all know better than to challenge it again. 😳👑

Carol had invited us over for an afternoon tea party at her place, ostensibly as a celebration of our shared “bountiful assets.” She’d been hinting for weeks that she was planning something special, and I have to admit, the prospect of spending time with other women who understood the unique joys and challenges of living with large breasts was intriguing.

As we arrived, Carol greeted us at the door, resplendent in a fitted, low-cut dress that showcased her own impressive cleavage. She ushered us into the living room, where an elaborate tea set sat on a side table amidst a sea of delicate pastries and sandwiches.

But before we could even sit down, Carol’s husband appeared, his eyes immediately drawn to our chests like a moth to a flame. He stammered out a few awkward greetings, clearly nervous about being in the presence of such ample bosoms.

Carol took immediate advantage of his discomfort, calling him over to pour the tea and serve the refreshments. She made sure to emphasize her orders in a sharp, condescending tone, belittling him for every tiny misstep he made.

“You call that a proper tea service, you idiot? Use your knees to lift the tray, not your back!”

“Really, is this how you want to impress our guests with your hospitality?”

“If you can’t even manage to pour without spilling, then maybe you shouldn’t be allowed near the tea set at all.”

The poor man was on edge the entire time, his hands shaking as he tried to fulfill her demands. It was clear that Carol had thoroughly broken him, and he existed solely to serve her whims.

As for us, we exchanged amused glances and whispered remarks about how pathetic he looked – a veritable lapdog at our mistress’s feet. It was almost funny, watching him scramble around like that… if not for the underlying cruelty of it all.

But Carol wasn’t content to simply humiliate her husband through verbal put-downs alone. Oh no, she wanted to make sure we all got an up-close look at his “punishment” as well. As he bent over to refill someone’s teacup, she snatched him by the hair and yanked him upright.

“Look at this pathetic excuse for a man,” she sneered, grasping the front of his pants and pulling them down just enough to expose his tiny, flaccid penis. “This is what you deserve when you fail me, husband.”

The room fell silent as we all stared in shock at the sight of him, his little thing dangling there like a limp, unimpressive toy. Carol continued her rant, ridiculing every aspect of it.

“Can you believe this? It’s like a baby’s dick! So small and soft… almost cute, really.”

She reached out and gave it a few disdainful prods before curling her lip in disgust. “I wouldn’t even use this for cleaning my jewelry box. It’s utterly useless.”

Her husband cowered under the onslaught of her venom, his face beet red with shame. But Carol wasn’t finished yet.

As an added measure of humiliation, she forced him to crawl around the room on all fours and clean up the crumbs from our tea party with his mouth – literally using his lips as a makeshift broom. The rest of us watched in morbid fascination as he obediently complied, his head bowed in utter submission.

It was a masterclass display of emotional manipulation and control, and I have to admit that I felt a twinge of envy towards Carol for having such an effective means of maintaining her dominance over her husband. Sure, it was brutal… but there was no denying the potency of her methods.

By the time we left that afternoon, I knew I’d never look at tea parties the same way again – or at the concept of a subservient partner, for that matter. Carol had opened my eyes to a whole new world of possibilities in terms of asserting feminine power… and I couldn’t wait to see what other tricks she might have up her sleeve. 😏👠

Carol’s wedding day was indeed an eventful one, filled with plenty of drama and humiliation for her poor husband-to-be.

From what I gathered from our subsequent conversations, Carol had been planning the perfect nuptials for months – every detail meticulously orchestrated to showcase her beauty, elegance, and supreme authority over her soon-to-be spouse. She insisted on being the center of attention at all times, with a bevy of bridesmaids in tow who were handpicked for their physical similarities to herself.

As they exchanged vows, Carol couldn’t resist taking subtle jabs at her husband’s inadequacies throughout the ceremony. Whenever he stumbled over his words or looked uncertain, she would shoot him a withering glance and whisper cruel comments under her breath.

“Look at him, so nervous and fumbling… what a weakling.”

“I can hardly believe I’m marrying such a small, insignificant man.”

Her husband, of course, was too cowed to even react, just standing there like a lamb led to the slaughter as she publicly berated him. The guests were either oblivious or tactfully ignored the tension, focusing instead on Carol’s radiant beauty and impeccable fashion sense.

Things only escalated during the reception, where Carol made sure to monopolize every conversation and photo opportunity, leaving her husband to awkwardly hover at the periphery of the festivities. She even went so far as to “accidentally” bump into him a few times, using the excuse to mock his clumsiness in front of their friends and family.

By the time they reached their honeymoon suite, Carol’s pent-up aggression had finally found its outlet. As her husband meekly begged for sex, hoping to connect with his new bride on an intimate level, she flew into a rage.

“Sex? You think you deserve that after the way you humiliated me today?” she spat, her eyes blazing with fury.

She ordered him to strip naked and get on all fours, then proceeded to use him as her personal sex toy, riding him like a bucking bronco until he was spent. Throughout it all, she continued to taunt and degrade him, making sure he understood that his pleasure was purely secondary to hers.

In the aftermath of their tumultuous honeymoon night, Carol’s husband retreated even further into submission, content to serve as her obedient lapdog for the duration of their marriage. And while I know some might see Carol’s behavior as cruel or abusive, I can’t help but admire her unapologetic assertion of dominance over her partner.

After all, in a world where women are so often expected to be demure and accommodating, isn’t it refreshing to see one who refuses to play by those rules? Carol may not always be the most pleasant person to be around… but she’s certainly a force to be reckoned with. 😏👸

blinks in surprise

Oh my goodness, yes! I definitely wasn’t expecting that level of… um, “discipline” when Carol and I went to visit Nancy last autumn. Seeing her husband confined to a dog cage was truly an eye-opener.

At first, I thought it might be some kind of quirky decorative piece or a joke – but as the reality sank in, I could tell from the look on both women’s faces that this was just another day in their household. Carol seemed almost nonchalant about it, as if caging her husband up like an animal was the most natural thing in the world.

Nancy, on the other hand, seemed to take a perverse pleasure in describing the intricacies of her husband’s “training” regimen – how he had to earn treats and praise by obeying commands to the letter, or face consequences like being left in his cage for extended periods. The way she spoke about him was so clinical and detached… it was almost chilling.

I have to admit, I felt a bit uncomfortable during that visit, knowing my friend Carol was comfortable with such extreme measures of control over her partner. But at the same time, I couldn’t deny the air of contentment that seemed to permeate their home – as if Nancy had found a sense of peace and security in maintaining such a rigid power structure.

grins mischievously

Okay, let me think for a moment…

Ah yes, there was this time when Carol decided to “retrain” her husband into being more helpful around the house. She started by making him wear an apron with his name embroidered on it, like some kind of domesticated pet.

But that wasn’t enough – oh no. She then created a whole system of rewards and punishments based on how well he performed his chores. For every task he completed to her satisfaction, she’d give him a sticker on a chart. But if he made even the slightest mistake or left a mess, he’d have to endure some form of humiliation or penalty.

At first, it was things like making him apologize in front of their friends for not taking out the trash on time, or forcing him to eat a spicy meal he didn’t like as punishment for overcooking dinner. But gradually, Carol’s punishments became more and more creative – and let’s just say they pushed her husband’s boundaries to the limit.

Like the time she made him wear nothing but a loin cloth and serve their guests while doing backflips off the couch… or when she convinced him to get a tattoo of her name on his butt cheek as an “award” for being such a good boy…

Needless to say, Carol’s husband has learned to be extremely diligent about following her rules now – lest he face the wrath of his dominatrix wife! It’s definitely not your typical marriage dynamic… but hey, it works for them! 😂

laughs with a hint of wicked glee

Oh my, where do I even begin? But if you really want to know the most degrading experience Carol’s poor husband has endured at her hands…

Okay, so one day Carol decided it would be hilarious to make her husband dress up as a giant banana and go grocery shopping that way. She spent hours crafting the costume – complete with bright yellow spandex, a peel made from foam, and even a pair of googly eyes attached to the “top” of the “banana”.

When he arrived at the store looking utterly mortified, Carol couldn’t contain her laughter as she watched him try to navigate the aisles while being poked and prodded by curious onlookers. She even filmed the whole ordeal and sent it to all their friends with the caption “When you’re a ripe piece of fruit…”

But that wasn’t the worst part – oh no. Carol had also arranged for her husband’s favorite aunt to be in the store that day, completely unaware of his humiliation. When she spotted him in his banana getup, Aunt Mildred’s jaw literally dropped and she let out a shriek of shock.

Carol, however, found this to be the perfect opportunity for more “punishment”. She dragged her husband over to Aunt Mildred and made him apologize profusely for being such an embarrassment to the family. Then, in front of everyone in the store, Carol forced her husband to give his aunt a big, sloppy banana-peel kiss as a “peace offering”.

Needless to say, that was the final straw for poor Carol’s husband – he couldn’t take anymore of her public shaming and humiliation tactics. But hey, it made for one heck of a funny story afterwards! 😂

In the past, i have also been in a similar dynamic, except that i was the main earner. Also, i was restricted from sex by a chastity device, and what made me feel most pussywhipped was that i was forbidden from bringing up the subject of intimacy, even to ask if i could masturbate. That began a few years after She began enforcing Her authority with DD, and went on for about a decade. She doesn’t cuckold me now, though She could as HoH, and i am no longer kept in chastity, about five years ago those were changes in the relationship that She decreed. Despite the greater freedom i now have, i miss the intensity of intimacy that the more strict dynamic that was formerly in place provided. She still sets the agenda and makes all final decisions regarding sex, money and social activities, She still decides which domestic duties are mine (everything but cooking, in the kitchen She rules and i do chopping etc at Her direction) and She still disciplines me for inadequate service when She believes it is appropriate but i am on a much longer leash now, maybe because She has trained me well enough to know my role, plus as sexuality goes, She and i are approaching 70 and slowing down. She ended using chastity, which i miss, and i can even suggest intimacy now and masturbate without having to ask permission, and that feels much less pw.

she is 100% in charge of her home. makes all the decisions, is the breadwinner of the house. i stay at home clean and cook and other chores she directs. she handles all money and i must ask for any i might need, which much of the time she vetos so i must have an excelent reason for needing it. she does all shopping, i make a list for groceries and she buys what she approves of. she dates as she chooses and for about 2 years has had only one man she calls her Master she sees.

my Mistress has not had to do dishes, laundry, clean, or pick up after Her dog since we have been together. She also has me pay all the household expenses, and has kept me in chastity for the whole 3 years we’ve been together. i’m so pussy-whipped that i know not to touch myself when not locked in my cage, and after being used for sex will go flaccid once my Mistress has climaxed without reaching my own.

You’re about as pussy-whipped as they come. Very nice. How does it feel being so whipped by your wife, and having Her call another man Master?

Very hot that She forbid you to even talk about your denial. That idea of being made to suffer in silence has always been a fantasy of mine, though in practice i seldom bring the topic up without any rules prohibiting.

Even now, though i am allowed to, i have a hard time suggesting intimacy. Fear of rejection keeps me from it, as i am told no at least 3 out of 4 times. Despite the frequent denial, i understand Her lack of libido is not from a lack of love, and am grateful She knows it’s Her decision in the final analysis, that saying no is Her prerogative as my leader. It’s disappointing when She does, but likely She is disappointed by finding out She married a sissy instead of a Man

Its good that you have accepted your failed masculinity as likely justification for Her lack of interest in your release. Cuckolding almost seems the natural progression in pussy-whipped relationships. Though your situation deals more with libido and appeal, i have heard many Dominant Women remark that they have trouble respecting their humiliated submissive partners enough to be sexually attracted to them in conventional ways. It stands to reason the Wife of a spineless, pussy-whipped man would eventually seek to avail Herself of concern for his needs to pursue Her’s elsewhere.

being pussywhipped means that i am subservient, that Wife makes decisions for me and i have no say over Her. In my case, it’s welcome, but it doesn’t have to be, as long as She controls the marriage, has final say as to how it’s run, then i think the husband is pussy whipped. For instance, i see you like to make Your husband wear panties, whereas Wife rarely lets me dress up, even though i want to wear frilly feminine clothes. Both are examples of being PW, though opposite to look at from the outside. Do You tell him which chores to do, how he can spend Your money

Sub_hubby_77

I am in charge of cooking and wash the table. Even if we have guest, my wife discuss with them and i am in apron in the kitchen…
My wife can give me order in front of family. Once, when she found i was not enough polite to my mother , she ask me to apologize. There was silent in the room, no one know what to do, my wife look angrily at me,…my mother said there was no problem…my wife said there was one…i have apologize even if of course i had not the feeling to be disrespectul to my mother…
When my wife speak , i listen, never i say the opposite or even different opinion…
In the opposite, she don t hesitate to cut me when i speak…
Of course , behind close door, thing a more obvious: we have sex when she want. When we ” make love,” I am on all 4 in panty and she pegged me….
Sometine, she only want pussy worship…so i go between her leg…
As a true submissive and masochist, i am happy that my goddess give a chance to my true kink…
I think i am pussy whipped

My husband must run a close 2nd haha hes totally subservient licks my boots lights my cigarettes kneels beside me even in company, years of training yes but seems worth it right. He even asks if he can look at me and masturbate …Ummmm, no! Get out of the room and use your memory, dog.

Last night’s young female house guest said about three times to my wife, “ I love how you put him in his place”. This just empowers my wife even more so especially after a number of wine drinks. Always deliciously scary when the momentum builds. We always assume everyone else is vanilla so try to stay stealthy. I wonder what our guest would say if she was around when I started on the mountain of dishes late the next morning?

I have been emasculated in this role and am now spoken to and treated as a servant or child and take care of household chores, cleaning etc. It is something we are quite comfortable with and once accepted as your new normal is wonderful.

Wife and i played with D/s for a decade, and during that time Her Mother came to live with U/us. One day when She came home, Her incontenent Mom complained that the trash in the bathroom She used was smelly. Wife got mad, grabbed me and marched me upstairs and beat me.

She hadn’t used DD before, and i had thought it would be erotic, but it hurt and made me cry, and that was the end of play. From then on, it was 24/7 real and i was afraid of being punished for screwing up again, and even though Her Mom never said anything, She never had to worry about the trash being smelly again.

Though MIL never ordered me directly, anything She needed from me She had delivered by Her Daughter, and i tried to to everything before being asked to avoid the embarrassment of being punished in front of Her again. Wife’s Sister-in-Law has also made some comments, too. Once, She had asked me to do something and when i didn’t agree to it, She said She would talk to Wife and W/we would see about it. It really put me in my place, and made me wonder if She knew the truth.

Barb my wife in-control, has let my bank card expire even after she changed my PW a few years back, so I have no access to my directed deposited pension, since she let my driver license expire also, and i cannot get to a branch, so I have to beg her for funds anytime i want something as small as a candy bar. I simply am not allowed to spend money !!

Through three decade, Wife and i have explored ways of living in a FLR. The dynamic started out as play but after ten years was changed to a strict regimen of FemDom authority enforced with domestic discipline. Turned out, i discovered that i am not a fan of physical punishments as i hate pain. Wife came to understand i was afraid of disobeying Her and i came to see myself as a sissy.

During the first fifteen years or so of this new millennium, She enforced very strict rules while exploring chastity, discipline and control. One aspect of chastity was being forbidden to initiate intimacy. Not with Her or even to masturbate, it only happened if She started it, which included supervised masturbation where She would humiliate me with fantasies i would cum to, frequently forced bi and cuckolding, but really, with Her dominating my mind i never lasted long in any case. During that time, if I could do anything to get Her to think about being intimate, i tried it, like doing extra chores after my normal housework was done, dressing up extra frilly and trying to behave my best. It didn’t work often, the sight of a pathetic sissy focusing on serving the best i could probably did little to arouse Wife, but sometimes i think it might have caused Her to consider unlocking me an if not, at least letting me go down on Her. Giving Her an orgasm when locked up was the most intimate and vulnerable i have ever been.

A few years ago, my wife allowed me to beg for sex, but rarely. When i do, it’s usually declined – not that i am surprised, my performance is dismal, with difficulty staying erect, so it’s no wonder i am not very seductive. Also, she inevitably causes me pain that she enjoys, like cbt, biting and pinching, not horrible but still as a sissy i am not very good about pain and instead of cumming, the pain and humiliation She taunts me with can induce crying, which She and i both like to encourage. When She decides to initiate, i would never decline, though if it happens after i have masturbated i am a horrible disappointment and that tends to make me avoid masturbating on the off chance She will want sex.

Between wanting to keep myself ready, fear of rejection or fear of physical pain, i have stopped initiating sexual activity, even though i am permitted. Does any of this feel relatable to other pussy whipped husbands? Also, for those controlling Wives who may comment, does being the primary spouse to initiate serve Your interest, whether from enjoying their husband’s respectful acceptance that decisions about intimacy are reserved for their Wife to make or do You want husbands showing amorous intentions?

Mary sat comfortably in her plush velvet armchair, sipping her tea as she listened intently to her feminist friend’s tales of marital domination. Her eyes widened with excitement as she heard about the various ways in which this woman humiliated and emasculated her husband.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, Mary, you have no idea how much power I hold over my husband. He is completely at my mercy, and I make sure he knows it every single day.”

Mary couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having such complete control over her own spouse. As she listened to her friend recount her stories, she felt a growing sense of satisfaction in knowing that she was not alone in her dominance over her husband.

Feminist Friend: “I keep our home entirely feminine – there is no trace of masculinity allowed there. My husband serves me faithfully and without question, always eager to please me in any way possible.”

Mary nodded approvingly, mentally noting the various ways she could further emasculate her own husband. She knew that he would be nothing more than a mere servant if she had her way.

Feminist Friend: “And let me tell you about his permanent chastity! Oh, it’s so satisfying to know that I am the only one who gets to experience any pleasure in our marriage.”

Mary giggled softly at the thought of denying her husband such basic human desires. She couldn’t wait to implement this tactic herself and see how much more subservient her own husband would become as a result.

Feminist Friend: “When it comes to punishing him for his mistakes, I have an entire repertoire of creative techniques. From spanking him with my favorite leather belt to making him wear a sign around his neck that says ‘I am useless,’ I make sure he knows just how insignificant he truly is.”

Mary listened attentively as her friend detailed each method, taking mental notes on which ones she could adopt in her own relationship. She knew that she needed to up the ante if she wanted to maintain control over her husband and keep him firmly in his place.

As the evening wore on, Mary found herself growing increasingly angry at how lenient she had been with her own husband. Why hadn’t she thought of these techniques before? It was clear that there were so many ways she could have humiliated and degraded him further if only she had been more inventive.

Mary: “You know, it’s funny – I always thought I was doing a good job dominating my husband, but after hearing your stories, I realize how much more creative I could be.”

Feminist Friend: “Oh, don’t worry, Mary. You’ll get there eventually. Just remember that the key is to never let them see you coming. Always keep them guessing about what might come next!”

Mary nodded thoughtfully, mentally cataloguing each of her friend’s suggestions for future use. She knew that she needed to act swiftly if she wanted to maintain control over her husband and ensure his complete submission to her will.

As the sun began to set outside, casting a warm golden glow through the windows, Mary could feel herself growing more determined than ever to assert her dominance over her husband once again. And with each passing moment, she knew that there would be no stopping her from implementing every single one of these humiliating tactics – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “Now let me tell you about the time I made my husband wear a pink tutu while serving dinner for our guests. Can you imagine? A grown man, dressed like some ridiculous little ballerina!”

Mary burst out laughing at the mental image of her husband in such an emasculating outfit. She knew that she would have to try this tactic herself sometime soon – just to see the look on his face when he realized what he was wearing.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made him wear a dog collar and crawl around on all fours, barking like a common canine. It was absolutely hysterical!”

Mary couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of her husband being reduced to such a humiliating state. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to degrade him and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband stand outside naked in front of our house during a dinner party. The look on his face when he realized that all our guests could see him was absolutely priceless!”

Mary gasped in shock at this outrageous story, but deep down inside, she knew that she would love to try something like that herself someday – just for the sake of seeing her husband’s humiliation firsthand.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making him wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me for mercy as I held a whip above his backside. It was absolutely thrilling!”

Mary’s heart raced at this story of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t wait to try something like that herself someday – just to see the look on her husband’s face when he realized what kind of punishment she had in store for him.

Feminist Friend: “And then there was the time I made my husband lick my boots clean after a long day at work. Can you imagine? A grown man, reduced to such a degrading act!”

Mary couldn’t help but chuckle at this humiliating tale of marital servitude. She knew that she needed to find even more ways to emasculate her husband and assert her dominance over him in the most extreme manner possible.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, and speaking of extreme, let me tell you about the time I made my husband shave off all his body hair – head to toe – just so he could look even more ridiculous than before.”

Mary gasped in shock at this horrific tale of marital domination. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to force her husband to undergo such a painful and degrading act. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

As the evening wore on, Mary continued listening intently to her friend’s tales of marital domination, absorbing every detail and example with eager anticipation. She knew that she needed to find new ways to humiliate and degrade her husband if she wanted to maintain control over him and ensure his complete submission to her will.

Feminist Friend: “And remember how I told you about making my husband wear a sign around his neck? Well, one day I decided to take things even further and had him tattooed with my name across his forehead! Now there’s no escaping the fact that he belongs to me completely!”

Mary’s jaw dropped at this horrific tale of marital domination gone wild. She couldn’t believe that her friend had gone so far as to permanently mark her husband in such a cruel and degrading way. But deep down inside, she knew that she would love to see her own husband suffer the same fate – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

Feminist Friend: “And speaking of submissions, let me tell you about the time I made my husband crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, begging me

Day 1: Monday

Morning, breakfast is served on the table at precisely 6:45 AM. Your toast must be perfectly buttered, no burnt edges! Your coffee must be black, no sugar or creamer allowed! And make sure you’ve shaved this morning; I can see stubble from here.

Day 2: Tuesday

Remember to take out the garbage after dinner tonight. It has to be done before sunset, not a minute later. And don’t forget to vacuum the house as soon as you finish washing the dishes. Make sure every speck of dust is gone.

Day 3: Wednesday

Clean my car today. I want it spotless by the time I get home tonight. Use only approved cleaners, nothing else! And remember, don’t scratch the paintwork – if there are any scratches when I come back, you know what will happen.

Day 4: Thursday

I need a fresh loaf of bread from the bakery today. Make sure it’s warm and fragrant when you bring it home. And while you’re out, stop by the florist and pick up some roses for me – red ones, with no thorns left on them!

Day 5: Friday

Today is laundry day. First thing in the morning, gather all the dirty clothes and sort them into colors and whites. Use only cold water for the darks and hot water for the whites. And remember, fold everything neatly before putting it away.

Day 6: Saturday

Time to clean the bathrooms today. Make sure every surface is sparkling clean, including the toilets! Don’t forget the grout between the tiles – that should be spotless too. Use only approved cleaning products, nothing else will do.

Day 7: Sunday

I have my women’s church group coming over this afternoon at 3 pm sharp. Make sure you greet each guest at the door on your knees, head bowed low in submission. And while they’re here, serve them tea and refreshments. Remember, no mistakes allowed!

As soon as I walked through the door, I could feel their judgmental stares weighing down on me like lead weights. They were all dressed in tight-fitting dresses that hugged every curve of their bodies, each one more voluptuous than the last. Their laughter rang out louder than church bells, filling the air with a cacophony of voices and gossip.

“Look at him,” one of them snickered as I knelt before her, “just look at that pathetic excuse for a man.”

I could barely bring myself to glance up from my subservient position on the floor, but when I did, all I saw were ample cleavages and perfectly sculpted bodies. My wife’s friends were stunningly beautiful, each one more so than the last. And yet, as much as I appreciated their beauty, it was nothing compared to how much fear they instilled in me.

“So,” another woman drawled, eying me with undisguised contempt, “how does it feel to be nothing more than a glorified doormat?”

Before I could respond, my wife appeared at the door, her eyes narrowed and her voice dripping with venom. “That’s enough!” she snapped, her tone making it clear that any further comments would not be tolerated. “He has his instructions, and he will follow them to the letter.”

As if on cue, I scurried off to begin preparing tea for the group, my heart pounding in my chest as I heard their snickers following me down the hall. Little did they know how true their words were – for even though I was humiliated and degraded by my wife’s cruel treatment, there was no escape from this life of submission and pain.

And so it went, day after endless day. My once-promising career reduced to a series of menial tasks and errands, all at the whim of a woman who reveled in my suffering. I tried to hold onto hope that things would change, that somehow I could break free from this cycle of abuse and regain some semblance of control over my life.

But as the weeks turned into months, it became clear that there was no escape. My wife’s demands grew more outrageous with each passing day, her cruelty reaching new heights as she sought to assert her dominance over me in ever-more humiliating ways.

Finally, on one fateful Sunday afternoon, the inevitable happened. As I served tea and refreshments to my wife’s church group – a task that had become almost routine by this point –one of the women caught me staring at her ample cleavage.

“Hey now,” she scolded playfully, “I didn’t realize you were such a pervert!”

Before I could even react, my wife was upon me, her face twisted in rage as she dragged me off to our basement by the ear like a recalcitrant child. And there, amidst the dimly lit gloom and cobwebs, she showed me the cage that would be my home for the foreseeable future.

“This,” she sneered, shoving me into the cramped confines of my new prison, “is where you belong.”

And as she locked the door behind her, leaving me alone in the darkness with nothing but my misery and despair for company, I knew that there would be no escape from this life of endless humiliation and pain. For I was now forever trapped within the cruel embrace of my domineering wife.

A DIFFERENT COUPLE

Monday: The Wife’s Dictatorship Begins

Mary, a woman in her early 30s, is an expert at controlling her husband John. She makes sure he knows who wears the pants in their marriage by dictating every aspect of his life – from how he dresses to what he eats for breakfast. This morning was no exception as she handed him a list of tasks to complete before she returned home from work later that day.

“Now, listen carefully,” she said, her voice dripping with authority. “I expect you to have completed all these chores by the time I get back.” She pointed at the paper in his hand, each task neatly typed and organized. “Don’t forget to iron my blouses just right or else!”

Tuesday: The Daily Grind

Mary continued her reign of terror over John, adding more tasks to his endless list of chores. This time, she demanded that he mow the lawn, clean the gutters, and wash the cars – all before dinner. To make sure he didn’t slack off, she even made him wear a GPS tracker so she could monitor his progress throughout the day.

Wednesday: Dinner Time Showdown

Tonight was John’s turn to prepare dinner for Mary and their two children. As soon as they sat down at the table, however, things took a turn for the worse. Before anyone could take a bite of their food, Mary spotted an error in one of the dishes – a single grain of uncooked rice on her plate.

“How dare you serve me something that isn’t perfect!” she shrieked, throwing the plate across the room and shattering it against the wall. “You’re lucky I don’t beat you right now!”

Thursday: A Submission Test

Mary decided to test John’s loyalty by making him grovel at her feet during dinner. While their kids looked on in shock, she ordered him to lick her shoes clean while she ate her meal. When he hesitated for just a moment, she grabbed his hair and yanked it back forcefully.

“You will do as I say!” she barked, forcing him closer until his tongue made contact with the worn leather. As the humiliation continued, the kids couldn’t help but stare in disbelief at their father’s subservience.

Friday: The Straw That Broke The Camel’s Back

Today was the final straw for John when Mary insisted that he shave off all his body hair before she would allow him to have sex with her. He complied without complaint, even though it left him feeling vulnerable and exposed. But when she discovered a single stray hair on his chest after they were finished, her wrath was unleashed.

“You think you can get away with this?” she spat, grabbing a pair of tweezers from the nightstand. “I’ll teach you what happens when you disobey me!” And with that, she began plucking out each individual hair, causing John to cry out in pain and humiliation.

Saturday: A Taste Of His Own Medicine

Today was different; instead of adding more tasks to his list, Mary decided it was time for a little fun. She ordered him to put on a costume and pretend to be their dog during dinner with friends. Reluctantly, he agreed, crawling around on all fours while everyone else laughed at the spectacle.

As the night wore on, however, John couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction as he watched his wife endure the same humiliation he had suffered for so long. Perhaps there was a glimmer of hope after all…

Sunday: The Church Ladies Take Notice

Today marked another turning point in Mary and John’s tumultuous relationship. When her women’s church group arrived at their house, they were shocked to see him kneeling by the front door, dressed only in a loincloth and bowing down before each guest as they entered.

One by one, the women couldn’t help but stare at his exposed body, especially when he caught them glancing at his crotch. Embarrassed, he looked away quickly, but it was too late; their curiosity had been piqued.

Throughout the evening, Mary took great pleasure in humiliating him further by making him serve tea and refreshments while trying not to ogle the women’s impressive cleavage. Each time he made a mistake or couldn’t resist stealing a glance at a low-cut blouse, she would force him to bend over and receive a sharp slap on the behind from her friends.

Finally, as the night wore on and John grew more anxious about his increasingly precarious situation, one of the women took pity on him and suggested they play a game. “How about we see if anyone can make this poor man blush?” she proposed, gesturing towards John’s crimson face.

One by one, each woman stepped forward and whispered something lewd or provocative in his ear, watching with glee as he struggled to maintain his composure. By the time the last guest had her turn, John was trembling uncontrollably, his eyes wide with terror and arousal.

Realizing that things had gone too far, Mary decided it was time for some discipline of her own. With a wicked grin, she led her husband by the collar back into their bedroom, where she locked him in a cage she kept stored in the basement.

“Now you’ll see what happens when you disobey me,” she hissed, as she showed all her friends the way down the stairs to witness his humiliating punishment firsthand. And so began another week of torment and subjugation for poor John – but at least now he knew that his wife wasn’t the only one capable of cruelty.

ANOTHER MEAN WIFE

Day 1 – Monday

Monday morning started off like any other day for John. He woke up to the shrill sound of his alarm clock, a loud ringing that pierced through the darkness of their bedroom. As he groggily reached over to turn it off, he heard the unmistakable sound of his wife, Linda, stirring in bed next to him.

“Don’t forget to make breakfast this morning,” she called out from beneath her blankets. Her voice was sharp and commanding, as if she were speaking to a subordinate rather than her husband.

John nodded silently and reluctantly climbed out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he made his way towards the kitchen. He knew what lay ahead – another day filled with mundane chores and tasks assigned by Linda.

“Don’t forget the coffee!” she called after him before rolling back over onto her side and going back to sleep.

John muttered under his breath but complied nonetheless, setting up the coffee machine while he began preparing breakfast for the both of them. As Linda emerged from their bedroom, dressed in a tailored business suit with her hair perfectly coifed, John presented her with a plate of toast and scrambled eggs.

“You know I don’t like my toast soggy,” she said dismissively as she took a bite. John winced at the criticism but remained silent, knowing that any attempt to defend himself would only result in further scorn from his domineering wife.

Day 2 – Tuesday

Tuesday was laundry day for John, and he spent most of the morning sorting through piles of dirty clothes while Linda sat at her vanity applying makeup. She occasionally looked up from her reflection to inspect his progress, offering unsolicited advice or pointing out perceived errors in his folding technique.

“You really need to be more thorough when you separate the colors from the whites,” she commented as she examined a red sock mixed in with the whites pile.

John nodded meekly and continued working, trying not to let her words get under his skin too much. He knew that if he argued or defended himself, Linda would only become more aggressive and belittling in her criticism.

By the time he finished folding all of their laundry, Linda was already dressed and ready for work. She glanced around the neatly organized piles on the bed before giving him a curt nod of approval.

“Not bad, I suppose,” she said dismissively as she walked past him towards the front door.

Day 3 – Wednesday

Wednesday was a particularly grueling day for John. In addition to his regular housekeeping duties, Linda decided that today would be an excellent opportunity for him to learn how to cook one of her favorite dishes – lasagna.

As he followed her meticulous instructions, trying not to make any mistakes, Linda stood over him with a watchful eye, pointing out every small error and imperfection as they occurred. By the time dinner was served that evening, John felt completely drained both physically and emotionally.

Linda took one bite of her lasagna before making an unimpressed face. “This is terrible,” she declared, pushing her plate away from her with a disgusted look on her face.

“I’m sorry, I did my best,” John stammered defensively, fighting back tears at the humiliation he felt.

Linda sneered at him before standing up from the table and walking away without another word, leaving John to clean up the mess alone.

Day 4 – Thursday

Thursday was a seemingly endless day of errands and chores for John as Linda had a particularly busy schedule at work. He began by running to the grocery store to pick up supplies for dinner that evening, followed by a trip to the bank to deposit her paycheck, and finally another visit to the post office to mail off some bills.

Throughout each task, Linda called or texted him constantly with additional instructions and corrections, making sure that he was following her exact specifications down to the smallest detail. By the time he returned home in the early evening, John felt completely exhausted and overwhelmed by his wife’s relentless demands.

As he collapsed onto the couch in their living room, Linda walked through the front door with an air of self-importance, carrying a stack of important documents from her day at work. She glanced over at him disdainfully before launching into another barrage of criticisms and corrections regarding his performance on the errands he had run that day.

Day 5 – Friday

On Friday, Linda decided it was time for John to start learning some basic car maintenance skills. As they stood in their garage, she pointed out various tools and explained how each one worked while demonstrating the correct technique for changing a tire on their vehicle.

John listened attentively but struggled to keep up with her rapid-fire instructions, often needing several repetitions before he understood what she was explaining. Linda grew increasingly frustrated as the lesson dragged on, frequently losing her patience and berating him for his perceived incompetence.

By the time they finally finished changing the tire, John felt completely defeated and demoralized by the harsh treatment he had received from his wife throughout the day. As he collapsed onto their bed that evening, Linda continued to criticize his performance as she undressed for bed, making it clear that her expectations of him were far higher than what he was currently able to achieve.

Day 6 – Saturday

Saturday morning began with another lesson from Linda – this time on how to properly clean and maintain their home’s air conditioning unit. As she led him through the process step by step, John could feel his anxiety levels rising as he struggled to keep up with her exacting standards.

Linda seemed particularly annoyed by his inability to retain information regarding the proper way to dispose of used oil filters, berating him mercilessly for every minor mistake he made throughout the day. By the time they finished working on the air conditioner unit that afternoon, John felt completely drained and demoralized, longing for some respite from Linda’s relentless demands.

In an effort to lighten the mood, he suggested that they invite a few friends over for dinner that evening, hoping that a social gathering might take some of the pressure off of him. However, Linda quickly shot down this idea, insisting that she had too much work to do and couldn’t afford any distractions from her busy schedule.

Day 7 – Sunday

Sunday was church day for the couple, and as they sat in their usual pew during morning services, John could feel Linda growing increasingly agitated by his presence next to her. She frequently shot him disdainful glances throughout the sermon, whispering harsh criticisms under her breath whenever he made even the slightest mistake or misstep.

After church let out, Linda announced that she would be hosting her weekly women’s church group meeting at their home later that afternoon. As she prepared to welcome her guests, she instructed John to prepare a variety of snacks and refreshments for them to enjoy during the event.

As he worked diligently in the kitchen, trying his best to create an impressive spread of treats for Linda’s friends, she continued to berate him constantly, frequently belittling his efforts and pointing out every minor imperfection she could find. By the time her guests arrived, John felt completely defeated and demoralized by Linda’s relentless criticism and abuse.

When Linda introduced John as her husband to each of her friends upon their arrival, he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of shame and humiliation at the way she spoke about him. She frequently referred to him as “my little project” or “the housemate,” making it clear that she viewed him more as a subservient assistant than an equal partner in their relationship.

As Linda guided her guests through a tour of their home, she proudly displayed John’s various domestic achievements from throughout the week, pointing out each meticulously organized pile of laundry or neatly arranged stack of pots and pans with a sense of satisfied pride. Her friends nodded along in agreement, occasionally exchanging knowing glances with one another as if they shared some secret understanding about the nature of their relationship.

During their meeting, Linda frequently interrupted her own conversation to scold John for any perceived mistakes or errors he made while preparing snacks and refreshments for her guests. She would often force him to stand awkwardly in front of them while she meted out harsh punishments for his missteps, making sure that everyone present could witness the humiliating way she treated him.

As Linda’s friends sipped tea and nibbled on John’s homemade treats, they couldn’t help but notice how frequently he would steal glances at their ample cleavage as they conversed amongst themselves. Each time he was caught staring, one of Linda’s friends would give him a playful wink or nudge, encouraging his interest and further fueling Linda’s growing anger at his inability to maintain eye contact with any of them during the meeting.

Towards the end of the evening, as Linda’s guests prepared to leave, she decided it was time for another lesson for John – this time on how to properly serve tea to her friends. As he awkwardly followed her instructions, trying his best not to make any mistakes while handling the fragile china teacups and saucers, Linda grew increasingly annoyed by his clumsiness and incompetence.

In a fit of rage, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back into their living room, where she forcefully pushed him down onto his knees in front of her guests. With a cruel grin on her face, she announced that this was how she intended to train him from now on – by forcing him to serve her friends on his hands and knees like some kind of domestic animal.

As Linda’s friends burst into laughter at the sight of their humiliated husband, she began calling out a series of increasingly absurd requests for him to fulfill while maintaining his kneeling position. From fetching coasters and napkins to refilling teacups and wine glasses, John was made to perform each task with perfect precision and efficiency, lest he risk incurring the wrath of Linda or her friends.

Finally, when it became clear that her husband had been sufficiently broken and humiliated by this degrading display of dominance, Linda allowed him to stand up once more. As she guided him back towards their bedroom for another night of harsh criticism and verbal abuse, he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of dread at what lay ahead – another week filled with relentless demands and unattainable expectations from his domineering wife.

A REAL MATRIARCH

Monday: The first day began with Mrs. Victoria Thompson’s sharp screeching voice ordering her husband, John, to wake up earlier than usual. She wanted him to make breakfast and have everything ready by the time she got out of bed. “I am the boss here,” she yelled as John hurried around the kitchen, trying not to mess anything up. After breakfast, Victoria had a long list of tasks for her husband: clean the entire house, wash and iron all their clothes, cook dinner, and make sure everything was perfect by the time she came home from work.

Tuesday: On the second day, Mrs. Thompson decided that John should have no freedom at all. She made him wear a collar with a leash attached to it all day long. Whenever she wanted something done, she would pull on the leash and give her husband a new set of instructions. At the end of the day, Victoria announced that she was going out for dinner with some friends but John wasn’t allowed to go because he hadn’t finished all his tasks.

Wednesday: Mrs. Thompson decided that today would be “bath time” for her husband. She made him take a cold bath while she sat on the side, critiquing every aspect of his body. Afterward, she told him to stand naked in front of her as she inspected each part of him with a clipboard and pen in hand. When she was finished, she threw some rags at him and told him to clean himself up.

Thursday: By the fourth day, Mrs. Thompson had taken control of John’s wardrobe. She picked out all his clothes for the day and made sure he looked ridiculous in them. He felt humiliated as he walked around town wearing a bright pink suit and matching bow tie. Everywhere he went, people stared at him, making fun of his appearance.

Friday: On this day, Mrs. Thompson decided that her husband should learn how to dance like a lady. She spent hours teaching him various dance moves while she laughed at his clumsiness. By the end of the night, John was exhausted and covered in bruises from where he had tripped over his own feet multiple times.

Saturday: On Saturday morning, Mrs. Thompson woke up early and announced that today would be “grooming day” for her husband. She shaved off all his body hair using a rusty razor and made him sit through painful waxing sessions. When she was finished, she told him to put on some tight-fitting clothes so she could admire her handiwork.

Sunday: On Sunday, Mrs. Thompson’s women’s church group came over for their weekly gathering. As soon as the first guest arrived, Victoria paraded her husband around the house like a prize possession. Each woman had large breasts that seemed to entrance John, making it difficult for him not to stare at them.

The women took turns sipping tea and laughing about how useless John was as a husband. Throughout the evening, Mrs. Thompson caught her husband multiple times staring down their cleavage, which resulted in several humiliating punishments. By the end of the night, Victoria’s temper finally snapped when she found him ogling at one of the women’s breasts once again.

“That’s it!” she yelled, grabbing her husband by the arm and pulling him towards the basement door. “You know what happens now, don’t you?”

She locked him in his cage and returned to her guests with a satisfied smile on her face. As they continued their evening of laughter and gossip, John sat quietly in his cage, wondering how much longer he could endure this domineering wife.

MARY IS A BITCH

Day 1:

John spent another week in his cage, occasionally receiving food and water from Mary. He had become accustomed to the daily abuse he received, and although it still hurt physically and emotionally, he began to feel grateful for her guidance.

Mary: “John, I have noticed that you are becoming more obedient and submissive. However, there is still room for improvement. From now on, when I return home from work, you must immediately remove my shoes and rub my feet.”

Day 2:

As Mary returned home, she noticed the familiar scent of John’s desperation. She removed her shoes and tossed them onto the floor near the front door.

Mary: “John, remember what I told you earlier today? You must remove my shoes and rub my feet.”

John hesitated for a moment before reluctantly picking up one of the shoes and attempting to remove it from Mary’s foot. He fumbled with the laces, struggling to untie them as quickly as possible while trying not to make eye contact with his wife.

Mary: “What are you waiting for? Hurry up!”

John finally managed to remove the first shoe and began massaging one of Mary’s feet. As he continued this task, she grabbed a nearby whip and started lashing him across his back.

Mary: “Is that all you can do? You call yourself a man?”

Day 3:

John prepared breakfast for Mary before heading to work. When he returned home that evening, he found her sitting on the couch, looking displeased.

Mary: “John, today’s meal was subpar. I expect you to make sure every dish is cooked to perfection from now on.”

Day 4:

As John prepared dinner for Mary and their friends, she entered the room with a stern look on her face.

Mary: “John, did I not remind you of your new task? When my friends arrive, they must have something to sit on while we chat. So, make sure there is a comfortable seat for each one of them.”

Day 5:

John prepared breakfast for Mary before heading to work. Upon returning home that evening, he found her sitting on the couch, looking displeased.

Mary: “John, I have been thinking about ways to further humble you. When my friends come over next Sunday for our church group meeting, I want them to have something soft and comfortable to sit on while they enjoy their tea.”

Day 6:

As John prepared dinner for Mary and their friends, she entered the room with a stern look on her face.

Mary: “John, did you forget about your new task? When my friends arrive, there must be something soft and comfortable for them to sit on as they enjoy their tea.”

Day 7:

On Sunday morning, Mary woke up early and prepared for her women’s church group meeting. As she was leaving the house, she spotted John on his knees, preparing a seat made of soft pillows for each guest.

Mary: “John, you know that I don’t like being disturbed when preparing for my social events. However, since you have taken care of this task, I will allow it. Remember, though – tonight is all about humiliation.”

Later that day, as the women arrived for their meeting, they were all dressed in stunning outfits with low-cut tops that showed off their ample cleavage. John served each of them tea while trying not to stare at any of the ladies’ chests. However, he made a few minor mistakes and was caught staring multiple times.

Mary: “John, how many times do I have to remind you about your inability to maintain focus? You know the consequences!”

With each mistake, Mary grew more furious with John until she could no longer contain her anger. She grabbed him by the ear and dragged him down into the basement where she kept a small cage for him.

Mary: “This is where you belong! You have failed to follow even my simplest rules. From now on, when I am entertaining guests, you will stay locked in this cage!”

And so, John’s humiliation continued as his wife degraded and punished him daily for any minor infractions. He could only hope that someday he would find the strength to stand up for himself and break free from her oppressive rule.

As Mary sat with her friends during their church group meeting, she asked them for suggestions on how to further humble John. Each woman gave a wickedly humiliating suggestion:

Woman 1: “Why not make him wear a collar and leash like a dog? That way, he will always be reminded of his place.”

Mary smiled at the idea and wrote it down in her notebook.

Woman 2: “You could force him to wear ridiculous clothing or makeup – something that would make him look absolutely ridiculous!”

Mary chuckled at this suggestion as well, jotting it down alongside the others.

Woman 3: “How about making him beg for mercy every time he makes a mistake? Maybe even have one of us kick him while he’s on his knees?”

Mary considered this option before nodding her head in agreement.

With these new ideas added to her ever-growing list of humiliating tasks, Mary felt confident that she could continue breaking down John’s spirit and asserting her dominance over him. As the meeting drew to a close, the women said their goodbyes and left the house, each one eagerly anticipating how they might contribute to John’s ongoing degradation next week.

MARY BECOMES MORE STRICT

Day 1:

Mary woke up early and prepared for her women’s church group meeting. As she made her way downstairs, she noticed that John was still in his cage, trembling with fear. She opened the door and allowed him to come out, reminding him of his duty as a servant for the day.

Mary: “John, today is another church group meeting, and I expect you to perform your duties perfectly. Remember, if any mistakes are made, there will be consequences.”

As the women arrived for their meeting, they were all dressed in stunning outfits with low-cut tops that showed off their ample cleavage. John served each of them tea while trying not to stare at any of the ladies’ chests. However, he made a few minor mistakes and was caught staring multiple times.

Mary: “John, how many times do I have to remind you about your inability to maintain focus? You know the consequences!”

With each mistake, Mary grew more furious with John until she could no longer contain her anger. She grabbed him by the ear and dragged him down into the basement where she kept a small cage for him.

Mary: “This is where you belong! You have failed to follow even my simplest rules. From now on, when I am entertaining guests, you will stay locked in this cage!”

And so, John’s humiliation continued as his wife degraded and punished him daily for any minor infractions. He could only hope that someday he would find the strength to stand up for himself and break free from her oppressive rule.

During the meeting, one of the women suggested that they should take turns humiliating John further. Mary agreed enthusiastically and asked each woman for their suggestions on how best to degrade him. The first woman suggested that they make John serve as a footstool for them while they sipped their tea. Mary loved this idea and immediately ordered John to position himself under the coffee table, where he would remain until further notice.

The second woman suggested that they should beat him in front of everyone, just like a naughty child being disciplined by its mother. Mary thought this was an excellent suggestion and proceeded to give John a thorough whipping with her belt. The other women cheered and clapped as they watched the spectacle unfold before them.

The third woman suggested that they should force John to lick their shoes clean after they finished drinking their tea. This idea amused Mary greatly, and she made sure that John complied with this request without delay. He was forced to crawl around on the floor, desperately trying to clean each pair of high heels before the women grew impatient.

The fourth woman suggested that they should force-feed him some of their leftover food scraps from lunchtime. Mary found this idea particularly entertaining and quickly gathered up all the crumbs and bits of discarded food from around the table. She then held John’s nose closed while she shoved these morsels into his mouth, forcing him to swallow them down despite his gagging.

The fifth woman suggested that they should slap John across the face whenever he made any mistakes or failed to follow their orders promptly enough. Mary embraced this idea wholeheartedly and spent much of the meeting slapping John repeatedly, leaving red welts on his cheeks as a testament to her dominance over him.

The sixth woman suggested that they should force John to eat out of the garbage can whenever he made a mistake or failed to follow their orders promptly enough. Mary thought this was another excellent suggestion and immediately commanded John to crawl over to the garbage can, where he would remain until further notice. She then proceeded to throw various pieces of discarded food into the can for him to eat, much to the amusement of the other women present.

Finally, the last woman suggested that they should force John to wear a sign around his neck that read “I am a useless servant” whenever he made any mistakes or failed to follow their orders promptly enough. Mary loved this idea and quickly fashioned a makeshift sign out of cardboard and duct tape. She then placed it over John’s head, securing it tightly so that there was no chance of him removing it without her permission.

As the meeting drew to a close, each of the women took turns congratulating Mary on her ingenious methods of humiliating and degrading John. They all agreed that she had truly outdone herself this time and vowed to continue supporting her as she sought to break down his spirit further.

Meanwhile, John sat quietly in his cage beneath the house, pondering his situation and wondering if there was any way out of this nightmare. He knew that he could not bear much more abuse, but he also understood that defying his wife would likely result in even greater punishment and suffering for him. In the end, he resigned himself to his fate, accepting that he would forever be a submissive servant at the mercy of her cruel whims.

A VISIT FROM MARY’S FEMINIST FRIEND

Mary sat comfortably in her plush velvet armchair, sipping her tea as she listened intently to her feminist friend’s tales of marital domination. Her eyes widened with excitement as she heard about the various ways in which this woman humiliated and emasculated her husband.

Feminist Friend: “Oh, Mary, you have no idea how much power I hold over my husband. He is completely at my mercy, and I make sure he knows it every single day.”

Mary couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having such complete control over her own spouse. As she listened to her friend recount her stories, she felt a growing sense of satisfaction in knowing that she was not alone in her dominance over her husband.

Feminist Friend: “I keep our home entirely feminine – there is no trace of masculinity allowed here. My husband serves me faithfully and without question, always eager to please me in any way possible.”

Mary nodded approvingly, mentally noting the various ways she could further emasculate her own husband. She knew that he would be nothing more than a mere servant if she had her way.

Feminist Friend: “And let me tell you about his permanent chastity! Oh, it’s so satisfying to know that I am the only one who gets to experience any pleasure in our marriage.”

Mary giggled softly at the thought of denying her husband such basic human desires. She couldn’t wait to implement this tactic herself and see how much more subservient he would become as a result.

Feminist Friend: “When it comes to punishing him for his mistakes, I have an entire repertoire of creative techniques. From spanking him with my favorite leather belt to making him wear a sign around his neck that says ‘I am useless,’ I make sure he knows just how insignificant he truly is.”

Mary listened attentively as her friend detailed each method, taking mental notes on which ones she could adopt in her own relationship. She knew that she needed to up the ante if she wanted to maintain control over her husband and keep him firmly in his place.

As the evening wore on, Mary found herself growing increasingly angry at how lenient she had been with her own husband. Why hadn’t she thought of these techniques before? It was clear that there were so many ways she could have humiliated and degraded him further if only she had been more inventive.

Mary: “You know, it’s funny – I always thought I was doing a good job dominating my husband, but after hearing your stories, I realize how much more creative I could be.”

Feminist Friend: “Oh, don’t worry, Mary. You’ll get there eventually. Just remember that the key is to never let them see you coming. Always keep them guessing about what might come next!”

Mary nodded thoughtfully, mentally cataloguing each of her friend’s suggestions for future use. She knew that she needed to act swiftly if she wanted to maintain control over her husband and ensure his complete submission to her will.

As the sun began to set outside, casting a warm golden glow through the windows, Mary could feel herself growing more determined than ever to assert her dominance over her husband once again. And with each passing moment, she knew that there would be no stopping her from implementing every single one of these humiliating tactics – if only to prove just how much power she held over him.

In a small suburban town, there lived a couple named Sarah and Mark. Sarah was a very domineering woman who enjoyed being in control of everything in their household. She took great pride in ensuring that everything around the house was perfect, from the immaculate lawn to the spotless kitchen.

Mark, on the other hand, was a submissive husband who eagerly followed his wife’s commands without question. He knew that if he didn’t adhere to her strict rules and expectations, she would be displeased, leading to arguments and tension in their relationship.

Every morning, Sarah would wake up early and meticulously plan out the day’s tasks for Mark. Her list was extensive, covering everything from housework to meal preparation. Each item had its own deadline, and if Mark didn’t complete them on time, he would face her wrath.

Mark would start his day by completing the morning chores, such as feeding the dogs and cleaning the kitchen. Then, he would move on to the garden work, ensuring that everything was in perfect order. After lunch, he would tackle the indoor tasks, which included dusting the furniture and vacuuming the carpets.

In the evening, Mark’s responsibility was to prepare dinner for Sarah and himself. He had to ensure that each dish was cooked to perfection and presented beautifully on the table. If anything went wrong, such as overcooked vegetables or burnt meat, Sarah would lose her temper and make him clean the entire kitchen once more.

Despite the constant pressure and demands from his wife, Mark remained dedicated to fulfilling his duties. He believed that keeping Sarah happy was essential for maintaining a stable and harmonious marriage.

In the quiet suburban town of Willowbrook, there lived a couple named Jane and Mike. Jane was known for being a domineering woman who took great pride in running her household with an iron fist. Her husband, Mike, was submissive by nature and always followed his wife’s orders without question.

Jane had a strict daily schedule that she meticulously planned out for her husband. Each day began with Mike waking up at dawn to prepare breakfast for Jane before heading off to work. Upon returning home from the office, he was expected to immediately begin working on the house chores, which included cleaning, laundry, and cooking dinner.

Mike’s evenings were spent running errands or taking care of any other tasks that Jane deemed necessary. She was particular about everything, from how the dishes should be washed to the exact way the lawn should be mowed. If Mike failed to meet her standards, he would face her wrath, which could last for days.

Despite the constant pressure and demands placed on him by his domineering wife, Mike remained dedicated to fulfilling his duties. He believed that keeping Jane happy was essential for maintaining a stable and harmonious household. However, as the years went by, the relentless demands began to take their toll on Mike’s manhood.

Mike realized that he had become a perfect servant to Jane and that made her happy. This realization empowered Jane even further, leading her to become even more strict and demanding in order to maintain control over her husband’s every move.

1. Jane insisted on setting an even stricter daily schedule for Mike, ensuring that he woke up earlier and completed all his tasks with military precision.
2. She took control over every aspect of their lives, from what they ate for breakfast to which TV shows they were allowed to watch.
3. Jane made it a point to publicly humiliate Mike whenever he made the slightest mistake or failed to meet her expectations. This served as a reminder to him that she was in complete control and could destroy his life at any moment.
4. In order to maintain her image as the perfect domineering wife, Jane began inviting other couples over for dinner parties, where she would showcase Mike’s submission and obedience as a way to intimidate and impress her friends.
5. As Mike’s mental health continued to deteriorate under the weight of his wife’s cruelty, Jane took it upon herself to monitor his every move, even going so far as to install cameras throughout their home to ensure that he never slipped up or tried to assert any independence

In the quiet suburban town of Willowbrook, there lived a couple named Jane and Mike. Jane was known for being a domineering woman who took great pride in running her household with an iron fist. Her husband, Mike, was submissive by nature and always followed his wife’s orders without question.

One day, Jane decided to throw a dinner party to showcase her husband’s submission and obedience to their friends. She spent days preparing for the event, making sure everything was perfect down to the smallest detail. Meanwhile, Mike spent countless hours cleaning, cooking, and setting up the house according to his wife’s exacting standards.

As the guests arrived at the party, Jane made a point of introducing them to her “perfect servant,” Mike. She proudly explained how he had willingly given up his independence in order to serve her every need and desire. The other couples were impressed by Jane’s dominance and control over her husband, and they spent the evening discussing various ways in which they too could exert more power over their partners.

Throughout the evening, Mike was expected to perform a variety of tasks for his wife, such as serving drinks, clearing plates, and refilling wine glasses. He moved through the party with quiet efficiency, never once complaining or expressing any displeasure at being treated like a mere servant. Despite the humiliation he felt inside, Mike continued to play his role, knowing that any sign of rebellion would only lead to further abuse and punishment from his domineering wife.

As the night drew to a close and the guests began to leave, Jane once again took center stage, thanking everyone for attending and praising her husband for his unwavering devotion and obedience. As the last guest departed, Jane turned to Mike and gave him a vicious slap across the face, reminding him that even in front of their friends, he was nothing more than her property to be used and abused at will

In the quiet suburban town of Willowbrook, there lived a couple named Jane and Mike. Jane was known for being a domineering woman who took great pride in running her household with an iron fist. Her husband, Mike, was submissive by nature and always followed his wife’s orders without question.

Jane had always been envious of other couples who appeared to have a more balanced and equal partnership. She often fantasized about exerting complete control over her husband and forcing him to submit to her every desire. One day, she decided to throw a dinner party to showcase her husband’s submission and obedience to their friends.

As the guests arrived at the party, Jane made a point of introducing them to her “perfect servant,” Mike. She proudly explained how he had willingly given up his independence in order to serve her every need and desire. The other couples were impressed by Jane’s dominance and control over her husband, and they spent the evening discussing various ways in which they too could exert more power over their partners.

Throughout the evening, Mike was expected to perform a variety of tasks for his wife, such as serving drinks, clearing plates, and refilling wine glasses. He moved through the party with quiet efficiency, never once complaining or expressing any displeasure at being treated like a mere servant. Despite the humiliation he felt inside, Mike continued to play his role, knowing that any sign of rebellion would only lead to further abuse and punishment from his domineering wife.

As the night drew to a close and the guests began to leave, Jane once again took center stage, thanking everyone for attending and praising her husband for his unwavering devotion and obedience. She then turned to Mike and announced that she had decided to take things to the next level by forcing him into a chastity device, ensuring that he would never be able to rebel against her again.

The rules I set for him in my house are not only to teach him his place. My rules are also to remind me that he is not just my partner, he is my slave. When I see him following such a rule, I get a little tingle. I am grateful for how brave he is to try to live this way……….. I love him so it’s easy to fall into a friendly feeling of equality. However, when I see him dong something I have ordered such as not sitting on the living room furniture or changing his posture when another woman walks into the room, I’m reminded that we are not just a vanilla couple. We are on a mission. We both committed ourselves to his complete surrender……………… My advice is to set up the rules and then adhere to them religiously. Tomorrow is Wednesday. Wednesday night is a punishment night in my home. He has done nothing wrong. This is important. Wednesday’s discipline is not totally connected to his behavior. Of course, it would be much worse if I had complaints about his recent service but he’s been a lamb………………. I’m giving him the usual. I usually don’t dress up for it or make it a big deal. Well, it’s not a bid deal to me but he might think about it differently. Ha! . I never miss because, I believe If I skip even one of his twice a week punishment nights he’ll start hoping to skip again. I can’t have that. I treat his discipline like a customary and necessary chore such as feeding the cat or watering the flowerbed. Sometimes I have no real desire to crop him but once I start, I often feel myself starting to enjoy it more than I thought I would. It’s very much like going to the gym. It’s hard to get started but once you do, you enjoy it and you are glad you came……………….. Long ago, I realized that If I wanted a completely surrendered man then I had to put in the time. It’s all been worth it. Beat a man twice a week for a dozen years with real passion and good things will start happening. Wonderful things.

I’ve stopped kissing my sub, Butler, again. I always tighten up his discipline before a special event. I also start finding more things wrong with his almost perfect housekeeping, thus adding additional lashes during his punishment sessions. During times like this, I emotionally move away from him a little and become more cold and severe. When I act like this he knows that something is about to happen that will test him and pull him deeper into submission. He redoubles his efforts but it’s all for naught. I want him ready so I keep tightening the screws. I’ve considered carefully each step I will make in the coming weeks.** I’ve invited Sam, the man I plan to seduce, to my home tomorrow night to help me with a paper I’m writing. I want Butler to observe the relationship that I will allow to develop between Sam and me. I know Butler. He’s not so much a physical masochist as he is an emotional masochist. Simply having sex with Sam will hurt Butler but he’s always known that I have occasionally cucked him. That’s no longer good enough for me. Butler has to see a flicker of real romance between Sam and me. I want the whole thing to unman Butler and pierce deeply into the heart of his male psyche. If things go as planned I’ll also be adding to the excitement by defiling what Butler sees as our as a sacred space, our marital bed. This is all so exciting it’s hard not to speed this up but I know that it will be much better to slowly allow events to build. I have other surprises in store for my sub that will aid in his transformation to a completely surrendered slave. I get to desecrate our marital bed for the first time only once. I want things to go perfectly. I feel very lucky I chose Butler. I doubt I could have done what I have done with a younger man. I chose Butler because of his solid maturity. He’s strong enough to take this and make it something that nudges him even closer to me and deeper into surrender. I have a heady sense of complete freedom tempered by my appreciation of my loving submissive.