Dual Natures of submission

This is a bit of a follow-up to my last post "Talking about Sex" that I wanted to elaborate upon.

The giving side of my submission makes up a large part of who I am.  In this mindset I take great pleasure and arousal in providing pleasure and service to the Domme.  Yes, I will get an erection while cooking food and thinking about how I want to make it as delicious as possible so that she will enjoy it.  The same goes for rubbing her feet or shoulders.  While my desire to orgasm remains low, I have a strong desire to remain in this state.  It makes me feel good about myself and proud that I am making her happy.

I have been told that I somewhat resemble a service submissive in this way.  I've always felt that my desires are a bit selfish and my reasons for wanting to do them a bit impure.  I could be wrong and I really have no reference point.

I mentioned in the previous post about a Jekyll/Hyde relationship with my submission.

Certain activities trigger a seismic shift in my submission.  With enough sexual contact or teasing I become sufficiently aroused to shift into a completely different state: I go from giver to receiver.  From servant to victim.

The shift in mindset is extreme but to be fair, it usually accompanies a drastic shift in activities.  In these times I wish to be touched, teased, and tormented.  I long to feel her.  I long for her touch on my body.  In these times I become the center of her attention.  In these times my desires become self-centered. My submission remains strong enough to remain attentive to her instructions.  I will endure whatever she may throw my way.  I want to be there to please her.  I want her to take pleasure as she explores my body.  However... if sufficiently stimulated all of my best efforts go out the window... and I pretty much want an orgasm and I feel a bit like a mindless beast, chasing its own desire.

Talking about Sex

A recent conversation with a woman friend brought up the topic of libido.

I've always felt a bit out of place in the world since my libido isn't very strong.  I don't really crave sex.  There are times when I want to fantasize and masturbate, but I consider a certain level of horniness to be natural.

Aside from the "I wish I wasn't a virgin" days of growing up, I have never really craved intercourse.  I've always had a strong desire for intimacy, closeness, and whatever that entailed, so sex remained a desirable component, albeit not for the physical pleasure, but for the shared emotional connection with the other party.  This removed any desire for one-night stands and the like.

Somewhere around the age of 20 I began to shed certain ideals of my youth.  Sexual interaction is a necessary and healthy part of most relationships and I had ignored some of that in favor of trying to focus upon how to be emotionally supportive.  As the naivete left I began to inquire more and more about sexuality and the like.  At that time I had many close female friends who trusted me enough to speak about it openly.  They knew I wasn't trying to get into their pants.  As I lacked sexual experience the prospect actually frightened me.

Over the next few years I continued to shift and develop my philosophies on dating, love, and relationships in hope of finding a state of being that was "strong enough" to compensate for my perceived (and actual) shortcomings.  During those same times I developed a bit of an obsession about the female orgasm.  By then I was well-versed with the anatomy, ideas, and principles of the female genitalia, even if I hadn't experienced them truly first hand.

What evolved in my mind was an intense desire to deliver pleasure. It extended beyond the directly sexual realm and into other parts of intimacy such as massages, contact, and even reaching it on an emotional level.  The desire to instill a positive pleasure response in a woman became the strongest form of arousal.  It surpassed my M fantasies and took on a life of it's own. 

I believe it is at this point that the "giver" role of my submission was born.  The desire to pamper, pleasure, and dote upon the one I love... turns me on way more than the thought of sexual intercourse.  Also, when I immerse into subspace from this mental framework, my desire to have an orgasm vanishes.  I am happy with who I am in that mindset... happy with what I can do for her... my heart fills with love and adoration.  I know that if I reach a certain point of sexual arousal (that requires physical contact with my genitals) that my idealized mindset will collapse and I will begin to blindly crave an orgasm.  If that moment passes without an orgasm, I feel guilty and ashamed of falling into that trap.  If it ends with an orgasm I lose the ability to channel that mindset for at least the next 12 hours.

It's an uphill battle that suppresses my desire for sex even more... while it also ramps up my desire to massage, kiss, lick, and fondle the pleasure centers of her body. Strange how any attention to my penis results in some kind of Jekyll/Hyde transformation. 

Are there any others out there that have noticed this from subs?

I do enjoy sex, I just don't crave it.  I try to view it in the same "scientific" way that I approach other forms of orgasm delivery for a woman.  Something that is strange to me is that during sex (if you are facing each other) if a male focuses on getting the most pleasurable contact on his penis and attempting to cum actually moves the penis away from the G-spot.  Similarly, if a man is attempting to hold back from cumming, this points the penis at the G-spot.  I know it's probably not the most romantic thing to envision the G-spot like a bullseye and attempt to hit it over and over again, but it can be rather effective. 

Just some random thoughts.

Scrapping this one

I wrote this post while exhausted yesterday and in hindsight, I'm not really happy with it.  I felt like I should write something because I had the time but struggled to gather my thoughts on it. 

My apologies.

fs01 Table of Contents

If anyone is a newer reader or hasn't been back in a while, the Table of Contents for fs01 can be found here https://furcissy.blogspot.com/p/fesh-fiction.html

Fiction: fs01 - Part 56

Author’s note: This takes place roughly a half an hour after Part 55.

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LVI

A caress on my cheek jostles me awake. The smooth cool leather and scent of Mistress’s perfume bring me back to consciousness. She rubs the fur of her sleeve against my face and I press in to meet her.

“Open your mouth.”

I feel a chilled smooth object on top of my tongue. I bite down and taste the sweet juice of the grape. I savor it and quietly slurp it down my throat as I chew. Another grape follows. A few small round pills follow before she presses a cup to my lips. I take a sip of water and wash the pills down. I take a deep breath and then another drink of water.

Mistress frees my ankles before my wrists and finally the belt. I slump to my knees as the circulation returns. I rub my wrists and forearms for a moment.

“Come upstairs, pet, and don’t forget your manners.”

She leads the way up the stairs out of the dungeon. In the living room the party is still lively as the wine continues to flow and second servings of cake are passed around. The warmth of the fireplace gives me an idea of just how cold I had gotten, it’s sudden heat feeling like it burns even from a distance.

I approach the center of the room and lower myself to my knees, keeping my head down. After a few moments I bow forward, low to the floor and speak loud enough to be heard over the casual conversations.

“Thank you everyone for the wonderful party, the presents for Mistress, and the spankings. It made me very happy that everyone could be here.”

After some brief bits of acknowledgment the party continues as it was. As the evening winds down a few pairings begin to retire to their rooms. Theresa and B followed by Sammy and an extremely drunk Lisa. Dominique and Gordon follow. Barb stands up from her seat.

“Cass, you’re going to be with fs tonight. I’ll take a different room.”

“But why, Barbie?” Mistress feigns a sad puppy dog face. An exasperated Barb pumps her arms.

“God damnit. It’s your husband’s birthday and we’ve been sleeping together every night.”

“And the problem is?”

“Am I the only one that thinks this is crazy?”

“slave, go and build a fire in one of the spare rooms. Barbie, you will wait until your room warms up before you leave me, right?”

Mistress pats her lap. Barb clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes. As I leave the room I watch as Barb lays on the sofa across Mistress’s lap. I find the next open room, carry in some firewood and soon have the fireplace at a strong glow.

I return to the living room figuring it will take about 30 minutes for Barb’s room to warm up.

“pet, give Brittany some company.”

Mistress’s eyes don’t leave Barb as she pets barbs hair with one hand and rubs her breast with the other. I kneel down near the sofa where Brittany is sitting. She guides my head and I rest my cheek on her lap.

“So Barb is your girlfriend while gayb… fs is your husband?”

“Correct.”

Barb throws her arms up in the air.

“I can’t believe you never told me you were married!”

After her outburst she slumps back and resumes being caressed by Mistress.

“So how does that work, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’ve been attracted to women since college but I’m also attracted to men. In some ways I feel like I’m better suited for women but there’s a darkness in me… that meshes better with men. I love my pet and couldn’t picture a world without him… but I don’t know… there’s a part of me that craves… a lover that I respect as an equal… a companion… someone with the ability to disagree with me.”

“From what I’ve seen tonight, I think I understand a little bit. You are different with women than with men.”

“Yes. With my pet I want to use him. I want to hurt him. I want to torture and torment him, yet I still want him to be mine. But I also want someone that I can share more with… ambitions… aspirations… where we get excited and face things together. When pet and I first met that may have been a possibility… but I was set on pushing and pushing and pushing… and it didn’t take long for him to change. I changed too… I grew to love it.”

“Why did you choose to marry him?”

“If you knew what we’ve been through… what he went through… because of me… because of choices that I made… and he just looked up at me, so happy to see me… so devoted and loving… I didn’t want to be without him.”

I feel my heart warm at Mistress’s words. Brittany pets the fur of my uniform. My breathing resembles a purr.

“Do you think that you will be able to feel complete with things how they are?”

“Brittany, I crown thee Queen of the Difficult Questions. I don’t know. Barbie has made me feel so alive these past weeks, especially when we get pet involved. When we use him together I get so hot. I guess I’d have to say that if I found the woman that was perfect for me that she would accept things as they are. At least that’s what I’d hope.”

Mistress pauses. Her brow furrows as if she’s contemplating her words.

“This may be the wine talking, but do you swing both ways, Brittany?”

Brittany laughs.

“Nope, just men for me. Although I think tonight is the first time I ever felt weird being for being straight. What does fs think about all this?”

“I already know what he’ll say but you’re welcome to ask him yourself.”

She lowers her head to look at me.

“What do you think of your wife taking on other women as lovers?” I barely have to think about it before responding.

“Miss Brittany, while I wish that I was enough for Mistress, I will support anything that makes her the happiest even if that means she is with someone else. It also turns me on to see her with another woman.”

I blush as the last sentence leaves my mouth. Brittany laughs.

“Would you feel the same way if she was with another man?”

I raise my head from her lap as my face contorts.

“I didn’t think so. It’s not the same is it?”

I shake my head.

“Would you ever take on another man as a lover?”

“Don’t be silly, Brittany. As if I could ever find another man that could surpass my pet.”

I beam a smile. Brittany’s face shows some puzzlement before she smiles and shakes her head.

“Seeing what I’ve seen now… that makes complete and total sense… which seems utterly strange.”

“So what kind of men are you attracted to, Brittany?”

“Honestly… I don’t even know anymore. My ex-husband was an alpha asshole. When I was younger I thought I wanted someone strong. Someone that was the opposite of fs and younger self. Now, things are a lot less clear. My role was just to follow his lead and somewhere in there I lost track of me. I haven’t been happy for a long time. When I think back on it, I really miss having a man that I could just count on to be there and go along with what I wanted.”

“It’s tough to notice that you love it until it’s gone, isn’t it?”

Brittany just nods in response. Barb sits up and breaks the silence.

“Bed time for me. Cass, promise me that you will spend the night with fs.”

“I promise, Barbie. Sleep tight.”

Mistress and Barb kiss each other on the lips. Barb slowly trudges across the living room, yawning as she goes.

“Did you bring your camera with you?”

“Of course. Ever since the divorce, taking pictures is the only thing that really makes me feel like me.”

“Can you do me a favor and bring it to my room in about 5 minutes?”

“Umm… sure… it’s not going to be anything too weird, is it?”

“Weird is relative to normal.”

Brittany laughs again.

“You truly are amazing, Cass.”

Brittany goes to her room and Mistress leads me back to the bedroom.

“Bend over the bed.”

I flop my upper body onto the bed as Mistress locks my ankles to the bedposts. Standing like this always makes my legs ache. She then secures my hands above my head to the far posts of the bed. I feel Mistress’s hands upon my bottom.

“It’s a good thing I never let you sit, pet, because this will be sore for quite a while.”

She steps away and I hear some clattering behind me. I glance up in the mirror above the headboard and see Mistress behind me. She has removed her robe and stands in her “siren” outfit with a matching cat mask over her face and the Reverb Ultra secured in its harness as she begins to lube it up.

“This is normal!?”

Brittany’s uncomfortable laugh carries from the doorway.

“Don’t be a prude, it’s just some innocent little pictures of my pet partaking in his favorite activity.”

Mistress giggles, barely able to complete her sentence without cracking up.

“Whatever you say. Consider my mind blown.”

“pet, tell Brittany just how much you love when I violate your little slut hole. You part your thighs like an eager beaver and just can’t wait to be filled in.”

I clench my eyes shut and let out a whimper. The blink of the flash and beep of the camera soon begins repeating in the background. I’m too afraid to be embarrassed. My tiny voice begins to squeak.

“Please don’t do this, please don’t do this please don’t do this please don’t do this.”

I feel the enormous head separate my cheeks as Mistress dances the tip around my hole. I let out a sob and a whimper as I lay helpless and exposed upon the bed.

The flash blinds me as I see Brittany to my side taking pictures of my face.

“He just made that face you love.”

Mistress stops circling as she centers the tip and begins to press. I let out a cry and begin to sob.

“How many pictures did you get?”

“A lot.”

“Good.”

I feel the pressure subside as Mistress takes a step back.

“That’s it? You’re not going to penetrate him?”

“Did you want to see that?”

“Well… umm… no… I’m just… curious.”

Mistress lets out a giggle as she unlocks my wrists and helps me upright. Brittany’s face is a deep shade of red.

“As tempting as it is right now with his buttocks so swollen making him nice and tight… jumping right to this one would be a bit of a ‘stretch.’ Get it?”

Mistress laughs. Brittany groans.

“Please tell me that wasn’t a butt sex pun.”

Mistress unlocks my ankles and I adjust my legs, easing the strain on the muscles.

“Do you want to sleep with us in the bed tonight, Brittany?”

The red color refreshes itself in her face. Her hands soon cover it as she lets out a long sigh.

“It’s like I went on vacation in crazy-town and I’m the only one that’s sane.”

“Yeah, but we have tons of fun in crazy-town. Suit yourself.”

“Well… you wouldn’t by any chance have a… massager to spare… I’m a little bit…”

Brittany blushes again.

“Check that purple bag.” I hear Brittany open the zipper.

“Did you like… rob a sex shop on your way here?”

“Variety is the spice of life. Also, the shower head in your bathroom is detachable and has a pretty mean pulse setting.”

“I have traveled to another planet.”

“Orgasms are meant to be enjoyed aren’t they? Well, except for my pet. He’s having a little bit of a dry spell.”

I blush in silence.

“I’m really glad I accepted your invitation. I can’t remember the last time I felt this alive.”

“We were very happy to have you, Brittany. I think you made this a very special day for my pet.”

Brittany discreetly hides the toy she borrowed from Mistress’s bag and returns to her room. Mistress closes the door after her.

I ache... worn down by exhaustion… both emotional and physical. Today was a very long day. I jump a little as my hand touches my swollen skin.

“pet, is that tongue of yours ready for a marathon session?”

A mix of excitement and reluctance jolts through me.

“yes, Mistress.”

She raises her leg and wiggles her toes at me with a wink. I move around the bed and kneel down. To my surprise Mistress withdraws her legs and turns over on the bed.

“pet, get up here before I have to whip your ass.”

I circle the bed and climb on, working my body into position up against Mistress. I am the little spoon. She wraps her arms around me and whispers in my ear.

“Happy birthday, pet.”

END ACT

Random thoughts on winter

You'd think with a moniker like fur sissy that I'd be more of a fan of winter... but alas I don't think very highly of the cold and fur isn't part of my day to day repertoire.  Winter here tends to get a bit miserable and dark.

Damn

I forgot how writing seems to unlock a lot of emotions inside if they have been laying dormant.

The crash in the aftermath always leaves me feeling a bit lonely.

Fiction: fs01 - Part 55

Author’s Note: This takes place about a few minutes after Part 54.

I apologize for the long break. I hope that this still feels consistent with where things left off in Part 54 but a 4 month break was a long time.

-----------------------

LV

As they eat cake I kneel and reflect upon the wave of emotions that have entered my heart today. To call Brittany’s appearance a “surprise” would be an understatement. I haven’t thought about her in years with the exception of Mistress talking about her a few nights ago. Her presence has opened my heart and I now see a lot of her influence upon who I am today. The feelings linger in a bittersweet way. I make eye contact with Mistress and my heart fills with love. I feel a knot in my chest relax… like the ties between my pain and the memories loosen and fall away.

I glance around as they converse. Brittany immerses herself seamlessly within the group. Her social skills are very strong and she displays them beautifully while being able to listen and interject with questions when appropriate. Barb is looking quite drunk and she continues to probe for answers to the questions that are obviously bothering her.

“Cass, how long have you been married?”

“A little over a year but we’ve been together for about 6 years now.”

“I thought you said officially he was your maid.”

“That’s true, too, Barbie. We have a 50-year labor contract where he must be on-call for me 24-7, 365 days a year.”

“Did he sign that before or after you were married?”

“Before, but the original contract was for only 15 years.”

I look on as Barb shakes her head. I feel a small pit in my chest as I read her expression.

Gordon and Sammy wheel in carts full of presents. Mistress finishes her cake and receives the first package. Watching her as she inspects the card and careful removes the paper brings a smile to my face.

I continue kneeling in silence, happy that I am no longer the focal point. I squirm a bit inside as she opens the first box. From Dominique, a heavy leather flogger with metal tips.

“I’m sure the little one will scream gloriously when that bites his skin.”

Mistress laughs as she passes it around. I watch Barb slap it against her hand a few times and mouth the words “what the fuck.”

From Theresa and B comes an extra large strap on. The “Reverb Ultra Mk III” to add to her collection. I groan silently.

“B thinks fur needs to ‘loosen up’ a little, so when we saw this it just seemed to perfect.”

“Does it include diapers?”

My face instinctively shifts to red as I watch in horror as they compare it to their forearms. The double entendre would seem cheesy if it wasn’t about my rectum. I slump my shoulders.

Lisa’s gift is a full pedicure kit. She takes another guzzle of wine instead of speaking and blushes red when Mistress asks if she wants to take the first go with it. Barb leans her head on Mistress’s shoulder.

“I really wish you had told me there was going to be this kind of party.”

Mistress turns her head to face Barb’s and plants a passionate kiss on her lips. Barb’s cheeks rush red as she closes her eyes. Brittany rises from her seat and retrieves her present from the cart, holding it tightly against her abdomen. The peculiar look on her face isn’t an expression I am familiar with.

Brittany scrunches her nose and shakes her head a few times before extending the package to Mistress.

“I think I sort of misunderstood what type of a gift I was supposed to bring. I thought I was actually giving something to gayboy so I’m not sure if this is appropriate so please don’t hold it against me.”

“I’m just glad you’re here, Brittany and could be a part of this. I’ve been wanting to meet you in person for a long time now and I’m glad you’ve been able to reconnect with my pet.

Mistress carefully unwraps the package, revealing an old and tattered photo album.

“This is every photo I ever took of him, starting with that day in the bathroom at school all the way until we graduated.”

A deep smile forms over Mistress’s face. Theresa and Lisa move their chairs closer as Mistress flips through the pages and Brittany narrates.

“These were from the day we duct taped him in the stall. This picture we took from the car as we drove by when we made him run home from the mall. Here’s the first time I hogtied him and put him in the closet.”

Even though we shared a “healing moment” earlier the memories still sting as they replay themselves in my head. There are plenty of giggles and fingers being pointed. Dominique chugs wine while Sammy and Gordon dote on her. B sits with her arms folded and her eyes closed.

“Here’s Chloe and Courtney sitting on his back and tormenting him as they held him down. This one I took from my bedroom window while I made him shovel the driveway. He groaned about it so I took away his coat, hat, and gloves. That day was freezing outside. Here’s pictures from him on Christmas when I made him wear those awful mittens and hat. I used to look at these whenever I felt down.”

As they near the end of the album Brittany’s voice shifts a bit. She slows down and the excitement fades from her voice.

“This was the last time I saw gayboy. It was the day after my graduation party. He brought me a bouquet of flowers and I threw them on the ground and stomped on them. When he started to cry I called him a loser and told him that no woman would ever love him. I told him I never wanted to see him again. He just sobbed and walked away. I cried that night but my stubborn pride wouldn’t let me call him.”

Brittany sniffles a little as Mistress closes the album.

“You said that this was supposed to be for my pet, but as a slave, he is not permitted to own any personal possession. If you want to ask him what he would like me to do with this, I will permit it.”

Brittany forces a smile as she wipes her eye with her hand. She receives the photo album back from Mistress and sits down on the floor next to me.

“It’s kind of funny, gayboy. I didn’t keep a single photo album of my family and I didn’t keep any photos that include my ex-husband but I always considered this to be one of my prized possessions and I want you to have it.”

I crack a smile and glance her way before my eyes fixate on the large book that sits before me. A work chronicling years of my pain and suffering… humiliation… a broken heart.

“Is it important to you, Miss Brittany?”

“It’s very important to me.”

“Why do you want to give it away?”

“It just doesn’t feel right… to keep this. When Mom remarried and I started my new life I was so angry and confused. I wanted everyone to think that I was strong. You were the only one that had seen me weak and I hated you so much for that. I wanted to make you weak… to make you hurt more than I did. It was wrong.”

“If you had two of them would you want to keep one?”

“Of course. These are still memories from my life.”

My instinct is that I want to burn the album and never see it again. My heart claws at me… a simple signal that I do not truly wish for that to happen. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

“Mistress, is it okay if we return the album to Miss Brittany?”

“Is that what you want to do, pet?”

“Yes, Mistress, but I accept whatever you decide to do.”

“I’m sure Brittany would be willing to scan a few of the photos and send them to me. I see you every day and could take plenty of photos if I wanted to.”

Brittany’s face quickly changes into a smile as she sniffles a little and rises from the floor.

“Thank you, Cassandra. This has been a very important day for me… it’s not often that you get to have closure on the darker times in life. What pictures do you want me to scan?”

Brittany presents the album back to Mistress and she flips through the pages.

“Do you see that facial expression?”

“The one where it looks like he’s about to burst into tears and die at the same time?”

“Exactly. Can you send me all of the pictures where he looks like that? Those expressions just can’t be faked and they’re so few and far between. I noticed you had at least half a dozen of them captured on film.”

Dominique springs to her feet and resumes her role as unofficial master of ceremonies.

“If I see one more hallmark moment I am going to vomit. Sammy, Gordon! Fetch the carts.”

I watch them quickly scurry out of the room.

“Everyone knows the best part of a birthday party is the spanking and I’ve waited long enough.”

I swallow hard and barely notice Sammy and Gordon return with a rolling garment cart and a long flat silver serving cart. Dominique strides across the room and takes a coat off of the rack and Sammy helps her into the sleeves. She retrieves a matching Russian style hat from the cart.

“Bundle up, everyone. I keep the dungeon at about 40 degrees.”

“Why do you keep it so cold?” inquires Lisa.

A wicked grin spreads across Dominique’s face.

“Because when the skin gets cold it stings at least twice as much.”

I remain kneeling as the others walk past me and choose coats for themselves. In their inebriated states I can sense they’re having fun. Their voices are lively and without inhibition.

“B you look adorable!”

“I wish I had a coat like this.”

“Is there really a dungeon?”

After a few moments Mistress taps my head and I turn and look up at her. She smiles down at me, wrapped in a full length fur and a matching headband. She motions with her head and I slowly rise and lead the parade through the doorway and down the stairs into the dungeon.

I feel the chill creep up my uniform and tingle the exposed skin as the cool air enters my lungs. In the center of the room sits an X-frame under a series of lights. Sammy and Gordon appear on either side of me and lead me by the wrists. Each wrist is locked above my head. My ankles are locked to the lower posts. A thick leather belt binds my waist to the frame.

“You two may be excused.”

Behind me I hear the familiar clatter of various devices being handled.

“So are we hitting him like 30some times each? Or total?”

“Total please. I’d like him to be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Such a sourpuss, Cass, robbing me of my fun.”

“So with seven of us, are we rounding up or down?”

“Rounding up, I won’t have it any other way. I can make do with six strikes but I’ll throw a fit if you limit me to five.”

I hear Mistress laugh in response.

I crane my neck trying to peer over my shoulder but the lights from above blind my eyes and exaggerate the shadows. I try to adjust myself in front of the frame but locking my wrists and ankles directly and the addition of the belt leaves me with extremely limited movement.

“I still have to hand it to you on these uniforms, Cass. Leaving the ass exposed is such a luxury that I can’t imagine going back to the olden days.”

“I guess I’ll go first.” Barb’s voice reaches me as I hear her steps click against the stone floor.

I feel my pulse rise in anticipation.

Smack. The crop reaches the bare skin of my behind. I exhale on impact but compared to what I’m accustomed to it’s a mosquito bite. Dominique intercedes before another blow can follow.

“Barb, I don’t remember giving anyone permission to bring any weak-ass nonsense into my dungeon. You have to step into it.”

I hear a foot pound against the floor.

“Then lead with the handle and snap the wrist. Like this.”

WHAM! I’m unprepared from the blow and the impact of heavy flogger and bite of the tips immediately sends my breath from my body with a primal shriek. I fall limp, held up only by the restraints as tears fill my eyes.

“That one doesn’t count as one of mine!”

I gasp for air and slowly catch my breath. I hear another set of steps approach from behind. My rear throbs and I can feel the pulse of my heartbeat all throughout my body.

“Just be glad I’m too drunk to care, Dom, but the last woman to call me weak-ass ended up missing half of her hair.”

I can hear the sound of Barb’s breathing. I hear her tongue click in her mouth.

“I’ve never done anything like this before, I don’t know if I can do it. The way he keeps looking over his shoulder with those eyes.”

Dominique exhales loudly. I hear the rapid patter of steps. A metal talon pokes my cheek.

“Open wide.”

My open mouth is immediately filled with a plastic wiffle ball. Before I can protest a velvet bag goes over my head and is cinched snug at the neck. I let out a small moan.

Smack! The next stroke lands. Harder than the first but manageable.

“Step in and snap it. Snap it.”

Smack! I let out a grunt as the tip bites my throbbing skin. The fifth blow makes me wail. The sixth has me bucking against the restraints. Each round increases the sting more and more. I can feel the throbbing and swelling gradually build. Some of the blows make me cry out, while others do not. Dominique continues to call out instructions as they cycle through the various people and devices. The cumulative blows take their toll but since none of them are particularly hard hitters I manage to keep my bearings.

In my head I’ve counted 30, leaving only Mistress and Dominique. My breath shudders as I feel the warmth leave my body.

“You or me, Cass?”

The response is non-verbal and panic fills my brain. My knees twitch and I tug gently against the restraints above my head.

I feel the bag loosen around my neck. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the light. The smell of perfume solves the mystery as the metal talon digs into my cheek. I spit out the wiffle ball and hear it rattle across the floor.

Her voice whispers to me.

“Don’t disappoint me, little one. I bet you’d rather be making out with Brittany right now, huh?”

I blush a little but close my eyes without answering. It’s hard to remain calm in the moments before impending doom.

WHAM WHAM! The flogger lands hard twice in a row. My body shakes and convulses as I howl in pain. I feel the muscles in my bottom quivering as my legs give out. I can’t tell if I’m bleeding. WHAM WHAM! I shriek and sob with my weight collapsing upon me. The belt holds me in my place. The hard thud and the bite of the heavy tipped tails scourges my skin.

“Please….” I try to speak from between my whimpers and moans.

“Those almost sound like words. You know what I want to hear, little one.”

WHAM WHAM! I shriek and scream, thrashing about. My head tips back as the tears stream freely down my face. My eyes open to find Dominique’s face uncomfortably close to my own. She flares her nostrils as she inhales and exhales a deep breath. I try to lean my head away but she stops it with her hand. I feel her tongue against my cheek as she licks a wide band up my face. Her hand forces my head away as her cackling laughter fades away with the clicking of her boots.

My chest heaves as my body feels lifeless. If I know Mistress she will give me some time to recover. I have to wonder if she will go easy on me.

“Don’t you dare go easy on him, Cass!”

“As if I’d go easy on him when I have to follow that. Really, Dom, I have my pride.”

Dominique’s laughter continues.

I turn to find Mistress standing next to me.

“I love my pet.”

She follows that up with a kiss on the cheek before she vanishes from my peripherals.

SMACK! The impact of the strap puts my brain into a spiral as I gasp and writhe. Mistress strikes repeatedly until my cries no longer separate and melt into a prolonged vocalization. The blows cease but the throbbing and pain continue to arch through my body as I slump back and whimper quietly.

The light across my eyes as the tears form a kaleidoscope of the room. I hear the tap of footsteps and voices trail off behind me. The lights go out and I’m alone with the sounds of my sniffles, the light rattling of metal on metal, and the throb of my blistered and bruised rear end.

END ACT

Views on Forced Feminization

Another thing that startled me a bit from this past year was a newer movement among younger Dommes being outraged that forced feminization was used as a means of humiliation.  The common cry was that this is a sexist act. 

On some level it's easy to connect some basic dots as to how they reached that conclusion:
If a man dresses like a woman they should be humiliated = being a woman is humiliating = sexist.

Unfortunately those who take this view tend not to delve beyond that reasoning, nor are they really up for discussion, understanding, etc. on the subject.  If I were to speak with someone and they were to make a valid case for this stance I would definitely give it thought, merit, and consideration. 

On the flipside, I would love it if people could attempt to understand things beyond surface level and think about it before jumping to a conclusion.  Such is the way of the world. 

I don't really feel the need to justify how things work, but I do not mind explaining my views on how this works in order to possibly educate someone upon what goes on from a dynamics standpoint that makes it more complicated than the view outlined above.  For the ease of intents and purposes I will assume that "forced" means that there is a significant consequence at risk for disobeying, be it loss of trust, punishment, or the like. 

Case 1:  feminization vs. feminine.

In the majority of cases where forced feminization is implemented in a D/s relationship, the sissified sub is not taken over to his Domme's closet where she picks out a stylish and fashionable ensemble that accents the sub's physique in a positive manner. 

It is usually something more like this:

It might even have locks.  Do any of you know a single woman that dresses like this on a daily basis?  Negating Halloween, cosplay activities, and the like, have you ever met a woman that honestly dresses in anything even remotely similar to this?  I would guess for most of you, the answer would be "no."  If your answer is "yes," I would follow that up with "was it more than 1 person?"

I've written this before, but I believe forced feminization is a caricature of femininity.  For those who are unfamiliar with the term, a caricature is:  a picture, description, or imitation of a person or thing in which certain striking characteristics are exaggerated in order to create a comic or grotesque effect.

A dress is considered feminine.  Lace is considered feminine.  Bows are considered feminine.  Pink is considered feminine.  Put them all together and this way and this is like nothing a woman would choose to wear. 

If it is not "like a woman," then it is not insulting to women.  Thus, I do not think this dress is designed to be anything sexist... it's meant to make a male sub cry when he has to wear it.  I don't think his tears come from being dressed like a woman... they come from being dressed in something a woman wouldn't wear.

If anything, I will agree that sissy maid outfits are in general unrealistic stereotypes of maids.  If you have seen an actual maid in the past say... 40 years, you'll know they wear something like this:

If a union of professional maids wishes to display their outrage at the portrayal of their role in forced feminization, I will have to say that they are in the right.


Case 2: The dynamics of "forced."

Voluntary feminization isn't really a D/s activity... it's known as cross-dressing.  If you think about the dynamics of "forced," they imply something much deeper going on.  It is really the ultimate symbol of power exchange:  the ability for one person to exert their will over another. 

Humiliation is a self-created emotion.  It is rooted in self-conscious feelings as we feel our ego being crushed.  Much of this is rooted in status.  A lot of it is rooted in our fear of the feelings of people who might observe us from the outside looking in.  These factors can work together to create greater amounts of humiliation.

The status segment is based upon the idea that when we are forced to do something we would not choose to do by our own free will, we are reminded that we are lesser and they are greater.

If someone dislikes wearing an anal plug, forcing them to wear one is likely a humiliating experience because it serves as a ready reminder of the power dynamics and their submissive position.

Since an anal plug can be hidden from the world, the humiliation could be intensified by removing that luxury.  An animal tail, a string of bells, etc. would announce to the world "hey, he's got something up his ass." 

In a similar context, if a sub does not wish to cross-dress, forced feminization represents power/status and brings about that type of humiliation.  Panties are often used in this regard.  Since panties can be hidden from the world... adding visible and obvious signs of feminization will increase the public nature of the humiliation.  Taking into consideration case 1, the more flamboyant and horrific the outfit, the greater the humiliation.

In this way, I do not see a sub's humiliation coming from thinking being like a woman is humiliating, it is from their lack of choice in the matter and fear of other people seeing them in such a state.

Case 3: It's a double-standard.

Let's say a Domme has a femsub and she orders the femsub to only dress in male clothing.  I'm not talking about a "women's version" of masculine clothing, but actual men's off the rack clothing.  She's 5'5" 135 lbs now attempting to wear clothing cut for men.  In at least 95% of cases, men's and women's body types differ so greatly that the clothes will likely fit like shit.  The difference in waistline, hips, leg length, arm length, bust, neck size, etc.  Also take into consideration that most men's clothing does not stretch. 

The end result is that the woman will most likely hate it and she may feel humiliated dressed in such a way.  It's not because she feels it's humiliating to be like a man, but because she is uncomfortable, everything fits like crap, and she doesn't feel attractive in clothes that are not flattering to her figure.  Add in the fact that she doesn't want to do it and we have status humiliation from Case 2.

If this is the case, why does cramming a man into women's clothing become sexist? 
It's uncomfortable, fits like crap, looks terrible, and isn't something he would do by choice.  It seems like the same factors would come into play.

--------------------------

My parting thoughts on this.  I love women.  I think they are the most beautiful things on this planet in any shape and form they may be in.  I could never be like a woman.  I also could never look anything except awful in any form of feminine clothing.  It humiliates me when I am forced to dress, but it has nothing to do with "being like a woman." 

If I am missing something here... please enlighten me.