b100rxx

[spankings4u]

method for discussing a problem (part 2)

Problems always exist in a marriage, but solving them effectively is th ekey to a happy marriage.

actually , by the time his wife says this, she has already decided to spank him, just the intensity of the spanking now rests with his answer.

If he says no, I apologize, then her answer is, okay then for your spanking I will only use my hand.

if he answers anything else, he is lucky if he only is spanked with the hairbrush

but if you look at this picture, he must have answered VERY BADLY., and he will be VERY VERY SORRY

[how-to-bdsm-and-why]

The Bath Brush Lesson

As I secured your wrists to the bedposts, I could see the nervous anticipation in your eyes. You knew what was coming, but not exactly how it would unfold.

"I'm going to spank you now," I said, my voice low and steady as I picked up the small wooden bath brush from the nightstand. "And I want you to understand exactly what's going to happen to your body and mind."

I ran my fingers through your hair as you lay face down on the bed, your bottom already tensing in anticipation.

"This won't be like our usual sessions," I explained. "There will be no warm-up. No gentle strokes to ease you into it. I'm going to spank you fast and hard from the very beginning, without stopping."

I positioned myself beside you, the brush resting against your bare skin. "Your body has remarkable coping mechanisms. When pain builds gradually, your mind adapts. Your endorphins kick in, you find ways to process it, to maintain composure. But when the pain comes suddenly and relentlessly, it overwhelms those defenses."

The first strike came without warning—a sharp, stinging impact that made you gasp. Before you could fully process that sensation, another landed, then another, then another. A rapid-fire rhythm of sharp smacks against your bottom.

"Notice how your body reacts," I said, my voice remaining calm even as my arm moved with practiced precision. "At first, you're trying to maintain control. Your breathing is regulated, your muscles tense but controlled. But with each strike, your nervous system is flooded with signals it can't properly categorize."

The spanking continued, fast and unrelenting. The small bath brush delivered concentrated stings that quickly built into an overwhelming fire across your bottom.

"Your mind is trying to make sense of this," I continued. "It's attempting to categorize the pain, to find patterns, to anticipate when the next strike will land. But I'm not giving it time. I'm not letting it adapt. Each impact comes before you've fully processed the previous one."

I could hear your breathing becoming more ragged now. Small sounds of distress were escaping your lips between strikes.

"This is where the breakdown begins," I said. "Your cognitive functions are being overwhelmed. The prefrontal cortex—your rational mind—is being hijacked by the primitive parts of your brain that can only process immediate sensation. You're losing your ability to maintain composure because your body is too busy simply reacting."

The spanking continued, each strike landing with precision on the tender areas where the skin was already reddening and becoming increasingly sensitive.

"Tears will come soon," I predicted. "Not just because of the pain, but because your body is releasing stress hormones that have nowhere to go. Your system is in overload, and crying is a physiological release—a reset button for your overwhelmed nervous system."

As if on cue, I heard the first sob. Then another. Your body began to tremble slightly beneath my hand.

"That's it," I said softly, though the spanking didn't let up. "Let the tears come. They're a sign that your defenses are breaking down—that you're moving from trying to endure the pain to simply experiencing it. This is the moment of true submission."

The bath brush continued its dance across your now crimson bottom. Each impact eliciting a fresh wave of sensation that your body could no longer process with any semblance of control.

"When you're in this state," I explained, "your mind stops fighting. The ego that tries to maintain control, the part of you that resists, that analyzes, that anticipates—it all begins to quiet down. What's left is pure sensation, pure experience, pure submission."

Your sobs were coming freely now, your body fully surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. The struggle was over.

"This is why I spank you this way," I said, my voice gentle now. "Not just for the physical sensation, but for the mental release. To take you beyond your ability to cope, beyond your control, to a place where you can simply be—where you can submit not as a choice, but as a natural response to overwhelming sensation."

I finally stopped, setting the brush aside. Your bottom was a deep, uniform red, radiating heat that I could feel from inches away. You were still crying softly, your body trembling with aftershocks.

"Shhh," I murmured, running my hand gently over your heated skin. "You did beautifully. You let go completely. That's what I wanted—for you to experience the freedom that comes from surrendering control."

I released your wrists from the restraints, pulling you into my arms as you continued to cry softly against my chest. Your body was pliant, completely surrendered in the aftermath of the intense experience.

"This submission," I said, stroking your hair, "is different from the kind you choose consciously. This is physiological submission—your body and mind responding naturally to overwhelming sensation. It's purer, more honest, because it bypasses your conscious mind entirely."

As your tears subsided, leaving you spent but peaceful in my arms, I knew you had reached that place of complete surrender—the very place I had intended to take you from the moment I picked up that small, unforgiving bath brush.

[theresponsivemale]

The Measurement

The restaurant is the one with the candles in wine bottles. The one she loves. The one where the lighting is low enough that you can't quite read her expression but bright enough that she can read yours.

She's been smiling differently tonight. Not wider. Not narrower. Differently. Like she's holding something behind her teeth that she's enjoying the weight of.

"My friend Alison gave me something to read," she says, and her fork traces a lazy circle through the last of her risotto. "A book. Well — not a book exactly. More like a text."

She takes a sip of wine. You watch her throat move.

"It's called New Eden."

Something in the way she says it — casually, like she's mentioning a restaurant review or a podcast — makes your skin prickle.

"Have you heard of it?"

"No," you say. Too fast. "No, I haven't."

She tilts her head. That tilt. The one that means she's not believing you but she's not going to say so yet. She's going to let you hang yourself a little higher before she pulls the rope.

"It's about men," she says. "Specifically, it's about beta males."

Your fork stops. Your hand just — stops. Like the signal from your brain got cut off somewhere along the way.

"Beta males," she repeats, and now she's watching you the way she watches you when she already knows the answer. "You know what a beta male is, don't you, sweetie?"

"I — yeah, I mean — I've heard the term, but it's not — it's not really—"

"Not really what?"

"It's not really a — a real thing. It's just internet stuff. It's just—"

"Sweetie, it's okay." She reaches across the table. Her fingers find your wrist. Warm. Certain. "I'm not asking you to defend yourself. I'm just asking if you've heard of it."

"I've heard of it."

"Good." A small squeeze. "The book is fascinating. Dr. Hailey — she's the author — she writes about how most men aren't what women need. Dimensionally."

Dimensionally. The word sits on the table between you like something she's placed there deliberately. Something she wants you to pick up and examine.

"She means size," you say. You don't know why you say it. You don't want to say it. But your mouth opens and there it is.

"She means adequacy." Her thumb traces a circle on your wrist. "Which is related to size, yes. But it's not the same thing."

You don't say anything. You can't. Your throat has closed around something you can't name.

"Have you ever wondered?" she says. "About yourself?"

"Wondered what."

"You know what."

Her voice is soft. Not pressing. Not pushing. Just — present. Like a hand on a door that's already open.

"I — no. I mean — I'm fine. I'm normal. I'm—"

"Normal." She picks the word up. Turns it over. "That's an interesting word. What does normal mean to you?"

"It means — it means average. It means like most guys. It means—"

"It means you've measured?"

"No."

Too fast again. She doesn't flinch. She just waits.

"I mean — not recently. Not — I don't—"

"Sweetie." Her voice drops half a register. The register that makes your chest feel like it's filling with warm water. "Alison told me something. She said every woman should carry a ruler in her purse."

Your face is hot. You can feel the blood in your cheeks. You can feel it other places too — places you don't want to think about right now, places that have no business responding to this conversation.

"Have you ever measured yourself? Be honest."

"I — once. A long time ago. I don't—"

"And?"

"And what?"

"What did you find?"

"I don't remember. I was — I don't—"

"You don't remember." She says it gently. Like a doctor repeating a symptom back to a patient.

"That's convenient, isn't it? A man measures his penis once, forgets the number, and spends the rest of his life insisting he's normal. Average."

"I didn't say—"

"You didn't have to."

She finishes her wine. Sets the glass down. Looks at you with those eyes that have always seen more than you wanted them to.

"Alison told me there's a special ruler. One designed for this. For measuring men like you."

"Men like me."

"Men who need to know." She says it without cruelty. Without edge. Just — fact.

"It has color bands. Red, orange, yellow, green. Each band corresponds to a category. Dr. Hailey designed it. She's a clinician. She uses it at her clinic."

You're hard. You're sitting in a restaurant with a full erection and your girlfriend is talking about a ruler and you're hard. You can feel the pressure against your underwear. You can feel the heat.

She doesn't look down — she doesn't need to. She reads it in your posture, your breathing, the way your hand has gone still on the table.

"I was thinking of ordering one," she says. "Would you like that?"

"I don't—"

"Would you like me to measure your little guy? So we both know the truth?"

Your little guy. She's never called it that before. The word slides into you like a needle. Small. Precise. Finding a nerve you didn't know you had.

"Think about it," she says. "No pressure. Just think about it."

She pays the check. You walk home. She holds your hand. She doesn't bring it up again that night.

You don't sleep.

Two days later. Sunday. The sofa. Her legs across your lap. A documentary about ocean life playing on the television. Neither of you are watching it.

"I've been reading more of New Eden," she says.

Your stomach tightens.

"Dr. Hailey says something interesting. She says most men are smaller than what women actually want. Not by a lot. By an inch or so. But she says that inch — that small distance — it matters."

"Matters how?"

"Neurologically." She says it like she's explaining something simple. Something you should already understand.

"A woman's body has — there are different pathways. Different responses. A penis that's long enough activates pathways that a shorter penis can't reach. It's not about preference. It's about input."

You don't say anything. Your mouth is dry.

"She also says the mark of a beta male is that his little guy gets aroused when it's discussed. When it's measured. When a woman pays attention to it."

Her hand slides to your thigh. Rests there. Not moving.

"Like yours is right now."

You look down. The tent in your sweatpants is unmistakable. You hadn't even noticed. Or you had noticed and you'd been pretending not to notice. Or you'd noticed and some part of you had wanted her to notice.

"I'm not—"

"You are." Not an accusation. A reading. "Your little guy is telling me something, sweetie. He's telling me he likes this conversation."

"He's not — that's just — it's not about—"

"What's it about then?"

You don't have an answer. You don't have anything. You're sitting on the sofa with an erection and a girlfriend who's reading you like a clinical chart and you don't have a single word that isn't a lie.

"The ruler arrived," she says.

Your heart stops.

"It's in my purse. Would you be a dear and go get it?"

You stare at her. She smiles. That smile. The one that means the door is open and you're going to walk through it and you're both going to pretend you had a choice.

"Go on, sweetie. It's right on the hook by the door."

You stand. Your legs carry you. Your body is doing things without your permission. Walking to the hallway. Finding her purse. The weight of it in your hand. Reaching inside.

The ruler is cool in your fingers. Stainless steel. Heavier than you expected. The edges are polished, mirror-bright. The center panel is brushed matte. There are etched markings along the top — clean, precise, numbered zero through ten in half-inch increments.

And the color bands. Running the length of it beneath the numbers. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Each one enameled into the metal with subtle gradients where they meet. Small text beneath each zone. Micro. Beta. Average. Alpha.

Near the base, engraved in small letters: Westwood Wellness Clinic.

You carry it back to her. She takes it. Holds it up. Turns it in the light.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She runs her finger along the color bands. "Dr. Hailey designed this. She's been measuring men's penises for years. Thousands of them. And this —" she taps the orange band — "this is where most of them land."

"Most of them."

"Ninety-six percent, sweetie. Ninety-six percent of men fall below what women actually need."

The number hits you like cold water. And then the cold water turns warm. And then the warm turns to something else — something that throbs.

"Take your pants off."

Not a request. Not a question. A statement. The way she'd say pass me the salt or close the window. Simple. Certain.

"Here?"

"Here."

You stand. Your hands find the waistband of your sweatpants. You hesitate. One breath. Two.

"Shh, sweetie. It's okay. I've seen it before. I just haven't measured it before."

The sweatpants drop. Your erection springs free. Small. Hard. Leaking. You can see it and she can see it and the ruler can see it and all three of you know the same thing.

She pats the cushion next to her. You sit.

She holds the ruler out to you. "You measure. I want you to see it for yourself."

Your hand is shaking when you take it. The steel is warm from her grip. You line it up. Press the base against your pubic bone. The tip of your penis reaches—

Orange. You're in the orange.

"No, sweetie. That's the top measurement. The customary one. Dr. Hailey says there's another measurement. The functional length. The underside — from the tip to where you begin. The insertable length. The part that fits inside my pussy. For a woman, that's the measurement that matters."

You flip the ruler. Press it against the underside. The tip reaches—

Now you are in the red. The tip of your penis barely reaches the end of the first mark.

"Oh, sweetie."

Not pity. Not cruelty. Something between interest and tenderness. The way a woman might look at a kitten that's fallen asleep in a shoebox.

"You're in the red zone. You know what that means?"

"Micro."

The word comes out of you like a cough. Like something your body expels.

"Micro. That's Dr. Hailey's category. It means your little guy isn't designed for penetration, sweetie. It's not designed to fill a woman. It's designed for — well. Look at him."

She reaches over. Her finger traces the length of your penis. Light. Barely there.

"He's cute, isn't he? So stiff. So eager. So desperate to be noticed."

She's talking to it now. Not to you. To your penis. Like it's a separate thing. A small, living creature that lives between your legs. "He's not a bad little guy. He's just not built for pussy. That's not his purpose."

"Not his purpose—"

"No, sweetie. He's ornamentation. Like — you know those little hood ornaments on old cars? The little chrome figure on the front? He's like that. He's cute. He announces who you are. But he's not the engine."

Her finger traces down. Touches your balls. You whimper. The sound comes out before you can stop it — "Hnnngh—" — and she smiles.

"He's telling me something. He's telling me he likes being seen. Being measured. Being known."

She's right. He is. You can feel it. Your cock is throbbing in the red zone of a ruler designed to measure inadequacy and you have never been harder in your life.

"Touch him for me, sweetie. Show me what he does when he's being honest."

Your hand wraps around yourself. Small. Your fingers overlap. You stroke. Slow. The ruler lying on your thigh, red zone glowing against your skin.

"Say it."

"Say — say what?"

"Say what he is. What you are."

"I'm—"

"Go on. It's okay. I already know. I've always known. You just need to say it."

"I'm — my penis is — it's small."

"Smaller."

"It's small. It's — micro. It's in the red zone. It's—"

"It's inadequate, sweetie. Say it."

"It's inadequate."

"Good boy." The words hit you like a wave. Your hand moves faster. "Now say what it's for."

"It's — it's not for—"

"It's not for fucking. Say it."

"It's not for fucking."

"It's not for pussy. It's ornamentation. It's cute. It announces who you are. But it's not going inside me. Is it?"

"No."

"Say it. Say what you should be."

"I should be — pussy-free."

"You should be pussy-free. For me."

"I should be pussy-free for you."

"Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"Ask me to make you pussy-free. Ask me to take that burden off your little guy. Ask me to give him permission to be what he is instead of what he's pretending to be."

Your hand is moving fast now. Your hips are bucking. The ruler is sliding on your thigh. The red zone. The micro zone. Your zone.

"Please — please make me pussy-free."

"For you. Say the whole thing."

"Please make me pussy-free for you."

"Good boy."

You cum. Hard. Your whole body seizing. "Ahh— ahhh— ffffuck—" — spurting across your thigh, across the ruler, across the red zone that just claimed you.

Your cock pulses and pulses and pulses and she watches with that warm, certain, clinical interest. Like a doctor observing a symptom confirm a diagnosis.

"Good boy. Good boy. That's it. Let it all out."

She waits. Patient. Her hand on your shoulder. Warm. Steady. You gasp. You shake. You empty.

When you're done, she takes the ruler from your thigh. Holds it up. Your cum glistening on the red zone.

"Look at that," she says. Soft. Amazed. Like she's seeing something beautiful. "He came on his own zone. He knows where he belongs."

She sets the ruler down. Reaches for the tissues on the side table. Begins cleaning you up. Maternal. Thorough. The way she always does.

"Shh, sweetie. Shh. You did so well. You did exactly what you needed to do."

Your chest is heaving. Your eyes are stinging. You don't know if you want to cry or sleep or apologize or thank her.

"There's one more thing," she says. Gentle. Like an afterthought. Like she's remembering something she meant to mention.

"What?"

"Dr. Hailey keeps a database. At the clinic. Every measurement. Every category. Every little guy who's been measured and found."

Your stomach drops.

"I'm going to record you and yours in the system. Your length. Your functional length. Your zone. Red. Micro."

"You're—"

"So everyone knows. So it's official. So your little guy is registered. Documented. Known."

She finishes cleaning you. Settles back against the cushions. Pulls you close. Your head on her chest. Her hand in your hair.

"You're in the system now, sweetie. Dr. Hailey has you. And so do I."

You close your eyes. Her heartbeat in your ear. The ruler on the table. The red zone. Your zone.

Your little guy is softening against your thigh. Small. Ornamental. Known.

This is a standalone story in the Haileyverse — about a man, a girlfriend's borrowed book, a color-banded ruler, and the measurement that made his inadequacy his arousal.

Thank you for reading. If you'd like to read more of my writing, please consider subscribing to my Substack: Responsive Male. It's free to join and you'll be notified when I release new content.

[suddenlyhumble]

N.S.F.W. “Yes! Of course you make him swallow it ! It helps emasculate him and the patriarchy and support the Matriarchy. Giving leadership to Women is the best way forward. When we reduce men’s rights we give more opportunity to Women to achieve more. Every beta male you know will support this with you. They’re followers. Not leaders.”

[theresponsivemale]

The Mentalist: Part VI — The Pussy-Service

Meredith is sitting on Bobby's bunk — the one that still smells like him, like his cologne, like the sex he's been having on it every night while you lie on your back on the other bunk with the taste of his cum in your mouth.

Beside her is her friend Rachel. Shorter. Darker hair — brown, not blonde — pulled into a messy bun. She's still in her service uniform, the white polo unbuttoned one button too many, the khaki shorts riding high on her thighs. She's pretty in a way that feels approachable — not intimidating, not distant, just — warm.

Meredith is sitting cross-legged, her shoes kicked off, her ponytail loose. She's holding a bottle of wine — something she liberated from the bar — and she's already halfway through it.

You're sitting on your bunk. Your bunk. The one that doesn't smell like sex, because you haven't had any. The one that smells like clean sheets and the faint, lingering trace of the silk panties Laurie made you wear, which are folded in your drawer like a secret.

Your little guy is resting. Soft. Quiet. He's been quiet all day — through both shows, through the costume changes, through the moments backstage when Laurie whispered in your ear and he twitched but never rose, because she didn't tell him to.

He's being good.

"So," Rachel says, and her voice is bright, curious, slightly slurred from the wine. "Bobby. The guy from deck. You're telling me he just — fucked you. Right there. In the bunk next to your boyfriend."

Meredith giggles. It's not cruel — it's the giggle of a girl sharing a secret with a friend. "Not next to him. On his bunk."

"And your boyfriend just — what — watched?"

"He cleaned up after."

Rachel stares. "He — what?"

"He cleaned up." Meredith takes a sip of wine. Her eyes find yours across the small cabin, and there's something in them — warmth, affection, ownership. The same look Laurie gives you when you've done something right.

"After Bobby finished inside me, my boyfriend here licked me clean. Every drop. And then he made me cum with his tongue while Bobby fell asleep."

Your face burns. Your hands are in your lap, covering the place where your little guy rests — soft, dormant, faithful to the woman who isn't even here tonight.

Rachel looks at you. Then at Meredith. Then at you again.

"Doesn't he mind?" she asks. "I mean — you're dating, right? He's your boyfriend. And you're letting some other guy fuck you in front of him?"

"He doesn't mind," Meredith says. She's not defensive. She's not apologetic. She's just — certain. The way Laurie is certain. "Do you, sweetheart?"

You shake your head. You don't mind. You should mind. You should feel jealous, humiliated, enraged. But you feel none of those things. What you feel is the same thing you've felt since the night Laurie whispered in your ear and your cock rose like a puppet on a string — that hollow, warm, certain acceptance.

This is how it's supposed to be.

"He's not really designed for sex," Meredith says to Rachel. "He's — you know. Pussy-free."

Pussy-free.

The phrase hits you somewhere between your stomach and your chest. You've heard it before — in the whispers of the crew members who've heard about the mentalist's assistant, in the way Maria looked at you backstage with that tilt of her head and that small, knowing smile.

But hearing Meredith say it — out loud, to a stranger, like it's a fact about you the way your height or your eye color is a fact — that's different.

"Pussy-free?" Rachel's eyebrows rise. "Like — he's never —"

"He's a virgin," Meredith says. "And he's going to stay one. His little guy isn't built for it."

She looks at you. Her expression softens. Not pity — never pity. Just — understanding.

"His penis is small," she says. "And he's limp. And he only gets hard when Laurie gives him permission. Which she doesn't. Not for fucking."

Rachel is quiet for a moment. Processing. Then she leans forward.

"Does he want to fuck you?"

The question is aimed at Meredith, but it's about you. You can feel it — the weight of it, the way it presses against your chest.

"He does, don't you, sweetheart? It's natural. But he can't. Tell Rachel why."

"Because — because my penis belongs to Laurie."

"Because your penis belongs to Laurie. And because he's not designed for pussy. He's designed for other things."

Rachel is staring at your lap. At your hands covering the place where your little guy rests. "I don't believe it," she says. "No guy just — stays limp. Not if he's into you."

Meredith smiles. That same knowing smile.

"Go ahead," she says. "Try."

Rachel blinks. "What?"

"Try to wake up his penis. He's right there. Go ahead."

Rachel looks at you. "Can I?"

You nod. You don't know why you nod. You just do.

She moves. Slides off Bobby's bunk, crosses the narrow space, sits beside you on your mattress. She's close — you can smell her perfume, something floral and sharp, and underneath it, something else. Something muskier.

Her hand finds your knee. Slides up your thigh. Her fingers find the waistband of your boxers — the plain cotton ones that still feel wrong, still feel like a cage for a creature that belongs in silk — and she slips inside.

Her fingers find your cock. Soft. Limp. Warm but dormant. She squeezes. Strokes. Her thumb runs across the head.

Nothing.

She strokes again. Longer. Firmer. Her fingers wrap around the shaft and she pulls — gently, then less gently — and your little guy lies there like a sleeping animal that can't be woken.

"Holy shit," Rachel breathes. "He's really — he's not responding at all."

"He's under new management," Meredith says from the other bunk. She's watching with that same warm, patient expression. "Laurie has the key. And Laurie's not here."

Rachel keeps stroking. Her hand is warm. Her grip is good. She's trying — really trying — and you can feel the effort, the attention, the way she's working him like a problem to be solved.

But your little guy doesn't stir. Not a twitch. Not a thickening. Not a single drop of blood rushing to where it's supposed to go.

Rachel sits back. She's quiet for a moment. Then she says something that changes the air in the room.

"God, it must be nice to have your pussy eaten. I haven't been eaten out in days."

Meredith's eyebrows rise. "Days?"

"Mike — the guy I've been seeing on the ship — he just fucks me and falls asleep. He doesn't — he's not into it. He fills me and forgets me." She pauses. "I'm so horny, Meredith. I'm serious. I wish I had someone's mouth on me."

Meredith looks at you. That look again — warm, certain, directive.

"Sweetheart," she says. "Rachel needs some attention."

Your stomach tightens. Your hands are still in your lap, covering your resting cock.

"I —"

"Rachel's been neglected. Her man isn't taking care of her. And you —" Meredith's voice drops into that register that Laurie uses, the one that feels like warm honey being poured into your skull — "you're so good with your mouth."

"I —"

"You cleaned me up last night. You made me cum so hard I almost cried. You know how to do this, sweetheart. You know exactly how to do this."

Rachel is watching. Her cheeks are flushed. Her thighs are pressed together.

"Meredith —"

"What are you afraid of?"

The same question Laurie asked. The same gentle, patient, knowing question.

"Nothing," you whisper. And it's true. You're not afraid. You're just — hollow. Open. Ready to be filled with someone else's purpose.

"Good boy." Meredith stands. She takes Rachel's hand, pulls her up. "Lie down, sweetheart," she says to you. "On your back."

You lie down. The pillow is under your head. The ceiling is above you.

Meredith turns to Rachel. "He's all yours. Sit on his face. He knows what to do."

Rachel hesitates. Just for a moment. Then she unbuttons her shorts, pushes them down, steps out of them. Her panties are white cotton — simple, practical. She slides them off.

Her pussy is right there. Swollen. Pink. A faint glisten of something — wetness, or maybe something else — at the opening.

"Mike came in me earlier tonight," Rachel says. Her voice is quiet. Almost apologetic. "Is that — will that be —"

"That's what he's for," Meredith says. "He's a clean-up boy."

Rachel swings her leg over you. Her knees settle on either side of your head. Her pussy is inches from your mouth — warm, musky, the scent of sex and something saltier underneath.

"Go ahead," Meredith whispers. "Lower yourself. He'll take care of you."

Rachel lowers. Her pussy meets your lips.

The taste hits you first — salt, bitter, thick. Mike's cum. It's warm, viscous, seeping from her as she settles her weight onto your mouth. Your tongue finds the opening and pushes inside.

"Ohhh fuck," Rachel gasps. Her hands find the wall in front of her, steadying herself. "Oh my God — his tongue —"

You lick. You lap. You swallow. The cum slides from her in slow, thick waves — Mike's load, deposited hours ago, still warm inside her, and your tongue works it free, works it out, works it into your mouth and down your throat.

"Mmmmnnn —" Rachel's hips rock forward. Her fingers grip the wall. "He's — oh God — he's so good at that —"

Your tongue finds her clit. Swollen. Sensitive. You close your lips around it and suck — gently, the way Meredith taught you, the way Laurie whispered in your ear — and Rachel's whole body shudders.

"Aaaahhh — right there — right there — don't stop —"

Meredith is sitting on the other bunk, watching. Her hand is between her own legs — slow, lazy circles, her fingers moving beneath the waistband of her shorts. She's enjoying this. Not the sex — the sight of it. The sight of her boyfriend on his back, mouth full of another woman's pussy, cleaning another man's cum, his little guy soft and sleeping in his boxers.

"Good boy," Meredith murmurs. "Good little cleaner."

Rachel's hips grind against your face. Her thighs are trembling. Her breathing is ragged — short, sharp gasps that fill the tiny cabin.

"Nnnngh — I'm gonna — oh fuck — I'm gonna cum —"

You suck harder. Your tongue flicks her clit — fast, rhythmic, relentless. Her whole body tightens above you, and then she breaks.

"Aaaaahhhhhh — oh God — oh God — ohhhhh —"

She grinds against your face. Her pussy pulses against your mouth. Her thighs clamp around your head and you can't breathe, can't move, can do nothing but hold on while the orgasm rips through her.

When it's over, she lifts herself off you. Her legs are shaking. Her face is flushed. She stares down at you — your face wet, your chin glistening, your mouth still slightly open.

"Holy shit," she breathes. "That was — that was the best —"

She looks at Meredith. Her eyes are wide. Bright. Hungry for more — not for herself, but for something else.

"Can I —" She pauses. "Can I invite my friends?"

Meredith smiles. That same warm, maternal, certain smile.

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

They have you lie down again.

Then Rachel takes her panties — the white cotton ones she just took off — slides them up your legs, settles them around your hips. Your little guy rests inside — soft, warm, contained.

"There," Meredith says. "Now they'll feel safe. He's not going to try anything. He's dressed."

She turns off the light. The cabin goes dark. The porthole lets in a sliver of moonlight — enough to see shapes, outlines, the movement of bodies.

The door opens. Closes. Footsteps. Giggles — whispered, stifled, the sound of girls trying to be quiet and failing.

And then the first one is there. You don't see her face — it's too dark. But you feel her. Her knees on either side of your head. The warmth of her thighs. The scent of her — different from Rachel, different from Meredith, something sharper, sweeter.

She lowers herself onto your mouth. You lick. You clean. You make her cum.

She lifts off. Another takes her place. Heavier. Wetter. You lick. You clean. You make her cum.

One after another. The door opens and closes. The floor creaks. The bunk beside you shakes with the weight of girls sitting, watching, waiting their turn.

Your tongue never stops. Your jaw aches. Your face is drenched — cum and wetness and saliva, layer after layer, girl after girl, a collage of tastes and textures that blurs into a single, continuous act of service.

Your little guy never stirs. Not once. He rests in Rachel's panties — soft, warm, contained, faithful to the woman who isn't here.

Some of them talk to him. They've heard — from Rachel, from Meredith, from the whispers that have spread through the crew like a current.

"Hey, little guy," one of them murmurs as she lowers herself onto your face. "You staying soft for us? Good boy."

"He's so cute when he sleeps," another says. "Just resting. Being good."

"He's like a little pet," a third whispers. "You just put him in panties and he does whatever you want."

You lose count. Five. Six. Seven. Each one different — some quick, some slow, some quiet, some loud. Some are clean. Some are full — another man's cum leaking from them as your tongue works, and you lap it up, swallow it, clean them the way you've been trained.

Hours pass. The moonlight shifts. The cabin fills with the scent of sex — thick, heavy, the accumulated musk of a dozen women and the men who fucked them.

And then the last one.

She's different. Older. Her thighs are fuller, her scent deeper, more complex. She settles over you with the confidence of a woman who knows exactly what she wants.

"Not there," she says. Her voice is low, commanding. "Lower."

She shifts. Her pussy moves past your mouth, past your chin, and then — something else. Something tighter. Darker. The tight puckered ring of her asshole, right there, right against your lips.

"Lick," she says.

You hesitate. Just for a moment. Just a heartbeat.

Then your tongue extends. Finds her. Circles the tight ring of muscle. Pushes inside.

"Mmmmm —" She sighs. A deep, satisfied sound. "That's it. Right there. Good boy."

You lick her asshole. Your tongue works the rim, then pushes inside, and she rocks against your face — slow, deliberate, the movement of a woman taking her pleasure where she finds it.

"Who is that?" one of the girls whispers from the other bunk.

"Shh," Meredith says. Her voice is warm. Amused. "That's the Captain's wife."

You lick. You probe. You feel her tighten around your tongue, then relax, then tighten again. She's close — you can feel it in the way her thighs tremble, in the way her breathing quickens.

And then she cums. Not from her pussy — from there. From the place where your tongue is working, from the tight ring of muscle that pulses against your mouth as the orgasm rips through her.

"Aaaahhhhh — oh God —"

She lifts off. Stands. Adjusts her clothes. Leaves without a word.

The door closes. The cabin is quiet.

Meredith turns on the light. It's dim — just the small reading lamp above your bunk — but it's enough to see.

Your face is drenched. Your jaw aches. Your tongue is numb. Your little guy is resting in Rachel's panties — soft, warm, contained, unchanged.

Meredith lies down beside you. Her body curls against yours. Her hand finds your stomach, rests there.

"You were wonderful tonight," she whispers. "So many girls. So much cleaning. You took care of all of them."

She kisses your cheek. Her lips are warm against your skin.

"Good boy," she murmurs. "Good little cleaner. Good little guy."

Her hand slides down. Finds the panties. Rests on the place where your cock sleeps.

"He's so well-behaved," she whispers. "Just resting. Being good. Not causing any trouble."

Your eyes close. The taste of a dozen women lingers on your tongue. The scent of sex fills the cabin. Your little guy is quiet, soft, faithful to the woman who isn't here.

But you don't need her here. You don't need her permission. You don't need anything.

You just need to serve.

Meredith's breathing slows. Her hand still rests on your cock — gentle, protective, the way you'd rest your hand on a sleeping animal.

You sleep.

This is the sixth in a series about a mentalist who sees what men hide, a cruise ship that becomes a cage, and the seven days it takes for a virgin to learn exactly what his little guy is for — one whispered confession, one sealed envelope, one devastating prediction at a time.

Previously: The Mentalist Part I | The Mentalist Part II | The Mentalist Part III | The Mentalist Part IV | The Mentalist Part V

Thank you for reading. If you'd like to read more of my writing, please consider subscribing to my Substack: Responsive Male. It's free to join and you'll be notified when I release new content.

[suddenlyhumble]

N.S.F.W. “Yes! Of course you make him swallow it ! It helps emasculate him and the patriarchy and support the Matriarchy. Giving leadership to Women is the best way forward. When we reduce men’s rights we give more opportunity to Women to achieve more. Every beta male you know will support this with you. They’re followers. Not leaders.”

[lockedguynyc]

The Best Chastity Letter... Ever

Check out this AMAZING Chastity Letter from a Master to a Boy posted on metalbondnyc’s website. Fuck it makes me fill my cage more than the rest…. ( metalbondnyc is my hero)…

Find the link to this awesome website here: http://www.metalbondnyc.com/

“By Unknown

Rob:

You’ve long had a desire to explore Chastity, and although I’ve indulged you at times over the years, we’ve only played at the edges of your desires.  That, Boy, is about to change.

I’ve carefully thought through how best to make sure you have the opportunity to explore your desires and explore a period of Chastity while keeping in mind that your fantasy may be more than you’d bargain for.

I’ve also considered our schedules, lifestyle and your high need for sexual release and believe I’ve found the perfect solution to meet your desires.   This may not be what you’d choose if it were you making the decision, but the decision will not be yours.

I know you far better than you know yourself, and I understand that an exploration into your desires and fetish won’t work while we remain equal partners, so I’m making you my Chastity Boy.  Understand that Boys don’t have cocks (those are for men); Boys don’t have erections; Boys can’t be trusted to stand and pee (you will sit to urinate); Boys don’t have pubes;  Boys have chores with ramifications and/or punishment if they don’t perform them to my satisfaction; Boys don’t have orgasms.

I have no interest in your being a boy in any other area of our relationship, but until I decide otherwise, you will be a boy when it comes to your dick and exploring your chastity fantasy.

As my Chastity Boy:

You will be shaved from the neck down..   Chest, Ass, Crotch, Arms, Legs, Armpits will be completely smooth. You will shave yourself and present yourself for my inspection.

We will have sex one more time before you’re locked in the cock cage. Enjoy this sexual release, because it’s the last one I’m guaranteeing for awhile.

To ensure that this is a consensual agreement, you will beg and plead with me to lock up your cock as you’re approaching orgasm. You will beg me to take complete control of your cock and orgasms. You will beg me to make you my Chastity Boy.

Immediately upon achieving orgasm, the cock cage will be locked on your cock. I want it locked on while the last of your cum is dribbling out of your dick and before you even clean up.

The instant the lock snaps shut, you give up all control of your penis and orgasms to me. I will decide the next time you touch your penis as well as the next time you have an orgasm.

I demand the following as owner of your penis:

You will learn the benefits of chastity, the enjoyment of orgasm control and the pleasure of handing over all rights to your penis.

You will learn how to gain sexual fulfillment though bringing ME to orgasm and learn how your ass, mouth and other areas of your body can provide enjoyment despite not being able to cum.

You will not speak of your penis or your orgasms. The penis belongs to me, and you simply don’t have orgasms until I choose otherwise. When asked, you will respond with how MY penis is doing while locked in the cage.

You will learn to embrace your interest in chastity without complaint. You will not ask for release, or ask when you will be released.  You will not like what happens if you complain or beg.

Since there are times when wearing the cock cage will cause undue discomfort or not be appropriate, I will allow it to be removed in the following conditions: Doctor Visits, Social Situations, Travelling or other situations as I deem appropriate. Unless otherwise instructed, you will not touch yourself or seek sexual gratification when out of the cage.  On demand, you will put it back on and surrender the keys.

Your period of chastity will not impact my sexual needs. You will ensure that my sexual needs are met in any way that I choose. You will learn how satisfying it is to provide total pleasure to me without regard to your own sexual release.

Get used to this. I know you have a strong desire to be a chastised boy, but lack the initiative to do it on your own.

I WILL control your cock and you WILL become the boy you and I both know you want to be.”

[suddenlyhumble]

N.S.F.W.

[greyhound272002]

Life In Chastity

Wearing a chastity device is not like any other sex toy. It’s not a toy at all. It’s a piece of bondage equipment that locks up your dick. Your dick isn’t just physical. As you know it’s hardwired to your brain. All those hormones, sexual drive, ability to orgasm — locked away. And then there’s just doing normal life activities in a chastity device. Think of working, pissing, types of clothing, etc. It’s a lifestyle. Here are a few considerations.

Never Being Able to Get Off

How often do you jerk off? If you’re like most guys, you’ve shot off quite a few loads in your life. In a chastity device that all but goes away. Here’s the thing, you still get aroused but can never let loose. Imagine being horny all the time but with no way to have an orgasm. Many guys will watch a few minutes of porn and then do their thing. In a chastity device, you can actually watch the whole porn movie.

Because there’s no way to orgasm, you have to manage your sexual energy differently. Many people, for example, use that energy to exercise more. Many men report a new found vigor and increased strength after being in chastity. They also report increased mental focus, better sleep (after they get used to sleeping wearing a cage around their dick), and more creativity. Everyone is different. But there are some advantages to not jerking off.

Milkingslave dripping

You may have seen or heard about guys cumming while wearing a chastity device. The most common way to do that is by prostate milking. That’s massaging the prostrate gland, which may trigger a release of cum. For those that don’t know, the prostrate is massaged through anal penetration (such as finger, dick, dildo). There’s definitely a technique to it. But keep in mind, you still can’t get a full erection if you’re being milked. So it’s not the same as an orgasm.

There’s some evidence that ejaculating has some positive health effects and never ejaculating may cause some health issues. Milking is one way to allow a chastity wearer to occasionally cum without breaking the chastity period. Of course, your Key Holder may allow you to jerk off on special occasions, if you’ve been good.

Prprecumecum

You probably don’t give precum too much thought. However, once you’re in a chastity device, you will think about it all the time. It will be become a new hygiene routine you will need to learn to deal with. Most guys in a chastity device precum a lot. I mean a lot. When you get horny, you will leak lots of precum. And when you’re not horny, you will still leak out some. It really can get messy. It usually starts a day or two after you’re locked up. Over time it decreases. You will have to make some lifestyle adjustments. No more sleeping nude…

Cleaning

The point of wearing a chastity cage is to restrict your access to your dick. One of the issues is trying to keep your dick and the device clean. Things will get nasty if you don’t. Showering will take extra long to try to work your way in there to get everything clean. And drying is not so easy too. Some people use a hair dry (low heat). Using is q-tips is a common technique for cleaning too. Try taking more baths. But dick and cage cleaning will become a new routine in your life…

Pissing

Pissing won’t be quite so easy in a chastity device. You are probably already familiar with splash back when pissing. Now you have something diverting the urine flow. The spread can be wide and unpredictable. Imagine your thumb over a water hose and think what that does to the direction of the water. Pissing standing isn’t as feasible anymore — not to mention who might look over and see you in a chastity cage. You’ll probably be sitting on the toilet to take a leak from now on.

Additionally, the quick shake and off you go isn’t going to be your reality anymore either. Urine can get trapped in the device. You need to be sure it’s all out and clean.

Public

Chastity devices come in different sizes and shapes. Generally, they can be hidden under

From 2013 MTV Music Awards From 2013 MTV Music Awards normal, everyday clothes. But there’s some things you will need to be conscious of. Wearing anything too tight might show the cage. Anything that would have shown your bulge before will also likely show the cage. Most cages have a lock. The lock can move, making noises or be seen. People sometimes wrap a rubber band around it so it doesn’t bang against device. In any event, it has to be managed.

If you travel, there’s the issue of airport security. If there’s metal in the device or lock, it will set the metal detector off. The body scanners will also pick it up, even if everything is plastic. Your best bet is to ask for a pat down and let the security guard know it is a piece of body jewelry. No matter how you slice it, awkward.

If you workout at the gym, the locker room becomes an issue. Showering there would be pretty embarrassing. Best to avoid the locker room altogether, if possible.

Be careful of hugs. Getting too close may reveal your dirty little secret. Just go back to the days of being a teenager when you always hug leaning in from the chest but keeping the hips away to avoid your constant hard on being revealed. Now it’s to prevent your chastity device from being revealed…

Pubic Hair

You’ll want to keep your pubes trimmed close or shaved. The hair can get caught up in the device and pinch. And it always happens when you least expect it. Like in a meeting or at dinner with family and friends. You get the point…

Life of Obedience

Being locked in a chastity device puts you in a submissive role, especially if you have a Key Holder. Based on your relationship, you may be expected to do things or act in a certain ways. The Key Holder usually has the discretion to decide when you get out, which is often times tied to your obedience. You may have to do extra chores, provided photo proof of lock up at random times, perform sexual tasks, etc. Unlike voluntary submission, there’s a consequence to failing to comply — a longer sentence for your cock.

Is It Worth It?

For some, you may not have much of a choice. Your partner or Master, if it’s that type of relationship, may require you to wear one. If that’s the case, it is what it is. If you do it on your own, it is definitely worth experimenting and seeing what it’s like. However, understanding it’s a lifestyle and not just a sex game is important to getting the most from the experience.

[subspace6]

And worth every second

[flrindia]

How to Ask Your Wife or Girlfriend for FLR Without Scaring Her Off

He has been planning this for months.

The cage is already in his cart. He has picked out a key on a thin steel chain to hand her across the dinner table. In his head she takes it, something shifts behind her eyes, and she becomes the woman from his favourite captions.

Then he panics and empties the cart. Again.

If any part of that is you, breathe. You are not stuck because you lack courage. You are stuck because almost everything the internet taught you about how to ask your wife for FLR is wrong. And if the two of you are not even on the same page about what a Female Led Relationship really is, start there. You cannot ask her for something she still pictures as a cartoon.

Let me walk you through what works instead.

The Tricks That Feel Clever and Fail Anyway

Every clever shortcut leads to the same dead end.

Every forum recycles the same shortlist. Stealth submission. “Just treat her like a queen and she will catch on.” Lock yourself, hand her the key, let the mystery do the talking. Or the slow con: submit in secret for weeks, then reveal it like a magic trick.

They read beautifully. They almost never work.

You carry the whole thing alone. You serve, you wait, you hope she notices, and she does not, because you never told her there was anything to notice. Weeks in, you feel lonelier in your own marriage than before you started.

And she stays indifferent. In fantasy erotica, a wife spots her husband quietly submitting and melts. In a real home, she sees the dishes done and assumes you are being sweet, or that you want something. Devotion with no context does not read as devotion. It reads as odd.

Worse, secrecy breeds suspicion. A husband who suddenly changes, hides his phone, goes quiet and strange, does not whisper “he is submissive.” He whispers “something is wrong. Is he cheating?” You wanted intimacy. You built a mystery she now has to solve.

But the deepest reason these tricks fail is the one nobody names.

Every single one of them keeps you in charge.

You wrote the script. You bought the cage. You chose the moment. You are still the director, casting her in a role she never auditioned for. And submission you direct yourself is not submission. It is you, in control, wearing a costume.

Flip It. Imagine She Asked You.

Do this before you say a single word to her.

Imagine your wife pulls you aside one evening and, out of nowhere, starts talking about chastity. Orgasm denial. Being tied down and whipped. Kept locked for months. No lead-up, no context, straight into the deep end.

You would freak out. Of course you would.

So why do you expect her to sit calmly while you do the exact same thing to her? Give her the grace you would want. A soft on-ramp, not a cold plunge. The goal of the first conversation is not to explain the kink. It is to keep her comfortable in the room until the conversation ends.

Ask Her to Lead, Not to Lock You

Lead with devotion. The kink is a small, later detail.

This is the reframe that changes everything.

Two very different things hide inside your ask, and most men crush them into one. There is the emotional ask: I want to put you first, follow your lead, and see you take up space without shrinking to keep me comfortable. And there is the kink ask: the cage, the denial, the rituals.

Lead with the first. Always.

The kink is a detail you negotiate much later, once she trusts the foundation under her feet. Open with the cage and you have told her this is about your fantasy. Open with “I want to make your life lighter and follow your lead” and you have told her this is about her. One invites her in. The other makes her defensive.

Now the part that stings, so read it twice. The way you ask is itself your first act of submission. Ask like a man placing an order for a kink he feels owed, and you have already failed the audition. Asking with humility, her comfort above your excitement, is the same surrender of the male ego the whole dynamic rests on. You are not requesting a service. You are offering yourself.

If you want a template for that emotional ask, gently done and with no mention of kink, I have already written a letter you can adapt to introduce your wife to FLR. Borrow its spirit, not its exact lines. She will know if it is copied.

Two ways to ask the same question. Only one makes her want to lead.

What This Sounds Like

Picture a quiet evening. No performance. Maybe a long drive back from her parents’ place, the kind of stretch where you talk freely.

You do not say: “I want you to lock me in a cage and control my orgasms.”

You say something closer to: “I have been thinking about us. You carry so much, and you decide things so well. I would love to build a home where you lead more and I support you more, where you never feel guilty asking me for anything. Can I tell you why that means so much to me?”

That is it. You have opened a door, not dropped a manual in her lap.

Give Her the Reasons, Then Give Her Room

If she wants to hear more, hand her something honest to hold. Not a lecture. Just answers to the questions already circling her head. Why you want to submit. What she gains. What you gain. Why change something that already works. And how this makes both of you happier, not only you.

Then stop talking. Let her think. Give her days if she needs them.

And please, I cannot say this loudly enough: do not tell her to Google it. The open internet will hand her the ugliest version of this lifestyle and scare her clean out of it. Curate instead. Send one or two sensible things, not a syllabus of twenty. If you share a single piece, make it something gentle and written for her, like a soft guide for women just getting curious about FLR.

If she does not raise it again after a few days, follow up gently. Once. “Have you had any thoughts on what I shared?” Then let it breathe. Pushing turns a maybe into a no.

Read Her Response Honestly

Three ways she can respond. Three ways to meet her.

She will usually land in one of three places. Learn to tell them apart.

She is intrigued. She asks questions, some of them nervous. This is the best possible start. Feed her curiosity slowly and keep leading with the emotional layer.

She is indifferent. “This is a bit weird, but okay.” Do not mistake this for a yes to everything. She has agreed to keep listening, nothing more. Her real hesitations have not surfaced yet, and they will. When they do, patience is the whole game, because her hesitations are the next mountain you climb together, not a rejection.

She is uncomfortable. She goes quiet or pulls back. Respect it fully and at once. A “not now” honoured with grace builds more trust than a “yes” you nagged out of her. Do not burn the board over one conversation.

The Base Comes Before the Fun

Skip the base and the whole thing wobbles.

Here is where eager men rush, and ruin it.

You do not get to skip the boring part. The reading, the talking, the mapping of limits, the slow build of trust. That unglamorous stretch is the education phase, and the whole dynamic stands on it for years.

Be ruthlessly fair while she learns. Share the parts of FLR you do not enjoy, not just the ones that excite you. She keeps what speaks to her and discards the rest. Feed her only your favourite kinks and you have stopped educating her and started recruiting her into your fantasy.

Talk openly about hard limits, hers and yours. She cannot push her desires past your limits, and you cannot push yours past hers. All of it rests on one thing that is never optional: informed, ongoing consent. And if a quiet voice wonders whether this is really about love or just a sexual fetish wearing a nicer name, that is a healthy question. Sit with it before you ask her to.

Then hold on to the one line that matters more than any technique on this page.

Do not try to mould her into the Dom of your dreams. Get moulded into the submissive of her dreams.

Final Thoughts

The goal of asking is not to win a yes to the cage.

A yes to plastic, with no yes in her heart, is exactly how men end up locked and quietly forgotten, waiting on a wife who never signed up for the version they imagined.

The real goal is smaller, and far more powerful. You are trying to make her feel safe enough to lead. Safe enough to want more. Safe enough to be fully herself, with you kneeling, gladly, at the centre of her world.

Ask for that. The rest arrives on her timeline, in her voice, built by the two of you and nobody else. Learn from other couples if you like, but never measure your marriage against theirs.

You are not asking her to play the villain in your script.

You are asking her to finally put the pen down and write her own.

Don’t ask her to hold the key. Ask her to want it.

[beautifulpeoplex]

[beautifulpeoplex]

[hassep]

Real Swedish birching!

[unabashedthingexpert]

[la-fabrique-des-fantasmes-deact]

Mistress Anna Elite Corrective Caning

[thatdommegal2-deactivated202509]

One of my favorite caning videos. Her enjoyment, his noises and movements, amazing. Also he has such a nice ass.

[saltakatten73]

Agree, this video has it all! Always a reblog 😍🔥

[mr-spanking]

Very good caning punishment.

[female4supremacy]

[chastitywifeguide]

thinking of replacing his current cage with a smaller/different one?

first, congratulations on shrinking his cock down a size! take the opportunity to make fun of how small his dick has gotten. mention how the old cage used to be look small on him but now it looks too big! reassure him quickly though so he doesn’t feel bad, that he shouldn’t worry because it’s not his dick anymore anyway and you can always just buy a smaller cage.

I’ll usually restrain him to the bed some way. usually and under the bed wrist and ankle restrain system (link). Then i’ll remove the old one and either rapidly replace it with the new one OR if i’m feeling playful i may take this rare opportunity to play with my cock. i may give it a hand job, BJ, or even climb up and give it a ride! but that DOES NOT mean he gets to cum. in fact, i’ll tell him to make sure to tell me well before he cums so i can stop and lock MY cock back up before it makes any messes! or if i see him getting too excited i’ll pause and let it calm down before doing it again, and again, and again. until i’m done playing with it. then i’ll lock it back up and have him finish me off with his tongue or some other way.

this strategy can be used for teasing him in general too. doesn’t have to be when switching a cage. it certainly can just be to mess with him.

if he cums during this then he has to eat it all as a punishment or you can use his own cum as lube on your strapon to punish him that way!

[chastitywifeguide]

PUNISHMENTS & REWARDS

you should keep ready supply of punishments at your disposal to keep your locked partner in check AND “rewards” which are actually still punishments but you give them to him like they are a reward.

this is obviously highly variable but be creative and find what works for you. I like to make the punishment fit the crime as much as possible (e.g. if he talks back, then ill make him wear a ball gag for the rest of the night. Or if he misses a cleaning duty then he has an extra day of maid service).

punishments:

Spanking. HARD.

if he talks back, he has to wear a ball gag for an hour. get a penis shaped ball gag and have him wear that.

if he talks back, get your strapon and make him give you an hour long BJ. I’ll usually sit at our desk and get some shopping done or catch up on my text messages while he blows me under the desk.

rough pegging. I mean, head hanging off the face fuck, and bent over a couch pegging until he can’t take it anymore. if he’s being punished for something ill try to do it in front of whatever the thing he is being punished for (E.g. didn’t do the laundry? Pegged with his head in the dryer like a porno)

buy some humiliating stickers (link) and strategically place them places. On his phone under the phone case, underside of his laptop, in his gym bag, in his truck/car.

humbler humiliation (link). highly recommend having one of these on hand. If he forgets his place, make him crawl around the rest of the night to remind him

Blow jobs. Either give him a caged blowjob to torment him or make him give a dildo a bj. Just stick it on the mirror and make him suck it for 10 minutes. Take a picture 🤭.

spend his money. Take his credit card and buy yourself a new hand bag or outfit/shoes for you OR take his credit card and buy HIM a new outfit/shoes 😉 or a new toy... take his money and make it work for both of you. Buy that new humbler to add to your collection, or a new large black dildo to fuck him with, or a paddle to spank him with. Why not both?

Make him wear a butt plug to sleep or for the rest of the afternoon.

make him sleep on the ground with the humbler on all night.

dress him as a maid and make him clean the house (wearing the humbler?) and you leave the house to go shopping or hang with the girls (with his credit card of course!). PRO TIP: If you have house cameras (like we do to monitor the dog), make sure to turn them on so you can make sure the house maid isn’t slacking AND make sure it is in auto follow mode so it pans to automatically follow him when he is mincing around. This way he will FEEL like you are watching at all times. If you’re out with your friends he might even get nervous that you are showing them his humiliation. When you get home you could even pretend you actually did show them 😈

Get a humiliating semi permanent tattoo and put it on him (tramp stamp, “sissy”, “bitch”, “princess”, queen of spades, hearts, anything a 21 year old girl might get on her ass). Buy them in bulk and make him keep them refreshed.

Paint his nails with gel nail polish and don't tell him it's gel (so he probably doesn’t even know how to get them off 😂).

did he forget to fill up your gas tank or to do your oil change?! Unforgivable. Make him go wearing a butt plug, or wearing stockings.

threaten to send a picture of him in his cage (or dressed up) to one of your friends.

change his inside screen saver to something humiliating like a picture of him sucking your strapon, or him dressed as a tarty maid, or just a close up of his cage. Something like this below… sexy but obviously humiliating.

get chastity stickers and put them on his truck or compter.

decorate his cage with little charms that can be locked on with the padlock. custom pictures, bows, bells, pandora charms, etc

make him kneel face in the corner for an hour.

start a tumblr/reddit and post pictures of him, or threaten to. it could even be an anonymous with faces blurred out. no one else will know it's him, but he will.

Did he forget to fill up the gas? drive him around the neighborhood or to the gas station in the car but make him suck your strap-on the entire time. tell him every time your dick comes out of his mouth that the timer starts over.

Big Reward! Reward him by letting him have an orgasm! But he doesn’t get unlocked. No, never that. No, he actually gets to try to cum while using a vibrator on your cage. Make it an even better reward by either making him suck you strapon whike he does it and/or pegging him while he tries to bibrate himself to an orgasm!

a big reward for my husband is ill let him suck my strapon while i online shop or catch up on my social media or the girl’s text messages. Ill sit at my desk and he’ll crawl underneath and accept his reward.

reward him by letting him clear your shoes

reward him by letting him try on your make up and making him pretty.

reward him by letting him break in your heels.

reward him by allowing him to massage your feet.

reward him by letting him shave your body and wash your hair.

[chastitywifeguide]

I’m not always in the mood to have sex with him or tease him sexually but as the keyholder it is important to keep the chastity fantasy going. This can be done by engaging in what i think of as “passive domination”. Passive domination is when you set up things that remove yourself from actively participating while still making him engage in chastity fantasy tease and denial things. Think of it like autopilot for you where it is his responsibility to do things.

this is accomplished by putting in some up front work that really pays off in the end. You have to be strict and consistent so that he knows these things will be enforced and that way he will do as he is told with minima Supervision but if he steps out of line, he gets a swift correction.

Simplest way is to let him know exactly what is expected of him. Make a list of things that he is expected to do without being told ever again. This could be a chores list that actually helps around the house: cook, clean, workout, make the bed, do the dishes, massages nightly, dress better!, make him do his hair like you want, etc… but should also be more kinky things related to his role as your bitch:

make him kneel before you at the exact time (eg 10pm, when he gets home from work, first thing in the morning) and say, “thank you for keeping me locked. Will you please keep your cock locked and fuck me in the ass?” Or “i’m your little bitch” or something similarly humiliating.

he must refer to you as master or Sir (only has to do this when you’re alone).

he is never allowed to refer to his penis as “his” again. It is your penis and he should refer to it as yours. “His” penis is the strapon that you make him wear to fuck you.

tell him he has to keep his body shaved.

tell him to keep his toe nails painted (pink to match his cage).

every Thursday, he has to dress up like tarty French maid and cleans the house. order him the sluttiest most outrageous outfit you can find, or better yet make him order his own! (why should this be your mental load!?). Warn him that if it isn’t tarty enough that you’ll be forced to choose it and that he wont like it if you choose it (it will actually be interesting to see what he chooses 😂).

if he is ever allowed to go to something with his friends, without you (bowling, golf, bar, even work!), then he has to pay the price by wearing garter and stockings under his clothes. once again, make him buy and maintain his own sets (not MY problem! not my mental load!). if he is going out, he should know the rule and get dress accordingly. Even though I'm not there, it makes me smile just thinking of him golfing with his friends acting all manly while he wears My tiny pink cage on MY cock wearing a matching lacy garter and stockings. it doesn't even turn me on, it's just humiliating for him and that makes it worth it. I'll make him pose for a picture with his clubs in nothing but his cage and garter set before he goes and put it as his inside screen saver for extra humiliation. when he gets where he is going he has to send me a picture of him with his cage and stockings to confirm compliance with the rule and to confirm his safe arrival or i threaten to send that picture of him posing to all of his golf friends too.

take a picture/video of him getting pegged, or sucking your strapon, or dressed in something slutty and make him put it as his inside screen saver (the one that is there when the phone is unlocked, not the lock screen) so he gets a show every time he opens his phone. '

same time every day have him send you a picture of his cage just to ensure your dick is safely locked away.

he should wear a butt plug to bed every night (or every other night or every Monday).

make him do a skin care routine every night. Not only is it girly, but It’s for his own good anyway.

make him going tanning in a bikini to get humiliating tan lines.

make him workout his glutes and legs to get a stunning ass/leg combo.

buy semi permanent tattoos and make him maintain them (tattoo on his ass that says slut, or a tattoo above your cage that says sissy, or a queen of hearts symbol on his ass); you could also get a semi permanent tattoos of a key on your body somewhere visible. this company lets you make custom ones (link here) so the sky is the limit.

buy little bells (link) and put them on his cage so he jingles when he walks or during sex. he can tape them down when you allow him to so they don’t jingle the whole time, like at work but even then sometimes it might jingle a little bit and make him randomly embarrassed throughout the day. It’s cute when his bells jingle while you fuck his ass 😊. this is also a great way to subtly ensure obedience, he won't be disagreeing with you on anything when his bells jingle while he tries to argue with you.

get a bell and train him to do a certain task every time the bell rings. Make it something that doesn’t involve you though to keep your mental load low. like he has to go to the bedroom and practice sucking a dildo until he hears the bell rings again (maybe you forget to ring it again? oh well). Have to get him ready to deep throat your strapon somehow anyway. OR it can be the bell you ring to initiate a certain roll play that helps you relax. it is a bell after all... maybe the bell signifies it is time for him to get dress as your maid and start cleaning the house and serving you (climb into a bath while your personal maid serves you wine, brings you a book, massages your shoulders, and cleans the house when not being used).

make him buy you a paddle to spank him with. Once again, make HIM buy it so you don’t have to spend time on it.

where ever your can, make it his responsibility it keep, maintain, buy, or otherwise organize things. It keeps your mental load low and if done right can actually add to the humiliation (what’s note humiliating then making him buy his own maid uniform, his own spanking paddle, etc…) but don’t go overboard. You should still take initiative when you have the energy so he feels like you’re still engaged.

write these things down somewhere or use the “My Little Sub” app to keep track of these rules digitally. make him write them down once a day and give to you to sign off on like a little homework assignment so he can’t claim he forgot. Enforce it STRICTLY! there are several apps that can be used to help this i think "My Little Sub" is my favorite right now. download the app, create rules, grant rewards/punishments, add a calendar, give a to-do list, track chastity time, my favorite is adding habits that recur daily or weekly so that he literally has to check off like a to-do list.

Ill make a post soon about punishments that could be used to help enforce those but some quick ideas would be spanking, rough pegging, spending his money, standing naked in the window, handcuff him to something and leave him there naked (or by a chore for him to finish, e.g. dishes/laundry?).

[chastitywifeguide]

My husband has an office job where he wears a suit and tie to work, has his own office, and secretary. Typical office environment. I don’t like how when he goes to work he gets to act normal and ho about usual activity. So i’ve found a way to play with his mind at work and away from work.

He obviously has to wear his cage while at work 100%. He doesn’t need a cock at work for any reason.

Make him text me a picture of his cage randomly so he has to stop what he is doing to take a pic for me. He has 5 minutes to comply or there will be punishment.

i have snuck into his office to make him go down on me at his desk.

I’ve showed up to his office in a trench coat wearing nothing but a three piece garter set before just to sit on his lap and rub on his cage.

I haven’t done it yet but one day ill make him wear a garter set under his suit and then i want to show up to his office with a trench coat wearing nothing but my strap-on and fuck him on his own desk or make him give me a BJ under his own desk.

I like to emasculate his job too so when he works from home so ill make him dress up as a slutty secretary to finish his work. I will interrupt him with my strapon and fuck him over his home desk.

or when he is working from home ill crawl under his desk and play with is caged dick and give it a caged BJ and watch as he squirms and is unable to focus. Ill even do that when he is on a call just for extra fun.

the point is, im still in charge when he is at work and he isnt safe while working either. I own him at all times.

extend this to other jobs too. A similar list could work for a lawyer or any other office job. Make it work for your husband’s job. does he work in construction or other trade job?

Look for an opportunity to show up at his job site to tease him there.

l buy a slutty construction worker outfit from the halloween store and make him wear that in the bedroom.

meet him in his work area at home like the garage and peg him over his tool box.

get little stickers that say things like princess, bitch, sissy, or stickers of a cock cage and stick them on inconspicuous locations on this tool box. Dedicate one of his tool drawers to house your strapon so you have one there for easy access. Tell him that him working gets you so turned on that you’ll need it close by and he can’t move it.

does he a work in healthcare as a nurse or a doctor? There are tons of opportunities here.

Is there a way for you to get to his office or hospital and pull him away to a supply closet or on call room?? Straight out of a scene of grey’s anatomy. Bucket list honestly.

it would be super degrading to make your doctor/nurse husband dress is a slutty nurse outfit. Make him dress up and then peg him.

make him wear a naughty nurse themed garter set under his scrubs/suit while at work. Make him send you pictures from work.

does he work as a pilot? Join the mile high club? Slutty flight attendants outfit? Fuck him in his plane? cop? Firefighter? YOU GET THE POINT. It’s just fun to bring your chastity, tease, denial, and humiliation into his work too.

[chastitywifeguide]

I always get what i want. How? Timing is everything. NEVER just ask for something. I will only ask for things when he is impaled on my cock. new car? New dishwasher? New phone? Weekend away with the girls? Him to never do something again or start doing things? Anything.

this has a 100% successive rate. Tell him to climb up on your cock and when he really starts to get into it that is when you make him agree to anything.