June 18th, 2026 - Okay... so about last night.
First, my husband showed up a bit different. I can feel what it is. He deepens into his masculine, and he takes responsibility for his slavery to me.
I think all men have a tendancy to see Chastity in a weird way at first. The first level of chastity is YOU. You lock me up, you control me, you fulfill my fantasy. (And us ladies are the YOU here.) So he's dependant upon US to make this thing work.
But our dear lovely masculine warrior men who liked to be locked up have another ploy. Level 2. Level 2 says... if you lock me up, WE will be happy. I'll courtship you, I'll be nicer, I'll pursue you, you'll have power, you will feel less pressure, you will have someone to wash your panties and drink you piss! (That last one was for humor only, at least between us!)
And that can kind of work. The chastity game DOES have benefits for me. And I can sell these benefits to other women. They are real.
But... there is another level. I'm not sure how to describe it, but my man gets very masculine, empty, and sits tall and straight, and I realize his slavery, his service, his suffering, it's a calling. It's devotion. He does it... for himself. It's a strange paradox, but it becomes very important to him to be the best slave possible, to love me deeply, with humor, with insight, with fresh delight.
It's a truly noticeable difference.
His challenge is maintaining it, because it fades, but that's a story for another day.
Lately, as the chastity has worn on, he's getting better and better and last night he clicked down into that place of depth and service to me. It's devotion. It's worship. But not to ME, it's to the feminine, it's deeper, it's spiritual, and I know I sound silly or mystical but it's real.
And... it turns me on, and I kind of wilt into it. I'm suddenly very much his domme, his mistress, his goddess. And it happened last night.
So after dinner I asked if he wanted to go upstairs... which means sex, yes? But we first eye gazed together, a taoist practice we learned years and years ago. Set the timer, 5 minutes, eye connection and synched breath. Simple stuff, but it's powerful.
Then... I threw him down and straddled him and told him it was time for GRADES. And in the most delighted way possible, I graded him a F in so many areas. The fun part was, I know he already knew this.
For instance, he brinks me coffee in the morning. As any slave, or Gentleman should. But he's sullen about it. He's not cheery. He's not devotional. He knows it, and I can tell from the evening depth he was going to change that.
So what do I do? I fuck with him and give him an F for coffee service. Then I go through all the the thing she does for me and I get demanding and demanding. The demanding bitch domme he asked for is here. YOU WILL DO BETTER.
Oh, I'm wrenching on his nipples as I do this, gleefully hurting him, AND turning him on , though that's more pain because his cock is sweetly safely locked in it's cramped little cage.
I'm laughing, and laughing at each bad grade, and... he agress, takes it like a MAN, and I keep going. He doesn't argue. He knows he's been a shitty slave. He KNOWS!
And he's been waiting for me to do this, to get demanding, but the trick is I didn't and won't do this until he takes responsibility for his slavery to himself. Which, he did last night before.
So then I told him he needed to be punished. Go get the paddle. He agree, got the paddle, stripped naked, lay over my lap. We discussed how many he needed, and he said 50, and I shook my head. 100, and I shook my head. I kept shaking till we got to 700. He was nervous, and well he should be. So I told him let's get 200 of those out of the way tonight.
And then I started beating him left cheek right cheek, him counting, till he got to 40. I asked if he was excited, and he said no, he was nervous. So I kept hitting him, asking him if he was excited yet. Until he finally got the message, and gushed about how excited he was.
At 40 I said, well, those were pairs. So you are really at 20. He groan. Then I did triplets, he counte dup high, and then I divided it by three. Again and agian I counted things in p;airs, triplets and fours. I hit him twenty times, left ass, left thigh, right ass, right thigh. He was red and hot. And those 20 counted for 5. When i got to 100 I went hard and fast all the way to 200, really pushing him. I think he found some zen place, because he started to settle and squirm less. At 200, I said, those 100 counted for 1. So he was really at 101.
He had the wisdom to laugh with me about my wicked counting method. Eventually we got to 200, and I can't tell you how much he really took.
Then he held me and kissed me as he does after a beating, and I told him I didn't think 200 was enough, next time we would do way more.
This is a sweet time, as strangely enough, he kisses and worhips me after I beat him. We laughed and joked, and he said he didn't think I could take a tenth of what he just did. I was aghast, I certainly could, I could take 20 hits! He laughed and offered to dish them out, but I declined.
Then... I got on him again, played with his nipples, really not being nice at all, and he took it and I could tell he was really suffering, the pain in his nipples and cock cage were real. And I loved it. I guess I have a sadist streak.
And he told me how much he loved it, which I'm glad he did, because I start to worry about myself sometimes, though it's easier not to worry when he's got this depth thing going.
Then I hopped off him and went to bed. He tickled my back, groaning in his cage. Would there be any relief for him? No. No there would not.
Woke up this morning to coffee, gentle tickles, and love. He made me breakfast, he brought me more coffee, he eye gazed with me, he made my lunch, left a note on it saying I love you mistress. Then came out when I left to go to work and kissed my feet.
What a sweet journey we are on, and yeah, it's fucking weird. But we are having fun.
