Life As A Slave

At this moment she starts begging to remove the ball gag. It’s very important NOT to remove the ball gag at this moment. Now she starts to feel the effect from the ball gag. So keep her gagged (and tied up) for at least 2 more hours. Now she starts to feel really helpless. And then she starts to understand what bondage really is.

It’s important to repeat this tomorrow and the next day, and the next day, etc…

If I had a slave I was keeping in long-term orgasm denial, I wouldn’t use a system based on a period of time until her next orgasm. I would use one based on the number of blowjobs until her next orgasm. A blowjob would count only if I came in her mouth and she swallowed it, but since that’s my favourite way to cum, it isn’t something I’d particularly want to deny myself in order to delay her release, or at least not excessively.

(Not that it wouldn’t be fun sometimes, particularly when she was down to the single-digits on her BJ countdown, to pull out of her mouth and start stroking myself, and let her try to convince me to cum in her throat rather than over her face …)

All other things being equal, and allowing for time at work, I’d probably want around 3-5 blowjobs per day, on average. Depending to some extent on the slave, of course, I’d probably start her out at 100 blowjobs between her orgasms, or maybe 50 if she was inexperienced with denial.

One thing I would really love about this system is how extra-hot adding to her denial would feel. I love saying ‘You’ve just added an extra five days until your release, slut’, but I’d love saying ‘You owe me an extra 20 blowjobs before you can cum, bitch’ even more.

And it’d be so fun to be capricious about it too, sometimes sweet and lenient, and sometimes harsh. Sometimes ‘I know you were just distracted and you didn’t hear the bell at first, baby. Let’s say one extra mouthful of Daddy’s cum for you, and we’ll call it even’ but also, ‘My dinner was 6 minutes late, whore. You can give me 10 extra blowjobs for every minute you kept me waiting. You’d think that with how long its been since you got to cum, you’d appreciate that it isn’t fun when you have to wait for what you need.’

But it wouldn’t all be mean. I’d give her special treats and allowances too. Like blowjobs she got other women to give me would count as 10 the first time with each girl, and 3 after that. And on special occasions like Christmas, Valentine’s Day, our anniversary and her birthday, all BJ’s she gave me would count double.

And every time she earned an orgasm, I’d make a two-part video. The first part would be her saying the date, then how long it had been since her last cum, then how many loads of my cum she’d swallowed since then, and finally her thanking me for my ownership, and my control of her orgasms. The second part would be of her having her orgasm, however I chose for her to have it. The most common way would probably be using her Hitachi while sucking me. It’d be fun to have an ongoing collection - every orgasm she had in the relationship. I’m romantic like that.

My boyfriend says I tease him too much and need to be taught a lesson. So we made this side blog to let the Internet decide when I am allowed to orgasm. Every note on this post is 1 edge I must do before I can cum.

When my husband’s live-in mistress does her pedicure, she loves to use my head as a pedicure table. She calls me :“ Hey, Loser, come her and make your stupid head useful ! ” As she is sitting on the couch, she demands me to kneel and she places her foot on my head. She presses my head with her whole sole as she proceeds to remove her nail polish, cut her toenails, and repaint them again. All while I bear the weight of her foot, and I sometimes squeal under pressure. I can see myself in the mirror, knelt, abused, looking pathetic, and I sigh at the thought of what I became. She wears my former wedding ring on her middle toenail. As she finally finishes her pedicure, her toenails are all tangled in my hair, scratching my scalp. The hair on the top of my head is stained with nail polish, and that is not easy to remove, I will most likely need to cut the stained strings of hair, and as she does this every three days, I will soon be bald…

And when I finally hoped she is done so my head can be released from under he sole, she now needs to dry her nail polish while watching TV. So she stretches her legs and places both her feet on my head, soles up, her heels prompted on my forehead. I squeal again, as my neck can barely manage the pressure. 

This is what happens when you’re wearing and getting shocks from TWO shock collars and you’re trying to back away.. like it’ll help 🙄

If I was going to, nothing would be left to chance. 

Drugs are too random. The interplay between the dosage, your body, and your tolerence are too many factors that can go wrong. It’s going to be a physical capture, shades. 

I’ll watch you for weeks first, though. Most people have a routine. More than most have a job, or a school that they attend every day. You can be followed from a nice, safe distance in a myriad of ways. Always taking notes. You stop for coffee at a terrible chain coffeeshop. You buy your dinner on the way home. You always enter your apartment building from the back, near the fire escape. You go home to your loving parents, who often take retiree trips to exciting places, and never quite got around to fixing the latch on that side gate. Little details like that are what will undo you. I will know where you’re going, what time you’ll get there, and who’ll be expecting you. 

Have you ever noticed how often you’re truly alone? I bet you haven’t, really. You live around people like a hive. There’s someone within 100 meters of you for 90% of your life, unless you live in the sticks somewhere. You don’t know them, do you? Everyone who’s not involved in your life is a faceless stranger. Maybe that one time, where you passed someone on the street a little too close, and it raised the hackles on your neck, maybe that was me. Still waiting. Still watching. Waiting for that moment of weakness. Which you will have. 

When it comes, that’s when I strike. 

The idea, shades, is that it’s going to be quick. I don’t have time for pleasantries. If I can get away with it, you’ll feel a knife to your throat at the same time as a guiding hand, and a threat not to scream. Failing that, an arm locked around the throat, or a kick to the back of the knee. The idea is to wrongfoot you. Put you immediately into an unsure headspace and stifle any resistance immediately. You scream, or cry out, and your airway gets cut off immediately. Try to fight, and you have your head slammed against the nearest object until you stop. Fending arms and legs get hyperextended until you stop. The more you fight it, the more brutal and damaging it’s going to get. Because I’m on a time limit, and can’t be interrupted by a good samaritan. 

So, shades, you’ve co-operated. Or been forced to. Now it’s a simple matter of securing you for transport. Van, car trunk, doesn’t matter. The principle is the same. Heavy cloth tape. Lots of it. A tight hogtie. A rag-stuffed mouth to dampen down the squawk, and enough tape to render you both speechless and blind. Once the situation is stable enough to ensure things won’t get out of control, getting the fuck out of there. 

Congratulations, you’ve just been abducted. 

I don’t have tiger balm, but I do have icy hot. Are those the same thing?