Wednesday, July 22, 2009
The Romantic Adventures Of A Milkmaid (Apologies To Thomas Hardy)
I’ve been so busy this past month getting Mistress Leesa’s FemDom Forum off the ground that I’ve hardly had time to breathe, let alone create a new blog entry.
I began with a blank slate: no members and no posts.
No one wants to join an empty chat board, so My first task was to spread the word that My new forum existed, then recruit some of My Lady friends (lifestyle Dommes and Pro Dommes) to start posting.
Then I enlisted the help of male submissives, some of whom I’d been corresponding with on other BDSM boards and others who are former or current clients of Mine.
Plus, of course, My slave husband, bob, who was one of the earliest contributors. (I do not allow bob to post without My prior approval.)
The strategy worked. Sparked by the posts from My coterie of forum pioneers, membership has dramatically increased,
As I write there are 247 active members (with new ones registering every day) who collectively have produced 79 threads and 339 posts.
Not bad for a Femdom forum that didn’t exist five weeks ago.
Aside from the fun of seeing My forum grow so rapidly, there have been other, more personal rewards. In particular, I’m learning lessons from the members' discussions that I’m applying to My personal life.
For example, as regular readers of this blog know, for a while I imposed on My slave hubby a regimen of total, without exception, orgasm denial. he was not allowed to use his penis for anything except to pee.
No sexual contact with Me, no masturbation. Nothing. his pee-pee’s function as a sperm factory was finished.
The problem was, he was always suffering from blue balls or some other genital malady.
Or else I’d catch him masturbating in the bathroom.
I found Myself wasting too much time sleuthing outside the bathroom door (listening for those telltale moans and groans) and scrutinizing his cock in search of tiny traces of stuck toilet paper.
I might as well give up being a Pro Domme and a Webmistress, I realized, and hang out a shingle touting My diagnostic skill as a urologist.
So I modified My total-orgasm-denial program.
bob was allowed to masturbate into a condom in front of Me one morning a week.
bob loved it. (Anything was better than nothing.) And besides, he was in control again, making Me sit there and watch him masturbate, which (I'm convinced) added greatly to his pleasure during the climactic eruption of semen at the end.
So for Me it was not only a boring time-waster, but an irritating one.
But it did calm down My hubby’s cock frenzy.
And then came the Femdom forum and suddenly I had no time left for time-wasters.
I had to suspend bob’s weekly masturbation sessions.
It wasn’t long before he was back to his old blue balls and toilet-paper-glued-to-penis routines.
Then, in a forum thread about “ordered masturbation,“ I got a little help from My friends. One of the lifestyle Mistresses posted about using prostate milking as a form of penis punishment.
I was familiar with prostate milking: how to milk a slave’s prostate and the benefits of doing so. (The slave cums without the contractions that provide all the pleasure during an orgasm.)
But the lifestyle Mistress suggested a new twist on prostate milking. Instead of positioning the submissive on a bed with his ass in the air, then working his prostate gland with a dildo, she said, you could save time and effort by positioning the slave on his back with his knees tight to his chest and teaching him to milk himself.
Perfect!
It took Me half a day to show bob how to milk his prostate correctly, but the instruction was well worth the time and effort.
Once a week, at the appointed hour, slave hubby comes naked into My office and lies down on the couch across from My computer desk with his legs up against his chest.
I place a dish under his penis to catch his gooey emission, then get back to work.
I’m chatting on the telephone or pounding away at My computer. subby hubby is diddling himself with a dildo.
I must admit that I occasionally sneak a peek just when cum starts dripping from his flaccid penis into the dish.
No spasms, no spurts, no joy.
But no blue balls or self-abuse, either.
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