Whipped while tethered by the chastity device! (testing the Custom Chastity Ghost with attachment point)

Custom Chastity Ghost with
attachment point.

Sunday night. I'm massaging Xena's back while getting hard in my chastity device and feeling nervous about what's to come.

I'm locked into a slightly updated Custom Chastity custom Ghost. Lady Fox sent me a new ring with a 7mm gap and an attachment point.

It's been a busy weekend. Xena sighs. "I suppose we'd better get through some of your demerits, slave."

She's only recently started calling me that when she wants total control. Just hearing it makes my cock twitch in its cage. It doesn't help that I haven't come for nearly two weeks.

Strap (gift from Fred Norman!)
plus spring hook.

I strip off, bring out the whip box, and then - for the first time - clip a strap to the attachment point on the underside of my base ring. The strap goes over the bedpost. I get onto my hands and knees and pull it tight.

Suddenly I'm helplessly kneeling, backed up against the bed post, effectively immobilised and awaiting my wife's pleasure.

The system is as smooth as I imagined. No bulky equipment to bring out of hiding, no straps to fiddle with. The whole procedure takes less than a minute and requires zero input from Xena.

Our whip box. (Velcro spreader/stocks to left)

That's why I asked for the attachment point. Xena loves whipping me, but is irritated by having to mess around with velcro or buckles. In an ideal world, she'd stride into a dedicated dungeon room to find me already spread out on a St Andrew's cross. I suspect it's to do with feeling in control.

I had worried that the little loop would have got in the way, or snagged on my scrotum. However, it made no difference to the wearability.

"I'm helpless, mistress," I announce.

"Good," she says. And she reads her book for what must be quarter of an hour while I kneel there naked, a little uncomfortable, and nervous.

Finally, I hear her swing out of bed, pad over to the whip box. There's a swish and unbelievable pain blossoms over my back.

I yelp.

"Slave!" she admonishes.

"Sorry mistress."

The next blow is just as painful, but I manage to reduce my reaction to just a gasp. By the fifth blow, I'm whimpering.

A very submissive posture!

Looking back, the ergonomics were perfect for her. The spreader/stockade we have puts me too low on the ground, makes me too hard a target. Often the whips hit with just the tip, or land spent or in odd places.

The other alternative - me chained across the foot of the bed - works better. However, it's slow to set up and means I'm taking up bed space.

That's the other thing. Chained by the balls on your hands and knees - that's a very submissive position! In the right circumstances submission brings out the worst in us.

So it's physically and mentally easy for Xena, my vanilla acting wife, to cheerfully whip the hell out of me.

She switches to something stingier and my sobs turn to muffled yelps.

With all my twitching and flinching, I put considerable strain on the attachment point. However the surgical nylon material is tough, and copes with no problem. In addition, all that tugging has no effect on my cock, which stays strapped on its constricting cage.

She pads around to stand in front of me. She's wearing comfy bed socks tonight, but this would be sexy as hell if she was wearing boots.

Now she lays into my raised buttocks.

I make little screeches.

"Oh, that one really hurts then," she remarks.

She gets back onto the bed and the vibrator buzzes. I can only kneel and listen while my cock twitches hopelessly in its cage.

At length she finishes up, gives me ten more strokes that leave me with tears in my eyes.

"Right," she says, "Bed. Put everything away, slave."

Easy for Xena, my vanilla acting wife,
to cheerfully whip the hell out of me.

So aftercare is me unstrapping myself, packing away whips and straps.

As I get back into pyjamas, I ask, "How was that for speed and convenience, mistress, for my review?"

"Perfect," she says. "Better than everything else."

"Oh," I say, "You didn't tell me lockup for tomorrow."

"Stay locked," she says.

"What? It's my orgasm day."

"Too bad, slave," she says. "Now go to sleep."

"Hang on," I say. "Does that cancel the day or do I get to cum Tuesday?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow, depending on the state of the house. Now go to sleep, slave."

"Yes, mistress."

Lady Fox's diabolical contraptions
have turned me into my wife's slave!

But of course I lie there, back stinging, muzzled groin throbbing. I've spent my entire adult life craving whippings of this intensity. Now I'm getting them as routine.

And Xena just takes her dominance for granted. There's no posturing, no play acting.

It's no exaggeration to say that it's male chastity devices that got us to this point. There's something primal and real about the submission they imply. The more practical, the more wearable my device, the more real our dynamic has felt.

This year our FLR contract negotiation comprised of Xena establishing that she was in charge, I had no choice about this, and chastity was mandatory.

So you could argue that the scarily practical, indefinitely wearable devices we've had from Custom Chastity are responsible for our final slide into a deep Femdom dynamic.

Yes, Lady Fox's diabolical contraptions have turned me into my wife's slave!

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Sunday Night Whipping: #1 Xena in retro stockings gives me a painful whipping and more...

...suddenly she's this alien creature, this
ghost from the flapper erotica I love.
Learn how to get your wife involved 
in your wildest dreams! 

Why do I do it? Let Xena control my orgasm? Follow her orders 24/7?

Sunday night and I'm kneeling in chains waiting for Xena. I'm naked except for my Holy Trainer 2 chastity device and a sturdy iron collar that tethers me to the radiator.

I have on-site contract work this week, so the weekend was all about spring cleaning.

No sport or socializing, so I wore my Holy Trainer except to shower -- which was pleasant, actually.

Xena took control of the demerit counter and but the demerits mounted up, not just for undusted surfaces, but for things that would once have broken her mood and ejected us from Femdom world: I broke a precious champagne glass, 3 demerits. I got grumpy over her standards, 2 demerits.

This was Xena in charge.
Learn how to take charge of 
your husband! 

This was Xena in charge.

Now, at the end of 24 hours toil, with 30 demerits outstanding, I wait for my wife to come to the bedroom. I don't expect much, frankly. We've had a dry spell this year, so the best I'm hoping for is that she'll wear something sexy while she beat me.

At last I hear her tread on the stairs. She wanders into the bedroom, potters arranging ornaments, fiddles with her mobile phone, searches out some receipts...

All the while I'm kneeling in the corner, feeling time pass, powerless, and starting to hate her. What's next? A bored flogging and sleep?

...the weekend was all
about spring cleaning.
This could be you! Learn how!

Finally she sits on the bed opposite me, peers at the demerit counter. "Well now Giles. Thirty demerits." There's a glint in her eye. "How many slave points have you got?"

I lick my lips. "About half a dozen."

She smiles. "What would you like me to wear?"

"Stockings," I managed. "And that nice dress with the animal print."

She strides over to the wardrobe and strips down to her underwear.

I feast my eyes on her honeyed skin. The gulf between us -- her an elegant woman in her bedroom, me a chaste slave in an iron collar... it's like watching a stranger. My cock rears up against its prison.

She turns and throws me my key. "You might as well help...!"

I fumble with the key, get the padlock unlocked. "Shall I lose the collar, mistress?"

"No," she says casually. "Leave it on. Now hurry up."

I scurry around the bed and there she is all bare flesh and undies.

She hands me a stocking and stretches a long muscular leg. "Put it on."

These are warm woolen stockings, soft and cozy, not like my hard iron dungeon collar. I roll on the first, then the second, smoothing the wool over her curves, and suddenly she's this alien creature, this ghost from the flapper erotica I love.

She pulls on the dress then smiles down on me. "What do you think?"

I whimper, but I have slave points to spend. "I don't think panties are part of the costume."

Xena giggles -- so much like a flapper my cock twitches in its prison -- "They might come off later. Now help me on with my shoes." High-heeled brogues, more period style. At last she snatches up the riding whip and becomes... commanding.  "Now secure yourself."

I don't enjoy the whipping.
What a shame!
Learn how to make this happen
in your marriage.

It takes me just a couple of minutes. Velcro cuffs on wrist and ankle. Then clip chains to attachment points on the bed frame. In no time, I'm chained across the foot of the bed.

Whack!

I squeal and buck against my restraints.

"One..." counts Xena.

I don't enjoy the whipping.

In erotica, whippings often look sexy, sensual, as if those welts were drawn on with red lipstick. And you'd expect the pain to blur into a sexy haze.

But, even with my cock hard in its device, each blow hurts, there's no blurring, just squirming and yelping.

No I don't enjoy this, but I could no more tell her to stop or twist free of the cuffs than I could -- say -- stand up at a business meeting and explain that my wife keeps me in chastity. It's just not in the lexicon.

But this helplessness, that is a turn on just to contemplate now as I type this. I like living in fear of the lash, love the way this helplessness makes my slavery real.

And the beating is cathartic for both of us. Xena works off all the niggles, irritations, dissatisfaction and I take my punishment gladly; being whipped is better than being nagged or moaned at, and I genuinely do better as a husband and housekeeper with this threat over my head.

And Xena reaches ten.

She is my perfect flapper.
Learn how to ask for kink!

She yawns and rolls onto the bed, still wearing her shoes -- they're new, so this is OK. She rests her heels on my smarting back and starts to read.

I twist to look over my shoulder. She has her knees bent. Her leopard pattern dress furls around her thighs, revealing her stocking tops above woolen clad curves. She is my perfect flapper.

Now the pain does blur with the lust. I squirm futilely. Even if my hands were free, there is a tube locked around my hard cock. This is an itch I cannot scratch.

"Help me out of my shoes," says Xena. She stretches a long leg so I can reach her laces and free her feet of first one then the next shoes. The brogues fall to the floor where I can stare at them, enjoying the way the tight feminine curve of the instep contrasts with the blocky heels.

Something prickles my spine. I flinch.

Xena giggles. "What's that?"

"Um." I genuinely don't know. Has she bought some new punishment instrument? A pinwheel perhaps.

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She giggles again. "A vibrator, silly." She rolls back, puts her wool-clad heels on my back and I hear the device buzz.

I do a mental calculation. I'm in an office Tuesday to next Monday. Tomorrow is my only window to masturbate for a week! 

The vibrator buzzes and slurps. My groin ripples in sympathy. I might just come spontaneously, and THAT would be a disaster. Otherwise, if I don't watch and she comes, my own orgasm still defers to a week Tuesday! If I do watch...

"Oh God," I blurt. "If I look then I have to wait a week and a half to come."

Xena emits a sensual sigh. "Don't look then."

I strain against my bonds and look over my shoulder...

Keep an eye out for the next installment. I make no promises. Typing this out while hopelessly chaste is exquisite torment! In the mean time, you might like this episode that happened to us last year.

UPDATE: And here's the next installment of our Femdom adventure.

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Don't resign yourself to just getting off on other people's adventures! When we started out, my wife was vanilla. Use my manuals to help you walk the same Femdom path! There's one for him, and one for her.