What is the best advice you were ever given?

“You can’t let your past dictate your future.” 

I feel like all my sentence starters are cliche. I know that there are people in life that have gone through exactly what I’ve been through and worse. I feel whiny and selfish talking about it. Still, every once in a while, I need reminders that my past can’t dictate my future. 

Mistress Pixie makes this state when she observes that I am falling out of my submissive role. I mean this is going to happen naturally. People ebb and flow with the demands of life and sometimes we are spot on and sometimes we just need the extra support. 

Thanks to growing up a male and other various experiences, I tend to fall into self-kink shame. I have spoken to this a few times but it is a real issue I have to work through. I grew up in a household where the male is the authority figure and dictates how and when things happen. My father lived the typical American male culture where the man of the house has the final say and nobody dares to argue. 

Life situations have put me in positions where I was called weird and not normal, maybe even slightly crazy. Responses like “ugh, why would you want that?” 

Sometimes I default back to that way of living. Sometimes I have to make the conscious thought that it is okay to be who I am. It is okay to kneel for my Mistress. It is okay to be bound and penetrated and enjoy that session, even wish to talk about it in a group of like-minded people. 

I can hear her now. “You can’t let your past dictate your future.”

Thank You Mistress Pixie.

I am slow to post but not to write! This steps outside the realm of the BDSM lifestyle and is a bit on the shorter side. I do not regret much as I feel like they are all learning experiences. Even the write-up I completed feels like a learning experience.

What is something you regret doing?

I regret not starting my life sooner. There it is, right to the point. I am not solely referring to my submissive life with Mistress Pixie even though that is also a true regret. 

I think back to my teenage days and we all do things during this time that we regret. Maybe we weren’t the nicest person or the best child for our parents. Maybe we didn’t save that money as we should have or maybe we didn’t socialize as much as we have liked. I don’t know there are a plethora of things that can fill a conversation of things we regret during our teen days. 

For me, I regret not starting my life sooner during this time. I was lost and refused to be found. There wasn’t much at home for me but there were people somewhere in my life that provided guidance that I ignored. With regrets comes wishing and I wish I had spent more time learning and applying myself how I know I could. I wish I would have made different choices personally that would have helped me heal as a person instead of further driving me into the darkness that I found myself in. Luckily, I did find myself before it was too late. I have pushed myself since then to overcome the poor decisions I made as a teen and young adult. 

I feel like my regrets are cliche but this is what came right to my mind.

What is one of your earliest memories when your submissiveness came to the surface?

I have shamed myself for so long on this topic, and I am still asking myself, “Do I really want to open this box?” Of course, I don’t because I have walled it up and hid it away for so long. But it is time to really push me into who I am and what I want in my life. 

I was young, like really young. We’re talking 6 years old. I was in early elementary school. This memory is vivid and sticks in my head because I began shaming myself for this moment at some point later on. I came home after school and was alone in my bedroom. My parents were pretty hands-off, so I often found myself alone doing whatever came to mind. I ended up naked and tying myself to the pole of my bed. Not tightly as I was 6ish in age, but it was enough to think about how much I enjoyed that feeling. 

And maybe that isn’t fully submissive but a bondage or restriction kink. Thinking back, I can see this as the beginning of my submission, though. I couldn’t put words to it, but reflection has led me to feel submissive in that memory. 

I often think that if I owned that moment sooner in my life, maybe I wouldn’t have struggled to be myself with Mistress Pixie when we first began to explore our lifestyle.

I have never shared that moment in history before. I always looked back on it in shame because I thought there was something wrong with me. Now, thanks to Mistress Pixie, I can look back and identify that time as a time where I was myself before I began my self-shaming.

Time for some more deep dives. Mistress Pixie and I have invested in a book called 365 Days of Submission by Luna Carruthers. I have found several of the prompts to be thought provoking and decided to journal my answers publicly for you and Mistress Pixie to enjoy.

You can get your own copy of the book by clicking the following link:

I am in no way affiliated with the author or with submissiveguide.com. Just want to promote a product that I have found helpful.

It has been a busy late summer, early fall in this household. Real life needs and events got in the way of our 24/7 lifestyle as it tends to do. We just get so overwhelmed with life that we sometimes just land on the couch at the end of the day and just stare at the TV. While necessary, it still sucks. Mistress Pixie and I hate when it happens but have come to terms that it does happen indeed.

Mistress has been hitting the gym throughout the weekday evenings the past few months. She finds it relaxing to push her body and be healthy at the same time. As for me, I skip the gym. I typically stay home with the kiddos and do the dad thing while she is away. Depending on the time that she goes, she may come home to a surprise.

This past week, Mistress Pixie went to the gym a tad later than usual. The house went to bed before she returned, all except for me. I have been practicing surprising Mistress with self bondage. I am adrenalized knowing that Mistress will come home to find me in some sort of self bondage predicament. This past week, I cuffed my ankles together and attached them to one of our attachment points on the bed. I padlocked a black ball gag into my mouth and put the keys out of reach. To add to the surprise, I placed two sheets of sand paper under my buttocks before securing my wrists behind my back. I laid there for about 15 minutes before I heard the chime of the door.

Upon entering, Mistress gave me the once over and immediately removed my chastity device. I eagerly awaited her to undress and have her way with her restrained submissive. Instead, she sat me up on the sand paper and unlocked my hands from the back and reattched them to the front where my ankles were connected. I was now sitting upright, wrists and ankles cuffed to to same point, and gagged. Mistress went to the door, turned on the fan and off the light, and closed the door as she left. I sat in the dark, drooling down my front side, unable to see or move.

I don’t know exactly how long I sat there but it was well over an hour. It reminded me of an article I recently read about caging a slave or submissive. In a nutshell, the author talked about how a caged submissive can’t run from their thoughts as they have nothing to distract them. No music, TV, games, books, work, etc. Nothing. I experienced a small dose of this as thoughts crept into my mind that I have been avoiding for months. It was a good reflection time. One that required me to be upfront and personal with myself. Upon my release, I had some answers to questions that Mistress had posed months before.

I went to bed denied but free.

I am sitting, staring at the white canvas trying to synchronize my eye blinking with the blinking cursor flashing on the Word document. I don’t know what to write about this week.

Ramble. That is what I do the best. Last week was our first real week fully back into the swing of things. After almost a month of traveling, we were finally able to get most of the humans and pets back on some sort of schedule. Mistress Pixie and I required a few additional days of resting to recuperate before we were able to resume our normal routines.

No problem picking up where we left off. I have been routinely paddled for small messes around the house after the children go to bed. I am required to clean up after Mistress throughout the day and receive a paddle for each item that I miss. I maxed at 16 over the past week so not too bad, overall. After she drags me around the house beating me in front of the messes like you would a puppy that pisses on the floor, I am then tasked with cleaning up the items and then standing in the corner awaiting further instructions.

Last week I was pushed to take on a more disciplined butler role during our evening session. Mistress propped herself up on the couch and explained the rules while loading up the Olympics on the screen.

“When I give you a task, you are to say ‘Yes, Mistress’, and then perform a curtsey. When you leave my presence, you will curtsey. When you enter my presence, you will curtsey. And if you have a question, you will curtsey before you ask. Any questions.” Mistress explained.

I shook my head and respectfully replied “No, Mistress,” all while falling into a mental abyss of the proper curtsey method. I had to think about how to properly curtsey. I had practiced once before and was piecing it all together…

There she was with her beautiful brown eyes glaring at me.

“Turn around,” she stated while picking up the wood paddle. I stood for a moment shocked.

“I gave you a task and I didn’t get a curtsey. Turn around.” She impatiently continued. I was lost in my own thoughts, and it cost me another whack on my backside. I quickly curtseyed and completed the task. I patiently stood by her for two hours, curtseying at tasks, questions, and movement throughout my butler time. She shared her thoughts on Olympic swimming and giggled at my poor curtseying performance. Just a typical night in the Mistress Pixie household.

Curtseying to my Mistress is so belittling and embarrassing for me. I have never curtseyed in my life. That isn’t saying much as a white male in American society. I had to watch a YouTube video to learn how to do it. All the videos I found were performed by women. The gesture itself feels awkward and it makes me feel beneath Mistress. I mean, that’s the point, right? I am beneath her in every way, and she wants to make sure I know that, hence, the curtseying practice. The entire act of the curtsey dates to the renaissance era where women were to curtsey those of higher status than themselves. So, this requirement makes complete sense. If you haven’t tried to curtsey in your life, try it. Then, try it in front of the person that loves to make your back side hot and bright red.

That’s all for now. Until next time.

I have returned! July has been the busiest month of the year thus far. We had planned quite a few family outings and events beginning the end of June and wrapping up this past weekend. We have been in three different states over the past few months, and it has tuckered us out. We are definitely happy to be home.

Our sessions have been limited over the past month. First, we spent some time at a friend’s place, and they are unknowledgeable of Mistress and I’s lifestyle, and they lead very vanilla lives. Then we had some extended family visit us before we made a week-long family camping trip in the southwest. All of this has capped our sessions to short and sweet.

One of those sessions involved Mistress restraining me to her bed with my ass in the air and then pegging me until she was satisfied. Something magical happened during this time that I have never experienced before. I leaked more than just pre-cum. It wasn’t a full-on milked orgasm as Mistress climaxed and then left me oozing on the towel, but it was more than I have ever had before.

So that got me thinking about milking and what that looks like in the femdom world. Milking the male sub helps keep the generation of semen active for the male while denying him the whole experience of orgasmic experience. Makes sense. The first method I came across in my search was milking through anal penetration. This can be done by using clean fingers and trimmed nails. The massager lubes up a finger or two, gently slides into the sub’s anus, and then feels for the lump that will be about an inch in and on the side. This is a great way to massage the cum out of a male sub to extend their complete orgasm denial while wearing a chastity device. While fingers certainly will do the trick, there are plenty of items on the market to aid in milking a male sub.

Another method that popped up is what I first experienced and wrote about in my last blog, ruined orgasms. I won’t get into detail, as you can find that post here. Long story short, stroking the shaft and releasing right as the male is about to climax. It is a fine point between edging and performing the complete deed.

As mentioned, the body may lower the amount of semen being generated if a male sub goes extended amounts of time without excretion or interaction. That got me thinking, though. As a male sub that is forbidden to touch Mistress’s cock and is currently integrating chastity, milking me maybe a bit of a chore for Mistress. I started researching additional ways to milk the male sub that makes life so much easier for Mistress while continuously making my life miserable.

Male subs have mentioned that they are milked using a fleshlight. Some say that their doms do the milking and other times, they are doing it themselves either on camera or in front of their doms. One male sub mentioned that he has a suction cup dildo that he is ordered to ride while he showers with his Mistress.

I also found some ran by machines, such as the Venus 2000 that is more of a masturbation machine. I could see Mistress implementing a machine like that as a way to torture me without having to touch me. While this machine doesn’t “milk” per se, it removes the need for Mistress to do all the work and can be attached to me for hours either in a slow, gruesome setting or something more intense. I also found some serious milking machine that I am not 100% sure how it works. All I know is that it is expensive!

Hello sparse readers. And by sparse, I mean SPARSE. But that is okay. I do zero advertising of this blog. Truly. I have done so little advertising that I am actually in the anti advertisement zone. This is by design. I began this as a writing space to put my thoughts to paper. It also has given Mistress, and a few of you, insights into the things that I cannot say aloud or could not have spoken aloud. I have mentioned a few times that I build my own barriers, or should I say, I support the obstacles that I have allowed others to create for me. It is tough as a male submissive in a male-driven society. We have expectations as males to be “manly” and not a pussy. Submit to no one should be the manly man motto. And here I am, kneeling at the feet of a dominant woman, submitting to her power, and enduring her wrath. I have zero complaints.

The actual conversation is about the big orgasm. You know, the only that you have after the hours-long play session and your Mistress decides you are allowed to release. Euphoria! I mean, I have convulsed after one of those events. Well, as you may know, I am on an orgasm drought until at least September since I made some poor bets against Mistress. I feel like this has been her trial run for long-term tease and denial sessions. What used to be teasing for a few hours and then the big O turned into teasing for a few days and then the big O. Now, the big O is still months away and has been unreachable for the past three months. I mean, approximately 12 weeks since I have had the big orgasm.

Mistress completed her first ruined orgasm a few weeks back, leaving me with an epic case of blue balls. I was introduced, taught, and experienced this very act all within five minutes for those not knowledgeable about the topic. We had a rather deep session that night when Mistress turned me over and said, “I want to try something. I have to practice this anyway.” Now, I have learned to not turn anything down from Mistress. The position she rolled me into may have signaled that she would give me a reprieve from my drought. She sat up on her bed, and her hands did God’s work. It didn’t take long after weeks of play and denial and then our deep session we just experienced. As the extravagant event took place, she abruptly stopped as my climatic eruption piddled all over me in a dismal motion. Instantly, my balls ached, and I pleaded for Mistress to continue. The grin I was met with was not the one that allows me to continue. I rolled from side to side in frustration as the main event quickly disappeared in the night. Content with herself, Mistress arose from her bed and got dressed at, end of the session. It took me a few minutes to reel myself from the ache and the disbelief.

My continuation of rambling about orgasms. Cumming inside my Mistress is powerful. I mean, that is where semen belongs, biologically speaking. Then men have the opportunity to have their women suck them off like a golf ball through a garden hose and then shoot their load down their throat. Actual power move, in my opinion. Almost like men are making a deposit in the women, they release their load into. But to have your orgasm controlled to a point where you build to the moment only to sputter through the finish line while your Mistress slowly giggles is demeaning. The event is maintenance, so I don’t end up with prostate problems or something. It isn’t even for pleasure but just to ensure good health. You would think I am building up to complain and say that “this isn’t fair”, or “she needs to give me mine.” I am not making that proclamation. I hereby say I just love it. She takes what she wants. She does what she wants. And I will follow her to the end of the earth sputtering along the way. But, it still is demeaning.

One last thing before I log off for the evening. Mistress made a new friend. He is a male dominant that I swear could be her twin, not by looks, but in thoughts, likes, and needs. I am sure that I am in store for some exciting things in the coming months. Stay tuned.

A bit of a sensitive area for men, I would say. Not just physically, either. The male testicle highlights many male conversations either through series talks or the bunt of a joke. We protect our balls more than we may protect our property at times. Men go through great lengths to ensure that nothing detrimental happens to their “man parts”. Yet, here I am, getting ready to open the mic for cock and ball torture.

I am not exactly versed in CBT play, to be honest. Actually, Mistress and I just spoke about my lack of research and readings around our lifestyle and how that has set us on a course where she is learning all kinds of new tricks, and I am far behind her. I need to fix that and find ways to be more engaged in the BDSM lifestyle outside of our little bubble. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have ideas and don’t think some things up.

One thing I do know about it is the humbler. Mistress and I have seen it when shopping for naughty items online and have spoken about getting it. We have yet to pull the trigger. Not so much as a deep thought but just a thing that would aid in Mistress’s sadistic personality. The humbler is an item that is typically made of wood and is carved in a wavy way that fits behind your legs. The male’s balls are attached in the middle of the item, and the grooves are designed to rest on the back of the legs, forcing the balls to stretch behind the legs and forcing the male to stay in that position. This would be perfect for predicament bondage or just control. Mistress can strap on the humbler and then fuck herself right out of my rich knowing that it drives me crazy, and I will go through pain to reach her.

But we don’t have a humbler and may not get one for a while, so I began to think of other ways Mistress can perform her sadistic ways while torturing my balls. While forcibly sitting in a chair, I started to think of how Mistress could introduce a bit of CBT right there. My ankles were tied together at that time, and my hands were attached the chair, immobile and away from use. Mistress could then tie my balls to my ankles. The shorter the length between balls and ankle, the more uncomfortable the position is. I wouldn’t adjust because of my bound hands, thus increasing the awkward situation and feeling. Throw in a hood, gag, and blindfold, and we have ourselves a party.

Mistress does have a few items in her arsenal that are designed to make me squirm and strain. She quickly has 100’s of clothespins that can be attached to the soft skin of my penis and testicles. We also have this neat little device called a torture condom. This item is made of tiny metal ringlets that are connected to make a “condom.” You put it over the penis and then do whatever you see fit. One disclaimer, it is not an actual condom, and I don’t recommend it going inside the Vagina. It is a painful experience.

We also have a cock collar with spikes for Mistress to tighten that dig into the penis shaft. It starts off in a teasing way and feels pretty good until Mistress goes total sadist and really tightens the screws. Mistress also has a ball-crushing device that we have not thoroughly put to the test. You place the penis and balls through this whole on a rectangle and then place this cover over it that has an additional hole for the penis. You line up the screws and begin to tighten them to desired crushing intensity.

Mistress used to be highly into sounds and “penetrating” my penis using metal sounds and penis plugs. We haven’t had a sound play session in quite some time, and I miss the feeling of being in awkward positions with things being rammed down my shaft. I wouldn’t mind some electro play with that as well.

The hardest part of CBT came a few months back, and I know Mistress will return to it with a different approach. A few months ago, Mistress spread IcyHot all over my balls, and at first, it was okay. But after a few minutes, PHEW! My balls were on fire. I was a “free-range” sub that night and wasn’t restrained or anything. I ended up in the shower after a few minutes to try and wash it away. It only lessened the sting a bit. I know Mistress wants to do more of that, and I prepared for her to fully restrain me before she does it.

The only thing with CBT that isn’t for me is being kicked in the balls. I mean, maybe it takes me back to my sports days when that happened from time to time, and I associate sports and ball kicking together. I am all for Mistress whipping, spanking, slapping, flicking, and biting my cock and balls. Hell, she has even used her heel on her boots to gain some control. But full-on kicking!? Nope, the hard limit is set right there.

Enough rambling for a Tuesday. Enjoy some tacos, readers.

Until next time

Happy Monday, everyone! I cannot believe another week has gone by. Everything is so green in our neck of the woods as summer quickly approaches. Camping season has been a blast, even with the baby. That kid was practically born for the outdoors.

Let’s talk about degradation today, shall we? I found a close relation between humiliation and degradation. Humiliation is something that we can quickly recover from, such as a waitress giving you a weird look after your Mistress says, “Oh, he will not be eating this evening.” That feeling of humiliation only stays with you in that moment or while you are at that restaurant. Degradation stays with you longer and is a way to put someone “down.” Thinking back to the restaurant encounter. Mistress orders her dinner and then my dinner—no big deal. Dinner comes to the table, and Mistress takes the plate and spits on it before I eat it. That feeling of having Mistress spit in my food is degrading. It puts me in a status that is beneath her. I am inferior to her, and she shows it by spitting on my dinner. The insight here, Mistress spits on most of my food nowadays.

I really began thinking about degradation after my last post. I found some of my humiliation ideas can be degrading as well. It just depends on the act and context. I started to think about the context of degradation and believed that degradation in our lifestyle means tearing down the submissive. But not just break them down but to build them back up as a submissive partner, to know one’s place in the relationship. I know that not every BDSM relationship is this way. Some people want humiliation and no degradation, and some people just want to be tied up and whipped. To be honest, I have evolved to enjoy humiliation and degradation.

Mistress has practiced a degrading act relatively recently. We were in the shower washing off the smell of the gym. Mistress has removed my ability to scrub myself when we shower together, so when she goes to lather me up, she says, “You are going to smell so pretty.” She used her flowery smelly woman soap to know that we had friends coming over that night for game night. But it got me thinking about the degrading part of that exchange. While I can explain to our friends that I ran out of soap and had to use hers, I would not have the ability to clarify if I was wearing woman deodorant and perfume as well. Our friends are very vanilla, so being forced to wear female deodorant and perfume would raise some questions and be degrading. In our society, forcing feminine products on males is a form of degradation.

Another example is that I have been itching to buy a new pair to tennis shoes as mine are reaching the end of their lives. This can be a time for Mistress Piixie to cash in and purchase me some new shoes that are more on the feminine side and giggle as I wear them out in public. More so, But Mistress has forced me to wear stockings, Lipstick, and T-shirts before. I absolutely hate it, but the fact that she pushes me to this level of control and degradation excites me. Again, the common theme for me is the power exchange. I do not want to don those items willingly, but when Mistress drops stockings, heels, a very feminine shirt on the bed as my clothes for the day and says, meet me in the bathroom for your makeup, I cannot help get a little excited.

But Mistress Piixie and I just started evolving into more of the degradation aspect of our lifestyle. We have always had a piece of it, but it was light and fun, but now we evolving into a more experienced level of female domination. Degradation is different than getting whipped. The psychological torture that is practiced is marvelous. Do I cringe when I know that Mistress spit in my food? Absolutely, but I get so aroused living that power exchange with her.

Recently, Mistress has renamed our bedroom to her bedroom and our bed to her bed. I get to sleep next to her every night, for now. It will not be long until I am permanently leashed or restrained to the bottom of the bed or underneath the bed. I find that sleeping at her feet or under her extremely arousing all while losing access to her bed. It is hugely degrading that I am so beneath her that I have to sleep at her feet or underneath the bed.
I talked about the loss of my name in the humiliation post last week. While humiliating, that is also a bit degrading, especially if she began using derogatory societal terms such as bitch more so than she uses Kitty. Even more degrading would be the requirement to curtsy, my Mistress, in public and private settings. That degrading act is a form of psychological control that pushes me in all my right buttons. As I think more about this, I begin to fantasize about Mistress requiring my only form of communication as a curtsy and kneeling. No words, no voice, no gagged murmuring. That level of power and control is precisely what a woman should have, and a man should endure.

My brain is swimming with degradation ideas that can occur, and then a current act pops in my mind that reminds me that Mistress Piixie is evolving into the degradation scene more and more. As mentioned several times, I have to drink urine throughout the day if I don’t meet specific requirements. I am sure that will only increase.

I wear my collar with pride when Mistress clips it on during our nightly ritual. Not long ago, Mistress stated, “I should replace your collar with a thin little collar with a bell on it and make you wear it more often.” I do not find collars degrading by any means. My collar is second to my wedding band. Every day, I would wear it all day if I could get away with it, but I find a collar with a bell to be a bit degrading. I don’t know exactly why that is. Maybe because most collars like that are dainty, and that can circle back to the feminizing approach. Take the kitty bell collar, a diaper, and a baby bottle of half Mistress’s urine and half water, and I will be not only kissing the ground she walks on, but I’ll also be licking it.

Until next time.