A Wonderful Submissive CD Halloween!

My sweet darlings,

It was a wonderful Halloween last evening. In our community the children are only allowed one evening (this year it was last night) from 6:00 - 8:00 p.m. to do their trick or treating. I assigned the goodie dispensing chores to my sub-hubby.

But first he had to be properly attired! This year he was a sexy witch. Yes, he wore black tights and a wonderful, very witchy black lacy dress from the Pyramid catalog. Long leather gloves adorned his arms up to the elbow, and his sissy slut feet were shod in cute, pointed-toe black leather ankle boots with a four-inch heel. A long black wig, TOO MUCH black eye makeup and, of course, a witch hat and broom completed his look. He was made to stand on the sidewalk, in the cool Autumn evening, in his heels, the wind blowing up his dress, and act like a witch for all the children. Some of the neighborhood wives even complimented him on his outfit as they walked their young charges around the cul-de-sac. (Hmmm, I wonder if they'd be interested in a cleaning service?)

So, my babies, what did you do for Halloween?

Mistress Constance

On-Line Sissy School

Good morning my darlings,

For those that may not be aware (where have you been?) my web site has a FREE on-line sissy school. One has to obtain a password to access the workings of the site, but there is NO CHARGE, the site and all its contents are FREE.

Would-be sissy maids are encouraged to select from the various assignments and send me their homework, which I will grade, and post to my site. Can you imagine, your homework, posted where my thousands of members can see it and know you are a sissy maid-in-training. Oh, the humiliation must be divine. Suffering for me yet, baby? Excellent.

If you have a Mistress/Wife/Girlfriend (or a domineering mother-in-law...wicked!) perhaps she can choose which assignments may address current inadequacies in your sissy development.

I'm going dancing this evening, but don't worry, Mistress has thought of you. There's a HUGE load of washing and ironing. I'll want all my lover's shirts laundered and pressed, and several of the neighborhood wives have left items for you as well. Here, lets get you in your six-inch heels and lock on the ankle shackles, hmmm, I believe a six-inch gait should be sufficient. The ironing board is on one side of the basement and the clothes rack on the other. I wonder, how many trips are you going to have to make, back and forth, back and forth between the two, your stilettos clicking across that hard concrete floor. Poor baby, such is the life of a sissy maid. Your agony, my bliss.

Mistress Constance

Family Cuckold

Good morning my darlings,

Mistress has a treat for you, an excerpt from one of my forthcoming Chastity Cuckold Tales. Family Cuckold. This will be released later this year, but do enjoy a little preview.

Chapter ONE

He poured the coffee and returned the silver coffee pot to the sideboard, slowly backing away and performing the proper curtsy as he did so. No one at the table paid attention or noticed, they knew what he would do, he’d been trained to exacting service.

As the happy couple enjoyed their breakfast he knelt beside his wife and extended his arms. In one hand he held a bowl of plain oatmeal, going cold; and in the other he held a dildo, eight inches in length and cock-shaped.

His wife glanced at the outstretched hands, “You may eat.” She smiled as she watched her submissive husband obey. Her short, at five-seven he was an inch shorter than she, husband with his mid-section paunch, fell back on his haunches and began to scoop the oatmeal onto the cock and lick and suck it off.

Steven Cartright ate a mouthful of his omelet and nodded at the kneeling male. “Your husband cooks a good egg; very tasty.”

“Yes,” Sharon Hoffman buttered a piece of toast. “He cooks a good breakfast, sets a nice table, and he even cleans up when he’s done, don’t you dear?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Alex Hoffman’s reply was quiet and polite.

Sharon held the bit of toast beyond her husband’s lips. She knew he wouldn’t take it, not without permission. She let it drop to the floor and stepped on it with her high heeled pump. When she lifted her foot away the toast was smashed to the tile floor. “Now you may have it.”

Her husband bent forward and licked up the trampled bread.

“Gawd, the way you tease him,” Steven said.

Sharon reached over and tousled her husband’s brown and graying hair. “But he likes it, he’s happier this way. Aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Mistress.” He looked at the couple at the table. Sharon, his wife/Mistress, didn’t look at all like her age, in her late forties. Good genetic stock, a healthy lifestyle and a fastidious beauty regimen still made her a head-turner. Her long blonde hair, flashing green eyes and full-figured, curvy body were man-catchers.

Sharon tugged and straightened the black and white lace choker around Alex’s neck. His weekend breakfast uniform was a dainty black and white creation, all lace and frills, too tight, too short, meant for humiliation and degradation, not a working uniform. “Do you want me to tell Steven to go home?” she teased. “Shall we throw away all your pretty dresses? Are you ready to be the man of the house?”

His tongue licked away the last of the oatmeal on his feeding cock. “Please, no, Mistress. I know that Master Steven makes you happy, and I’m best at being your maid.”

Sharon shrugged her shoulders and blew Steven a kiss, “See, darling, our little slut is happy being who she is, aren’t you Alex? Or Lexy, yes, let’s call you Sexy Lexy, our devoted sissy maid and cock whore.”

Steven nodded, “Okay by me, as long as everyone knows their place. More coffee, slut.”

Lexy poured Master Steven’s coffee and returned to kneeling on the floor. Master Steven didn’t look over ten years younger than Sharon, yet he was. Alex glanced up to see the way Sharon looked at Steven. I can understand why she looks at him that way. Steven was a muscular and strapping six-two, with movie-star good looks, piercing gray eyes and sandy colored hair that Sharon loved to run her hands through.

“My daughter, Karen, is coming home from college next week.” Sharon sat back in her chair and eyed Lexy, “I think it’s time we informed her of this relationship. She’s old enough to know, and make her own decisions.” A feral smile curled at her lips; Karen had never got along with her step-father. “Then we can all settle in to a more—open—relationship.”

Alex/Lexy winced. He and Sharon had played their escalating dominant/submission games for years, leading to where they were now. With the exception of Sharon’s lovers it had always been a well-kept secret. Sharon was raising the stakes, telling their daughter, his step-daughter, Karen.

Sharon rose and walked to Steven, settling into his lap, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping her hand onto his muscled chest. “I want to entertain my lovers whenever I want, and not worry about leaving out paddles, whips and strap-ons.” She glared at Lexy, “And I want her out of my bedroom, without having to explain to Karen why he’s now sleeping in the small guest room at the end of the hall.”

“Can’t say I disagree,” Steven nibbled on her earlobe and Sharon quivered. “Would be best for all, then our little Lexy-slut can give up all pretense about being the man of the house.”

“Exactly,” Sharon placed a kiss on Steven’s lips. “I’ve already picked out new furniture and a paint scheme for our new maid’s room.” She turned her eyes to the kneeling Lexy, “Your life, my darling husband and maid, is going to change.”

(c) 2010 Constance Pennington Smythe

Yes, my babies; I imagine that many of you would love to be in Lexy's situation...yes?

Mistress Constance

Chatting with Mistress

Good evening my darlings,

Those who've been lucky enough to catch me on-line can testify that Mistress does indeed chat, sometimes at length, with her many fans and readers. As is my web site, these chats are FREE, Mistress doesn't charge $3.99 a minute to chat, nor does she charge a subscription fee for her site.

I have no issue with those who do charge as some offer quite impressive sites and personal services. Mistress is a strong capitalist and free-market devotee. I do charge for my books (sold at Amazon and other retailers), those sales providing the necessary funds to maintain my web site and sometimes send devoted submissives little gifts. Yes, I've gifted signed books, canes, Snickers bars trod upon with my wicked six-inch stilettos, signed pictures, panties, bras and other items.

So watch for me on IM and Yahoo and perhaps "we" can chat. Mind you, I do like for my "gurls" to be dressed in some kind of feminine apparel. If you are dressed Mistress always demands a detailed accounting of what you are wearing. High heels are strongly recommended. Can you type in gloves? Long opera gloves?

I am not on Face Book, Grouply, My Space or other such venues. With my writing, editing, and other activities I simply have no time to be a social gadfly in each electronic venue. You may look for me on Yahoo Chat or IM: constancepenningtonsmythe@yahoo.com

Be warned; I've sent more than a few submissives (especially ones in chastity...yummy) nighty nite with frustrations and blue balls. Then again, I'm hoping you want to suffer for my amusements...yes?

Whips and Kisses my sweet babies.
Mistress Constance

Male Chastity: A Desired State?

I'm not sure what happened with that last post. One might suppose Mistress should not drink Merlot and try to post blogs!

Many of you might think I would have all males in chastity. Goodness, no! Mistress can think of the most wondrous things to do with the likes of George Clooney and French hottie Jean Reno that do NOT involve chastity.

But there are many instances where it behooves the woman of the house to put her man in chastity. There are a plethora of ways, MANY quite enjoyable, for a woman to experience personal pleasure that will NOT require the use of any husband appendage. Other, perhaps younger and well-endowed lovers (male or female), come to mind as do an array of toys. Most husbands do come equipped with the necessary oral equipment to provide womanly relief, although many do have to undergo training to become adept at the process. For these males, chastity is, indeed, a much desired state. It keeps them focused on their superior Wife/Girlfriend and makes them more attentive to the many new duties they will have.

After all, in this new and exciting relationship paradigm, should the Woman need worry about doing dishes? Or making beds? Laundry? Cleaning toilets? I say not, task the chastised male with such dreary work, whilst the noble and superior Female, and her bevy of lovers, enjoy the services and attentions of the chastised male.

In the future I will discus this more, but I believe it's time for another Merlot. In the interim, do be obedient my babies.

Mistress Constance

Male Chastity: A Desired State?

A Use for Cuckolds?

I’m hard at work on new Chastity Cuckold Tales stories. I hope to release Black Owned on 12 November. There is another story that has a similar theme that I’m working on called the WSB Club. WSB stands for White Sissy Bitch. You want to be a member of that club? I thought so.

Last evening was a wonderful night of dancing. I’m thinking that might make a rather elegant story: a dance hall where women go to meet and dance with Alpha Male Bulls while the hapless chastised husbands serve as coat-check girls and waitresses. Yes, I think I’ll start making some notes on that. How many of you would volunteer for such duty? Can you imagine yourself mincing about in your heels and scandalously short cocktail waitress uniform, taking the drink orders of your wife and her lover, kneeling to shine his shoes during a short break in the dancing? What if your wife invites some of the people from your office as her guests that evening? Your boss, your secretary, will see how you curtsy and grovel in serving your wife and her lover. My, my, your work life will never be the same.

Then again, that’s really what you need isn’t it, darling? To serve and submit. And that’s what we want for you too, baby. So go put on your prettiest dress and your highest heels and polish your silver serving tray. You’re going to need lots of practice walking and serving; small steps, bend at the waist and offer the tray. And smile sweetheart, we want to see a happy cheerful sissy maid attending our events. I’d love to hear what you’re planning to wear.

© 2010 Constance Pennington Smythe

Mistress Constance

Foot Worship

My Darlings,

It's another evening of dance for Mistress. Don't you wish you were here, on your knees, watching me pull the dance tights up my legs. So smooth, so shiny. Think how that handsome younger man will feel when I do a sensuous leg crawl up his leg during the Tango. Or when I do an American Spin in the Swing, and my dress flies up, showing so much leg.
And here you are, at home, on your hands and knees, scrubbing the bathroom tile with your toothbrush. Didn't you do that last night? Oh well, it can never be too clean. If you manage to finsih that chore I've left a list of others on the refrigerator. When I come home you may service me.


I'm home. Ah there you are. Miss me? Hmm, that curtsy was sloppy; do fifty more before bed and remind me to cane you tomorrow. Crawl to me and remove my shoes. Now...smell my feet; do you like the way they smell after hours of dancing? You may assist in removing my tights, but put on your opera gloves, I don't want your hands actually touching me. Young, strong male hands have been holding me all evening. Hands that deserve me, excite me. Yours are the hands of a sissy maid.
Yes, you may smell the crotch of my dance tights. If you do a good job of foot worship you may even take them to bed with you, to sniff, to suck, to taste. To think and dream...of ME.
Lick my feet, show me how much you love and adore me, let me feel the depth of your submission through your tongue. Lick between the toes, suck them. Goodness you really are a slut. What else would you do for me? I wonder.
(c) 2010 Constance Pennington Smythe

Nighty Nite, my babies,
Mistress Constance

New High Heel Ritual

Good Morning My Darlings,

Here's a little something to start your day. I wrote this in first person so that you may better put yourself into it as you read. I want you to become that tortured and tormented submissive. That is what you want, isn't it. To suffer for ME, endure MY humiliations?

Enjoy...

The tinkling bell catches my attention. I dry my hands and straighten my apron. My stilettos click across the floor as I scurry, with tiny steps, to Mistress. She insists I take small steps, having once complained, 'I don't want you clomping about like some fisher woman'. The proper gait and posture were obtained with countless walking drills and punishments for non-performance. I knew that Mistress would be listening to my approach, her ear could tell when my walk did not meet her strict specifications. I executed a low and delicate feminine curtsy, another requirement dictated by Mistress. Then I waited, in silence.
Mistress ignored me, didn't even acknowledge my presence. She read a few more pages in her book then looked up at me. "Display," she ordered.
I performed another curtsy, this time lifting my dress as I rose, to display my chastity device.
She picked up her crop, using it to move the chastity device around, inspecting it and my cock imprisoned inside. "Mmm, these look rather full and tight," she used the slapper on the end of her crop to tap my balls. "No, you're not getting released, what's the point in that? Present," she said.
At this command I turned and bent at the waist, still holding up my dress. My bottom, framed by the straps of my garter belt and the tops of my stockings, was presented to Mistress. This posture was used for punishment, humiliation, or to present my pussi for use by any Master or Mistress.
"Spread," she ordered.
I reached around and grabbed my buttocks, opening my ass cheeks to display what Mistress called my 'pussi'.
She poked it with her crop, "Are you plugging this slut-hole in the shower?"
"Yes, Ma'am," she required me to plug my pussi in the shower, to keep it conditioned to being 'used'.
She set the crop on the sofa. "Dress down."
I lowered my dress, turned around and placed my hands behind my back.
"You like wearing high heels, don't you," she asked.
"Yes, Ma'am," I performed a small 'bob curtsy' a bending of my knees, a ritual that accompanied every response to acknowledge an order from a superior.
Her smile was not one of warmth, rather it was a prognosticator of misery. "Good, then you will wear heels all the time in my house."
"Yes, Ma'am."
She was silent, it was an uneasy silence. "All...the...time, from the minute you get out of bed until you go to bed. Not in the shower of course, but at all other times."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"I'd advise you to keep a pair by the door so you can slip into them the moment you enter the house."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"If there are times when this will not be practical "I" will decide." She paused, "You are not allowed on the furniture." She saw my confusion and smiled, "Something you don't understand?"
"No, Mistress, I mean-"
"This is MY furniture, in MY house. You are not allowed on it unless I give you express permission, which won't happen often. There's simply no need for you to 'sit'. There is plenty of work to keep a maid and secretary occupied, and none of it requires sitting."
"Yes, Mistress"
"You like to wear high heels, I'm simply providing you an opportunity to wear them...constantly...all the time. Rather generous of me, don't you think?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you Ma'am."
She cocked her head toward the kitchen, "Move your computer to the ledge above the counter. That should provide a place for you to use it while standing. You can work, standing on a hardwood floor in your heels, and be readily accessible to service me."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"You have a lot of heels, don't you?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Mistress has been very generous in allowing me heels."
"I have, haven't I? And I expect to see you wearing all of them. You will change throughout the day...and afternoon...and evening. My own little living high heel model. You may change whenever you like." She picked up her bell, "But if I ring this bell and say 'Heels' you will go and change, and return and model your heel selection. If I don't happen to like them, you'll be disciplined with six strokes, cane, whip, paddle, my choice. Then you'll go and change into something else...and you'd better hope I like those."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"No matter how many hours you've been in heels, I expect perfect posture, you will take tiny steps, your tushy and titties out, tummy in. Perhaps I'll allow you to kneel or crawl at times...maybe."
"Yes, Ma'am, thank you, Ma'am."
She laughed, "I condemn you to days and hours of foot misery, and you thank me." Seems reasonable enough. Also, you will begin wearing gloves at all times."
I nodded and bobbed another curtsy, "Yes, Ma'am."
"Do you know why?"
"Because, uh, it please Mistress to make me do so?"
She considered this. "I suppose so. After all, you do things simply because I order you to. Three reasons. One, you will wear gloves because I say you will. Two, you will wear them because I don't want you touching my things with your bare hands." She waved her hands to indicate her house, "Everything here is mine, even you belong...to ME. This," she poked at my chastity device with her crop, "and the useless and hideous thing inside belong to me. And I don't want you touching any of it with your bare hands. Three, the gloves will make you look cute and sexy. When I have guests they will enjoy seeing my little slutty sissy maid in her dress and heels and gloves mince about my house, serving me and my guests. Perhaps they'll even be excited by your appearance and want to fuck that sissy pussi of yours. You'd like that wouldn't you?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Slut! You may find it difficult, at first, performing all your daily tasks wearing gloves. Not my problem, I don't care. You'll adapt soon enough, in a few weeks or months. I'll also expect to see several glove changes throughout the day. We'll start getting some use out of all your gloves and heels...won't we?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
She snapped her fingers. "Go change your heels and put on gloves, then make me some fresh coffee."
I executed the deep curtsy required when leaving her presence and teetered away, remembering to take small steps and swish my bottom as required.
"Shorter steps," I heard her call out to me as I walked away, "or I'll bind those knees again."
I remembered when she first started my "training". By Saturday afternoon she was disgusted with my 'steps' and wrapped me in saran wrap from my waist to my knees, leaving my chastised cock free and on hideous display. She secured the wrapping with duct tape. The rest of the weekend I struggled around the house, forced into the tiniest of steps, taking forever to move from one place to the other. Mistress was amused by my plight. "Too difficult?" she said. "Too bad. My advice is to learn to walk like a proper slutty sissy maid, and the sooner for you...the better."
(c) 2010 Constance Pennington Smythe

Did you enjoy that my darlings? Then go and do it, stay in those heels ALL day. Let the sound of your stilettos clicking around the house be music to my ears. Be my precious high-heeled slut.

Mistress Constance

Your Release

Darling, I'm very impressed with your alacrity in answering my bell. Your training is coming along quite nicely. Mistress Diana was also suitably impressed the other day by the enthusiasm and thoroughness shown in your cleaning of her shoes. Your exceptional tonguing was duly noticed. I believe you deserve an award...perhaps a release from your device?
Bring me the tray from the kitchen. Careful, there's a wine glass full of water on it!
Good girl, over here stand in front of me; let me remove your device. How long has it been? Weeks? Poor baby, you must be so frustrated.
There all off; feel good?
Let's see, you're right handed? Then hold the tray in your left hand. Higher, sweetherat and hold it out further.
Feet together. I like the six-inch heels you're wearing, quite lovely. Feet together. Careful, keep your balance. Don't spill any water from the glass on the tray.
Now, you may stroke your clitty. Use the thumb and little finger of your right hand. On the out stroke say 'Thank you, Mistress Constance' and on the back stroke say 'I'm a sissy slut'.
You have five minutes to pleasure yourself. Feet together, posture, darling. Hold the tray up. Don't spill the water! If you spill a single drop of water we stop and you get locked back up.
Stroke and repeat your little mantra; try to make sissy cummies for Mistress. Hurry, baby, time is running out.
Sweetheart, you are so precious. Are you humiliated? Suffering? Excellent.
Mistress Constance
(c) 2010 Constance Pennington Smythe

Relaxing at Home

My Darlings,

Mistress is about to enjoy some of her guilty pleasures: a Cognac, Dancing with the Stars on the television and a human footstool.
After my subby brings me my Cognac I'll send him to fetch the...punishment heels (insert ominous music here). It's so amusing to watch him crawl up the stairs and return, holding the wicked heels so tenderly between his lips.
The shoes? They are black patent, perfect for some tongue worship; with pointed toes and wicked 5-inch silver (metal) heels.
Ahhh, so nice to relax, watch my slave gingerly slip the shoes on my feet and then take his place on hands and knees before me...my human footstool.
I'll enjoy the dancing (Maxim and Tony...yummy!) and torment my human footstool. Don't worry, I won't break the skin, but I'll leave bruises and nice red marks where I s-l-o-w-l-y drag that metal heel across that tender sissy maid flesh.
It's so good to be me. And where would "you" be in my little scenario? Hmmm?

Mistress Constance

Excerpt from Black Owned

Good Morning my darlings,

Mistress slept in after an evening of dancing. My subby made coffee, he looks so sweet in his white lacy ankle socks, black patent Mary Janes with a 4" stiletto heel, white apron over his black dress, white/black lace choker and white lace wrist-length gloves with a cute ruffle. Don't "you" wish you could be my Saturday morning sissy maid?

Mistress has a treat for you this morning, an excerpt from my next Chastity Cuckold Tales: Black Owned. I "do" spoil you, don't I? You may read it after you've finished all your chores. THAT includes scrubbing my kitchen floor with a toothbrush; I found a couple of crumbs behind the trash can. I know you can do better, so here's your toothbrush, down on your knees and get to work.

From BLACK OWNED:

Marcus reached out and grabbed handfuls of Rebecca’s breasts, kneading the creamy flesh in his large, strong hands. “Better git your white ass up here boy, git mah cock hard, ‘cause that’s the way your wife likes her cocks, big, black and hard.”

“Better do it,” my wife taunted. “And hurry, your wife doesn’t like to wait for cocks.”

I climbed onto the bed, licking my lips, lubricating them to encircle Marcus’s massive fleshy pole. It was Sunday morning, and I’d been serving Master and Mistress since Friday evening when their love-nest weekend started. I didn’t even bother counting the number of times I’d had a cock in my mouth, either getting it hard for Mistress’s pleasure or cleaning it after Master had fucked my wife. The number of occurrences no longer mattered; my focus was providing Master and Mistress the best sexual experience possible and I was expected to be both enthusiastic and appreciative.

Rebecca looked over her shoulder to see me taking Marcus’s cock in my mouth. “That’s a good husband. See, we both get to enjoy a real cock…”

A Real Cock. Our prior sex games, a little BDSM and Female Domination, had led to this, me sucking her lover’s black cock. One weekend at a swinger’s party hosted by a neighbor (who knew?) and Rebecca had her taste of a real cock. She’d fucked two men that night, one a well-hung black lawyer, and there was no turning back. She became a swing party regular until one of the women turned her on to the world of cuckolding, chastity and black lovers.

“It’s a chastity device,” she explained, holding out the CB-6000. “I thought the whole Female Domination/male slave thing turned you on?”

“It-it does, but…” I stared at the device; the tube that would enclose my penis looked so small.

She read my thoughts, “It IS small. It’s the short version, smallest one they make.” She stood back, sexily rocking one foot on its stiletto heel. “Are you going to be my slave? Isn’t this what you’ve been badgering me about? To take control?”

Her voice had an abrasive edge, but I couldn’t deny the scene was turning me on. “Sure, I fantasize about you being this type of Mistress who—”

“Then get fucking naked and on your knees.” She waited, “Well?”

Within seconds my clothes were on a chair and I was naked, on my knees in the middle of the room.

“Geez, was that really so fuckin’ hard?” She held the device out, “Do you know how to put this on?”

I nodded, “Yea, I’ve seen—”

She slapped me, hard, nearly knocking me over. “Listen, do you want to do this Mistress/slave thing or not?” She grabbed my hair and pulled my head up, “Yes or no?”

“Yes, I—”

She slapped me again. I cringed.

“There’s no ‘yes’ or ‘yea’. It’s ‘yes, Mistress’ or ‘no, Mistress’. Now,” she continued, “do you want to be my chastity slave?”

I swallowed, “Yes…Mistress.” She brought up her hand and I flinched, but she caressed my cheek.

“See,” she smiled, “that wasn’t so hard. When you do what you’re told it will go much easier for you.” She brought her fingers to my lips and I kissed them. She placed the device in my hand. “Go upstairs, shower, shave your groin. Come to think of it, get rid of all the body hair. You can keep the eyebrows and your head hair, but all the rest…it has to go. Put on the device and report back to me.” She stepped back and extended her foot.

I bent down and kissed it. Kissed away my manhood, my marital bed, my cock and balls for all the use I get out of them.

Things progressed quickly from that point. We kept going to the swing parties, but I no longer participated, Mistress dismissed my situation with a, “It’s locked up, really no use to anyone here; honey, why don’t you go help the hostess, wash some glasses, clean some ashtrays.” My submissiveness and chastity quickly became a boon to the swing parties and I was little more than a servant to those in attendance.

Rebecca soon took to sleeping only with black men, praising their physical endowments, sexual prowess and physical stamina. I admit I’d never been a dynamo in bed, but always thought Rebecca had been satisfied. Perhaps she had, until she discovered real cock…

Now, here I was, naked, my cock locked away now for several months, and sucking Marcus’s cock.

Rebecca was leaning forward, dangling her tits in Marcus’s face, and waving her well-fucked bottom in my face. She’d never performed anal sex with me, but couldn’t get enough of that huge cock in her back door.

“Is he doin’a good job, honey?” She moaned as Marcus pinched her nipple. “Getting you all hard and wet for me?”

BYE for now. Whips and Kisses,

Mistress Constance

Foot Slave

I'll be going dancing tonight. Ballroom dancing. In the arms of younger men. I imagine all my submissives will be at home, polishing and organizing my shoe collection, cleaning bathrooms, washing and ironing my boyfriend's shirts. Perhaps, if you've done your chores, you'll be allowed to worship my feet when I come home. Yes, no doubt your eyes will be drawn to my legs encased in the shiny dance tights, but do try and focus darling. I want to feel your tongue on my sole, long loving licks from heel to toe. Who among you will earn the right to worship Mistress's feet?

Mistress Constance

From My New Book

Here's a tidbit from one of my new Chastity Cuckold Tales. Do enjoy.

Mistress Constance

He shuddered as the ice chilled his nipples; he felt them going numb and his hands pulled away the ice cubes.

Her reaction was immediate, the slap of her hand on his cheek breaking the silence in the room. “Keep that ice on there!”

“It’s so cold,” he whined, “I can’t feel them.”

She pushed his hands away, her fingers cruelly pinching and twisting the frigid buds. “Well I can feel them.”

He grimaced at her assault.

“And I want them nice and perky for our guest.” She gave them a final vicious pinch and released them. “Ice them down, slut.”

His hands reached for more ice cubes from the bucket and pressed them to his breasts. “Yes, Mistress; I’m sorry Mistress.”

Margaret Claremont glared down at her kneeling husband. At six-foot, six-five in her designer stilettos, she loomed over her five-seven husband. Even so, her elegant footwear only put her eye-to-eye with her strapping lover, Chad. Her mane of auburn hair fell in sensuous waves to her shoulders. The green eyes that glowed warm for Chad were cold for her slave/husband. “Twenty more minutes, and Chad’s daughter will be here for your interview.” Her voice took on a mocking quality as she said interview. “You will address her as Mistress Diana and answer every question—politely and truthfully. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You should be grateful that Chad is allowing you to help Diana with her Master’s thesis and in working her way through college.”

“Of course Mistress; anything to please you and Master Chad.” Thomas looked up to see Master Chad put his arm around Margaret and pull her close. His lips nuzzled her neck, and Margaret closed her eyes and sighed as the Alpha Male’s hand caressed her breast.

Both gazed down at the hapless chastised, cuckold husband. Thomas knelt, sitting back on his haunches on a pink rug, his back against the sofa. He was naked, his thighs spread to reveal the chastity device that imprisoned his cock. His brown and graying hair, growing long so Mistress Margaret could style it, framed a face with average features—and frightened eyes.

“So how many will this be?” Margaret asked.

“This one will be My Daddy Fucks Your Wife – fifteen,” Chad said.

“Goodness,” Margaret’s hand slid down to the bulge at Chad’s groin, “you’ve been quite the busy Bull.”

Chad nibbled her ear, “So many beautiful women with cuckold chastised husbands, it does keep me busy; a veritable labor of love.” He looked at his watch, “We should get ready.”

Thomas watched his wife and Chad turn and walk hand-in-hand from the room.