Xmas is NOT a time of joy (for submssives)

Long term followers of my blog will recall how Xmas is not a time of joy for my bitch. It is actually a time during which he is reminded how, times that may be joyful for many, are often miserable for him, but thereby bringing greater joy to me. I now many other Dommes have the same view. LINK 1. LINK 2. LINK 3.

I happened to be looking through my collection of Madame magazine and petticoated.com reading material and some Xmas material turned-up I fondly remembered from two decades ago. For examples of Madame magazine material, hover your cursor over the ‘Dommes’ Letters‘ menu option above. I thought I would share the two items of the material that most amused me:

I thought it might be useful for my Domme followers to begin thinking about Christmas now, so there is plenty of time to make plans and purchases to ensure Xmas is such a ‘special’ time for your playthings this year.

Letter 1

Dear Mrs Kendrick,

How frustrating for you to return from Christmas shopping and find your babysitter is unable to maintain discipline! I know it is a chore, but perhaps in future you should just put a warm winter coat on top of Michele’s pyjamas, and take him with you. I am sure those snugly zipped slippers will keep his feet cosy. I can’t really imagine how a Da-mart fleecy dressing gown, and a new pair of pink furry slippers, could fail to disappoint as Christmas presents. I know my husband cried with joy at his two new pairs of winceyette pyjamas: a pair with little ducks on, and a nice pink floral pair.

My sister and mother had great fun making ‘quacking’ noises as he served us, appropriately enough, our Christmas duck whilst he wore his new duckling pyjamas. Of course he had to wear his new white frilly apron to protect his pyjamas – Mother always does provide such thoughtful gifts. Also, you will be pleased to hear, my sister gave him a lovely pair of slippers as her gift. I am sure you would approve – they are a quite shocking pink, delicately embroidered, and have an attractive fur collar to keep the chill away. As he washed up after dinner I must admit to thinking how smart he looked in his pyjamas, slippers and frilly apron.

Hubbie was bathed by all of us, and ready for bed wearing nappies and his new floral pyjamas by four o’clock. As it was Christmas day, he was allowed half an hour before bedtime to play with his colouring book; yes, I know I spoil him, two pairs of pyjamas and a colouring book!

There was a brief tantrum when Mother insisted he sat on her knee while she read him his bedtime story, but a few fierce slaps of the tawse to the backs of his thighs soon cured that infraction, and it was night-night kisses on the forehead and then off to bed for him at five o’clock, wrists padlocked to his night time collar. Once in bed he is not allowed out of bed for any reason.

I hope you continue to keep Michele attired in feminine pyjamas, slippers and dressing gowns, as I can assure you they will eventually pay dividends, and you will have a male who is dutiful and polite.
Mrs Y

Letter 2

I grew up in a household where men were treated like second-class citizens. So I found it difficult when I first started messing about with boys. I couldn’t understand why they were so bossy. Beating them into submission became an obsession. By the time I got married I’d ‘trained’ my fiancée. He rarely argued with me and so corporal punishment was never necessary. It was clear he was of a submissive personality and was attracted to my dominant demeanour with him. The thing is – I get an incredible buzz from destroying them slowly and surely over a period of time. And it is so easy to frighten men.

The first time my husband came home late I told him he deserved to be punished and that I intended slapping his face. Of course he wouldn’t believe what I was saying. So I explained that he could either accept it in the privacy of our home, or I could arrive at his office and do it in front of his friends and colleagues. Once I’d convinced him it would happen – he accepted me slapping his face. Let me tell you something. Watching his face as he explored all the alternatives was really really exciting. And the actual moment when he knew, actually understood, that not only was I going to inflict pain on him, but that he had no choice, no say! When I struck him I experienced a searingly hot rush of sexual heat. My blood seemed to fizz. Everything changed instantly for both of us – from that day onwards he was a fearful, wary individual living with a frightening unpredictable animal. I literally stalked about the house like a leopardess!

A week later getting ready to go out, I straightened his tie and told him that if he upset me in any way at the party, I would not only slap his face, I’d tell everyone in the room that I’d slapped him before. I wish you could have seen him at the party – he was polite to the point of subservience. He was terrified of doing anything that would annoy me. Unfortunately for him his behaviour itself aroused me. When we got home I almost ripped his clothes off and took him in the hallway. I was quite rough. This sexual domination was the start of a trend. I no longer waited for him to make the first move in bed. If I wanted him, I mounted him, and used him. The slightest resistance on his part caused me to slap him and I was very crude and even savage at times.

At a family gathering at Christmas he upset me. He’d had a few drinks which gave him too much courage for his own good. I took him to the kitchen and told him I that I was going to beat him in front of his mother and his sisters. I said it in a normal voice not caring who heard. He went white. And I was getting hot watching his terror! He implored me to forgive him but I insisted on punishing him. ‘You need a hiding, and I want to give you one.’ I said. I could see him thinking. To him, anything was better than being totally humiliated in front of my family. ‘Not here.’ He whimpered fearfully, ‘You can do what you want, but please, not now.‘ I licked my lips. ‘A spanking?‘ He nodded. I pretended to think. ‘You’ll wear a special outfit, a punishment costume. And I’ll put you over my knee.’ He was practically trembling with fear as I was still talking quite loudly. ‘Yes, yes!‘ He gasped.

Having agreed to a formal spanking – he was very attentive and polite for the rest of the evening. Entering our house later was unbelievably exciting. His fear had increased with every mile. ‘Go upstairs.‘ I said, ‘Wear a pair of my panties. I want you down here in five minutes wearing nothing but a pair of panties.‘ I saw the indecision on his face. I simply waited, by this time he really had no choice. When he walked stiffly away I once again experienced that same rush of buzzing heat. I spanked him using the flat of my hand over his pink panties. I beat him as hard as I could until he was sobbing like a girl. I positioned my chair in front of the wall mirror so he could see his own spanking! That Christmas event changed everything! I have ever since, made sure Christmases are always ‘very special’ events indeed for my submissive husband, in celebration of the Christmas that changed everything!

Today he is an obedient and submissive househusband who accepts formal and ritualistic beatings from me in front of my mother! I got him to wear panties at all times after that first spanking. This helped when he became obstreperous. I could look him in the eye wherever we were and say, ‘Should I tell everyone what colour panties you are wearing today?‘ And he’d go very quiet and still. And one afternoon I did just that.

We were at my mother’s house. John was acting a bit sullen because I’d told him to make tea. I was angry so I said. ‘Look at him sulking like a little girl. Tell Mummy what colour panties you’re wearing.‘ He was totally stunned. Mummy giggled. Still angry, I pulled him towards me and tugged his pants down. Mummy gasped. He was wearing a pair of pale blue nylon panties. ‘We call them his punishment panties. I spank him when he’s naughty.‘ My husband was crushed. He walked to the door and then froze when I hissed, ‘One more step and I’ll use my belt!’ He froze. ‘Come here.‘ I said, ‘Bend over my knee.’ And as my mother watched with a lurid fascination I spanked my panty-clad hubby in front of her. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK!

Now of course my mother was shocked – but not perhaps in the way most women would have been. She had always taught me to be assertive, and she enjoyed being bossy herself. After I had spanked John he was utterly submissive. He simply stared into space like a zombie as we discussed him. My mother was quite aroused now and she found it difficult to keep her hands off him. She caressed his buns through his panties. ‘Do you find the knickers and stuff helpful?‘ She wanted to know. I explained that John wore aprons and that they too affected his behaviour.

Her wanting to see and experience everything, we dressed John in a variety of aprons, blouses and panties. It was the bra that made him weep. The sight of him sobbing and begging aroused my mother and I instinctively knew she wanted to beat him herself. I slid the slippery-smooth bra straps up John’s arms. I fastened the lace and satin bra behind him. He was now wearing matching pink and white bra and panties and a pair of pink court shoes with a four inch heel. I faced him and said, ‘Go upstairs, fetch my hairbrush, the heavy one with the ivory back.‘ John sniffed and nodded. Then, I added, ‘Go to the kitchen, find a really pretty apron – a pink one to match your panties. Wear it when you bring me to hairbrush.

As John scurried away with tears rolling down his face, I said to Mummy. ‘You can beat him with the hairbrush.’ She was very excited. When my husband walked into the room he was wearing a cute tea-apron. It was exceptionally pretty – white nylon with a frill of pink lace and a pink heart-shaped pocket. He looked unbearably sweet. He was holding a large ivory-backed hairbrush. ‘Curtsey to Mummy, offer her the brush and ask her to beat you!’ His eyes involuntarily rolled in his head, I thought he might faint. He shuffled to my mother, executed a very pretty curtsey and proffered the heavy hairbrush. ‘Please will you beat me M’aam.’ He stammered. Mummy went a bright pink, pulling him over her lap she proceeded to slap his thighs and buttocks with the hard back of the hairbrush! SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK! The tears flowed again and I felt so incredibly powerful owning another human I could order to be punished by another woman.

I will never tire of wickedly dominating my submissive husband. The sexual arousal and dominant contentment simply cannot be matched by any other sort of long-term relationship. Of course, things continue always to become more ‘challenging’ for him and so more satisfying for me both sexually, and as an overall lifestyle. Not so sexually satisfying for him any more though; but that is another story,

Anonymous, York

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