prostate milking

Prostate Milked in My Corner #femdom #flm

For a variety of reasons the Lady of the House and I have been on the move for the last few weeks. Which is annoying and stressful. All the more so as there has been very little privacy or time to maintain our routine.

But that has not stopped the Lady of the House from making it very clear who wears the pants…”You can take these panties” she said slipping off her black cotton panties “and pick a corner in the wash room. I will be with you in a little while.”

prostate milking

A ladies guide to prostate milking

I stripped naked as required and pressed the wet fragrant gusset of Hannah’s panties to a corner of the tiny bathroom with my nose. Her scent was intoxicating.

She left me there for what seemed like half an hour but I suspect less than that. I couldn’t help my erection. Hannah explained over a month that until I have been throughly caned my cock will not be allowed anywhere near her. And she has been terrifically distracted so has not noticed how many days it is since last I was allowed to humiliate myself into my cup.

Tonight I was a little cheeky and so was being punished. I heard the bathroom door open.

“No, stay where you are. I see your little cockette is a bit hard. Well, darling, I know I have been neglecting you on that front. Frankly, sometimes forget about you that way completely. But we can’t let you go too long.”

As she said this last I could hear her putting on a pair of dish gloves. She took her soaking panties away from my nose and draped their gusset on the tip of my little cock. “Now you just stand right there and I will see what I can do.”

I felt her push the middle finger of her left hand up my bottom.

“I know that what you really would like is a really hard caning. All those lovely welts.”

Her right hand closed around my hard little penis and began to jerk it roughly in rhythm to her voice and her two fingers now up my bottom stroking my prostate.

“But, darling we can’t punish you properly her so I will just have to humiliate you into my panties and watch as you lick every bit of your mess and my lovely nectar of the cotton…”

I came all over the block panties…

“Good boy….Now put those panties down on the floor beside the toilet and get licking while I finger fuck your cute little bottom.”

I knelt on the hard, cold tile deep in contented surrender to the Lady of the House.

Through the rings

dominant wife, forced masturbation

“There, nine rings.” said Hannah pulling my little cock through the last ring. “Not much room for many more; but, no matter. Go and get your cup.”

I hastened to comply.

“Now, dear man, let’s see if you can even get hard with that much metal on your little penis.”

I began to stroke but Hannah was right, the metal rings made full erection impossible.

“That’s perfect!” cried Hannah watching my cock fail. “Just like being milked but easier for me. Well, hurry up, make your mess.”

With that she took my right nipple between her thumb and index fingernails and squeezed. A sustained dribble of come sloshed into my cup. It was, at best, half an orgasm. Pleasurable but without any intensity.

“Lick it up darling. This really is delightful. Now the only time you will have a real orgasm is when I want your little cock in me, which as we both know is no more than a couple of times a month. But you can be drained through your rings and not lose attention. I think this is one of my better ideas.”

“Yes, dear, it is.” I said knowing she would be keeping me ringed from now on.

“Take off all but three. That way, in a week you’ll have ten on. Perfect.”

The gift of chastity

husband in chastityI have not ejaculated in nearly two weeks. Nor has Hannah felt like prostate milking me. To say that I am eager is a perfect understatement. Hannah knows because I tell her. This morning she took my cock in her hand and I was instantly hard. And filled with anticipation.

Hannah was not, herself, particularily in the mood and while she had told me to wash my hands which is often a prelude to my giving her pleasure, when I got back to bed the moment had passed. Hannah is not unmindful of my needs and, as she expertly played with my cock she said, “Well, you could get your cup.”

I thought about this for a little while. I could get my cup – and no doubt will in the next few days – and under Hannah’s supervision and to my very great humiliation, take care of my needs by masturbating into it. But, here is the critical thing, until the urge becomes unbearable, my chastity, my sexual denial, is my gift to the Lady of the House.

“No darling, unless you tell me to; I’d like to go a little longer. You know how there is so much more to our lives than my sexual needs. I can easily subordinate those needs to all the other things we do. The corner time, clips, the paddle, the cane, slipping into something a little more feminine when you come home: all your little requirements are all the better when I am on edge. So, no. Thank you for offering. But my chastity is my gift to you.”

“How sweet,” Hannah exclaimed dropping my cock. “Go and put the kettle on, turn on the heat and open the curtains.”

I had been teased and very much denied.

Perfect.

A Fine Reward

There is always the danger that this journal sounds as if I am constantly misbehaving and being corrected. In fact, most of the time, I am a devoted and obedient husband. And sometimes, when I am lucky, I have a fine reward.

“Go up to your corner,” Hannah said a smile on her face. I hastened to obey not entirely sure what I was being punished for or if I was being punished at all. I stripped naked, found a very pretty pair of beautifully scented black panties (which I really should have rinsed out the night before but hadn’t) and pressed my nose into my corner. It was cold in our bedroom. Cold enough that I was shivering when, ten or fifteen minutes later, Hannah came upstairs.

“I hadn’t realized it was so chilly….oh well, we’ll soon warm you up. I want to get in some practice with my cane.”

I took my position on the bed and felt Hannah tighten my belt to bind wrist to ankle. She began with quite a long and firm warm up hand spanking. And then she took her cane and got to work. The first dozen strokes were quite light.

“What I want to do, darling, is practice so that the cane hits both sides equally. This is where I usually stand and I can see that is not ideal.” And she was quite right, even with her light swings my right cheek was quite sore while the left was largely untouched.

“So what I think I need to do is stand a little further forward….like this.” Another dozen lightish strokes landed somewhat more evenly. “No, not quite right…try this.” The cane was balanced now and Hannah delivered another 12 strokes with minimum force.

“Now dear, you really were excellent yesterday and I have a surprise for you; but before I give you your surprise, and as you are so nicely bound up, I am going to give you twenty four reasonably hard strokes just to remind you of your position. And, of course, for practice.”

When Hannah whips me I can tell by the whistle of the cane how far back she is drawing her arm. Where her earlier, lighter, strokes were swung from her elbow, this set was in earnest and Hannah swung from her shoulder. It was, short of full punishment canings, the hardest I have ever been caned. Line after line was burnt into my already flaming bottom. I was vocalizing thoroughly by the fifth stroke and gasping by the end of the first dozen. I don’t really remember the last dozen. What I do remember is Hannah’s sweet voice exclaiming “Much more even. Much better” as she swung the rattan.

At last it was over. I managed a somewhat choking “Thank you darling.” Hannah let me recover a little.

“So darling, now for your surprise. I know I have not let you come for nearly two weeks and I am very much liking how attentive your chastity has made you. I was thinking of having you make me come this afternoon but I am really not in the mood. And I certainly don’t want you coming until I can use you for my greater pleasure.” Hannah walked over to a closet and rummaged for a moment or two.

“You were so very good with my ice water idea that I really thought you deserved a little reward so I am going to milk you.” Hannah returned to the bed with the little makeup bag which contained the bulbed black flexible vibrator she likes to use to stimulate my prostate. “So Darling, if you just lie on your side I’ll get you nice and wet and then I’ll slip this in and, in a few minutes, you make a nice wet mess on this tissue.”

Usually when Hannah milks my prostate she simply pushes the vibrator into my bottom, turns it on and then leaves me to squirt on my own. Not today. I felt her warm hand massage the Astroglide up and down between my cheeks warming me up before she began to use a couple of fingers to gently stretch my backdoor. Soon enough I felt the firm pressure of the well lubricated bulb of the vibrator pushed firmly into me. Hannah kept the pressure on until the vibe had lodged itself right where it could coax my emission.

Hannah flicked the switch and I felt the subtle pulse of the vibe.

“Now darling, I am going to help you a little today. However, I do not want to see any erection and I certainly don’t want you doing any thrusting.” As she spoke Hannah was establishing her own rhythm with the vibe; a gentle, back and forth, back and forth. It was no more than a few minutes before I began to feel the extraordinary sensation of fullness and then the urge to trust my hips, “None of that darling.” said Hannah using her other hand to hold me still, “Being milked is not about any of those urges. It is about my sweet darling obeying me and making his little mess without any of those more masculine jerks or an erection. Plenty of time for that when I want my greater pleasure.”

At the word “pleasure” I overflowed. Hannah kept up her rhythm until I was completely drained.

“Lovely darling.” Hannah said standing up and leaving the black vibe buried in my bottom. “When you have cleaned up join me downstairs.”

I lay, spent, my bottom pulsing from my whipping and my milking, completely, utterly and fantastically happy and in love.

Anticipating the Long Weekend

There is nothing which I like better than the prospect of an entire weekend where I have the time to serve the lady of the house.

Hannah was wonderful this morning. Coming into the room where I am sleeping with her tea and, after I nuzzled her affectionately, saying “Wash your hands.” A simple request which I knew meant she wanted me to masturbate her. I washed thoroughly and when I came back Hannah was delightfully laying back in her nighty. “My tongue or my hand darling?” I asked. “Oh, your hand for the moment.” I set to work pleasuring my darling.

I have not ejaculated at all in June. Sometimes, if I am very lucky and it is the right time of month, Hannah will let me cum after she has used my cock for her greater pleasure. I used my hand as well as I know how and, in not so very long, Hannah had her eyes closed and her heart racing. She rarely lets me finish her and today was no exception. Instead I touch myself to be ready if she requires my hard cock. Hannah came, arching her back to her own hand’s subtle rhythms. “Now, darling” she panted.

My cock was nearly, but not completely, hard. Ideal for a submissive man as Hannah could decide how hard she wanted me simply by playing with my nipples. I began to gently stroke as her fingers grazed me. I could tell by her touch that she was thinking about letting me come. I was now rock hard and my strokes had an urgency to them that only a month of chastity can create.

Hannah’s hands left my nipples. They went to my hips. “Your done darling…it is a long weekend and I want your full attention.” Gently but firmly Hannah pushed my hips away from her. My cock slipped apart from her beauty. I know my place. I slide down the bed and licked her lovely pussy dry. A perfect task for a man in my position

Clips, Bath Brush, Cane and Intimate Submission – Well Punished

There was little doubt I was to be punished. I had been sharp with Hannah and, worse, had promised to be home and had been an hour late. The problem was, as ever, that I have to ask for my punishment and I have to suggest what I think might be appropriate. Hannah can ignore my suggestion; but I am required to make it.

I was put to bed in a pantigirdle. Tight, but quite bearable. But there was no question of an erection. In fact, the pretty black girdle pretty much eliminated my sexuality for the evening. Which is, of course, never really in issue as only Hannah’s sexual needs matter in our marriage. Mine have been entirely subordinated to hers and while I am, occasionally, allowed to masturbate or have the black prostate probe slipped into me for a hands off milking, I am really only allowed to come a couple of days a month when Hannah is on heat and has taken her pleasure on my tongue or hand (or hers) and I am allowed into her for her greater pleasure.

Which was all very well but I had to consider what I should ask for by way of my punishment. I fell asleep.

On awaking I realized I would need a severe correction and that I realized with a bit of a shudder, meant the bath brush as well as the cane. I waited for Hannah to wake up and, having offered her water, asked her when she would be ready to discuss my punishment. “Now darling, and you really were both rude and inconsiderate.” I apologized and suggested that fifty strokes of the bathbrush and an equal number of the cane seemed about right. “I’ll think about it.” said Hannah get out of bed. “You stay right where you are.”

I lay there listening to the sounds of Hannah’s morning routine. A few minutes thinking about whether my punishment suggestion had met her expectations. I heard her bare feet pad down our hall.

“You were very inconsiderate. And this is not the first time. While I think fifty stokes of both the brush and the cane are right, I will give you the brush over your girdle. However, before I do I want you to spend some corner time thinking about why you are going to be punished. Now get my last night panties and the bath brush and come with me.” Hannah marched me over to her make up table. “Take off your t-shirt.” I did and Hannah took my left nipple between her nails. It stood proud as she clamped the teeth of her antique lingerie clip, then the right nipple received the same none too gentle treatment. “Open your mouth.” I complied and Hannah carefully pushed her panties into my mouth taking care to leave the cotton panel out so I might press it to the corner with my nose. “Now, get to your corner and hold that brush behind you back. Feet together and a foot away from the wall.” This last was important as it meant I had to lean into the wall. Easy for a minute or two, difficult for any length of time.

“I think you should think carefully about how you can do better in future.” Hannah caressed my girdled hips. “I will not do for a man in your position to be anything other than strictly obedient. You didn’t ask permission to go out and then arrived home an hour after you said you would. That is not acceptable. Now I have some things to do and I want you to consider just how badly it reflects on me to have a man in your position ignore his training and his promises.” With that she left.

Standing, nose pressed into the sweetly scented cotton of Hannah’s panties, holding the bath brush behind my back I concentrated on how much in love I was. And how lucky. And I thought of Hannah’s completely reasonable expectations and how poorly I had behaved. I had plenty of time to think. The nipple clips began to bite and my position reminded me of my submission. I don’t know how long I stood. Hannah was somewhere downstairs beginning the day and brewing a pot of tea. The moisture of my breath released more of Hannah’s heady scent. I began to lose track of time and was a bit startled when the lady of the house returned.

Hannah motioned to the corner of the bed where my belt lay ready to pinion my wrists to my ankles. “I hope you have thought about how inconsiderate you were. A quick phone call and I would have known when to expect you.” Hannah said, pulling the belt very tight and buckling it. “If it happens again I’ll have to be even more severe than I am going to be right now and, more importantly, you will not be allowed to go out.”

I felt her open palm slap the thin material of the pantigirdle. It was, I feared, scant protection. And I was right. The bath brush hit my right cheek. “One” I thought to myself. At about “Thirty” I lost my mental count. The girdle’s thin fabric took a little of the edge off the sting; but the steady and increasing force of Hannah’s strokes left me gasping in my panty gag. If I could have I would have vocalized. A lot. I don’t think Hannah lost count. I don’t know. All I do know was that I was driving into the pain. Pushing my bottom back to meet Hannah’s bath brush and reveling in my position.

Which may sound a bit odd. Yet the very point of being a man in my position is that you accept the lady of the house’s right to correct you to the extent she decides is fit. The flames of pain met the cooling reality of very deep love and unfettered devotion. I was hers and she was correcting my behaviour and disciplining me. Which is what I wanted almost as much as I wanted her.

At last she put down the brush. I had a moment or two to catch my breath. I thought she might roll down my girdle for my caning but she had other ideas. She took the thinner of the two dowels and began to work from the tops of my thighs. Again, I tried to count but lost track after a dozen strokes. I fear that Hannah is not comfortable with her backhand and so my poor right cheek bore the brunt of my caning. She did switch sides for a moment or two but switched back unable to adjust her strokes. At some point the dowel actually broke and Hannah carried on with the short end. It didn’t matter. The sting of the cane was barely muffled by the girdle. A completely different pain than the brush. More precise. Line after line and always the finish on the right cheek.

And then, then it was done.

I felt Hannah undoing my belt. As I recovered I lay on my side and remembered that my nipple clips were still in place. Hannah sat beside me and sipped her tea. The panties were out of my mouth now and I could thank Hannah. She fumbled a bit with the clips but, got them off. I lay in the soft afterglow of the hardest whipping I have ever had. “I could have used the brush harder,” said Hannah, “but I was not sure you would make it through fifty really hard strokes.” I think I would have but I was not about to volunteer right that instant. I rubbed my bottom.

“Time for your shower darling,” said Hannah, putting down her tea, “You can take your position and I will be in in a moment.”

A perfect punishment ended in the delightful humbling of intimate submission. The lady’s gift was a wonderful as ever.

Milked

prostate milking

I'll just slide this in...

I write this with the milking vibrator firmly in place up my backdoor, nicely lubricated by my own hand. Hannah thought it would be interesting to see if ten or fifteen minutes where I am just left on my own will be sufficient to milk me. She has a lovely way of being matter of fact. I lubed myself and, when Hannah had finished a number of things which were more pressing, she spread my bottom and, just gently enough, drove the vibe home. “See you in ten minutes.”

(A bit later) I lay on my side, first typing the above and then gently contracting and releasing my bottom. Ten minutes later, the lady of the house popped in. “How are you doing?” I replied I was getting closer. “Then I’ll leave you to it. Remember to clean everything up when you’re done.” That lovely sense of complete submission and Hannah’s wonderfully matter of course instruction. A minute or two later I began to feel a deep urgency. It was not an orgasm in the sense of reaching a climax; rather it was a buildup similar to when you are filling a glass of water and it overflows. I made my mess in the toilet paper Hannah had tossed to me as she left me. No spurting, just a delicious leak. I lay quietly as I was drained. Wonderful pleasure but not the sexual peak of either masturbation or pleasuring the lady of the house.

The question is, of course, whether that absence of sexual peak will leave me drained but attentive.