Femdom-Blog

Back when this all began, he could have never convinced himself he could actually become “wrapped”.
Oh sure he was quick to join in, teasing some Mitch in the locker room on the many occasions he told them he “couldn’t “ go out with them for drinks. He and all their other buddies laughing and chiding Mitch calling him “pussy whipped“, because he always had someone to answer to. Allotted just so much time to hurry straight home, except for the occasional stop off at the store.
He still remembers clearly, the day they all reduced Mitch to curse words and blush. The day when Joe caught a peek at Mitch’s shopping list. “Tampons”, Joe proclaims, “Jesus, man grow a sac would you, or are they for you, because you certainly seem to be HER bitch!” Her little bankroll, her little errand boy, her little bitch. How could Mitch become that?
He used to spend curious amounts of stolen Vaseline slickened moments contemplating what kind of woman could enslave Mitch so completely? He used to fantasize about the self perceived mannerisms, tactics, and processes of such a overwhelmingly overbearing woman. He used to spill obscene amounts of himself all over the place, thinking of being in the thrall of such a demanding manipulator. Being forced over backwards- bending to her will with no end in sight, becoming completely wrapped around her finger.
Strangely, back then he would have never anticipated it to be so comfortably secure, here. This is where he was born to be, wrapped snuggly around her little finger. Dangling like a pretty little bauble, existing only to decorate and adorn its owner. A piece of property – kept for her pleasure, nothing more… nothing less.

© Mistress Wycked Kitten 2006

The Birthday Gift to Valentine was to be delivered in person-at 6 in the evening precisely.

As a devoted worshipper he had been given the unique opportunity to come to her house for the evening, though by no means to enter her ground floor apartment. The gift was to be given together with a card to her assistant who would answer the door. She would take it through and place it on the table of the lounge overlooking her garden, together with other presents received that day.

She had said that she would look at it and tell him later if it met her standards, after which she would personally thank him and allow him to return to his one-room apartment downtown . She had been vague when that would be…but he dared not question her too closely. In effect he had to wait for her to make that decision.

Until then he was instructed to first take off all his shabby clothes and hand them to the assistant, then wait in the garden outside the lounge window for her to enter, so he could have the esteemed privilege of watching her open the gift.

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