Birthday Beating

I’m not going to start this blog with “it’s been a while”. Yes, it has. But good things come to those who wait.

Yesterday marked me levelling up in age and a visit to Madame and Sir for the day. The day itself was epic, and i’m extremely lucky to have these two amazing friends in my life. That is actual factual.

Part of my birthday celebrations (technically, my birthday was Sunday, but that was deemed “pre-birthday” ahead of my proper birthday on Monday), was a dungeon trip. Eeeek. With the added bonus that I would pick what Madame wore, and what shoes – as my birthday treat. Literally anything. What did I go for? My weakness of Madame in clothes I’ve bought, and a pair of white sandals which are quickly become a fetish in themselves!

We got to the dungeon in blistering heat and turned on all of the fans. I stripped down to panties – not dress or wig in this heat and got on my knees in front of Madame. The gas mask went on, and the weakening of me started.

Madame can work the gas mask and control my breathing like an absolute pro. She knows the rise and falls of my breathing, how to make me weak slowly and how to make it come on like a freight train. Madame changed the hose from stopping my breathing on Her foot which was immense, to smelling Her hair which is my absolute weakness, to Her neck – where She commented, “you know it’s just my sweat you’re smelling,” to which I moaned in apprciation. I could feel my chastity cage twitching. I’m not kidding when I say, if allowed, I could have sissygasmed right there and then in my panties. But it wasn’t, and so we went on.

“How long do you think you can go?” Madame said, and started counting. The first attempt with no breath took me to 20 seconds. I breathed heavily from the assault on my breathing – but loving every single second. The came the second attempt – the hose on Her foot and I stared desperately at Her foot as it cut off my breath. I honestly can’t remember to well what we got to – I want to say around 35 seconds, but I was weak. It’s funny how easily giving someone control of something so basic can induce absolute sub-space in me.

Madame stood and headed to the bench. “Are we going straight in for marks?” She asked, already knowing the answer. I nodded as She strapped me down and the beating commence.

Madame worked through canes, floggers, whips and paddles, and with Sir there too lending a hand to bring my backside to a mess of red marks and welts. And now just my backside, my back was scratched as Madame leaned across me, taunting me and my feet, and things are caned to make sure I was red all over.

At one particular moment, Madame put Her foot in my face, and used the meanest of floggers on my things and balls whilst I desperately tried to sniff Her feet in between moans as the flogger connected and sent a burst of pain tingling through my body.

There is no doubt i’m a pain slut, and Madame asked me what I was, with the right answer being “a slut”. I moaned. I loved every second, but this was only part 1 of the beating.

Madame unstrapped me and led me to the St Andrew’s Cross. Bull whip time. Yes. My best friend and thing I dread. A little. OK, don’t dread. Crave. I know it makes a mess of my back, but I love it. Love it. Love it.

Madame, again, like everything, is a pro. An absolute pro and getting this thing to hit me and getting me to moan in pain and the bring on the sub. I mean, I was in full on sub space at this point, but this just increases that and pushes and pushes it further.

As always, Madame asked me to confirm the safe words. I say it everytime, but this whip is evil and confirming that we’re all happy is an absolute must.

I wasn’t sure how much of this I could take – it’s been a couple of months since its last use. The first one lashes across my back, licking the side of my body as it wraps around. I welp in pain and count it off. “One, thank You Madame.” Madame inspects Her work and makes sure i’m ok, before going back to position and waiting for me to nod to confirm, i’m ready for the next. This went to 6 or 7, and my back was raw. Welts were rising quickly, but apparently my skin is leather so will not break and bleed.

Sir, after turning down the chance to use “such a mean thing” decides He wants a try. I wait and it wacks across. Forgive me, if i don’t get the number’s right, but I thank Sir, for it; “9, thank You Sir.” I can hear Madame laughing behind me as Sir seems to really enjoy this, his interest peaked from not wanting to try, to wanting to use it.

But it turns out that my location on the cross isn’t quite right, so He pulls me, strapped to the cross to a better position. This invokes laughter from us all – and this is what I fricking love so much about the relationship I have here – it’s fun and still has that D’s feel. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I joke that I feel like a cat on a roomba vaccum cleaner getting pulled around.

Eventually, i’m put in the right place and the laughing stops. Sir is clearly ready and I prep myself. And WHACK! I kid you not. WHACK. I’m sure it was a noise heard around the world. It slammed across my back, the noise was deafening and the pain even more.

“13, thank You Sir.”

I’m moved again, as Madame and Sir discuss how best to get marks along my back and decide to try vertical. The pain is just as intense. And perfect.

I should say at this point my record is 24. We reach 20 and I decide to go for it. Madame obliges. And whips my back, almost drawing blood – certainly blood blisters – and we get to 25. A new record. And my back is a mess. I’m let down and inspect the handiwork in the mirror – i’ve got an X under my arm – my back is welted. And it’s perfect. Seriously perfect.

I get on my knees and sit in front of Madame, who perches on the throne, and puts that white sandal near my face. Now, I have no idea why these are such a fetish for me, but they are. The level of kissing Her feet, to give you some context, is with more passion than I’ve ever kissed a woman. I adore Her feet. And these sandals are a HUGE part of that. The soles of them are dirty – I lick, tasting the dirt from where She has walked. It’s perfect. I can feel a sissygasm building and ask if I’m allowed.

“What do you think?” Madame replies. And I know it’s allowed.

I kiss Her foot, the sandals and then feel the inevitable leak hitting me. Madame slips off the sandals and I continue to worship, literally the most perfect, and beautiful feet in the world. No exageration. They smell divine. I’m writing this, and can literally feel my chastity twitching at the thought of Her feet. Her toes, soles, just everything is beautiful and makes me so weak and needy.

“Pass me my boots,” She says. And I know what’s coming.

I put them on Her feet and assume the position. The kick to my chastised balls is quick and brutal. I fall forward but remember my position and crawl back around and start kissing Her boot. The thing with the first kick, is I find it easy to hold position, but onwards, my body reflexes want to kick in (no pun intended) and close my legs to stop it.

I assume the position for kick two and feel my legs wanting to close. It’s hard to make it stop, but Madame lands the kick perfectly and I tumble forward. Sub mode is in full swing. It has been since the gas mask and I can feel the twitching in my chastity cage. I return to boot kissing. And Madame grabs the white sandal and starts beating me raw backside with it. This is just amazing. Heaven. Perfect. Whatever superalitives you want to use can be inserted here.

I spread my legs again. My legs closing involuntarily. Madame starts beating my ass with the sandal to keep me in place, saying She’ll keep going until i’m in position. She positions Her legsto stop my legs from closing. I’m whimpering. I want more, but my legs want to close- damn my legs!

The hit comes from the sandal. Not Her feet. A slap with that sandal. Absolute fetish heaven and another reason I am pretty sure I have a fetish for these sandals. I kiss Her boots. And then comes the last kick. But the sandal beating continues until I’m in place which is more of a struggle – damn you legs!!! I WANT THIS! I eventually find position but Madame isn’t going to let me get away with a quick kick. No, She fakes, She delays, She laughs… before delivering a kick that is harder by far than the previous 3. And I love it. My God it’s perfect.

I’m told to get on my back to try something we did last time that had me in pieces of sub heaven. I lay on my back and Madame takes off the boots and proceeds to stand on me. Stomping on the cage. This is heaven. She carefully places Her feet around my chest and groin sending me into palpitations of sub-heaven. Seeing Her standing over me, and on me. Yes. So much yes.

She get’s off and starts putting pressure with Her foot on my chastity cage. And, inevitably, I sissygasm, Madame quickly puts Her foot in my mouth to make sure no yukkie sissygasm is on Her perfect foot.

She returns to the throne, I follow and start kissing Her foot. It’s perfect, She clamps Her toes over my nose and moves me around. This causes the third sissygasm. The look on Her face is one of satisfaction.

I kiss Her foot more and can feel a third building. She plays with Her toes in front of my face, Her big toe goes into my mouth and I sissygasm for the fourth and final time.

This, is up there with one of my favourite sessions. Ever. It had everything.

Later on that evening, as we were chilling out playing drinking games, one of the questions came up that “who hasn’t had sex in the longest – finish their drink”. Needless to say, that was me. And do you know what, I wouldn’t change any of this for the world.

This blog just covers the fetish side of the day. Just to add this; Madame and Sir – literally made my birthday this year. The thought and effort, and gifts they got me – i’m eternally grateful for and am incredibly happy.

Time in Chastity

It’s probably between chastity and findom, that are the things that I tweet most about. Don’t worry, there’ll be a findom blog – obvs – but I thought I’d tell my chastity story.
So, as of today I have been locked for 361 days. Yep. Frustrated doesn’t even cut it now!
This is very much one of those things that I didn’t think I would be that into. It started as only being locked when I would visit Madame and be at Her feet, kissing shoes. To becoming denied sexually for a year (no chastity, just will power) which was very… interesting.
I remember one conversation with Madame where She offered me an orgasm and I turned it down because I was so enamoured with being chaste and denied for Her.
From there, I went to a month – sending my key ahead of seeing Her. To where I am now, which is where I gave Her the key on 22 June 2017 for a year. But now, I am not ashamed to admit I’ve begged for this to be longer, and longer and longer..
Let’s get the house-keeping part out of the way. I wear a Holy Trainer V2 – because I prefer the internal lock that most do not offer, and it’s comfortable for running which I do regularly. Cleaning is a delicate operation of q-tips and baths but it is totally worth it. For fetish events, I am allowed to shower without the cage and then re-apply. All in all, it’s clean as anything.
So the feels? It’s a warm feeling. Frustrating. Knowing that I’ve given up the ability to have the most basic male sensation for Madame. There are days where I’m literally driven desperate by anything – from a message from Madame, to something on Twitter or something random. But I can’t do anything about it.
And I wouldn’t trade it. If you read regularly, you know about my likes and stuff. But if you don’t – I get my pleasure in other ways and am so happy with that. From giving Madame money to look fabulous, or just doing Her chores around the house. It’s about that servitude, and not having that male part of me distracting from that.
Genuinely, the feeling I get putting money into Her account when She’s shopped rivals an orgasm.
My role serving. Having a male orgasm, would just be a distraction. If I were allowed (key word there – allowed) a sissygasm or ruined, I would love every frustrating second. But a real male orgasm? Yucky.
Madame is aware of my need to sissygasm on occasion, and the lengthy time in chastity has given some more efficient ways of doing this. And have been quite eye opening. The most interesting change to this was the apparent ability to be able to sissygasm just from the smell of Her socks, or Her hair, kissing Her shoes and most recently from Her spitting in my mouth. All from no touching. All whilst in the cage.
Chastity also has an effect on my boundaries. I feel that I want to push more the longer I am denied and locked (and am really wanting to). The more degrading or filthier thoughts rise to the surface when in that sub-mood and frustrated. A year or two back, I’m sure if asked, ballbusting would have been a hard limit, but now it’s one that I crave. The same for chastity and a whole host of others.
To give you an idea of those subby-filthier thoughts (and in no way does this mean they’ll ever happen – it’s just what goes on in my head!): there are thoughts about Madame’s golden nectar, her beautiful blue sandals, dog bowls, penis gags, ballbusting, my wallet being heavily abused….It is literally on my mind so much right now! If you DM or ask, I might get you specifics…
So yeah, chastity. It’s frustrating. And I adore it. Roll on the next year of denied frustration.

Sock Girl

Alice was like any other sissy girl.

A lover of being dressed up and serving her Owner, ensuring her Owner had lots of pretty things and anything that kept her denied long enough to cause frustration. In short, pretty slutty, with a loveable nature.

It seemed like any other day for her. Sat at home working whilst the news played the same items over and over in the background.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alice caught a picture of a derelict building.

“…another case of bizarre laundry related incidents…” the cute presenter said stood in front of a derelict building. “Twenty people in this area have now had washing stolen, and returned to them cleaned. But, with the threat that they do not let them get that dirty again or he will kill. The perpetrator, dubbed ‘Washing Machine Man’ by the police is still at large.” The camera panned out slowly showing:

“Oh jeez,” Alice said, turning to giving the cute presenter full attention.

“Washing Machine Man was this time, caught on CCTV, and the police encourage anyone who recognises him to come forward.”

A grainy image appeared on the screen. A man in his thirties, with a spin cycle logo on his t-shirt and a mask covering his eyes. He looked mean.

As a sissy sub, who adored feet, Alice couldn’t get her around why someone would want things like that clean? She’d lived in the fetish world long enough to know that subs and fetishists preferred things of a dirty nature. Not washing-machine fresh! He’d only dabbled in Madame’s worn socks, but knew of many others who loved panties, tights… anything that had been worn.

Her phone buzzed and she looked at the message – it was from Madame – her Owner.

Seen this on TV?” the message said.

I know. Who would do this?” she replied.

My little sissy couldn’t live without my smelly socks could she?

No Madame.

Alice put the phone down and thought about it. Here was a man who wanted everything clean? It didn’t make sense. She looked more intently at the image and something clicked in her psyche.

Was that… no? It couldn’t be.

Alice shook her head and tried to get back to work – the nagging thought that she recognised the man.


An hour or two later, Alice sat back satisfied with another uninspiring day in front of the keyboard. Only happy in the knowledge that the money would buy Madame something nice. She leant back in her chair, and saw the grainy image of this man Washing Machine Man on the screen. She grabbed the remote and paused it. And stared.

It was him. She was 90% sure.

She picked up her phone and messaged Madame. “I think I know who he is,” she sent.

Being decisive was hard, but Alice felt a calling. She sat and put on her highest heels and totted to the door. Weeks of practice had helped her perfect strutting down the street perfectly and indiscernible as a woman on the street.

She caught the reflection of herself in the mirror. Wine-red hair. Red dress. She looked hot. Like, seriously hot.

Not getting carried away, and stopping herself from taking a selfie, she started the walk to town.

It was a small market town. A few shops, and coffee place had pulled people to them as the bustled outside and enjoyed the sun.

Alice pretended to not hear the cat calls and whistles from men and women as she made her way to the last coffee shop on the street.

Inside it was dark. Everyone outside in the sun. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. They quickly focussed on the man behind the counter. Mid thirties. Stocky. The clean-guy.

She strode up to the counter. “Vanilla soy latte please,” she said smiling the man, who nodded and started making. “How’s your day?” she asked lightly. She thought about holding her hands up to mimic a mask across his eyes but decided against it.

“Good thanks,” he replied happily.

“Have you seen the news?” she made conversation. “This man stealing and returning laundry all clean?”

This was greeted by a stony silence for a moment. “I have.”

“Very strange isn’t it?”

“Not really,” he said mixing the drinks together. “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”

“Yeah, but why do it?”

“Don’t know,” he replied putting the takeaway cup on the counter. “I guess he thinks there is nothing like a proper wash. That everyone doesn’t realise the smell they have. Water cleansing the clothes off there sin. Their smell…”

“I quite like dirty socks,” she replied. “Love them on my Owner. They always look so perfect.”

The man smiled. “That’s nice, but if that we me,” he stopped. “Or him, I’d have them washed. 60 degrees. Clean and fabric conditioner fresh.”

Alice was taken aback and didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you,” she muttered as she left.


That night Alice struggled to sleep. She tossed and turned all night. Not because of the chastity device, denying her any pleasure. But because of the thought that man, would want to wash Madame’s socks. His face was burned into her brain, rather than the nice subby thoughts she wanted.

Alice had spoken to Madame earlier, telling her everything about the man. They both agreed something needed to happen.

If he had his way, Madame’s socks would be washed. Anyone with a dirty clothes fetish would be screwed. Everything clean. Nothing dirty. A nightmare world.

“But what can I do?” she wondered and her eyes fell on the wardrobe. The door was slightly ajar and a pink PVC outfit seemed to catch a breeze invitingly. She looked over at her dresser, the blonde wig and a packet of socks in zip lock bags she’d been allowed from his Owner. And a plan started to form.

If she wanted to stop Washing Machine Man from ruining the fetish worn-lovers community, she’d need to act. The police were no good. But how?


The next afternoon, she dressed up. It came naturally to her now, but she took extra effort in trying to hide the usual classy girl, and turn her into something else.

The first thing on was the collar. It gave her a buzzy sub feeling as it tighten around her neck, marking her as property. It was followed by pink stockings and bra. She looked in the mirror and smiled. So much pink – no one would know her. Next she pulled on the pink dress slowly. The blonde wig looked perfect on her – her styled to look like Daenerys from Game of Thrones. She pulled on some PVC pink knee boots and smiled. This would be the perfect disguise. Normally, she’d be seen in the red wig. No one would recognise her in the blonde. The last item she placed in her bra – something she always did to give her the appearance of breasts – the zip locked sock bags.

Her phone was next to her and she typed a message to Madame.

I’ve gotta do something. I’ll message you later.” she wrote.

A reply came in seconds.

We can take him down.”


Twenty minutes later, Alice was waited in a shop doorway near the coffee shop and watched him come out. Her plan was simple – follow him back to her lair and then take action before anyone else got hurt.

As she followed she noticed him silently hating everyone around him. If people got too close they’d get a growl or told to ‘fuck off” especially if there was any trace of dirt or smell about them.


Eventually the man stopped outside a house. Alice had managed to keep up despite the boots and the potential noise they’d make trailing someone. Luckily it was dark and the man seemed to be preoccupied.


This was it. Where he lived.

She picked up her phone and text Madame.

Within seconds the phone rang. Madame’s voice filled her ears. “You’ve found him already?”


“Good girl!”

“Thank you Madame,” Alice beamed. “I need your help. Bring your dirtiest pair.”

“That’s like weeks old…”

“I know.”

A short while later, Madame appeared. She looked fabulous in an outfit Alice had paid for, and wore leather ankle boots.

“What’s the plan?” Madame asked.


Jeff, was a grumpy fucker. The news had called him Washing Machine Man. If only they knew. All around him, were washing machines. All makes and models. All on spin cycles from people’s laundry he’d stolen because they didn’t get it quick enough. Machine Man, sat in his front room. He hated his job. Serving coffee to the great unwashed. None of them knew how many germs could be on clothes.

He heard a bang and looked around – in the basement? Where he kept his disguise?

Jeff shot down the stairs and was shocked by the sight.

A blonde haired sissy was on her knees sniffing the socks of a Domme in front of her. The sock sniffing was intense and then the sissy did something, she shuddered. “Oh fuck….Be cool,” she muttered and moaned.

“What the…?” then he spotted it. All over his cleaning supplies and floor. Sissygasm. “What are you doing?” he yelled.

“Leaving my sissygasm all over your cleaning products,” the sissy said taking another deep inhale of the sock, “all from the perfect smell of 22 day old socks.”


Alice smiled and buried her nose deep into Madame’s socked feet. Taking in the aroma of feet she’d described on many occasions as perfect. Feet that smelled perfect, no matter, what, but especially so, in well worn socks.

Washing Machine Man was fucked. He stared at the sissygasms now knowing what to do. Alice could feel him counting them – ten so far – all over his beloved cleaning products. Alice expected his next move, as he darted towards Madame and her.

Alice stood, a little unsteadily – ten sissygasms had taken their toll but she still stood tall. She grabbed the zip lock bag of socks and drew one out and threw it at Washing Machine Man.

It hit him square in the face. He was startled. The perfect smell of Madame’s feet hitting him in the face. But because he wasn’t cool, he fell backwards hitting his head hard against the stares. He was out like a light.

In the background Alice could hear police sirens drawing closer.

Alice got back to her knees in front of Madame. “Please may I lick up my mess?” she asked coyly.

“Of course you can,” came the smiling reply.


The next day Alice turned on the news, feeling good about herself. On the television, the presenter from the other day was talking. Alice reached and turned up the volume.

“… and all we can say is thank you to this duo who stopped these fires. The police said they found a sock left on the scene. Do we have a new superhero?” he paused for effect. “If we do, I say bravo. Sock Girl.”

Alice leant back and smiled. “Sock Girl, I can live with that.

Alice: Origins

In between the real time meets with my Owner, i’m going to blog a little about the various aspects of my submission and what I really enjoy about being sub – so it gives you an idea about my state of mind when you see a tweet!
But I think the best way, for new followers, is to give a bit of an origins story of who I am – a bit of an introduction so to speak.

So, I’m Alice. Hey!
I’ve been submissive for as long as I can remember. The fetish that started it for me was shoes. It always has been. I remember times in my youth getting aroused staring at women’s shoes in work, or at uni and wondering “what the fuck is this?”.
To not give away my age – I went to university during the advent of the internet. So dialup was a thing. The brrr-brrreee-diiiig noise associated with modems that most people will have forgotten. So back in the uni days I would be online looking at websites like “” or “” and well… playing with myself. On a few times maybe even caught doing it… So yeah. Always a sub.
It was on Twitter I discovered Madame. And in these days, there was no Alice. Only Jon. Yep real name.
I distinctly remember sending a long message on Kik detailing that I wanted to serve Her. And from then I waited for a reply. Patiently.
It’s worth mentioning that my fetishes at this point were really just around shoe fetish and humiliation. Findom – definitely not.
Eventually the reply came and I breathed. She’d replied!!! We chatted for a short while and Madame said She liked a pair of vintage heels on Amazon, and being a shoe boy – I sent a voucher to pay, which was a big step as it was the first time I had financially submitted to anyone, so my excitement levels were so high!
I told her it had been sent, but then horror hit me. I hadn’t sent enough to cover the postage! Wanting to make the best start with Her, I quickly sent another voucher. How could I not? A Superior shouldn’t have to pay for postage because of my mistake.
These heels are special. I say that, and realise we haven’t played with them for a while…! But they became an obsession of mine and a real trigger.
Conversation went on over the next few days about domination but also just everyday life. During those conversations, I asked about buying her gifts when I could. And I did. Even early on, I knew I wanted to buy Her things, and it was my lot in life to be one of the subs lucky enough to do it.
I can’t remember whose idea it was now, but the suggestion of a shopping trip/meeting came up, and the guy who was totally not a finsub, jumped at the chance to meet Madame in person and take Her shopping.
I’d never shopped with a Domme before, so this was going to be all totally new. Hell, I hated shopping with my wife. But this was different; the chance to meet Madame don’t come around all the time, and the spend money on Her as well, was one I couldn’t miss. So we arranged a time and date and the wheels were in motion.
The day came around, and as I’m sure anyone who knows me we’ll say, I am the worst person for being early. To the point that, I saw Madame last week and got a message making sure I was okay, as I was two minutes later than I had said – She is so used to me being early!
Anyway, I arrived at the train station to meet and let Her know via Kik and we continued to message whilst She made her way to the meet
But then, and quite randomly, a load of people left the train station, and for some reason by nerves jangled, and stomach started to go. Not to be sick, and definitely not to do a runner, but it just suddenly hit me that I was about to do something very new.
As we were chatting I sent her a message and the reply set me at ease instantly. I’ll paraphrase a bit because I don’t have that good a memory!:
Me: Lots of people just got off and I started to feel sick. Nervous! Lol.
MG: It’s fine – i’m a hugger, so when I see you you’ll be fine.
And low and behold, Madame appeared in the train station entrance, looking incredible, and came over a hugged me.
The shopping itself, included lots of laughs, talking, most importantly; me paying and a nice cup of tea. I tried on heels in New Looks whilst She laughed, and I got to watch Her try on boots and pay. Slowly I was becoming more and more a finsub…
A few months and many regular chats later, I asked about taking Her shopping again. It turns out, Madame G had turned me into a finsub for Her. I wanted to treat Her more. But She suggested something even more special… coming to her house (her house!!!) for shoe worship. My heart was in my mouth again. I accepted the really generous offer, knowing how lucky I was that She trusted me enough to invite me to Her home. That afternoon, I spent one of the best hour’s of my life, on my knees kissing the shoes of Madame G. I could write an entire blog on this subject. Being on my knees with Madame sat above me, whilst I worship Her shoes, kissing every inch, licking the dirt She has walked on… the power and control She had over me even at that early stage was high.
These visits became a regular event, me crawling out to the hallway getting more shoes, putting them on her very pretty feet (OK, not pretty – PERFECT!), whilst we chatted, myself in chastity – always. Each meeting ended with me handing over ever increasing amounts of money to Her. Madame in these special moments, always wearing those trigger vintage heels.
There are so many stories and adventures between then and now… Believe me, I’ve glossed over even those two meets.
But where did Alice come from? She is pretty new. I had started to cleaning Madame’s house on the visits, in a PVC dress but there was no name associated. But last year, we attended our first event at Torture Garden and Madame suggested an Alice in Wonderland costume for me.
I bought it and loved being dressed up and the name Alice, just seemed perfect.
Madame, just before the event had me come over and do my makeup and we took these photos – literally the first pictures of an emerging Alice and to show my face!

Since then, I’ve bought more clothes, we’ve been to more events and my Twitter account became @AliceInSubland – as that’s who I am. Like truly (sounding like a sorority girl – likeeee totallly). I love dressing up when I get the chance, and love being at Madame’s feet as often as I can be.
The amount of things we’ve done over the last almost 3 years is incredible and I can see how I’ve grown as a sub. From having the confidence to going out dress up, to being a pain slut, the findom side, breath play… so many things that will be covered in future blogs and so much to write about.
I hope that works well as an intro. Please message me, comment, share and i’ll keep this up. I love chatting to you guys 🙂

Favourite Dungeon Session

It’s been a while since my last blog, and the latest dungeon visit with Madame needed writing. Hell, it needs setting in stone as one of my favourite dungeon visits with Her!

After getting dressed in my black PVC dress, I came down stairs to Madame looking as fabulous as ever. She sat on the throne, which is so very apt, and asked me to put the gas mask on to start with breath play. I don’t know why, but I felt particularly weak, and had the sub feels already and nothing had happened.

After derping a few times trying to put a mask over a wig, I opted to take it off and the mask fit snuggly. Then the torment started. I have a real thing for scents – scent fetish (?) – and Madame’s hair in particular is one that I love. My last dungeon visit ended with a sissygasm to the smell of Her hair alone. And so she started running the hose from the mask around Her neck, smelling Her sweet perfume and into Her hair to smell that perfect scent.

I could tell I was weak. Within seconds I was moaning desperately; my legs twitching and moving as the chastity device did its thing. Then came the hand over the hose stopping my breath. Because of not having the wig, the mask seemed to fit better and stopped me being able to breath instantly. Only then to be teased with it being release, and the intoxicating smell of Her hair. Then the hose went down Her body, my eyes unable to stop staring or trying to guess when it would happen. And it did. A lot. My stopped breathing, and as soon as I was allowed, I moaned… no not moaned. Whimpered. Even from the bottom of Her boot, I could smell mud and dirt and felt myself whimpering weaker and weaker.

“Are we weak enough yet?” She teased. I didn’t have time to answer as She covered the hose and I started trying to breath, but failing. The mask contracting against my face as I tried to draw in oxygen but there was nothing. Madame completely having my life in Her hands. Letting me breath. Given the order, I could have sissygasmed. But it was too early for that. And I didn’t have permission.

I crawled over to the bench to be strapped down, after being allowed out of the mask ready for my first beating.

“Are we after marks?” Madame said. I whimpered “Yes” as the first cane struck me. She laughed as I presented my ass up as much as I could under the straps, causing laughs from Madame and to be told I was “slutty”.

Madame is a real master of the arts of causing me pain. She knows exactly the buttons to push, but also is able to tease perfectly, giving the sweet smell of Her hair, or putting Her boots to within inches of my face – before inflicting the pain of a cane crashing against my feet or backside, or the flogger doing it’s work.

This time, because Madame didn’t have the bull whip with Her, She decided to go with two different options to work over my back. Scratching me with Her nails and then a nasty little flogger with tiny tails. She tested this over my back a few times on the bench and it caused the reaction. A whimper from me as I dived deeper into sub space. And again, felt the ability to leak very close.

Unstrapped, I desperately wanted to kiss Her boots, but was denied and instead put on the cross. Now, the bullwhip causes pain that last on the back – like it stings for a good 30 seconds after and needs breaks. The flogger doesn’t require such. Madame, always checking I was ok, started working over my back with the flogger. Going in between hitting me with the force of all the tails for a solid smack, to just letting the tips graze which sting. In between stopping and scratching my back.  As a painsub slut, this is total heaven. And Madame knew how weak I was. Mush. Putty. Whatever. My legs were strapped to the cross as the flogging continued and we got to 30 lashes. Each one, thanking Madame for it.


Then came the first of many ball kicks for the day. It hurt. Lots. Being unable to curl or fall to the floor made it so hard. Then the second. The pain of being kicked in the balls is immense. But this was only the start.

Madame released my arms and let me undo the legs and then crawl to Her at the throne. Only for the teasing to carry on. She crossed Her leg, and I know not to kiss Her boots without permission. I stare longingly. Submissive. Weak. Obedient. At the shoes of my Owner.

I think to beg. “Please Madame, please let me kiss Your boots. I am so weak. I am Your property. I will do anything You want. Please let me kiss them.”

This get’s a smile as She leans down and spits on them.

“Put your head here,” She says, making me have my nose inches from the spit but still not allowed to touch. I can feel my legs fidgeting. Chastity, aching from the kicking but still doing it’s job.

After what feels like an age, I get a “You may”. I shoot forward taking that spit – She’d been drinking Monster – it tastes so sweet. I kiss that boot with more passion that I kiss my wife. Than I’ve kissed anyone. This boot, Madame’s boot is literally my world and kissing it is everything. I move to the soul and start licking the dirt. These aren’t “dungeon heels” that are just worn here. They are everyday boots and tasting the dirt as I look up at Madame is a wonderful feeling and get’s a smirk and “good boy” from Her, which spurs me on.

I kiss this boot like it’s the best thing in the world – and to me it is. “There is mud on this one,” She points out and I’m there in an instant, licking. Madame’s boots shouldn’t be muddy. Ever. And I can feel the sissygasm building, and it’s one of those times Madame has an uncanny way of knowing what’s in my head.

I am ordered on all fours and my legs instrictibley try to move in. I hate myself for this, as I am desperate to be kicked. Luckily the keep connects and I fall forward but quickly start kissing Her boots again, thanking Her for kicking me.

“I’m surprised you’ve not sissygasmed yet,” she says pushing one boot hard into my balls. It is so close.

This is torment in the best possible way. I am weak. Sub-space? What is beyond that? I don’t know but I’m there.

A thought hits me. Something new and it won’t leave my head.

“Would you stand on me?” I get a surprised smile and ordered to lie down. Madame get’s Her balance and stands on my chest and hips. The sight of Madame above me is so amazing. She rubs Her boot on my chest “leave a boot mark” She smiles and then kicks my cage a few times which almost starts the leak.

I look up at my Owner standing on me and just feel proud and happy. This is where I want to be.

She climbs off and sits down and I resume position at Her boots and start kissing and am giving permission.

“You can keep your panties on all day, so you can walk around in your mess too,” She says and I can feel myself close. Being talked to like that is amazing. But then, She leans forward and I open my mouth.

As soon as the spit hits my mouth. It hits. The sissygasm hits me.

Yes. From being spat at. Spitgasm?

I carry on kissing but Madame feels I’ve lost some momentum and puts me in the position for a kicking. It connects and is painful. She looks down. “There is a wet patch from your sissygasm.” I shoot over and clean it off.

This pattern goes for a while. The kicking followed by kissing. I love it. Her feet are perfect in those boots and I lose track of the kicks. At least 10 over the session – probably more. And I crave more kicks.

I’m allowed to take off Her boots and kiss her socks which sets off sissygasm 3.  Her feet are literal perfection.

I put on a pair of Irregular Choice sandals I purchased for Her and sissygasm again. All the time, Madame smiles as it happens. I guess at the weakness She has caused me.

Last come the Loubs. We’re chatting now, but that doesn’t stop another sissygasm hitting at the sight of Her perfect feet in heels.

Truly, this was one of my favourite sessions. Made absolutely better by going into town after to buy Her some more clothes.

Dungeon Day!

Where do I start? It’s been ages since I’ve blogged – soz, but what better way to return, than with a blog of, and I kid you not, one of the best sessions I’ve ever had so far with Madame.

What was really nice about this visit, is that it was the second time I’d seen Madame within a few days – having shopped together on the Saturday when I’d got to flex my bank card whilst Madame got treated. As a finsub, the days shopping together are really special.

We arrived at the dungeon after a morning of teasing messages from Madame. From a decision to what outfit She would wear (I opted for a classy outfit of just items I’ve paid for!), to the biggest tease being that She had washed Her hair and sent me a video of Her blow drying it.

If you’re new to my blog – I have a big hair fetish with Madame. I love paying for Her salon visits, products, accessories – and when i’m really lucky – I get to brush it. It’s seriously perfect.

I dressed and waited on my knees for Madame to come down. She appeared looking seriously amazing. Classy top, beautiful skirt and Loubs adorning those perfect feet.

“Let’s start with the gas mask to get you nice and weak,” she said as I pulled it over my head. Looking up at Madame controlling my breath, when I can breath and not, and watch me struggle – there is something so powerful looking up at Her with that control. She is in complete control of me.

And yet Madame, has Her ways of driving me that little more sub. The rubber tubing attached to the mask, She pushed into Her hair with a smile, and the fragrant smell of Her washed hair drifts into the mask, sending me into a moaning sub state, to be quickly halted have my breathing stopped again with that smile, and then back to the hair.

I am weak by this point – I was weak before even arriving, but now I was falling into sub-space at a fast rate. The mask came off and over the bench where I was fully strapped into place – after having nipple clamps attached – and awaited the beating. And it came…

From flogger to harder flogger Madame worked up through the gears, whilst I moaned in pain. But that pain, quickly turned to pleasure, as it always does at Her hands.

“I can hear you enjoying this,” she said as the harder flogger came out – with harder leather and tassels which with each strike elicit a deeper moan of pleasure as I took a beating. Madame knows I’m a slut for pain and works me over so well. She knows where to hit, when and at the right time. From swishing the flogger near me to striking it up and hitting my prone balls erupting me in pain.

I love the flogger. The way it hits, but there is something very special about the cane. And with the cane, Madame is an expert. She can build tension by swiping it next to me head, so I hear the swish and tense and then nothing, to tapping it all over me, to hitting without warning.

With the cane, the extra task of counting them out comes.

Madame knows how to work me over and changed the point of strike from my backside, to thighs, to my feet. Every strike hurts, from light strikes to harder and with each I moaned in pleasure and thanked Her for it. The ones on the thighs and feet particularly hurt and are unexpected – but I love each and drift deeper and deeper into sub-space. I might as well move into sub-space because it’s where I live at Her feet.

After 20, i’m released off the bench and know I’m staring at Madame – desperate to please Her more and tell Her how much I adore being Her property. I’m led onto the St Andrews Cross for the bullwhip. It’s been a while since we’ve done this and my mind has forgotten the pain this can cause.

As She moves back to Her starting place She asks me to confirm my safe words.




The first strike whips around my side striking with such pain. I moan, and Madame appears behind me like She always does to inspect Her work, but more importantly, to help me through the pain;

“In through your nose, out through your mouth,” she says calmly.

It sounds obvious – but my first reaction is to hold my breath – these words swim in my mind and help me calm quicker for the next.

Strikes 2 through 4 hurt. A lot. But the words and care from Madame help – and she assures me we can stop at any time and that sometimes the body just isn’t up for it.

“We’ll try for 5 or 6.” I say, wanting to take a little more for Her.

“Will this help?” she says putting Her hair within the range for me to smell. Wow. So much wow.

5 and 6 come, and feel good. The pain mixed with pleasure sensations just so perfect as the burn from the bullwhip sinks in.

“Are you done?” she asks.

“A few more.” I reply.

I feel good. And the next few hits I love – I can never work out whether to tense my back, or relax but each lash hurts and is so nice.

“To ten.” I say to Madame and She administers the last two. Counting each lash across my back, admiring Her handiwork, before letting me down from the cross.

“You have your stripes back,” She says, and I beam with happiness as She tells me to inspect Her work in the mirror. I look proudly at the marks and see Madame sit down, take the Loubs off and put Her socks and boots on.

“You know what’s coming now?” She asks as She stands and instructs me onto all fours and to open my legs wide.

I can feel them twitching to close, but I’m told to keep them opening or She won’t kick. She runs Her boots up the inside of my thighs – and then – WHACK! I fall forward as pain crashes through my balls and I whimper forward. This pain is unreal. I turn quickly and Madame has positioned Her boots for me to worship. I kiss them with passion – more passion that I’ve never kissed anyone – kissing the boots of the woman who has just kicked me in the balls.

I look up and She points for me to turn again.

This time placing Her Loubs in front of me and I’m told to put my head in them. The second kick is delivered with more power and I wobble over the Loubs in agony and turn to kiss Her boots and thank Her for causing me this pain and… pleasure. Because, I love it. I really do.

The third kick is the most powerful of the three, I take a moment living in the pain as it rolls around my balls and She sits on the throne for me to kiss Her boots and thank Her.

I am so deep in sub space. The chastity now on for 291 days (and no end wanted). Worshipping my Owner’s boots after She’s put me through the most exquisite of pain and pleasure. But She’s not done…

“Would you like to take my boots off?” the implications that I can smell Her socks. Another HUGE fetish of mine. So much so, that the smell of Her feet alone have caused a sockgasm – the relative of a sissygasm, whilst locked in chastity. The smell alone, with no other sensation has caused leaks in my panties.

I take off Her boots reverently, looking at the beautiful orange socks with strawberries on (that i’d bought) and look up at Her for permission to smell.

I’m given the nod and bury my nose into her toes and take in the heavenly scent. It is perfect. If you’re a foot fetish person, you’ll know exactly what I mean – they are perfect. I can feel that… feeling building that will cause a sissygasm.

“Please may I, if it happens?” I ask. I’m not allowed a leak without permission.

“I wonder if you should from my socks… or the smell of my hair.” This is new. Could it happen to Her hair? She leans down and I smell Her hair. Breathing it in deeply. It’s so amazing. It is fragrant, the products She uses make Her hair look perfect, but the smell… its heavenly.

Perfect. And I can feel it building and within seconds I moan and feel the leak happening in my panties and fall to my knees.

Hairgasm? No that doesn’t sound good. But the reality is, that the smell of Madame’s hair appears to have that effect on me too.

I don’t have long to think about it – as Her socked feet are presented to me and I smell again and yes, it happens again. The smell, the submission to my Owner – it all is too much and it leaks again.

I honestly can’t remember how many times it happens, but I remember Madame giggling at one as my body spasms at Her feet and the smell of Her socks.

“I’m sure you’d like some Loub time.” she says and takes off Her socks and I slip them onto Her feet and kiss them. They are perfect. Here’s another picture of them for you:

We chat a little about how much I adore serving Her, that I’ll always be Her property and would do ANYTHING she asks. Without question. And I feel it building again and as i kiss the perfect red sole another leak comes from me, and Madame smiles.

I always love my time with Madame and days’ like this are perfect. I am so massively happy at Her feet. To be locked in chastity for Her. To get to buy Her what She wants. And I love that I can leak from the smell of both her feet, and her absolutely magnificent hair.

Denied and Frustrated

Ah chastity. My old friend. Two years ago, I’d never considered chastity and yet here I am indefinitely locked up.

I remember an innocent time in my life where I would never consider locking up. The overnight pain, the family life – wouldn’t allow me to.

But now, I enjoy that pain. The frustration. And pulling panties over my chastity has really pushed me into being a girl.

Initially, chastity was a thing for a few days at a time. I would send Madame the key a week or two before a visit and then be all lovely and frustrated at Her feet.

But things started to change last year. I wanted to go longer. I found that I enjoyed being denied completely and that I was getting more enjoyment from paying Madame than I would from those empty moments of release. So I locked for longer, and longer. Month into month.

Then on the 22 June 2017, Madame took the key and I haven’t had it back since. I went away on holiday (through the metal detector at the airport is fun!), and was teased mercilessly.

And now, chastity is part of my life.

The key:

It strains when Madame posts or we’re having some Domme/sub time. But I don’t get that normal male release. I don’t need it. I enjoy paying Madame, and if I’ve been good and am allowed, I am able to achieve a ruined orgasm from the smell of Madame’s feet – sockgasm! Locking it away, seems like the most logical choice.

The dull part of chastity is the cleaning – lots of q-tips to ensure hygiene. And keeping shaved it fun, but like everything, I wouldn’t change it.

The best part is the frustration. I’ve said on Twitter that it comes in waves – and in recent weeks it really does. The need and drive for sex or masturbation is still there. Only chastity keeps me denied. And Madame has a knack for keeping me weak – a picture of Her feet here, or message there or simply calling me a “good boy/girl.”

And I channel this frustration. It’s where I push myself further as a finsub and it makes me sluttier as a girl.

As you’ve seen from my Twitter, I’ve taken lots of pictures recently and will be taking lots more and my level of slut goes up depending on how weak I am from the chastity. It makes me want to be a girl more, to dress up, crave things girls want. I can attribute how much I enjoy playing with realistic dildos being in me with chastity length. It’s how I can get satisfaction by myself (although never release – I need permission for that).

Another plus from chastity is the ballbusting. Madame leaves me in chastity when She does this, which may sound an odd choice as most is protected. But no… the most sensitive part are hanging waiting to be kicked and have pegs attached. A kick in chastity is excruciating. Chastity makes it worse – but I crave that pain. To feel my boy-parts on fire. It’s part of my submission. I don’t need that part of my body.

The incredible thing about it all now is that I want it to stay on. I know it sounds like a sub-space thing to say, but it’s true. Ask me when in a vanilla mood and I’ll tell you; I don’t want out.

This is me, Alice – feeling slutty because i’m denied. Alice who is always weak for her Owner. Alice who is locked in chastity.

I am excited to get to 12 months locked – a year without a “real” release and I quite honestly don’t miss it. My “real” release is now hitting “Confirm” on a bank transfer. Or being at a cash machine and giving Her my card.

The only drawback maybe the device. I am currently in the Holy Trainer v2 – it is so very comfortable but the cleaning is a long process.

It is my hope to get a custom metal one made (which would mean a week unlocked to take measurements – boooo!) so I can be locked more permanently. You can get punishment pins attached so if I get excited, it sticks pins into me to stop. I have considered a PA piercing, so I am truly locked and inescapable. But who knows.

I consider a lot more in those frustrated moments! My deepest darkest fantasies come to the surface and bubble away – the PA piercing is one of those… as is… well I can’t give it all away.

Ultimately, chastity has made me who I am; a slutty girl.

I don’t need that part of me, it’s locked away as my role in life is to be in service to my Owner.

Torture Garden, Brighton

So Torture Garden happened again and, to be honest and open with you all, this is possibly my favourite venue so far for these events.

The day started like any other… getting ready to travel to pick up Madame and Sir to make our way – however Madame tweeted this photo, which started certain feelings pretty early:

I cannot begin to describe our distracting it is seeing my key hanging around Madame’s neck. It’s an amazing sight – at times, and whether it was subconcious or not, She’d play with it in the day and next which again, did nothing to help the coming sub-mood!

We arrived in Brighton and I’d booked us into a nice apartment overlooking the marina (no murder hotel this time). And despite the great views and apartment the downside would be a walk to the taxi, dressed up, in front of a everyone who may have been dining in the marina restaurants. We thought quick about maybe getting changes at the event, but instead managed to not provide too much of a scene.

The getting ready, started with Madame ensuring Her hair and makeup was on point – which, let’s face it – it always is. Then came my makeup. I love Madame doing my makeup. It makes me feel special and mixed with my chastity key hanging around Her neck, incredibly teased at the same time! I can’t thank Her enough for how fabulous She made me. It is by far, one of my favourite looks!

It was at this point we decided that we didn’t have enough wine – who knew one bottle wouldn’t be enough. Took a few selfies…

… and decided Sir’s cider was a close second to wine as both are technically fruit based alcohol!

After completing the outfits we made our way to Torture Garden. We all really enjoyed the Brighton event last time we came (our first fetish event) so were looking forward to getting back again.

The location of the event is stunning. It’s kept secret, so I can say where it is, but it looks incredible and, inside they’d added table and chairs and given it a really burlesque feel which matched Madame’s outfit perfectly.

After our first drink we headed upstairs to check out the dungeon rooms and I was put over the bench for the first time. We’d had an ongoing… discussion (?) About my recent visit and how many times I’d played Uno with them. I was sure it was just once, both Sir and Madame were insistent it was twice. The flogging came hard, with a few choice tassles connecting with my chastity device and prone parts. Every now and again Madame would ask how many times we’d played and I’d answer. Once. And the beating continued.

Madame teased throughout, putting Her beautifully heels foot next to my face whilst Sir pulled my lead not allowing me to get near.

Again the question. How many times.


The beating continued. The mixed of Her heels and the pain… Eventually I succumbed.


Madame smirked. The right answer.

How many times? Twice Madame.

How many times? Twice Madame.

It is twice.

We headed back downstairs where I was asked to give Madame a foot rub as Her feet were aching. I got on my knees and rubbed those beautiful feet. I could smell Her perfect scent on Her fishnets, but as I was only instructed to rub. I stayed focussed on my task. I rubbed and occasionally kissed Her feet as She relaxed and talked to Sir.

What I love about Torture Garden is that it’s very open and friendly. This gives Sir and Madame time as well. Yes, I’m Her sub but they need time together too. I’d watched earlier as Sir used a flogger with Madame which for me as Her property, watching Her in the position She puts me – for Sir. Is so incredible.

Shortly after the foot rub, they disappeared to the couples room giving me more time to explore.

I headed to the Medical Room and watched a couple in there. She was up against a cross getting flogged over Her back. Moments like this, make me long for Madame. Wanting similar treatment – yes I’d already been beaten but I’m a greedy girl. But I knew She would be having an amazing time with Sir.

A short while later they came back and Madame promised me a dance. Even alcohol fuelled I like to dance, but to my shame I can’t pole dance even with Madame encouraging me. As much as I’d love to. It’s something I’ll work on to make Her proud as I did feel like it had let Her down a little. I like to have things to work on as it keeps me pushing myself. I did thoroughly love dancing with Her though.

Another trip outside and more drinks turned into another trip to the dungeon room and Madame pushing me over another bench. This time, She sat on my back and took the flogger to my red backside and balls. I writhed in pain but stayed in position because I want nothing more than to please Her.

After I was allowed up, it was Madame’s turn back on the bench. At this point, as much as I wanted to watch, I needed air. I came back up and they’d made there way into the couples room again.

I loved that.

I waited for a short time outside the room and was asked if I wanted to accompany someone other people in the couple’s room – by a lovely girl and man. Obviously I declined, but was happy with the attention.

I made my way back to the dance floor and danced the last bit of the night away.

Madame and Sir reappeared and has very clearly had a good time which made me happy and whimpery.

And alas the night was over. As always, I loved it and cannot wait for the next trip!

Pay for Madame to look Fabulous

A blog dedicated to findom. Yes. So many yes.

For those who don’t haven’t read my blog much before – let me give you a quick once-over of my life. My Twitter is centred a lot around the girl in me, and loving dressing up and being a cute sissy.

Findom is a huge love on mine. Something I had no interest in before Madame, but now, absolutely adore.

I’ve seen a few tweets over the recent weeks and months more against findom as a fetish – suggesting it isn’t a fetish, or getting a bad name because of “instas” not fully understanding what it can be about.

Findom as a fetish, done right – and Madame nails this perfectly – can be the most exceptional form of submission.

In this blog (does that sound like the start of an essay for uni…? Fuck!), I hope to tell you (yep, dissertation) why I enjoy findom as a finsub.

I give money to Madame, very easily for many reasons and hopefully you’ll soon see why this is such a big fetish for me.

I’ve been a finsub to Madame since day 1 of my submission back in August 2015. There was just something that ignited the fetish in me when speaking to Her.

Anyway. Let’s go into it…

There are a few ways I spoil/give money to Madame (and Sir). The first is, very simply a few standing orders. Yes, banking can be fun! I have a few of these automatically putting money into Madame’s account each month and each I love.

The first, and the one I tweet most about is the sock subscription. Mostly because every month Paypal push a notification to my phone to say the money has been debited and I’ve forgotten that it was due. This subscription has a special place in my heart; to have Madame delivered fresh socks every single month is, so much wow. I have quite the sock fetish which I mention in the previous blog. Needless to say, knowing Her feet are looking perfect in socks I’ve bought is heavenly. And when we meet up, even in vanilla meets, it’s always a nice treat to see which pair She has on.

I pay a monthly standing order to Madame and Sir for their bed. A year ago (I lose track of time!), they broke their bed doing things a Superior couple do, and I was given the opportunity to pay for the new bed. As a finsub and cuck, I couldn’t say no and didn’t want to. Knowing, that my money is paying for somewhere Madame and Sir sleep and get up to Superior couple things… Finsub mode is full on!

I do a monthly transfer to Madame also. This one I love the most, just because of the amount.

On from standing orders and this is where it all started…

Madame and Sir both have access to my Amazon account to spend my money too. It goes without saying that I fully trust both of them with this information. This is used for anything from everyday items to clothes. I just receive an email saying an item has been ordered.

I love this.


It’s my money being spent without being told – It’s a dream scenario.

The biggest thing for me about findom, and the biggest enjoyment I get from it is this; I have a very big fetish for paying for everything Madame wears.

I’ve been buying Madame clothes pretty much since the start. From shopping trips, to use of my Amazon account to bank transfers when She has been shopping. And this has created a real love for seeing Madame in things I have bought. A fetish in itself.

Knowing that I have paid for everything She is wearing. To see Her on date nights with Sir, or when I see Her wearing clothes, shoes, socks, tights – that my money has been spent on. It’s a rush.

How else can I describe it? A few weeks ago, I bought Madame a pair of over the knee boots and red coat. Well, let’s be technically correct about this – She said She had bought them, and I subsequently begged to reimburse Her. Desperately. When I saw Her a week later, She was in both and that is just weakness. I’ve said it before – it’s kryptonite for me. It makes me weak. She wears my money so very well. Very much better spent on Her than me.

She summed it up well in a message a few weeks back:

“You pay for Me to look fabulous”.

This is so very true. I can’t imagine a world where She isn’t wearing something I’ve at least bought. It’s perfect.

And the need to spend on Her can come at any time. It’s both a need and a want. Madame and I, can be chatting as friends and She mentions an order on ASOS or that She’s been shopping in town and I can go from normal chat, to thinking “I need to pay for that”, which quickly becomes begging to reimburse Her so She doesn’t have to use Her own money.

It really is that important to me that I pay for as much as what She wears, as I can.

That is how the month can go, and you’ll see on my Twitter usually when i’ve bought Her as I’m that excited that I tweet that I got to do a bank transfer.

On two occasions I’ve had the privilege – and I truly see it as that – to buy Her Loubs. That makes me very happy. I still remember the first pair – seeing a tweet from Madame saying She had been looking generally and liked a pair. A few WhatsApp messages later, and we were talking about when She was going to get them.

I love paying for Her to look fabulous and having designer shoes is an part of that.

More recently, I’ve discovered a real hair fetish. As the finsub I am, I asked to take over all hair related payments.

Madame’s hair drives me wild. I’ve been lucky enough to brush it on a number of occasions and like a foot massage, it is a highlight for me – because it’s something very servile for Her. And the smell of Her hair – sublime!!

Running a brush through Her hair, seeing Her relaxing and watching a brush run through Her locks – it’s mesmerising.

Taking on everything hair, mean that whatever She needs I pay for; from salon visits, to products, to accessories – ANYTHING – Madame can message me with the amount and it is reimbursed instantly. Without question. It’s my job.

Yes, I keep tight control of my finances, but set aside plenty for Madame to spend.

I can happily say, that spoiling and giving to Madame, is for me, better than any form of release. I don’t need any silly male pleasure. This is my release.

Now, a quick caveat to all of this – I know exactly what I can afford, and Madame would never push me into anything like debt.

Don’t fret: I pay all my house bills and it doesn’t affect my life.

I will say this; Madame gets a lot of my salary. I was going to tell you a percentage, but I’ll keep that to myself.

This makes me happy.

And I’ll say this – I wouldn’t have it any other way. Every penny I’ve spent on Her, is money going to its rightful place.

It really makes me happy. Ecstatic. From that day back in August 2015 through to today and beyond, I still get a rush pressing transfer or seeing that email. The enjoyment doesn’t diminish, it gets better. I love it.

We do cover lots as a finsub, but I am always thinking about how I can do more, or improve. I’ve even had a few ideas writing this.

To go back to the start of this blog and the query I posed myself. I can see why people are critical of findom.

I can understand it.

But done right, and with the right person;

It is the most amazing experience.

My First Fetish

Feet. This is gonna be good!

These have always been my first love. My first fetish. I have no idea how it came about, it’s always been a part of me along with appreciating women’s footwear.

I wanted to write a bit of a blog and give you an insight into me and what drives me, and my first fetish is a good place to start (and what you lot voted for!).

Let’s start with tights. This is a newer one on me and I can’t really remember where this came about from. I looked back through my phone to see if there was a defining moment and there first time it came up was a short conversation with Madame where She said She was wearing tights and they were all tight and hugging Her legs. From the look of the messages, I was feeling a little weak at the time – and that was it. It imprinted on my brain and a weakness was added to the collection.

A few days after that message, my findom mind took over, and I begged Madame to let me buy any nylons She ever requires – and She did. She went shopping and a photo came back with all the pretty tights saying how much She’d spent. I quickly reimbursed.

The look of them is astounding. Knowing they hug Her legs and feet. In one session, She pinched the nylon off Her shin and watching it ping back increased my weakness ten-fold.

At Christmas, as part of Her Sub-Christmas present, I bought Her a pair of Walford tights. OMG – those are incredible. I had the pleasure of touching them on Her legs – and they are a class apart. I adore tights (and stockings) – and knowing that I’ve paid for them and they hug Her feet – gives me a warm feeling.

Socks. Well, where do I start on socks? My foot fetish has never really considered socks, and I don’t mean to attribute everything to Madame – but socks really came into their own with Madame. In the early days of me visiting Madame to hand over money and kiss Her shoes, I’d smell Her socks, and they smelt fab but it was more a task inbetween putting different shoes onto Her perfect feet.

But looking back, I should have known my love; going back to my pre-Alice days, this was my Twitter avi for months – and I still love the picture…:

A Sub-Christmas present in 2016, was a sock subscription for the year. Every month new socks get delivered to Her. When I am lucky, I get to see the new socks on Her feet and I go all gooey. That subscription was only supposed to last a year, but me being me… it’s extended to… well… indefinitely. My sock fetish has taken over.

There is something so cute about a pair of socks on Madame’s feet. I have a favourite pair (shhh don’t tell) which are my phone screen wallpaper:

They are so gorgeous. I can tell you this. No one else’s socks affect me quite the same way as Madame’s. I think it’s because they get to hug an area of Madame I adore. To keep Her feet warm. Those days when i’ve seen Her in socks – on my knees taking off Her shoes and She flexes Her toes in them. It. Drives. Me. Insane. They demand to be kissed. But the absolute best thing about Her socks… the smell.

In my life, I have a few favourite smells – the smell of a blown out candle is one. But, the smell of Her socks… If you’re a regular reader you’ll know the effect they have. She deliberately wears them for longer when I visit – but the smell is so hard to describe if you don’t like feet. But i’ll attempt it:

It’s perfection

It’s the smell of a few days Superior Woman’s walking around, decanted into this delicate item. And that moment, when Her boots came off and they are inches from my face… I’m awaiting the nod that I can smell… and it comes and I bury my nose in Her toes. It is beyond a happily place. To taste them. To smell. YES!

Sockgasm. I’m hoping this word makes the dictionary one day. Those socks in the picture above? They were the socks recounted in my Story of 6 blog. I adore them. I will ALWAYS be paying for Madame’s socks. And staring and wanting to sniff them. I can’t put it any other way. Sock fetish – hell yeah.

Wow, I clearly love socks! Shall we move onto shoes?

So, story from my past; back with my ex (some 10+ years ago) we went to Camden to buy shoes. She was looking at boots from what I remember. Watching her try them on caused an embarrassing reaction for a male… I’m sure you can guess what… causing me to have to remain seated for a while. While she was waiting to leave!

Yes. That happened.

As long as I can remember I have loved shoes and heels. There is something just so very sexy about the right pair of shoes. Again, with Madame, I’ve had the pleasure of buying Her countless shoes (including two pairs of Loubs *cough* a third pair may appear at some point this year *cough*) which gives me infinite joy. I’ll talk more about the buying in a future findom blog, but seeing any shoes on Her feet – especially those I’ve bought give me that happy.

I know I am blessed. That I am able to sit on my knees and lick the dirt from the soles – worshipping where She has walked. To lick Her spit off of them. Just YES. So many YES!

The first pair I bought Her were a pair of vintage heels. This was my first foray into findom and buying Her shoes seemed the obvious choice:

I love these shoes (not seen them in a while!). I think they probably define the relationship with Madame quite well. The first thing I bought Her. And She teased me lots when they arrived cementing my obsession. They were the last pair I’d kiss, when handing over Her money.

I think for me, knowing that they get worn so often. That I get to clean dirt off the soles. To worship that intimate area (for me that is: the soles of Her boots): the streets where She has walked.

A way to literally worship the ground She walks on.

Finally, the part that all these beautiful things reside in. Her feet.

As I’ve said before, I have loved feet all of my life – but now there is only one pair for me. I’ve had the absolute pleasure of rubbing Her feet on a few occasions. When She’s been watching films, or more recently gaming. I can, and have, spent hours at a time rubbing them. It is a job that doesn’t get old or boring. Changing between each foot as they rest on my lap. Seeing Her toes flex and move around and getting to massage them. I have started to watch foot massage videos so I can get better at this job.

This is something that makes me happy. Sniffing Her socks and kissing Her boots is things I enjoy. As it’s getting to worship.

But to rub Her feet. This is a real part of heaven for me. It’s like when I can brush Her hair. As it is about Her. Seeing Her getting to relax because of something I am doing. It makes me happy.