This is one of the rituals that we perform in private to ensure our relationship remains unequal. Sure, slapping a submissive across the face is nothing new, but with us, there is a deeper meaning to it.
I don’t need to slap him hard, as it’s not the physical pain that counts, rather it’s the feeling of power and control I get when slapping his face, and the humility it forces upon him. A gentle backhand with only the flick of my wrist is sufficient. If I am wearing my leather gloves, I will remove one and lightly slap him with it.
When I slap him, I am conveying the message “I own you and can do whatever I damn well please to you”, and for a few months, I actually said the words out loud to him each time to drive that meaning into him with repetition. Now when I slap him, I don’t say it anymore, but in his mind, he hears the message loud and clear.
After slapping him, I hold my hand out to him. His part of the ritual is to feel the humiliation from the slap, and submit. To show his submission, he kisses the hand that slapped him conveying the message “ Yes Ma'am, you own me and I surrender to your control”. When I said my part out loud, he answered me out loud.
When I first created this ritual, I would slap him at random a few times a day just to remind both of us our roles and places in this relationship. It worked great and have expanded on it since.
When we first started, he would take my hand in his while kissing it, but now I have him clasp his wrists behind his back and hold them there instead as it’s a much more submissive and vulnerable pose. He must maintain eye contact with me while kissing the hand that beats him.
Every so often, I may feel that I don’t see enough submission in his eyes and slap him again. If I slap him a second time, he has to get down and kiss my bare feet, or lick the patent leather ballet slippers I tend to wear around the house, as they are comfortable and perfect for licking.
I now use it to control his speech as well. If he says something I find offensive, or is just boring me with what he is saying, a quick backhand across the face shuts him up immediately and he kisses my hand and remains silent until I allow him to speak again.
So, in summation, the ritual is quick, efficient, and gets the point across. I feel powerful as he experiences humility which helps to maintain the inequality we both feel is important in our female-led relationship.
shoutout to the woman from my high school martial arts class who liked to get me in joint locks and then joke about how I was easy to catch. you cannot comprehend how psychosexually formative that was for me
You're my sissy, and your chastity enhances our intimate connection
I’m a beta, I don’t need silly ideas
A lot of people have been asking me to post our rules, so here are some of them.
shoving my fingers down a boy’s throat and making him gag. massaging his tongue… exploring the heat of his mouth…. much to think about.
I sat in the limousine, my hands locked behind my back in handcuffs, not exactly the way I'd pictured riding in such a luxurious vehicle, as the woman who captured me made a call on her cellular phone.
"Hi Sydney," she said. "It's Jill. I've got him. He's all locked in handcuffs and I tied his feet once I got him in the car. We're on the way to you now so you can get the bounty. See you in a few hours."
She hung up as I glared at her. She smiled.
"Don't look at me like that," she said. "I'm not the one who had a fugitive warrant for my capture. It's not my fault I captured you, Mr. Griffiths. It's you who couldn't get away from me."
I blushed, shameful, enraged at myself. She'd approached me at an art exhibit, a very public event, and announced she knew who I was and that she worked for a bounty hunter who'd been contracted to capture me and bring me to face the warrant several states over. I'd asked her to take me somewhere private to handcuff me, but she'd refused and taken me into her custody right there, in front of dozens of people. Dozens more witnessed her walking me through the large art museum and out to this limo, and she'd sat me down, belted me into place, and tied my feet before calling in that she'd caught me.
"I really thought you were going to try to run," she said with a smile. "But I guess getting chased and caught was more embarrassing than surrendering to me to get arrested. Tough call, but I'm sure glad you didn't make me run. For that, I won't gag you for the drive."
She laughed at my dour expression, and patted my cheek mockingly.
"Cheer up," she said. "It could have been worse. Now you get to stare at me for the next few hours while I take you to my boss, and then to jail."
No more worries, no more stress.
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