Cuckolding of The Rubber Maid and His Subsequent Public Humiliation

Cuckolding of The Rubber Maid and His Subsequent Public Humiliation

Hello, Darling Readers,

How are you today? Good? Fair-to-middling? What have you naughty boys and girls been up to?

I have been trying to be a Good Girl and am failing miserably. The virus has infiltrated my mind, body, and soul and I am now at a point where everything is warped. I knew this the minute I saw my GP about town, the other day, and imagined what he’d look like dressed in a pink frock, little lacy ankle socks and a Shirley Temple wig.

I still keep thinking of the party at The Manchester Chambers, last week, and replaying the scenes in my head of Mistress Arabella and me trying to break our pain slut. We had her tied down and spread-eagled, strapped into place and ready to take some good cuts and stripes, that pert little bottom assuming the position a bit too eagerly. She lay her head down with the demeanor of a lady about to have a soothing massage. A bit complacent for my liking so I spent a very long time warming her up, luring her into that headspace, the purgatory to be suffered first but the rewards, enjoyable beyond words. I whispered into her ear exactly what I was going to do with her and that made her twitch with excitement even more. I told her that she was going to be a good girl and take everything I was going to give her and she was not going to make a sound and then Mistress Arabella was going to take over and make her head spin with pleasure that only the lucky ones in life ever experience. The pleasure only a true Goddess can give you a glimpse of.

We did our best, Mistress Arabella and I, to break her but the more we hurt her the more she moaned and begged for more. And we gave her more. And more. And more. Implements were destroyed and we took our beautiful little pain whore to a place where mere mortals can never go. It was very arousing to have an audience watching, I love to put on a show.

Anyway, look at me, thoughts wandering yet again. So, VictorianRubberMaidGate. Didn’t end well for him and really, he wouldn’t have been getting that punishment if he’d just done as he was told; to be a horse for the night and, at the club, if anyone spoke with him he was to answer with a “neigh”. More than one “neigh” was allowed if he had to speak more than one word. We had a test run and everything. The theme for the night was Teal Green Lipstick and Eyelash Extravaganza Realness and we had matching lips, outfits and nails so that we could blend into the background better. Me, tightlaced, hair in a high ponytail, eyes looking for mayhem and him, my darling Rubber Maid, looking like a befuddled Mrs Miggins From The Pie Shop.

Needless to say, he annoyed me in some way (whilst we were in the smoking area) so I dragged him by his two leads back onto the dancefloor and made him kneel in the middle of it while I danced circles around him, pulling hard on those chains. Occasionally, I gently hooked my finger around his nipple chain and give that a tug too.¬† The DJ even put on my favourite tracks to get me more in the mood. Oh, it was so much fun to shimmy around my Rubber Maid, telling him how disappointed I was with him and exactly why he as he stared glumly at the floor, all the creatures of the night dancing around us and me totally switched on. He says I cuckolded him, I beg to differ, when I started dancing with a topless, dusky and toned Romanian chap, half his age, who had very beautiful tattoos all over his smooth chest, plus a smile that would make any mortal woman drop to her knees, right in front of his face. I didn’t mean to have such a good time with my dance partner and I could have perhaps toned down my bellydancing a bit and not had so much bodily contact but hindsight and all. I think I can see where he was coming from.

I stayed with my dance partner for the rest of the night and danced until 7.30am. I love it when I leave the club and walk out into a glorious day and this day was glorious as could be. Nice and bright and Rubber Maid gleamed in the sunlight. “Shall we go home now, Maitresse?”, he asked. No, not yet. I had to say goodbye to everybody and he was to wait by the car whilst I did so, I wouldn’t be long. Somehow I was persuaded to go to The Angel for coffee and only remembered Rubber Maid when he called to ask if I’d be much longer. Luckily, he’d parked his car opposite the pub so it was not far to walk.

On the way home (and I love that drive in the convertible, roof down, whizzing along past Euston then Paddington, up to Maida Vale, everyone staring at Rubber Maid. I always feel a bit like Penelope Pitstop even though I am nothing like her and can’t even drive), I was overwhelmed with a sudden urge to shrink wrap My Little Pony and feed him carrots so I asked Rubber Maid to stop at the 24hr Tesco on Edgware Road, slap bang in the middle of the Arab community. It was now maybe 9.30am “Come on, out you get”, I said, politely. He asked if he could stay in the car. I assured him that he was safe and that no one would say a word to him whilst I had him by my side on his chain. Secretly, I was hoping we would get into a fight. He fell over in his shiny 6″ platform dolly shoes as soon as he stepped out of the car, so embarrassing.

Oh, the staff at Tesco absolutely adored him. As did the small crowd of people that had gathered around his car. Carrots, clingfilm, orange juice and Prosecco bought, I had a hankering for some loose leaf green tea from one of the Middle Eastern shops. I don’t do teabags. We had to walk all along Edgware Road, looking for a shop that met with my liking. I don’t know why people were staring, maybe we didn’t look Lebanese enough. Rubber Maid’s feet started hurting so I thought it only fitting, as part of my Duty of Care, to head back to the car and go home so that he could serve me Prosecco, smoked salmon and fruit and then amuse me by lip syncing to True Blue by Madonna¬† and Billy Idol; White Wedding. This never fails to make me laugh and I am looking forward to cuckolding him properly, next time.

Have you got what it takes to be more amusing than Rubber Maid? Can you take more pain than you ever dreamed possible? Maybe both? If so, call or email (no texts), details below.

Endless smiles,

Mistress Karishma