Ambiguous surveillance of extreme humiliation

The worst type of suffering; that is never depicted on the web

I received the comment below which prompted me to dedicate a post solely to the activity of: Ambiguous surveillance of extreme humiliation. Before moving on, I will fully explain this activity, which is one of the most devastating for any uxo, and the writer of the comment, in his opinion, and me in mine, confirm it is the worst type of suffering there is.

What it is

In one location away from the Mistress’s location, the uxo is set up to perform an audio-visual task or just audio or just visual. The task is lengthy and is very humiliating indeed. A baby-monitor, or Wi-Fi camera, or Whatsapp continuous phone call, captures the audio and or visuals of the the uxo and can be watched/listened to by the Mistress, OR NOT! Usually, extremely harsh and speedy punishments are carried out one or more times at the outset, until the uxo continuously performs with the required compliance with performance rules and enthusiasm levels. This performing can last for one, or for many hours, but the uxo does not know if he is being watched/listened to; constantly, or for a few seconds every hour, or any sampling schedule in between. Mistress may be alone, or have visitors with her.

Readers of my journals will have come across accounts of Ambiguous surveillance of extreme humiliation, when my bitch has to undertake; Ironing with dolly, Do colouring-in with dolly, Outdoors, show dolly the flowers and discuss whether they are pretty, or the worst of all: Perform nursery rhymes with words and actions in front of a dolly audience, (and a mirror). In each of the above scenarios he must talk to the dolly/dollies in a high pitched lisping voice, and pretend to be the dolly/dollies talking back to him, (in an even higher pitched voice).

The comment I received comes next, after which in this mega-post, I provide examples from this blog of other Mistresses examples of Ambiguous surveillance of extreme humiliation. And after that a treat! Another treat. A new account from the amazing Madame magazines of forty-years ago, that is 100% applicable to todays FLRs, and includes, Ambiguous surveillance of extreme humiliation.

First: The Comment

Curtsey.

Hello Ms Scarlet, inspired by this post and BB suffering a severe thrashing and shame in front of another Domme, this UXO has been going back through your journals and got re-stuck, in a good way, into some of the horrors he has faced.

This UXO has humbly concluded the greatest horror must be you informing BB he will be the shameful and ludicrous lisping and performing his recital of 5 nursery rhymes over and over for 2 to 4 hours, to his dolly audience in Vol.16 of your Journals. Oblivious to whether he would be watched by you on the baby monitor at any point or maybe not – under the threat of a thrashing, Linnex application and even more hours the next day, if he doesn’t comply with suitable effort enthusiasm. All the while you got to watch what you wanted on TV, do what you wanted and take some ‘personal pleasure’.

This UXO has attempted to contemplate just how terrible this must have been for BB, perhaps even worse than performing Wheels on the Bus over and over in front of you and Governess Lexi, based on the ambiguousness of potential monitoring of him and there being no kink reward whatsoever, beyond when he rests his head on his pillow at the end of the day.

The compliance, having to see himself, hear himself over and over, the bells, the faux conversations, lisped, for so many hours without knowing when it will end, the hopes dashed and dashed again, must be right up there with the worst you have ever done to him.

This UXO shares this thought, and contrasts with not the inconsiderable sufferings BB faces with the likes of:

– Pain is pain, and quantifiable. Whjps, canes, straps, linnex, stinging nettles (even the Spring variety), interdental brushes – none should be taken lightly by any means but are in the moment with residual physical suffering. Stiff upper lip and all that. And even if repeated on the hour, they are not on-going for hours, without knowing when it will end…

– A Governess Lexi mouth soaping is foul but only for as long as it lasts. Or until repeated.

– Being locked away in the dark of the cupboard or put to rotary clothes-line duty, or ‘gifted’ another colouring in book, are dreadfully tedious but ultimately tolerable.

– Meeting a new Mistress as BB nerve wracking for sure, combined with intense anxiety / blushing and shame.

– Having to consider with every curtsey about the plight of his redundancy being just that and all the reasons why that you prompt at how he would never be considered for sex and will now never ever again, gain any sexual gratification is for sure dreadful but his normal. This must get to the very core of him, as a male of the species, but it is not like it has happened to him either as a true virgin or as a teenager of an appropriate age, with the potential of a full and fulfilling sex life ahead of him.

– Having to push his pram and dollies around the garden and discuss the flowers with them, is perhaps the closest, shameful thing BB must and does endure.

But still, BB helplessly having to comply, all alone, with a baby monitor pointed at him, reciting away on his own though, for hours and hours, for this UXO, as much as he’s wracked his brain as to what could be worse from all your journals, eating away at him mentally at what a ludicrous, laughing stock he is, and thus, is conceivably the very worst thing you have put him through in all your time together!

Not sure if you or BB would agree?

Truly, upper echelon female domination.

Curtsey and thank you for all that you do for promoting real female domination.

Respect from celibate-dickless, fast approaching in on 3 years a BAV.

From this blog; Examples of other Mistresses use of Ambiguous surveillance of extreme humiliation

Mistress Elizabeth, when her uxo is put to bed, for his usual early night, having him discuss the day’s events with his dolly, for an hour every night, while she can choose to listen or not, via a baby monitor,

Mistress Suzanne putting her uxo, dressed as a little girl, outdoors on the patio cuddling his dolly, and she may choose to glance at him out of a window from time to time, or not. In the new account from the amazing Madame magazines of forty years ago, that is 100% applicable to todays FLRs, The uxos. wife, mother-in-law and sister, do exactly the same thing with the uxo subject to their cruelties.

A good example of just what it looks like when an uxo begs and begs, and pleads and pleads, having been told its time he spent a few hours in a distant room of the house, being observed by me, when I can be bothered, via the baby-monitor, doing colouring-in with dolly, including the verbal exchanges every two minutes. He is normally on the verge of tears though. And there is almost always a visit by me and the cane, that ends in his tears, to set the standards of self-humiliation that he must follow!

The new letter from Madame Magazine

I am 34 and my husband, Pamsy is 47. I knew when We married that he was a submissive weed, but it suited my purposes to have such a pathetic creature as my own personal slave. It didn’t take long for me to reduce him to his present status — that of an object of service and ridicule.

Your magazine is a great source of inspiration to me, echoing as it does my own views on the subject of female domination. Before I go to work, I dress Pamsy in my dirty underwear. At night he wears one of my short lacy nighties.

I exercise my right to dress, use and abuse my slave to its fullest extent. I don’t consider it an abuse to dress him in female underwear. My husband has already learnt that it is a privilege for him to wear the same knickers and bra that I, or my mother have worn the day before. We take real pleasure in his humiliation and often send him out into the garden “to play”, dressed in this fashion, with the addition of frilled ankle socks and patent leather Mary Jane shoes. He has to take his big dolly and it is very amusing to look out of the window now and again, and see him standing in the centre of the patio, where he must always stand when ‘playing in the garden’, dreading that someone may enter our back garden.

Mother and I are firm believers in penis discipline. Over the past 5 years mother has been a great help in breaking what spirit my spine- less husband ever had. The first time I presented him to her, dressed in a pair of her large pink knickers and a heavily padded bra he actually cried with shame. It was a joy to behold, as I led him to her by a length of nylon cord tied around his balls. The memory will never fade. Mother is 55 and now lives with us all the time.

Pamsy is fully aware that he is not allowed an erection without my express permission. Last Tuesday, when I prepared him for genital discipline. I decided he should wear a pair of mothers knickers and bra, suspender belt and stockings. As soon as I eased the soiled nylon knickers over his thighs I noticed his tiny penis begin to harden. By the time I had snapped the knicker elastic up and around his waist it was fully erect. His ridiculous organ is only 5″ long, but it was an erection all the same. It is not too surprising because it only gets relief once a month maximum. I gave it a prod and reminded him that he would have to pay for his little indiscretion when we rejoined the ladies.

He began to whimper as I continued dressing him, stuffing mothers bra with some of my unwashed tights. When I had fastened the suspender belt and made sure the seams of his black nylon stockings were straight, on his shaved legs. The result was very pleasing. He looked, felt and was a proper little Pamsy. My mothers bras are very large and the knickers were almost transparent, leaving him nowhere to hide his pathetic penis. He looked delightfully ridiculous as I led him down stairs to meet his tormentors. Pamsy is mine to command at will. If he can’t or won’t obey a commandment he has to suffer the consequences.

I am quite severe with his genital discipline. Both mother and my aunt, Gloria, share my views, so when he displays an unwanted erection it usually takes at least an hour to wash, slap, and abuse it. It’s gratifying to know that my slave is so sub- missive that he will unquestioningly accept humiliation and punishment for acts that I condone one second and then totally abhor the next. He has no will of his own. His only focus is to please me, even if that entails total degradation before my mother and my aunt. I’m sure that due to all the suffering his genitals have caused him, he almost wishes he’d been born without them.

When we entered the front room, mother was already soaping the large, pink, toothbrush. “Oh Pamsy” she laughed. “You do look pretty. I really think my knickers suit you”. Gloria could hardly contain herself and joining in mothers laughter added something about ‘looking pretty pathetic’. His eyes welled with tears. I took him over to where mother was seated and pulled his pink knickers down over his thighs. He automatically placed his hands on his head, as he is trained to do when being attended to. He sometimes squirms and shakes but is too frightened of the consequences to remove his hands from his head unless instructed to do so. Mother griped his penis and wrenching back the foreskin began to soap its length, squeezing rhythmically and scraping with her long nails. The tiny object was soon very hard. Then, taking hold of the tooth brush she began to scrub hard and thoroughly. “Now then Pamsy, I’m sure you don’t mind how hard I scrub, because I know you want to have a nice clean little dicky don’t you, Pamsy dear? My slave is well trained and his response was appropriately sycophantic. “Oh please Mrs Andrews, scrub as hard as you can. My penis is a disgusting object and my mistress want’s it as clean as possible”.

My training of him has been so thorough that he always answers such questions with obsequious sycophancy. It took many, many punishments to reach this point. He had to learn to verbally join in with his own ridicule and to invite pain and humiliation despite the ridicule and derision this brings, and of course the pain it brings.

Gloria was an eager spectator. Mother scrubbed every inch, paying special attention to his bulbous head, scraping the harsh nylon bristles over and under his tender purple glands again and again. Mother asked him if she was scrubbing too hard or if she should stop scrubbing and his answer, as he winced and whimpered, brought cruel, satisfied smiles to each of our faces. “Oh no Mrs Andrews, please really do scrub as hard as you can and for much longer please”. On my instruction she opened up his tiny pee hole and forced some of the bristles in and out, to make sure he was really nice and clean. At this he began to yelp, so Gloria stuffed 2 pairs of mothers unwashed knickers into his mouth. That soon shut him up. When mother decided he was clean enough, I dried him off with an electric hairdryer, on full heat, causing extra discomfort, whimpering and squirming. I then took the knickers from his mouth so that he could thank Mother for her efforts. Gloria then asked him whether he would like her to assist in attending to his little winkie. With an expression of dread, he answered. “Oh yes please Madame Gloria, I would be very grateful if you would also attend to my little winkie.” She had him stand in front of her and she began unscrewing the lid from the tube of Ralgex she was holding. Pamsy began whimpering so I interjected harshly. Make sure you thank and encourage Madame Gloria as she applies the lovely cream Pamsy.

There were tears in his eyes as he responded. “Thank you Madame Gloria for applying the lovely cream, please apply lots and lots and rub it well in.” Gloria squeezed a two inch length of the Ralgex cream, as thick as a pencil, onto the knob, and holding his foreskin fully back in her tightly squeezed fist she began to rub the large quantity of the Ralgex into the bulbous knob.

As the burning began to take effect he began crying in earnest. I left the room to top up the drinks and on my return found him standing in the middle of the room, facing my seated accomplices. As thay had instructed, he was sucking his thumb and holding an ear lobe and crying his eyes out. We sniggered to each other cruelly at the sight and mother continued the spitefulness by telling him that he had better get over the Ralgex PDQ because there was plenty more treatment for his little defect still to come. He could not have looked more pathetic, hopeless and miserable. Perfect!

Ordering him on to his hands and knees, he was required to express his gratitude by kissing the toes of our shoes for a full five minutes.

Bright red, and not a little sore it was still standing to attention. Pulling his knickers back into place, I reached up into them and eased his genitals out through one of the elasticated leg holes. Pinching it between finger and thumb, I raised my eyebrows and asked mother and Gloria if they wanted his penis to remain in its present condition. In fits of hysterics they said that they didn’t and neither of course did I. I turned to my husband. “As you have just heard Pamsy, your erection is not required. I gave it a slap with my ruler and commanded him to loose it. We waited but he failed to obey, standing there blubbering like the fool he is. “Now listen closely Pamsy dear, I am going to count up to ten. If by that time the little defect between your legs doesn’t resemble a dead slug we will have to help you to achieve that effect. Do you understand, my little pet. He said that he did and continued whimpering, but that babyish noise didn’t weaken our resolve. I suppose that in reality my demand was quite unreasonable, especially as I was constantly scraping my finger nail across his shiny purple crown. However as far as Pamsy is concerned I suspend reality and reason to suit my own ends. So much for “fair” sex. I began counting, punctuating each successive number with a sharp slap across his shaft. Simultaneously, Mother bound his testicals with elastic bands.

On the ninth slap he began to howl. We continued “counting” but eventually stopped at 20, as the treat- ment seemed to be having little or no effect. Anyone looking at his silly willie would almost have thought he’d enjoyed the experience. For light relief (ours, I must admit) before resorting to the cane, we focused our attention on his tightly bound testicals.

The skin across his scrotum was taught and shiny. Each little hair was clearly defined. I ordered my husband onto his back and spread his legs out wide. Mother handed Gloria a pair of eyebrow tweezers and they took it in turn to pluck 15 hairs from his bulging ball bag.

Mother always uses the little penis cane effectively, but I always make sure no permanent damage is caused. After all, I’ve got my slave for a lifetime and I’ve no intention of wearing out my amusing toy in a bout of frenzied sadism. At the mere mention of the cane Pamsy begins to cry, so I always let him cry himself out before his flesh is caned. I ordered him to stand with his hands behind his back and took a firm grip of his testicals wrenching them up towards his navel, forcing the object of our attention out and away from his flabby thighs.

Mother bent the thin whippy nylon cane and slowly drew it along the length of his rigid little prick. Before she’d even layed one stroke he began to dance from foot to foot (a habit I am determined to break) so I strengthened my grip, forcing him up onto the tips of his stockinged toes. Mother raised the cane above her head and held it there for ages, before snapping it down across his

tender flesh. Gloria kept an awed, attentive silence as mother inflicted another equally savage blow. She raised the cane again, but this time only about 9 inches from his throbbing organ and began to criss cross every inch of his penis with quick, stinging cuts. By twisting his balls up and around his penis I was able to reveal “virgin territory,” which, on sight, was adequately dealt with. Gloria was quite delighted with the effect, as she watched his penis change colour, but was genuinely disappointed that it still remained so defiantly erect. “Well” said mother addressing Pamsy.

“I agree with your sister. It seems to me that we have done all the work this evening. It’s time you entertained us for a change.” The fact that we had hardly been “entertaining” my slave in a pleasant way didn’t enter into the matter. “If it’s the only way to reduce his dicky to the size of a slug” said Gloria “I suggest we make him masturbate in front of us. It was agreed, and I forced his penis into a french letter, and sitting back in my arm chair, ordered him to “get on with it”.

Poor old Pamsy, he could hardly touch his erection, it stung so fiercely; let alone wank it. However, an order is an order and he did just begin to gingerly pull at it before Gloria lost her patience. “Oh come on now, you knicker wanker, you can do better than that. But he couldn’t .

Ordering him over to where I was seated, I took his inflamed penis in my hand and gave it 15 rapid, painful jerks before he began to shoot at which point I let go. With a pitiful sigh of disappointment his spoiled orgasm was discharged into the durex. “There we are”, said mother, “You disgusting creature, now you’ve had your fun there’s no excuse for failing to obey your mistress’ original demand. He didn’t. His erection deflated like a pricked balloon and mother immediately laced it up in a very tight penile corset. It was the 5^th month in a row his only relief had been a spoiled orgasm. I sometimes wonder just how cruel I can be.

Pamsy looked totally exhausted, and utterly miserable but that was hardly surprising. It has to be remembered that he is 47 and far from in his prime. Even so his ordeal was far from over.

When I sit on my husbands face he know what is required. Standing astride his heavily stuffed bra, I raised my dress and descended slowly, giving him a good view of my pink nylon knickers until, finally, they smothered him. Gloria was on her hands and knees to get a clearer view. In my opinion this act is the ultimate in male subjugation and is always made more enjoyable if there is an audience to witness it. After years of practice my slave has a well trained tongue. While he licked and sucked through the thin cotton gusset I turned my attention back to his tethered testicle sac. Mother sensed my intentions and

handed me the tweezers. When I plucked the first hair he bucked a little and his tongue redoubled its efforts, so I waited for him to relax before plucking out another and another and another. By the time I’d ripped out 17 little black, curly, hairs my knickers were drenched with a warm sticky flow. Pamsy had done his job well, there was no denying that, but I remained seated to pull out 3 more hairs before I rose and waited for him to thank me.

Mother prefers to sit on the edge of a kitchen chair and have my husbands head up her dress and between her thighs. At mothers instruction Pamsy knelt at her feet, but before he began Gloria stuffed a freshly cut bunch of stinging nettles into the crotch of his knickers and tucked his genitals back inside.

“Come on then Pamsy dear, it’s time to suck mummy now”. Holding her dress above his head, she pushed his face up into her knickers and clamped her thighs together. Mother takes quite a time to reach an orgasm. He was between her legs for over 15 minutes. To heed him on his way and to make sure he didn’t enjoy the experience, Gloria constantly caned his arse until it was burning as brightly as his withered penis. When mother was satisfied she pushed him away. His face was wet and flushed and his tongue was almost hanging out. Gasping for breath, he knelt at my feet.

I almost felt sorry for the humble little creature, almost, but it was Glroia who provided his final humiliation. After ordering him to his feet, yet again, she began to replace the tights that had fallen from his bra. Then, turning to me with a devious smile she asked if it was permitted to give Pamsy a little drink “as he had done so well”. I gave my permission and mother and I were delighted when she instructed him to follow her to the lavatory, “to see what she could provide”. She is indeed a kindred spirit.

On their return Mother told him to get back to his housework chores and he could start by cleaning all the toilets.

I find my husbands dog-like devotion rather touching at times, but that does nothing to alter the very low opinion I have of him and of most other men. However, to see him humiliated, shamed and debased before a group of my closest friends never fails to strengthen the relation- ship we have — that of mistress and slave. Many contributors to your magazine Miss Candida, claim that they dream of a life of total slavery. From their point of view. I suppose Pamsy could be considered fortunate to live the life he does — that of a pathetic object of ridicule. But these fantasists really should be careful what they wish for, they might fall under the power of a woman like me!

Regards Zoe.