Whispers of a Submissive Soul

 This morning, I spun my punishment wheel. I was still in bed, nude as usual. I sleep naked, partly out of habit, partly because the wheel includes a cold shower., Today, it landed on Prayer Pose . No hesitation. I got out of bed and onto the carpet. I knelt down, folded my body forward, chest to thighs, forehead to carpet. Arms stretched out ahead, palms flat. I didn’t execute it perfectly, my elbows were slightly bent, and my right hand fidgeted once or twice, but I stayed in it. I stayed still. The stretch in my back was immediate. Not painful, just constant. A reminder that I was holding something. That I wasn’t meant to be comfortable. I couldn’t see a timer, so I had no clue what minute I was in. I let my mind wander. Why am I doing this? What do I look like right now? That mower is loud. This is just like an MRI. The kind of thoughts that only come when you’re still, exposed, and alone. My knees weren’t together. I’m not that flexible yet. But I noticed. And I wondered i...

All punishments are performed nude , with sissy socks unless noted. Each is held for 10 minutes , with no breaks, no relief, and no contact with my penis. If I get hard during a punishment, it must be repeated the next day. Cold Shower Ten minutes under a freezing cold stream of water. No socks. The discomfort is full-body and relentless. A reset through chill and control. Kneeling Submission Hold I kneel on the floor, knees together, back straight, and hands behind my back or resting flat on my thighs. Simple, still, and quietly humiliating. Posture Lock (Submissive Sitting) Seated on my heels, arms stretched forward, palms facing up. A test of stillness, openness, and obedience in silence. Edge of Chair Hold Perched on the very edge of a hard chair or stool. Knees pressed together, toes lifted off the ground, hands flat on thighs. Tension builds fast. Nose-to-the-Wall Stand I stand with my nose pressed firmly to the wall, feet together, and hands behind my back. Stillness...

  Viewer Question: "Would you really choose socks over a woman's tits?" Honestly? That question hit harder than I expected. Because yeah… I know what the “normal” answer is. I know what men are supposed to crave. Breasts. Cleavage. Curves. The kind of things you see in magazines, on billboards, in porn thumbnails designed to make you throb. But for me? It’s the socks. Not because they’re more overtly sexual. Not because I think they’re better. But because I’ve surrendered to the fact that they undo me. That they reach something deeper—something smaller, weaker, and far more humiliating inside me. When I see a woman in socks, something flips in my brain. I don’t feel bold or horny or dominant—I feel exposed. Like I’m not a man with desire, but a boy with a fetish. A submissive thing twitching and dribbling over fabric wrapped around her ankles while her tits are right there… and I can’t even focus. I’ve never deserved her tits. But her socks? That’s where I belong...

  My wife and I had talked and discussed the hotwife/cuckold lifestyle off and on for two years. I am 44, about 5'6", good looking, but not your typical male. Somewhere in my upbringing I became more of a "watcher" instead of a "do-er" in terms of sexuality. I don't think my little penis of barely 4" is the main cause, but it does play a part of me being the way I am. She is 39, about 5'4", Latina, with long curly dark hair, and full lips. She had been raised in a fairly strict religious family as an only child. Being raised in such an environment can go either way, hyper-sexual or hyper-nonsexual. She was the former, hyper-sexual. I have been her cuckold now for at least a year. It was slow going but with my cuckold mentor (thank you Sir) helping me through the two years worth of discussions, I was living my life once again as a cuckold. She loves the idea of me being responsible for my own cuckolding. She presents me with piece of paper ...