Not Allowed On The Sofa

Two days ago I picked a note from John’s advent calender which stated: “From now on until Xmas the dog is not allowed on the sofa”. When I was embarrassed by it, John had to laugh real hard and said I look disappointed. He thought I should look happy because I only picked it on December 11th and not earlier. I know he was right and I was ungrateful.

So since Monday I’m sitting on the floor when I’m in the livingroom. I’m not even allowed to have a blanket, because my blanket is in my car now. Why? Because the dog surely isn’t allowed on the car seats as well! But as the dog needs to go to work and do its chores, it has to be able to drive its car. That’s why.

Sometimes he throws me a Spekulatius cookie and I have to take it with my mouth off the floor. It gets me wet and horny to be treated like that and like any good dog I’m obedient and sweet.


Humiliating Clothes

Yesterday’s note in my Advent calender said I should dress in humiliating clothes and go to work like this. So I did today. In my opinion there are different kinds of humiliating wardrobe, for example all the slutty stuff that merely covers my body and tells everyone what a whore I am. On the other hand, quite normal looking wardrobe can be humiliating as well, for example if it’s too tight or too short or by any means silly.

For me it’s very important how I look. Not that I’m really vain, but I fear to look ridiculous. I don’t really like to put shirts inside my trousers for example, because I think that makes my ass look fat. And I don’t like short trousers when I wear men’s clothes. There are more things I usually avoid. I think this is connected to my childhood and youth when my father decided what I had to wear. He loved to give me clothes that were numbers too big for me and he always said that’s because I will grow quickly and then fit into. I never did, I just looked stupid. On the other hand, when I grew older, he made me wear too small shoes so that my feet hurt all the time and today I have trouble with corns and all. So as you can see, there are a lot of possibilities for humiliating clothes.

For today I chose to wear a diaper with a tight jeans and a pullover that ends just above the ass, so that I thought my diapers were really good to spot. I was nervos when I got to work, but I found that as long as you yourself pretend that everything’s normal nobody seems to care. When you start to show insecurity or even worse, if you begin to apologize for what you are wearing, then people sense that there’s something wrong. I was nervous and felt uncomfortable, but all went well. John liked the picture I sent him πŸ™‚

Today’s note said that hidden in a kitchen drawer I’d find a new toy to stuff my arse with. What I found on the designated spot was a very hard and spiky massage ball. Ugh. I know this will hurt, especially when I’ll try to get it out again, just like the chestnuts do every autumn.



Last weekend John and I were invited to W’s and M’s for dinner and to watch a movie after eating. We had planed to watch another film, but during the dinner M talked about a movie he had recently seen and that had shocked him so much that he had to interrupt it several times before he was able to finish it: Irreversible from Gaspar NoΓ©. I had seen it before, and as I have to admit I just saw it because I knew it caused a scandal because of its long rape scene. So John, W and I agreed on watching this movie, but M told us that if one of us wouldn’t feel comfortable with it, we should tell him so that we could stop the film.

Well, when it came to the rape scene I could feel W getting nervous and I could also feel John getting excited. Moreover, I got hard right away and wished so much for to be in her place. Later we talked about it and I tried to point out how artistic the movie was (it actually is). On our way home John and I sat in the darkness in his car and he said “You’d loved to be in her place” and I just said “yes”. He drove us a bit further to a dark parking place. It’s usually the parking lot of a school, but on Saturday evenings there is no one there. He took me right there, in the cold, pretending to rape me and rip me open. I came twice.

Later I thought about my rape fetish. It’s not that I only love rape-play and pretending to be raped. I actually love being raped. I like the pain and being overpowered and just taken and used. I had to struggle so much with that, but nowadays I can accept that I am broken. I love the fact that John adores my brokenness and is able to love and support me nevertheless. Moreover, he’d be in trouble if he’d rape someone who wouldn’t like it and he’d never do that, but it’s just that we fit together so nicely. I will never get tired of our beautiful, perverted relationship πŸ™‚

December Is There :)

It’s gotten really cold here and I needed some new winter clothing for Ginny. I’ve ended up with a cute coat, a pair of jeans with some butterfly ornaments on it and two pullovers with a lot of glitter. This year the designers have added a lot of glitter and pearls to their stuff, and I love it πŸ™‚ For a while now, they are selling pyjama overalls/jumpers. Most times they only have cute ones with ears for kids, but this time I found one for me and it’s totally adorable πŸ™‚ Just a bit narrow in the shoulders, but that’s alright.

This year I feel quite different about Christmas and the Holiday season. It always put quite some presure upon me, but this year I’m eager to make it an enchanted time for my Love and myself. Leo will be spending 10 days around Christmas with us, and I’m really looking forward to seeing him. It’s been too long. I have already started decorating the house, and at work we are selling Christmas trees from now on. John surprised me with an Advent calendar. Each day I am to pick a folded note from a bag and have to fulfill what it has written on it. For today I was lucky. I picked “treat yourself”, and I chose a cupcake from work, but John has already told me that there are some really nasty ones in there, too πŸ™‚ I love this so much! Also, he allowed me to write a wish list for Christmas, including material and immaterial things, and I am excited about what he will actually let me have.

All in all I’m really beginning to like that Christmas stuff and I hope all you wonderful perverts out there are having a great Holiday season as well! πŸ˜€


In many ways I felt humiliated by the mere presence of all those beautiful ladyboys in Thailand. Sometimes when John ordered me to go out all dressed up, I knew people were looking down on me like I was crap, and indeed I felt like shit compared to the ladyboys. I have nothing of their grace and beauty, and I’m 20 years older than most of them. To be honest, I was shocked by how young they were, just 18 or 20, and so professional in any way. I mean, how they flirted with John (or us, if I was clad the male way) and how the sex with them was. All very professional, very clean and well organized. I know some years ago I would have felt bad for them, but now I just thought, well, that’s the deal here, and it was okay to deal with it that way.

Sometimes John just made me watch them, and it was hard being told how old and ugly I am compared to them, though I knew he was right and though it made my clit tickle. But for me this constant humiliation during our holidays was a long needed and desired reminder of who I am. I appreciate the way John loves me, but when I get treated too nicely, it makes me insecure. I need to feel the boundaries and the pain, otherwise I turn against myself.

One morning after breakfast we were sitting outside. I had his cock in my throat, drooling all over me, being slapped and ordered about. He came on my face, then pissed on me, slapped me again, told me how nasty and ugly I am and I could not help but cumming just because he rubbed his leg against my clit. He didn’t allow me to change and said in the sun my clothes would be dry in minutes. He was right, but you could still see the stains. When his cum in my face had dried, it became crusty. He didn’t mind and I had it still on me when we left the hotel. I guess that’s one thing that makes holidays so precious: I can be a slut very openly because we don’t know anyone around. I don’t mind strangers seeing my in disgrace.

I don’t mind either when the staff knows what I’m good for. I was caged all days, but I had brought more than one device and left it in the bathroom on the counter. You could tell they had touched it, because it was dislocated in the evenings after they had cleaned. Did I mind? Not at all. I didn’t mind if they could hear me next door when John spanked or fucked me or when they saw him fingering the other gurl on our balcony. Yeah, sometimes I wish we could go on like that at home as well.

The past weeks had me think a lot about the term “proudly owned”. I’m a proud slut, that’s for sure πŸ™‚

Over the years I found that most men who claim to be dominant/sadistic are not, at least in my humble opinion. For them being dominant/sadistic just means they cannot discipline themselves and therefore like to be bossy and assholes with others. That’s just boring and it feels wrong. I think being dom/sadistic has much to do with being able to take responsibility for oneself and for the sub. Knowing their limits, respecting their will to obey, their need for pain and degradation. To be frank, I think being dom/sadistic is very much about the sub, unless you are an asshole. It’s easy to ruin someone, but there are only few people who respect a sub for their will to be hurt. I find that strange, but it’s a fact, most “doms” despite subs for being sub. Or “that” sub I am, for example. I guess that has to do with certain values they were brought up to, if that sounds reasonable.

Thailand Changed A Lot

Thailand was an overwhelming experience. In more than one aspect it brought me to the verge and it also pushed me over it. First of all, Thailand is completely different to everything I knew before. As you guys know, I have started tavelling not long ago, and even though I’ve been to America, I wasn’t really prepared for how different Asia is. It’s overwhelming in many aspects. The climate was hard to handle for me, because it was warm and humid and sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breathe or would just breathe in warm water. I was happy to be in air conditioned rooms whenever I could. Then there’s people everywhere. If I ever thought the town I live near by was crowded, I now experience it as quite empty. Especially Bangkok was so full of people that I was really glad when we were in the hotel and I had some space for myself. The food was amazing. For me it’s always a bit challenging to try new things, but this part of our holidays was just beautiful. I have tried so many fruits I have never even seen before, and they had delicious vegetarian dishes everywhere. Of course they also had super gross stuff like insects and frogs and I don’t know what. Next, Thailand has a special smell. I guess in Germany we are just no longer used to the smell of waste gas like we had back in the 80ies, but in Thailand (or Bangkok so to say) that’s totally normal. For me, incense sticks, waste gas, sweet fruits and the aromatic body and hair oils people use there form a kind of olfactory memory of Thailand. The Thais are very friendly and keen to help, but for me it was hard to accept that their kindness always feels a bit submissive as well. Maybe that’s just a sort of cultural question, but having to cope with submissive people is always a challenge for me, because usually I am the most submissive person around πŸ™‚

For me personally, the most challenging part of our holidays was the confrontation with all those beautiful shemales and ladyboys. And there’s a lot of them. They have a sort of natural beauty and grace I do not own at all, and most of them (or at least those on display) are really unbelievably beautiful. To be honest, some are so beautiful I was surprised they were not naturally born women. Amazing and totally stunning, but also very intimitading. I know I mustn’t forget that most of them have been on HRT for years and I’m not, but nevertheless I had to struggle tremendously. Seeing my husband flirting with them, fucking them, kissing them was vile, moreover because he kept comparing me to them, like “oh, your dick is still way too big”, “anyway she HAS tits”, “now THAT’S a nice gurlpussy” and all that stuff. Yeah, it made me wet, but it also hurt, of course, like it was supposed to.

To tell you the truth, I expected to come home from these holidays and be convinced about having breast surgery. But it seems this trip has opened up new topics to think about instead of making anything clear for me. If God or whoever would ask me “how do you want to be like for the rest of your life?” I’d have to say: just like them. A beautiful ladyboy, lean, nice tits, beautiful face, petite and perfect for my man, with a supertiny cocklette that doesn’t even get hard anymore. I could never reach that goal just by having my tits done. I fear that would just make me a man with tits, like some sort of freakish monster. I don’t want to be an man with tits. I don’t even want to be seen as man with tits, though I like chubby boys with moobs, but I wouldn’t want to be one. I want to be seen as a ladyboy or shemale, not just a crossdressing man with fake tits. But that implies my only option is to find out whether or not I’m trans which I thought I’d be not. Wouldn’t I hate my cock if I was really trans, including wanting to have it removed? Well, I love my cock, I love having (and not using) it. I love the thought of having a useless, tiny clitty cock, and that’s what I want. If I’d be trans, I’d be allowed to go on hormone replacement therapy in Germany, and then sooner or later I’d be impotent. That would be so awesome. But I don’t want them to cut it off. It would be very nice to still have it, but all useless. I would really love to develop natural boobies and have softer face lines and all, and hopefully a bigger ass and all in all more curves. Moreover, I don’t want a legal name oder gender change. I love being male and I have made peace with my name, given to me by my father. In fact, my name has a special meaning for me nowadays and I had to fight hard to get to that point. I wouldn’t want to lose my name to be Ginny 24/7.

Yeah, so at the moment I’m more confused than before our trip, and I have already talked about that with my therapist who suggested I should go to see an expert for transpeople to find out if I might be trans without wanting to have a vagina surgery. Even the thought of that makes me cringe. So obviously I will have to work so much more on these things to find out what I am and which way to go. John and I talked so much about that stuff in the past few years and I’m so glad he doesn’t feel pestered. For the moment I’m leaving out the question whether or not HRT would have an impact on my mental issues, because I think that’s something I can still deal with later. I’ll keep you updated.

How To Halloween As The Slut I Am

Yesterday John and I hosted a very special Halloween party for some guys we have been playing with for quite a while now. It’s just that when you attend the same clubs and use to have the same “hobbies” that you come across each other every now and then, especially when you’re located in more or less the same area. Usually my chastity would have ended on October the 28th, but John thought it would do me only good to be denied two more days.

So for our party we had decorated the house a bit and I had prepared something nice to eat, but I guess that wasn’t what it all was about πŸ™‚ Master had told me to dress up like the worthless slut I am and I did my best to look like a cheap whore. He only allowed me to take off the device for shaving, then he put it back on again, but while I put on make up and got dressed, I was totally horny.

When the guys had arrived, I had to get them drinks and something to eat, but it wasn’t long until I had the first cock up my throat. It was intense. I love being deep-throated, but John had denied me for more than two weeks and being used in that relentless, violent way just felt amazing. What more to say? I got fucked in all my holes, I got spit on, I got hit hard, I was allowed to swallow each drop of cum and finally I came three times by being fucked, just like I am supposed to. Perfect party πŸ˜€

Today I feel relaxed and happy again. To be honest, the past two weeks have not been too enjoyable, but now I’m fine again. Still sticking to John’s meal plan for skinny bitches. He said one thing that really got through to me: I’d look ridiculous with boobs when I’m just a skeleton. He’s right. I’ll try my best to pile on a bit of weight again.

Well, John and I are off for Thailand soon, so I’ll be back here in about 20 days or so. See you then!