I hope every submissive reader of this blog got to pop and enjoy some bubbly with their Mistress this evening..
Here's to a joyful 2026 filled with loving FemDom and femininity for all!
love,
sissy terrie
I hope every submissive reader of this blog got to pop and enjoy some bubbly with their Mistress this evening..
love,
sissy terrie
Tomorrow will mark the 11th anniversary of O/our (Diane and mine) commitment to a chastity lifestyle for me. If we are being totally honest, I don't believe either one of us would have thought that we would remain faithful to it as long as we have. I don't know exactly when the "turning point" was, we came to the conclusion that I will remain locked until it is no longer physically possible to do so.
Lots has happened in our lives since this journey began on 1/1/15. Through it all, because of our mutual commitment this lifestyle, my chastity was almost an "afterthought", a part of our lives that didn't preoccupy us but was simply "always there."
All that being said, I want to share with you a post from Diane's now "silent" blog - To Love, Honor & Obey" - that I wrote on January 1, 2020.
I haven't ordered anything from Rago for a long time. I get an email just about every day from them and to be honest, I often don't even look at it. I should. I've always loved the feeling and of a girdle not to mention the whole idea of why women wear them. They've certainly lost their popularity from a fashion perspective, but I'm sure they will never lose their allure and feminine mystique.
I hope you enjoy this short clip. This woman really seems to love her girdle...
Love,
sissy terrie 💝
p.s. I'm trying a new font on my blog. Let me know if you like/don't like it!
Just gazing at this picture made me swoon. But the accompanying piece of flash fiction just adds to its allure. Thanks to the tumblr blog AI Satin Chic!!!
Luke nudged open the door to suite 507, shouldered his bag inside, and stopped dead.
Something white and voluminous caught the corner of his eye, draped across the armchair like an uninvited guest.
He let the door click shut behind him. He set his carry-on down with exaggerated care, as though any sudden movement might make it vanish – or worsen.
Only then did he look directly at it.
Layers of white organza spilled over the seat in careful folds, the full skirt claiming most of the chair's seat. A broad pink satin sash cinched the waist, its long tails trailing onto the carpet in two deliberate ribbons. Late sunlight slanted through the window and set the fabric alight, turning it almost incandescent.
This was his room – he’d double-checked the key card, confirmed the upgrade at the desk. Corner suite, fifth floor, city view he’d quietly expensed as “client entertainment.” He was alone. Three days of panels, handshakes, and overpriced hotel wine. No wife, no girlfriend, no one who would have any reason to leave something like this behind.
Luke crossed the room slowly. The air carried lemon polish and starched linen. Housekeeping had been through – chocolates on the pillows, towels sculpted into ornate fans. They wouldn’t have overlooked a dress.
Up close it was unmistakably expensive - tiny hand-stitched seams, mother-of-pearl buttons marching down the spine, the sort of quiet craftsmanship his sister had obsessed over at her wedding fittings. Not costume. Not disposable.
He reached out and brushed the sash. The satin slid under his fingertips like cool water. He lifted the bodice slightly, searching for a tag, an explanation.
There: Size 10. Dry clean only.
Size ten.
He was a men’s medium, five-nine in shoes, maybe five-ten if he stood straight. The waist looked narrow, but not cruelly so. He caught himself measuring it against his own hands before he realised what he was doing.
He dropped the fabric as if it burned him.
Previous guest, obviously. Someone forgot it. Housekeeping missed it in the rush. Simple. He’d call down, they’d send someone up, apologise profusely, and that would be that.
The phone sat on the desk beside the television, the reception number printed neatly on the tent card. One call. Two minutes tops.
He picked up the receiver. It felt heavier than it should.
He glanced back at the dress. The sash had shifted – or maybe he had – its pink tail now brushing the toe of his shoe, as though it had reached for him.
His finger hovered over the button.
The room was very quiet. Outside, traffic murmured five floors below. Inside, only his breathing and the faint rustle of organza whenever the air conditioning stirred.
He could picture it - the apologetic knock, the maid’s quick retrieval, the dress vanishing down the corridor in a garment bag. Gone. Story over.
Or he could put the phone down. Just for a minute.
Luke’s hand tightened around the receiver as he bit his lip.
(By the way, this image was *really* difficult to make!)
**********************
Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.
Wouldn't a sequel be awesome?
Love,
sissy terrie 👄
I served Diane and Karl coffee in bed this morning and left them alone.
They didn't have their second cup until at least an hour later.
Truth be told...I am very, very happy for both of them. Particularly Mistress. It's a joy to see Her this happy and sexually fulfilled again.
Love,
sissy terrie 💕
...until SHE says it is.
That's right. Christmas can be a hectic time for anyone, and more so for submissive males who are tasked with more than their more alpha counterparts. I'm not complaining that much, but I was looking forward to some quiet time tonight without having a "honey do" or "sissy-do" list filling my head.
But, Mistress had other plans. Her libido as high as it's been in a long time and Her lover Karl returning this afternoon She thought it was time for a nice romantic Christmas dinner for the two of them. The dinner is to be enjoyed right here in our home, prepared right here by Her dutiful sissy hubwife and followed by a good old fashioned sleepover - cuckold style.
"You know the drill" She told me. "Full maids uniform and everything else."
Everything else? Thank goodness Mistress was smiling when She said that.
Pardon me but...I've got plenty to do today. Besides all the housework, dinner preparation and "everything else", I do want to look my best.
I'm actually quite excited about it. It's been a very long time. Wish me luck.
Love,
sissy terrie 👄
💗💗💗💗💗💗
Thanksgiving has Black Friday, and when Christmas lands on a Thursday, why not take a peek at some frilly unmentionables that sissies found in their stockings yesterday?
For being gifted something this pretty, why does she look so indifferent? maybe even sad?
Hope everyone had a wonderful day yesterday.
Love,
sissy terrie 💓