Mistress Leesa’s Blog

I’m a firm believer in the behavior-correcting power of corporal punishment, especially when the offender is a naughty adult male-creature.
To help My naughty slave bob quit his self-destructive smoking habit, I’‘ve devised the following cure.
Each morning at 7:00 a.m. I check the number of cigarettes smoked in the previous 24 hour period. Then, using My carcass beater, I give bob ten sharp strokes on his bare bottom for every cigarette smoked.
The carcass beater is a flexible rubber loop that instantly raises deep welts and, moments later, C-shaped blue bruises.
This corrective training tool is as painful as any rubber truncheon, without the danger of breaking bones or leaving permanent bruises.
I position My sub on his bed with his ass in the air, naked except for his leather slave collar. (his nudity is important; he is not only going to be punished but humiliated as well.).
However, I do not employ any restraints as I want him to use his own will power, despite the pain, to remain in that humbled position.
The pain often causes him to whimper and cry with real tears streaming down his cheeks. But I show no mercy. That would defeat the object of the beating.
Believe Me, the number of cigarettes smoked is decreasing rapidly.
My smoking cure’s success has surprised some of My friends.
For instance, I emailed My friend Madame Pascale outlining “Mistress Leesa’s Smoking Cure” for bob. Madame Pascal, in Her reply, assumed that bob’s reward for smoking less was more beatings.
I explained to Her that bob is no pain slut. he’s what I call a “psychological submissive”, only happy when a Woman rules every aspect of his life. bob fears pain and will go to great lengths to avoid it. Thus the winning strategy behind My smoking cure.
Currently, bob has reduced his smoking from three packs to nine cigarettes a day.
If bob exceeds his target level of nine cigarettes, there is a 20 stroke penalty for each extra cigarette smoked. So if he smokes one extra cigarette, his punishment will increase from 9 cigarettes X 10 strokes = 90 strokes to 10 cigarettes X 10 strokes = 100 strokes + 20 penalty strokes = 120 strokes.
Occasionally, bob messes up and smokes an extra cigarette. This usually happens when he’s met his buddies at the bar.
I deliver his penalty strokes with such severity that it doesn’t happen often. Naturally, I take no notice of his whining about “never being allowed to have any fun”.
I’ll permit bob to remain at the current target level of nine cigarettes for two weeks. By the end of that period, he must reduce his consumption of cigarettes by one, to eight cigarettes a day.
So far, his fear of the fierce daily punishment has forced him to reach every target level I’ve set for him within the required two weeks.
At the close of each punishment session, bob must crouch on all fours to kiss My feet and thank Me, his Mistress, for helping him to cure his addiction.
Occasionally, if he has been a really good boy by lowering his cigarette consumption to the next target level, I’ll reward him by allowing him to nestle his face between My bare breasts.

For years I’d tolerated My slave bob’s filthy cigarette habit.
At home he’d litter My pristine white floor tiles with disgusting flecks of ash. He’d pile high every ashtray with the gruesome corpses of deceased cigarette butts.
bob had turned My house into a stinking tobacco mortuary.
Every so often I’d try to convince him to quit smoking. I’d point out that I could buy numerous outfits or have a spectacular vacation for the annual cost of his cigarettes.
bob’s mantra never changed.
Whenever I raised the smoking issue he’d whine that he wanted to quit, but smoking was an addiction. he was powerless against the lure of the wicked weed.
Finally, this past summer, I decided I’d suffered enough.
I enrolled slave bob in My radical “Mistress Leesa’s Smoking Cure”.
Since then he’s cut down his consumption from three-packs to less than ten cancer-sticks a day. I won’t be satisfied until bob quits smoking completely.
The secret of My smoking cure’s success?
I make cigarette smoking a real pain in the ass.

The seed for bob’s quit-smoking program was planted at The OWK’s June 2007 Celebrations.
Daily we ate our meals at Pub U Chomouta and spent our late evenings at the nightclub Club Wanda.
At both venues OWK etiquette required Mistresses’ male-creatures to huddle humbly by Their feet.
In My case, that meant sitting above a perpetual chimney, constantly puffing out pollutants.
I would complain bitterly, in the presence of other Mistresses, about the smoke blowing in My face and the noxious odor those fumes left behind.
I complained so often that My friend Mistress Minka (who needed permission from no one) would politely ask Me if She could smoke.
My obvious irritation had an impact.
By the close of the June Celebrations, bob himself had decided that it was more important for him to please His Mistress than to continue smoking.
he begged Me to devise for him a quit-smoking program.
I was more than happy to comply.
My pleasure was twofold.
I was helping My slave get rid of a nasty habit and saving Myself the expense of his cigarettes.
In My next blog entry, I’ll describe in detail “Mistress Leesa’s Smoking Cure”.
Suffice it to say now that there is only one way I will ever permit bob to inhale a cigarette, illustrated by the image at left.
Tune in for Part 2.

As a Pro Domme, specializing in role-play, I usually started a session by asking the client to write out a “contract”: a brief description of the fantasy he wanted to act out.
One of the requested “contracts” was the “Mistress Wife” scenario.
The client would confess that he secretly yearned for a permanent domestic relationship with a Woman who would dominate him 24/7, telling him precisely what to do and when to do it.
A domestic Female tyrant in control both of his mind and his body.
A Wife who would issue orders and punish him severely for the slightest infraction of Her rules.
This fantasy spanking-spouse would treat My client at worst as a sniveling slave and at best as a pampered pet.
And if She occasionally humiliated and shamed him in public, so much the better.
In those domination sessions I would play the role of Mistress Wife.
At the time I often wondered: In reality, was this scenario plausible–-or even possible?
Is the “Mistress Wife” scenario merely another male-creature fantasy or can it be a fact?

Privately, based on My own experience, the answer was: impossible!
Daily I’d spend eight or nine exhausting hours whipping (or otherwise tormenting) My consensual clients.
I loved My work, but by the close of business I‘d feel like a starting pitcher who’d gone extra innings. My arm and wrist would hurt like hell. I would be mentally exhausted from My role-playing.
The last thing I wanted to do was go home and be obliged to beat on My boyfriend.
Then old bob came along.
Before bob retired he’d been CEO of his own company. He could offer me a lifestyle of utter luxury and ease. On My part it wasn’t a love match. But bob was bright, considerate and charming.
And oh so very rich.
Unfortunately, once we started sharing the same space, old bob soon revealed typical male-creature symptoms: bullying bursts of testosterone and personal habits fit for a pigsty. (I’m a neat freak!)
I was determined to hold onto our marriage–and bob’s money.
In self-defense, I had no alternative: I was forced to play the real-life role of Mistress Wife.
I had three choices.
*Option 1: 24/7 Mistress-Wife Slaver:
I could transform My husband into My full-time personal slave.
That meant castrating him mentally (and threatening to do it physically).
I rejected that extreme option out of hand.
If bob were My slave 24/7, I would have to play the role of Pro Dominatrix for the same duration.
That sounded too much like work.
Besides, there were parts of My relationship with bob I wanted to preserve, aspects of his personality that amused and entertained me.
When bob was being a good little boy, he could be charming, intellectually stimulating and a friend to confide in.
I needed to be in complete control, without becoming a 24/7 Lady-Slaver.
*Option 2: Weekend Warrior
During My first visit to The Other World Kingdom (read My OWK blog entry below), I’d met several Dominas who actively played the Mistress Wife role only once a week or once a month at special clubs such as SM Club Doma in Amsterdam. The clubs offer fully-equipped S&M “playrooms” and fetish “play parties”.
Nice, but not for Me.
bob needed the threat of the whip every single day, not just on weekends at prearranged times.
So I settled on:
*Option 3: Full-time Wife–-and Mistress On-Demand
On the surface bob and I have an ordinary marriage.
I allow bob to perform all those unpleasant little-boy rituals that male creatures are addicted to: drinking in excess; watching pro football marathons on Sundays; and joining his fellow male creatures in their tribal sport: monopolizing the conversation, at Women’s expense, during dinner parties.
And for every transgression (particularly pro football on Sundays) bob pays a price. I reward his naughtiness with a severe bare-assed spanking.
In private he must address me as Mistress.
Every morning bob’s first task is to kneel naked before me and kiss both My feet.
The physical punishment and abject humiliation have improved bob’s behavior.
The truth is, living with a man is like sharing a seesaw with a childhood companion.
With you perched on one end and your friend on the other, some of the time is spent simply sitting and interacting: laughing, chatting, having fun.
And then the board slips out of equilibrium.
I always wanted to be the one to take over and restore the board to an even plane.
The bruises I leave on bob’s ass and ego keep our seesaw board in balance.