This year marks 10 years for K and I. And in those 10 years, we’ve never had “angry” sex. I’ve always wanted to, but in all honesty, when we get angry – we both get distant. Until last night.

It started on my way home from work. I missed his call, but knew he was calling to tell me to pick him up Starbucks – as he works from home. I call him back and sure enough, I was right. BUT – instead of just saying, “yes, Sir” I ask if I can just make him tea when I get home and argue about it. It’s so silly. This is a prime example of having my obedience all mapped out in my head and then for whatever reason I get combative. After a lengthy conversation and knowing I’ve screwed up, I get him tea. It was a stupid thing to argue about and I know it.

Later in the evening he goes to make a drink and realizes I’ve consolidated the mixers and he’s annoyed because it changes the taste. Additionally, I didn’t ask him if he cared. I tell him I didn’t think it was a big deal and I’ve done it before. He reminds me that’s because it doesn’t effect me and I need to ask him in the future. I get all pouty and bratty while we are watching TV. He pauses the program and asks me why and I tell him because I wanted to “play” and now he was mad so we wouldn’t and wasn’t trying to ruin anything and and and…you get the point.

He stands up, starts going upstairs and tells me to come too. I hear the bedroom door slam shut and yell no up the stairs to him. “NOW,” he bellows. I whine the whole way up and tell him it’s ruined and I don’t want to now. He grabs me by the back of my head and throws me onto the bed. I’m fighting him the whole time and he’s telling me to stop. He manhandles me and I’m soaking. He’s now fucking me. In the 10 years we’ve been fucking I can’t remember him ever fucking me so hard, so angrily. He slaps my face, slaps my clit, slaps my thighs and I swear he may rip my nipples off. He grabs me by the back of my head and shoves me to my knees. I’m choking and gagging from how hard he’s face fucking me. I beg him to just fuck me and after a firm slap to the face he says, “If I wanted to fuck you, don’t you think I’d be fucking you? Be happy I’m being intimate with you.” The wetness is dripping down my thighs. “Can’t you make me cum?” he growls, “two minutes.” Which means I have two minutes to make him cum or else… I ask him to lay down and I ride. I talk about him fucking another woman and making me his Quean again. He cums in less than two minutes and the jealousy runs through my veins: the subtle reminder that even the thought of another woman makes him blow faster than just me alone. An angry fuck that leaves me on edge: horny and wet.

He’s in the kitchen and I ask him if he’d bring me one of my ice cream bars when he comes. He tells me no and sits down. I go to get up and get it myself, he tells me no, as in no I can’t have one. Only “good girls” get ice cream and I hadn’t been one. I smirk and say, “yes, Sir.” It’s easier to say now.

Repercussions are a good thing.

Just Give In

 It used to be so easy. From first discovering my sexuality at a very young age (13’ish) my submissive side felt very natural. The internet was a dark place full of perverts. The older (and more legal) I became the more refined I became. Upon turning 18, I trained with Dominants, followed protocols and lived by rules. I even enjoyed micromanagement at a time in my life – the clothes I wore, when I spoke, and even basics – when I used the restroom. I was content and happy and well used. I felt fulfilled and like I had a purpose. It was largely mental for me. 

In my head, it’s all mapped out. I say Yes, Sir and I don’t argue. I am respectful and content. I take what I am given and beg for what I want. In reality, I struggle to get the word “Sir” out. I struggle conveying respect. My deep need to be submissive meets my quick wit and tongue. I am working hard on finding the balance. I often wonder if because I am a very black and white person that I struggle without the strict protocol. I’d hate to believe that. 

The older I’ve become, the more I’ve struggled with my sexual identity. The cuckqueaning aspect is relatively new for me – within the last 5 years or so, but I’ve fully embraced it and enjoyed it. I’ve always known I’m bi and had sex with a woman before I did a man. There was never some big epiphany or revelation in that regard. I’ve always been the jealous type, though. I won’t lie. I do struggle with the insecurity of that occasionally. I’d like to think it heightens the sensation of being a Quean – yet, it often angers me when I get to that level. To this day, my interest in cuckqueaning doesn’t really resonate with the “better woman” aspect, being left, or impregnating another woman. My interest has always landed with the humiliation and power of it. My husband choosing to fuck who he wants, when he wants. Him choosing to make her cum and not me. The humiliation of knowing my husband isn’t faithful to me and her being sexually cruel to me. I don’t view her as better, but different. Capable of providing things I can’t, and needs I don’t meet. Her threatening to make K leave me isn’t appealing, but her threatening to never let me orgasm again is. The appeal of knowing I obey K, so ultimately obey whomever he chooses for me to obey.

I’m not really sure where I’m going with this other than I’m trying to find the balance in subbing again and bite my own tongue. Outside of a BDSM aspect, I’d need K to know I respect him as my husband and partner, not just a kinky guy and “Owner.” I don’t always feel as though I do a good job conveying that, and I’d like to get better at that…


Overstim and mindset

It’s fair to say we enjoyed our weekend. Shortly after my last post K fetched me from my bath and took my ass. After roughly fucking my ass he ordered me to my knees and had me suck his cock while I played with my clit. He let me cum and then blew his load all over my tits. Heaven.

Then Sunday he put me in a four point restraint and pulled out the hitachi. Oh god, torture. I HATE overstimulation. It’s brutal. He asked me if I wanted to stop cumming, to which I screamed yes and then the bargaining began. I think we settled on 5 weeks between screams and whimpers and tears. There were nipples clamps and clit clamps at some point too. I have no idea how long it lasted or how many times I came, but dear god – I’m sore and still swollen today.

Yes, I love orgasm denial. But I think I love it for the wrong reasons. I love it because it keeps me submissive. It keeps my mindset submissive. It keeps me on my knees. I want to feel all of those things after I cum though. I want to want to serve no matter my state of mind. I want to be a depraved, desperate whore at all times. I believe that’s a large part of our problem. After I cum I lose all interest in subbing and sex for a pretty good amount of time. I get weird and bitchy. I hate it. So, I think the reason I enjoy denial so much is because I know after I have that release it’s not a good mental place for me.

K knows too. He’s agrees. So, now we are working on my submission level after orgasm. We want K to control me, not the orgasm. For some reason, today I still feel submissive and horny, despite having cum multiple times yesterday and being sore.

Anyone else dealt with this? Tips? Advice?

The right to say “no”

Our chat went well – as well as can be expected when you’re trying to muddle yourself through the past year of chaos.

I told K I wanted to be totally used this weekend in every sense if the word. We’ve revoked my right to say “No” to anything. Sexual and non. I trust him, so I’m totally comfortable removing it from my vocabulary. I have promised not to argue at all, no excuses or try and weasel my way out. Everything will be, “yes, Sir.” Once you’ve removed “no” from your vocabulary you really become aware of how much you say it.

Ks taken control of my orgasms again and suddenly I’m dying to find a Cuckcake again. It’s incredible the mental transformation I have when subbing. He’s asked me to stop fighting him so much and give him what he signed up for 10 years ago. He’s right. I can’t argue with that.

We’re taking a “staycation” weekend. We’ve cancelled all of our plans and decided to use the time to get back to the basics. So far, so good. We haven’t fought once. We’ve had sex (sans O for me). And now I’m taking a bath, plugged and climbing the walls for release.

All feels right in the world.

Rough Year

I won’t lie. It’s been an extremely challenging year for K and I in our personal lives. Sometimes life throws a curve ball at you and you really have no idea how to handle it. K and I found ourselves at that cross road. Shortly after my last post he cucked me with another woman and she left a bad taste in my mouth – and not in the right way. She was fundamentally rude and made me very uncomfortable with myself and my “interests.” She was the kind of rude that I could tolerate if we’d been seeing her for months and she was having a bad day, not the first day kind of rude. And not in the hot way. It was unfortunate because I was sexually attracted to her, but she made me feel like crap about myself in the bad way, not the humiliating way. K agreed that he didn’t like the way she treated me. That was the last time we’ve played with another girl. That was the last time I subbed. That was the last time I’ve considered subbing.

So, the last few months have been particularly hard. We’ve fought a lot. I’ve refused to bend and have not been the woman he signed up for, let alone married. I am fully aware of that. The past few days have shifted. We’ve been getting along and not at each other’s throat constantly.

I’m fully aware of how much better we function when I’m on my knees. I’m fully aware of how much happier we both are. He’s on a conference call for work as I type this. I’m sitting here plugged, unbeknownst to him. When he hangs up I am going to ask him to use me. I am going to ask him to make me his. Tonight I am going to ask K to take reign over my orgasms again. I’m going to ask him if we can try it his way again.


My orgasm deprived mind is an incredible sick one. K loves how the filth just flows from my mouth when I’m denied. The other night he sat on my face, shoving my tongue into his asshole while he scrolled through my tumblr account (, slapping my clit and twisting my nipples. My clit takes on this swollen state when I’m deprived. It becomes engorged and super sensitive. Slapping it is the most painful, but pleasureful thing there is.

I’ve gotten back into the habit of coming home from work and plugging myself until bed. It’s comforting. I look forward to it. K’s been edging me nightly which adds to my insanity and frustration.

I feel good. I feel comfortable. I feel happy.

I’m still looking for our cuckcake. I’d love a sweet little college thing that we can spoil. There aren’t a ton in Georgia it seems.