Maybe this’ll help my mentality…
I pull in at the airport to pick you up and I’m beyond excited to see you. I’m horny and wet and definitely on edge.I’m wearing my butt plug like you instructed and find myself grinding my car seat. I can’t wait to get home and finally get some relief. I see you walk through the gates with a bounce in your step, you hop in the car and kiss me. Your hand glides to my inner thigh and I giggle, as you can sense how worked up I am. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this horny and desperate.
“Is your plug in?” you ask.
“Yep.” I grin.
“Try again.” you reply.
“Yes, Sir.” I say, clearly rusty.
“Good. We need to talk when we get home. I have some exciting news to share with you.”
My stomach drops. I’m instantly nervous, but figure it can’t be anything too bad because you’re in a great mood.
We get home and you tell me to go upstairs and strip and lay down on the bed.
“I thought we were going to talk?” I say.
“We are. Now, go strip and lay down.” you smile at me.
I go and lay down. You follow behind me and strip too. I just know you’re about to fuck me and I’m ecstatic. It’s been 7 days since my last orgasm and I haven’t gone this long in a long time.
You straddle my face and push my face into your ass. I pull away, annoyed that you’re not fucking me. I feel your hands move to my breasts and you roll my nipples in between your fingers.
You reach behind and grab a fistful of my hair, shoving my face into your asshole and say, “You eat and I’ll talk. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.” I mumble.
Your hands continue to play with my nipples as I eat your ass.
“I met someone on my trip. I fucked her more times than I can count. She’s amazing. She’s 26, blonde, blue eyes, huge tits, a tight pussy with a little landing strip. She’s fucking incredible. I hope you can still smell her on me.”
I pull my mouth back. Totally in shock. I’m angry, but I’m soaking wet.
“Don’t stop eating.”
“But I..” I try to get out.
“If you stop I won’t tell you the rest of what you need to know. You’ve given me one month. Don’t forget.” you respond.
I begrudgingly resume what now feels like a totally different level of humiliation. Here you are fucking other women and I’ve been reduced to just eating your ass.
You run your finger against the length of my pussy and laugh when you say, “Oh please. You’re fucking soaked. You like this more than I do.”
I know you’re right, but it’s hard to comprehend.
“Anyhow, she’s coming to Atlanta for work for a month and I told her she could come here instead of stay in some hotel. That you would serve us. Since you’ve given me one month, this is how I’m using it. I’m going to truly make you into the Quean that you are. Keep eating. After I cum we’ll discuss logistics.”
My stomach drops and I’m instantly uneasy. I try to shut off my emotions and just get you off. I catch myself inhaling deeply, trying to smell her. You stand up and blow your load all over my face.
“Leave it while we talk. I want you to really appreciate what’s about to happen.”
I’m a humiliation junkie but I’ve never felt this low. I can feel the wetness on my thighs and I’m embarrassed for myself. I lay there with cum on my face as you pull your phone out.
“When I told her I had a wife she told me that she wanted to be alpha in the house. She told me that she’s had experience controlling women, but likes to do it with very specific rules in place for her. I read over her rules and I didn’t see why they’d be a problem, so you shouldn’t either. One month, remember? Anyhow, here are her rules:
1. She and I will own all of your orgasms.
2. You are no longer allowed to use your fingers or toys to have an orgasm when you’ve been given permission to cum. We’ll enjoy watching you humiliate yourself even further as you try to hump whatever is around. Besides, this might deter you from even wanting to cum!
3. Your nipples will be exposed at all times to easily torment.
4. When she comes home you will crawl to her on all fours and wait for her to acknowledge you. Once acknowledged, you will bury your face in her ass. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to smell my cock, or maybe even taste it. If she’s feeling generous, she’ll let you lick her pussy until she cums.
5. Oh number 5 cracks me up. These are her words, sweetheart. It’s just one month, so relax. Okay, she says, ‘I stole your husband, will use you for everything and you have to drink my pee. Every day, every drop of my piss will go into your tummy. I’ll pee into a glass because I want to make sure you get every drop. I mean, how low can you possibly sink in life? It will be lower than this, that’s something I’ll make sure of though.’ This is going to be such a fun month!
6. You will always wear a butt plug. You will take it out once a day for logistical purposes, but then it’ll go right back in. Your ass is the only hole we’ll use all month, so maybe by the end of it you’ll learn to cum from anal only!
7. You will be sleeping in your cage and I’ll be sleeping with your husband.
8. You will clean up all messes before, during and after sex. Anything you spill will be cleaned up with your tongue.
9. I’ll be going on dates with my boyfriend (your husband) and you will stay home and cook, clean, do laundry, etc. We’ll leave you in a chastity belt with a chore list when we go out because we wouldn’t want any accidents.
10. Your opinion, pleasure and happiness are unimportant. We will use you for entertainment. My boyfriend and I are all that matter this month. Do not forget that. If you obey this will be a quick and easy month. If you fight us, it will be excruciating.
So, that’s it, sweetheart. 10 simple, easy and reasonable rules. Now, spread your legs.”
You reach between my thighs, feeling my wetness and laugh, “God, someone’s fucking excited. I love when you want to please me. We do so much better.”
I sit there in shock, trying to explain away the wetness, but there is no use. All of my insecurities have surfaced, but I’m soaking wet. I’m angry at myself for being so wet. I’ve always had fantasies of being so debased and humiliated, but never expected them to happen. I keep reminding myself, it’s one month for a lifetime.
I hear the doorbell ring and you say, “Throw a robe on and answer the door like a good girl.”
In a shocked state I oblige. I quickly throw my robe on and open the door. She’s already here. She’s standing there, wearing heels that make her nearly 6′, long blonde hair, perfectly tanned, a dream body, huge perky tits that force her blouse open. Before I have a chance to say anything she says to me, “What was rule #4? Why aren’t you on your hands and knees? ”
And then I woke up…………………
Things have been going well. I didnt want to jinx it though, hence my quietness. I’m still looking for the perfect Vixen though. I’m trying to rekindle something with an old play mate and see where that leads.
I wrote this out of boredom…and now I’m even hornier. Ugh…
I winced as the largest plug is fully inserted into my ass. They like to keep me plugged. They say it helps with my state of mind.
“How long has it been?” she giggled.
I bit my lip and replied, “I’m not sure. I lost count.”
“I lost count too. I guess that’s just how unimportant your orgasms are to us. Poor baby. It’s only going to get longer and longer from here on out. I don’t see why we would waste any time giving you pleasure when you could be serving us. Why don’t you go get me a glass of water while I do my make up?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I quietly replied and went to get her water. I slowly walk to her bathroom carrying her water, knowing what’s to come next. It’s date night, and she likes me to help her get ready. I’ve seen her naked body a million times, but every time, without fail, I couldn’t help but stare. Her body is tight, firm and perfectly portioned. Her breasts are supple and perky. Her ass is huge and round. Her body was everything I wished mine was.
“On your knees. Don’t play stupid. You know your job. So get down there and eat my ass like it’s your last meal on earth.” she hissed at me.
I fell to my knees behind her and slowly starting kissing her ass, as I made my way to her soft hole and began my date night ritual of worshiping her. She relaxed and reminded me that she had all the power now and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Moaning, she said to me, “You know your husband prefers fucking me, right?”
“Yes, m’am. I know.”
“You know you’re lucky that I let you eat his cum from me, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“You know I might never let you cum again?”
“Yes, ma’am. I trust your judgement.”
“I mean, I just can’t believe that your husband doesn’t want your pussy anymore. Sure, it’s no good for fucking, but we can do other things to it, can’t we? Come around here and come hump my foot. You can edge on it. Tell me when you’re close though. We wouldn’t want any accidents, would we?”
“No, ma’am. Thank you.”
I crawl to infront of her and awkwardly straddle her foot, totally humiliated. I am soaking wet and can feel my wetness on her. I desperately wish I wasn’t okay with all of this, but the truth of the matter is, I love making my husband happy, no matter the expense. I know my humiliation makes her happy and it’s always good to keep her happy. She only does this when she’s annoyed about something. She can be especially cruel when she’s upset with me. I continue to hump her foot and can feel the sensation building. I know what’s coming next. I try and fight it.
“I’m close, ma’am.”
She pulls her foot back and kicks my throbbing pussy. The urge to cum has disappeared and is instantly replaced with pain. I wince and fight to not close my legs.
We repeat the edging followed by her kicking me for at least 10 minutes. My cunt is sore and throbbing by the time we are done. I am thankful when she lets me go back to her ass. She finishes her water and I wince as I watch her take the glass between her legs and piss into it.
“Drink up, slut. Don’t ever fucking forget how much better I am than you.”
I know it’s not worth fighting her over this if I ever want to cum again. I choke down her piss while she laughs at me. She finishes her makeup and gets dressed. A short mini skirt, a thin shirt, g-string and matching bra. She tells me to go home and get her boyfriend ready for his date. I hate when she calls my husband her boyfriend, even though I know it’s true.
I know it’ll be a long night and once they start drinking, they get even meaner…
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.
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…
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?
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.