A blog, written by a couple in a female led marriage, devoted to the idea that women would run the world far better than men have and that a matriarchy can be achieved by using the weaknesses men possess against them.
It was Sunday morning and I awoke to the smells of bacon wafting through the house. It was being prepared by a very sore slave boy, who had been whipped thoroughly the day before trying to push me into sleeping with other men against my will. My slave-husband, Ian, was very lucky I only chose to whip him from behind. At least he could sleep face down on the bed without too much pain.
For those of you who haven’t read part one of this ordeal, Ian tried to coerce me into cuckolding him by taking me out to lunch and then springing a surprise on me in the form of a twenty-one-year-old, well-hung stud joining us. As tempting as sleeping with the young man was, and I can say he was quite desirable, I had no interest in being with anyone but my husband. The ordeal ended with me angry from people attempting to manipulate me, and Ian beaten soundly (I know many would love to hear about my slave’s punishment in detail, but it mostly consisted of me swinging, him yelping and nothing sexual happening at the end).
I sat up in the bed and swung my legs around to dangle off edge of the bed. I slowly stretched until all the kinks were worked out of my twenty-seven-year old body. I pushed off and let my feet drop the six inches down to the floor. I headed to the bathroom to get cleaned up. After the morning duties were done, I returned to my room to decide what I wanted to wear today. I quickly decided to start the day off naked.
I walked to the kitchen wearing absolutely nothing at all. Ian saw me right away and fell to his knees, putting his hands out to rest his forehead on while they laid upon the floor. He’s always so formal after a good whipping.
“How are you feeling today, slave?”
“I’m fine, Mistress.”
“Really? Did I not whip you enough yesterday?” I asked. He quickly stammered a reply.
“No, Mistress. I was well whipped. I just didn’t want to burden you with complaining.”
“Good answer.” I said as I walked past him into the kitchen proper. I grabbed the bowl of fruit he had prepared for a garnish with breakfast, and then headed toward the breakfast nook. I sat down, picked up the newspaper sitting on the table, and opened it. I quickly realized it was cumbersome, so I set it down and grabbed my new phone. I also made a mental note to cancel the newspaper subscription. I wasn’t reading it now that I had access to every news source my laptop had, but in my smartphone and without the extreme bulkiness.
I sat there reading comfortably, and nibbling on fruit, for twenty minutes before Ian came to the table bringing a breakfast of Denver omelet, American fried potatoes and bacon. I noticed there was a cup of coffee sitting in front of me, and since Ian is far too clumsy to have carried two plates of food, and two cups of coffee, he must have come to the table twice. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed him bringing the coffee. Was it that he was stealthy? No. A ninja that boy will never be. Was I so engrossed in my phone that I ignore my surroundings? Possibly. That made me wonder if I had missed other things in life since I got this phone the previous month. I made another mental note to monitor this. Lastly, could it be that Ian had become such a servant over the years that I was beginning to take him for granted, and by extension, not noticing him come and go? Eerie thought that was. I never assumed I may view my husband as truly a lesser being, but I may be going down that road. Another thing to monitor.
Breakfast was both delicious, and silent. Ian wasn’t brave enough to speak and I wasn’t interested in conversing, so I kept scrolling through my phone. Upon completion, hubby quietly picked up the dishes and went to work cleaning the kitchen. I continued to sit and enjoy searching through articles on daily events. I once again lost track of time and came out of my phone-induced-coma when I realized Ian had started vacuuming. He usually doesn’t start doing that until mid-morning. The clock on my phone verified it was nearly ten. I started leaning toward my phone being the culprit.
I moseyed to living room, where Ian was, and watched him for a moment while he vacuumed. His slender arms held tight muscles meant for speed, not strength, and his skinny legs were similarly equipped. You couldn’t look at him without feeling like he was about to jump on a bicycle at any second and ride away in a race; not that he ever rode one often. His taught little butt looked like a grapefruit cleaved in two and set side by side with the rounded portions pointing outward. He was sexy, and I was attracted to him, but not like I was finding myself attracted to Dillon. That boy had the body of a Greek Adonis and all I could think about was riding that muscle-clad lad like a cowgirl and at a rodeo.
Anger welled up within me. I wanted to beat Ian all over again, but I knew his well-striped body couldn’t handle even one more blow. He had manipulated me into meeting Dillon, and by extension, manipulated me into wanting Dillon. He knew I’d be attracted to him. He knew I’d be charmed by the boy as well. Ian knows me far too well. The only thing I knew was it would be a while before I forgave him for it.
Rather than interrupt him, I let him continue vacuuming and made my way to the bedroom, where I engaged in the arduous task of getting dressed. I loved lounging around the house naked, but being a nurse, I also have knowledge of germs and bacteria that exceeds most people. I didn’t want to spend the day sitting on towels to assuage my disgust as to what might come off my tushy as I sat on my nice furniture. Ian would have the same problem, if he were allowed to sit, or if he could sit with as sore as his ass was that day. As far as the breakfast nook is concerned: the seats are wood, and I make my slave clean them thoroughly every time I choose to enjoy breakfast in the buff.
Dressed in panties, a pair of comfy sweatpants, a t-shirt and no bra, I went to the study and began working on cataloging some data from a study on hospital safety protocols. The information was dry, dull and boring. So much so that I had to take frequent breaks from it by reading the news to keep from falling asleep. I was relieved when Ian popped his head and told me that lunchtime was approaching. I nodded rather than reply, though. I couldn’t think of anything to say beyond words dedicated to chastising him for yesterday’s debacle. Reiterating everything I had said yesterday while hitting him with a belt and a cane seem redundant. Ian sulked away and I continued typing.
Ten minutes later, Ian brought me a lunch consisting of homemade sushi and sashimi; which is by far one of my favorite meals. At first glance, I attributed the gesture of such fare to a bribe, but Ian isn’t that way. If he makes a meal for me, no matter how special, he does it out of love; and a desire to impress me with his culinary skills. He would never try to curry my favor with one dish or another. He also hates going to the store, so he plans his meals out days in advance. This meal could just as easily have been a turkey sandwich. I accepted the food with a nod to show I approved of what he made and then pointed at the door. Once again, he sulked as he left. As soon as the door closed, I tore into that food like a shipwreck survivor on an island that’s been rescued, and now having a bacon cheeseburger for the first time in a decade.
A half hour later, I was done eating and working on my data again. That’s about when Ian came into the study to get my empty dinnerware. He stacked them up gingerly, and quietly, as I continued to type on my computer. I was not yet in the mood to be friendly, but after that sushi, I was feeling less like being a total bitch; more like a mega-bitch that had stepped back two paces from the edge of total bitch. He can always tell when I’m softening.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, Mistress?”
“How about a husband that’s not a completely clueless moron?” I said without looking up from my computer. I didn’t see his shoulders slump, but I’m pretty sure that I heard them drop an inch or two.
“I am very sorry, Mistress.”
“I know.” I said, empathizing with his plight and ratcheting down by attitude. “I’m just not ready to forgive you yet.”
“I’ll be here when you are, Mistress.” He said proudly.
“I know.” I said calmly. “Now go clean something before I think about what you did again and get out my spoon.” His eyes opened wide. I keep a wooden spoon in my desk drawer for occasions of discipline needing to be dispensed while in the study. Knowing his ass couldn’t handle anymore spanking, he chose to get moving.
“Yes, Mistress.” He said. Through my peripheral vision, I saw a pinkish-white blur, speedily traverse the room, and then disappear through the exit.
An hour later, I had finished my work and was sitting at my desk lost in my own thoughts. I wanted to go through emotions concerning Ian. I don’t like being this angry at him. I knew I needed to work through this, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Dillon; and how Ian had set up yesterday’s lunch.
I hadn’t been with another man since committing myself to my husband. The thought of sleeping with another man made me feel ill. I know the response was completely learned through a Christian misogynistic upbringing. As a child, I adopted the ideals that a woman should never have sex with a man other than her husband. I was taught that a woman should not be forgiven for adultery, because she can only have sex with love in her heart, but if the man strays, he should be forgiven for his weakness because he only feels lust and is not betraying his wife’s love. What a load of horseshit that was to believe, and yet I did, but even now as an adult who thinks very differently, that conditioning is still in the recesses of my mind, eating away at my ability to approach an issue logically.
I tried to focus on what I should say to Ian to make sure he truly understands why what he did was so erroneous. I know some reading this may have the attitude that I’ve already punished Ian, severely, and that should be enough. It’s not. I’ve mentioned before that men are simple, but punishment alone is not going to correct their behavior. To know that you’ll be beaten for a crime may be a deterrent, but that’s not understanding why it’s wrong, nor is it absolute.
To look at it psychologically as far as an action is concerned, you need to look at an offense as a crime. When a woman commits a crime, she knows that what she has done is wrong, and she suffers internally for her actions, because she knows right from wrong, regardless of any punishment she receives. Men, on the other hand, look at the punishment they received and weigh it versus what they received from committing the offense. Rather than surmising ‘I’m not going to steal that package of gum because it’s wrong to do so’, they come to the conclusion of ‘I won’t steal that package of gum because I’ll spend five days in jail and have to pay a fine’. This sounds like a compromise that leads to a better society, but there are two parts of the second statement: the reward of the crime and the punishment. When the punishment is greater than the reward, society is safe. When the reward is greater than the risk of the punishment, let’s say robbing a jewelry store for a million dollars, then the crime has a very good chance of happening. Ian, as brilliant and educated as he is, is like any man. He isn’t consciously avoiding engaging in bad behavior because it is correct to do so; he’s doing it because the punishment is worse than the reward. On this occasion, the reward is larger. He wants to be cuckolded badly, so he’ll accept any punishment to make it happen. Reward trumps punishment.
I couldn’t stay focused, so I started typing out what I wanted to say. This always helps me. I find that having a script to go with is instrumental in keeping my thoughts straight. After about an hour, I had successfully typed two full pages of rebuke concerning his actions and was feeling quite proud of myself. At that moment, I felt nearly able to forgive Ian on the spot. I had put down on paper all the reasons his actions were wrong, how he should have behaved, the ramifications of his actions on our relationship, and the behavior I expected to see in the future. I leaned back in my chair and put my hands behind my head. With a sense of accomplishment, I smiled and let my eyes close; and in my mind’s eye I saw Dillon, naked and smiling, swinging his soft seven inches of cock around in a circle. I immediately opened my eyes, once again furious at Ian.
I contemplated calling my slave into the room solely to scream at him for a while, but I knew that wouldn’t make me feel better for more than a couple of minutes; not to mention, I’m mad at me, not him. I am a woman, so I can admit that I am angry that I can’t get Dillon off my mind, but that’s my fault, not Ian’s. Yes, Ian introduced me to Dillon, someone he knew I’d be extremely attracted to, which is essentially setting me up for failure, but failing is on me. I am a strong, intelligent person and I should be able to control my thoughts. I needed to take charge of myself.
In order to move on, I needed to get past this, so I was ready to force all memory of Dillon from my head, put the whole matter behind me and go on with my life. I had taken several meditation classes when I was in my early twenties, so I knew some techniques for ridding myself of useless or toxic habits by altering one’s memories of events. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and imagined Dillon in my head. He was standing there wearing the same clothes from when we had lunch together. His muscle definition was showing through the stretched clothing, and that was beginning to arouse me. That had to be the first thing to go. In my mind, I changed his wardrobe to be over-sized sweatpants and sweatshirt. He now looked frumpy.
Next, I changed his smile. I imagined him missing a couple of teeth and grinning with gaping holes. Then his hair became unwashed and greasy and his face covered in dirt. A gut started protruding from under his sweatshirt; stretching the front to the point the zipper looked ready to burst.
Once his appearance was altered in my mind, I started running through the luncheon again; this time with the new version of Dillon. I imagined him speaking poorly; like not using good and well properly, dropping the “ly” from adverbs and then putting forth horrifyingly awful opinions on women’s rights. Yes, he was about as ugly of a person I could think of. This would work perfectly.
My mind was completely in the grip of my meditation now, when it suddenly took on a life of its own. Ian began to look extremely sexy. His muscles were bulging, his smile was adorable and his manner seemed more confident. ‘Ugly Dillon’ was droning on about how women should learn their place and that they should only be able to attend a college that taught them how to clean for their husbands, yet I was tuning him out to look at my husband.
Ian suddenly stood up and offered his hand. I accepted and stood to meet him. Our lips came together, and we kissed passionately right there, in an outdoor café, in front of dozens of people. The other patrons applauded our love, and ‘ugly Dillon’ fell silent and disappeared. Romance blossomed and my desire to have Ian take me was overwhelming.
I tried to pull away; to tell Ian to take me home and make love to me, but he wouldn’t let me leave his lips. He lovingly caressed and held me while kissing me with the passion of a lovestruck artist. I felt him pulling off my clothes, and I wanted to resist because I knew we were in public, but I couldn’t; I wanted him too badly. I let him undress me as our lips remained glued together. I realized he was already undressed, for now when I ran my hands along his sides and back, I felt only the rippling muscles under his devilishly smooth skin. I now longer cared who could see us.
I instinctively reached down to grab his chastity cage. I needed to get it unlocked so that he could take me, right there in front of all those onlookers, when I noticed the cage was already gone. I grabbed his meaty cock and felt it start to grow in my hands. It was so girthy and long. I couldn’t wait to have it inside me. I found it so desirable at that moment, I wanted to taste it. I wanted to feel it filling my mouth as I lavished it with my tongue.
I dropped to my knees, grabbed it at the base and stared directly at the head of the half-hard monster. I opened my mouth and tried to swallow it whole. It was enormous. I found it difficult to keep it from scraping along my teeth as it grew harder and harder. My tongue moved back and forth on the base beneath the head to tease and excite him. I moved down a bit; just to see how much cock would still be outside of my mouth when the tip reached my throat. I was able to wrap my hand around the unsubmerged shaft and had about an inch on either side of it left. I reached between my legs with my other hand and ground my fingers into my clit. It was soaked with the wetness coming from my pussy.
I went to work bobbing up and down on the luscious meat in my mouth. I sucked it joyously for several minutes before I went as far down on it as I could. I then bore down with suction and pulled back. His cock came out from between my lips with a pop. It was now rock-hard, and the veiny rod bobbed up and down hypnotically in front of me. I was on the verge of cumming from the ministrations of my fingers. I moved my whole face down to the place where his massive shaft met up with the huge balls that hung silently below. I put out my tongue at the base, and slowly dragged upward along the underside of this magnificent example of manhood. I looked up, wanting to make eye contact with my beloved husband. I couldn’t quite see him because of the girth of this monster, but soon I’d be near the top and get to see his adoring eyes, so I closed my eyes and continued, ever so slowly, to drag my widened-out tongue along his pulsating cock.
I finally reached the end and slipped the head in one more time. I was about to look up when I felt him grab a handful of my hair and then force his cock further into my mouth. I put up my hands and pushed back against his thighs, but his strength was at least triple mine. I wasn’t going to be able to resist him, no matter how badly I may want to. He was in control and I could nothing to stop him.
His cock was right at the entrance of my throat. I had swallowed a few cocks in my younger years, but nothing this size. I was worried I was about to gag when I felt the hand gripping my hair push me away until the head of his manhood was just barely in my mouth. I relaxed, knowing my husband would never force his huge cock down my throat, but then I felt the hand pull my head and the cock went to the back of my mouth again. I felt my gag reflex return, but this time it felt different. I felt as though I wanted to gag on it.
Just as I thought he was going to push that monster beyond and into my throat, he once again pulled back. This happened a few more times until he settled into a rhythm of fucking my face. The onlookers at the restaurant began cheering as I serviced him, and I began to feel proud as his cock seemed to grow even harder in my warm, soft mouth. I reached up and grabbed his engorged testicles and massaged them gently as he continued to use my face like a cheap whore while simultaneously reaching back down to rub myself as well. After a few more minutes, I moved my hand from his balls to rub the shaft outside of my mouth. Not long after, I could tell he was about to cum, and so was I, so I fought against his hand to tilt my head up slightly so I could look my love in his eyes, but he was gone; replaced by a twenty-one-year old god.
“I knew you’d love my cock; that’s why I showed it to you.” Dillon said, looking down at me with an evil grin on his face. “After I cum in your mouth, I going to bend you over this table and fuck you harder that the tiny-dicked husband of yours ever could.” He groaned and I began to feel his hot, salty cum shoot all over my tongue and inner cheeks. I felt my body shudder with a violent orgasm as I wanted to swallow his seed as quickly as I could so that he’d follow through with his threat to bend me over and fuck me senseless.
My heart raced, and my breathing was erratic, as my eyes opened like I was escaping from a nightmare. I looked around, expecting to see a naked man forcing his cock into me, but all I saw was my study. The room looked as it always has; walls lined with books, a simple leather loveseat, my desk and a door at the far side that went to the hall. Nothing was out of place. Everything seemed to be exactly as it should be, except for me. I was sitting in my chair, with my hand inside my panties, and as far as I could tell, I had soaked them, and my sweatpants had some dampness as well.
As the seconds passed, I found myself more and more confused. I had just fallen asleep while meditating and had an erotic dream about a man who was not husband. Sex dreams for me are extremely rare, but to not have my husband playing the male portion was unheard of. To make matters seem even stranger; I was taking on a submissive role. It wasn’t a full-on BDSM type role, but I was sucking cock and feeling the submissiveness that goes along with it. Even worse, it was turning me on. Being man-handled felt right and that is definitely not who I thought I was.
I wasn’t sure what to think about the dream. The only thing I was sure of was that I needed to change my clothes, so I composed myself and toddled off to the bedroom. After stripping naked, I went to put on new clothes, but suddenly stopped when I saw myself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. I didn’t have the body from when I was eighteen, but I was still thin and healthy, my 36C breasts still pointed a little north and had firmness to them, and my legs were still sleek and sexy.
I wondered how many men would want this body. I wondered if they still would in ten years, or twenty. What if I would enjoy being with other men and if I waited too long, I wouldn’t be attractive enough to lure them in (I even knew that sounded shallow, but when you’re young, physical beauty seems important). Then I wondered if maybe I should do as Ian wanted.
I began to remember the dream. I imagined kneeling before that massive member and putting it in my mouth. The idea turned me on greatly and I suddenly realized that just because the idea of sucking Ian’s little dick was repulsive to me, sucking another man’s cock might not be. I hadn’t had regular sex in a veryy long time. I was always on top. I was always commanding the endeavor. If I were to cuckold Ian, I could experience all sorts of different types of sex. I could be submissive. I could have straight up normal sex. I could have a threesome with two other guys, or a foursome, or even an orgy! I could do whatever I wanted!
I went over to the night table and grabbed a dildo and then returned to the mirror. I fell to my knees in front of it, and then using the sexiest poses I could, I wrapped my mouth around my phallic toy. As I sucked the cock, I reached between my legs and once again played with my clit. I watched in the mirror as I worked the dildo in and out of my mouth. Within two minutes, I came, and with that orgasm came a decision.
I stood up and returned the dildo to the nightstand. I sat down on the bed and grabbed my new smartphone from the end table I had left it on. I called out for Ian. Within seconds he appeared at the door.
“Yes, Mistress.” He said with his eyes cast down. “How can I serve you?”
“I want you to go down on me.” His eyes lit up with pleasure and he started walking toward me. I raised my hand to stop him. “But first, I want you to get me Dillon’s phone number. I want you eat me out while I’m texting him.” His eyes lit up even more. He shuddered with excitement as well.
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Concerning Cuckolding Part Two
It was Sunday morning and I awoke to the smells of bacon wafting through the house. It was being prepared by a very sore slave boy, who had been whipped thoroughly the day before trying to push me into sleeping with other men against my will. My slave-husband, Ian, was very lucky I only chose to whip him from behind. At least he could sleep face down on the bed without too much pain.
For those of you who haven’t read part one of this ordeal, Ian tried to coerce me into cuckolding him by taking me out to lunch and then springing a surprise on me in the form of a twenty-one-year-old, well-hung stud joining us. As tempting as sleeping with the young man was, and I can say he was quite desirable, I had no interest in being with anyone but my husband. The ordeal ended with me angry from people attempting to manipulate me, and Ian beaten soundly (I know many would love to hear about my slave’s punishment in detail, but it mostly consisted of me swinging, him yelping and nothing sexual happening at the end).
I sat up in the bed and swung my legs around to dangle off edge of the bed. I slowly stretched until all the kinks were worked out of my twenty-seven-year old body. I pushed off and let my feet drop the six inches down to the floor. I headed to the bathroom to get cleaned up. After the morning duties were done, I returned to my room to decide what I wanted to wear today. I quickly decided to start the day off naked.
I walked to the kitchen wearing absolutely nothing at all. Ian saw me right away and fell to his knees, putting his hands out to rest his forehead on while they laid upon the floor. He’s always so formal after a good whipping.
“How are you feeling today, slave?”
“I’m fine, Mistress.”
“Really? Did I not whip you enough yesterday?” I asked. He quickly stammered a reply.
“No, Mistress. I was well whipped. I just didn’t want to burden you with complaining.”
“Good answer.” I said as I walked past him into the kitchen proper. I grabbed the bowl of fruit he had prepared for a garnish with breakfast, and then headed toward the breakfast nook. I sat down, picked up the newspaper sitting on the table, and opened it. I quickly realized it was cumbersome, so I set it down and grabbed my new phone. I also made a mental note to cancel the newspaper subscription. I wasn’t reading it now that I had access to every news source my laptop had, but in my smartphone and without the extreme bulkiness.
I sat there reading comfortably, and nibbling on fruit, for twenty minutes before Ian came to the table bringing a breakfast of Denver omelet, American fried potatoes and bacon. I noticed there was a cup of coffee sitting in front of me, and since Ian is far too clumsy to have carried two plates of food, and two cups of coffee, he must have come to the table twice. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed him bringing the coffee. Was it that he was stealthy? No. A ninja that boy will never be. Was I so engrossed in my phone that I ignore my surroundings? Possibly. That made me wonder if I had missed other things in life since I got this phone the previous month. I made another mental note to monitor this. Lastly, could it be that Ian had become such a servant over the years that I was beginning to take him for granted, and by extension, not noticing him come and go? Eerie thought that was. I never assumed I may view my husband as truly a lesser being, but I may be going down that road. Another thing to monitor.
Breakfast was both delicious, and silent. Ian wasn’t brave enough to speak and I wasn’t interested in conversing, so I kept scrolling through my phone. Upon completion, hubby quietly picked up the dishes and went to work cleaning the kitchen. I continued to sit and enjoy searching through articles on daily events. I once again lost track of time and came out of my phone-induced-coma when I realized Ian had started vacuuming. He usually doesn’t start doing that until mid-morning. The clock on my phone verified it was nearly ten. I started leaning toward my phone being the culprit.
I moseyed to living room, where Ian was, and watched him for a moment while he vacuumed. His slender arms held tight muscles meant for speed, not strength, and his skinny legs were similarly equipped. You couldn’t look at him without feeling like he was about to jump on a bicycle at any second and ride away in a race; not that he ever rode one often. His taught little butt looked like a grapefruit cleaved in two and set side by side with the rounded portions pointing outward. He was sexy, and I was attracted to him, but not like I was finding myself attracted to Dillon. That boy had the body of a Greek Adonis and all I could think about was riding that muscle-clad lad like a cowgirl and at a rodeo.
Anger welled up within me. I wanted to beat Ian all over again, but I knew his well-striped body couldn’t handle even one more blow. He had manipulated me into meeting Dillon, and by extension, manipulated me into wanting Dillon. He knew I’d be attracted to him. He knew I’d be charmed by the boy as well. Ian knows me far too well. The only thing I knew was it would be a while before I forgave him for it.
Rather than interrupt him, I let him continue vacuuming and made my way to the bedroom, where I engaged in the arduous task of getting dressed. I loved lounging around the house naked, but being a nurse, I also have knowledge of germs and bacteria that exceeds most people. I didn’t want to spend the day sitting on towels to assuage my disgust as to what might come off my tushy as I sat on my nice furniture. Ian would have the same problem, if he were allowed to sit, or if he could sit with as sore as his ass was that day. As far as the breakfast nook is concerned: the seats are wood, and I make my slave clean them thoroughly every time I choose to enjoy breakfast in the buff.
Dressed in panties, a pair of comfy sweatpants, a t-shirt and no bra, I went to the study and began working on cataloging some data from a study on hospital safety protocols. The information was dry, dull and boring. So much so that I had to take frequent breaks from it by reading the news to keep from falling asleep. I was relieved when Ian popped his head and told me that lunchtime was approaching. I nodded rather than reply, though. I couldn’t think of anything to say beyond words dedicated to chastising him for yesterday’s debacle. Reiterating everything I had said yesterday while hitting him with a belt and a cane seem redundant. Ian sulked away and I continued typing.
Ten minutes later, Ian brought me a lunch consisting of homemade sushi and sashimi; which is by far one of my favorite meals. At first glance, I attributed the gesture of such fare to a bribe, but Ian isn’t that way. If he makes a meal for me, no matter how special, he does it out of love; and a desire to impress me with his culinary skills. He would never try to curry my favor with one dish or another. He also hates going to the store, so he plans his meals out days in advance. This meal could just as easily have been a turkey sandwich. I accepted the food with a nod to show I approved of what he made and then pointed at the door. Once again, he sulked as he left. As soon as the door closed, I tore into that food like a shipwreck survivor on an island that’s been rescued, and now having a bacon cheeseburger for the first time in a decade.
A half hour later, I was done eating and working on my data again. That’s about when Ian came into the study to get my empty dinnerware. He stacked them up gingerly, and quietly, as I continued to type on my computer. I was not yet in the mood to be friendly, but after that sushi, I was feeling less like being a total bitch; more like a mega-bitch that had stepped back two paces from the edge of total bitch. He can always tell when I’m softening.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, Mistress?”
“How about a husband that’s not a completely clueless moron?” I said without looking up from my computer. I didn’t see his shoulders slump, but I’m pretty sure that I heard them drop an inch or two.
“I am very sorry, Mistress.”
“I know.” I said, empathizing with his plight and ratcheting down by attitude. “I’m just not ready to forgive you yet.”
“I’ll be here when you are, Mistress.” He said proudly.
“I know.” I said calmly. “Now go clean something before I think about what you did again and get out my spoon.” His eyes opened wide. I keep a wooden spoon in my desk drawer for occasions of discipline needing to be dispensed while in the study. Knowing his ass couldn’t handle anymore spanking, he chose to get moving.
“Yes, Mistress.” He said. Through my peripheral vision, I saw a pinkish-white blur, speedily traverse the room, and then disappear through the exit.
An hour later, I had finished my work and was sitting at my desk lost in my own thoughts. I wanted to go through emotions concerning Ian. I don’t like being this angry at him. I knew I needed to work through this, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Dillon; and how Ian had set up yesterday’s lunch.
I hadn’t been with another man since committing myself to my husband. The thought of sleeping with another man made me feel ill. I know the response was completely learned through a Christian misogynistic upbringing. As a child, I adopted the ideals that a woman should never have sex with a man other than her husband. I was taught that a woman should not be forgiven for adultery, because she can only have sex with love in her heart, but if the man strays, he should be forgiven for his weakness because he only feels lust and is not betraying his wife’s love. What a load of horseshit that was to believe, and yet I did, but even now as an adult who thinks very differently, that conditioning is still in the recesses of my mind, eating away at my ability to approach an issue logically.
I tried to focus on what I should say to Ian to make sure he truly understands why what he did was so erroneous. I know some reading this may have the attitude that I’ve already punished Ian, severely, and that should be enough. It’s not. I’ve mentioned before that men are simple, but punishment alone is not going to correct their behavior. To know that you’ll be beaten for a crime may be a deterrent, but that’s not understanding why it’s wrong, nor is it absolute.
To look at it psychologically as far as an action is concerned, you need to look at an offense as a crime. When a woman commits a crime, she knows that what she has done is wrong, and she suffers internally for her actions, because she knows right from wrong, regardless of any punishment she receives. Men, on the other hand, look at the punishment they received and weigh it versus what they received from committing the offense. Rather than surmising ‘I’m not going to steal that package of gum because it’s wrong to do so’, they come to the conclusion of ‘I won’t steal that package of gum because I’ll spend five days in jail and have to pay a fine’. This sounds like a compromise that leads to a better society, but there are two parts of the second statement: the reward of the crime and the punishment. When the punishment is greater than the reward, society is safe. When the reward is greater than the risk of the punishment, let’s say robbing a jewelry store for a million dollars, then the crime has a very good chance of happening. Ian, as brilliant and educated as he is, is like any man. He isn’t consciously avoiding engaging in bad behavior because it is correct to do so; he’s doing it because the punishment is worse than the reward. On this occasion, the reward is larger. He wants to be cuckolded badly, so he’ll accept any punishment to make it happen. Reward trumps punishment.
I couldn’t stay focused, so I started typing out what I wanted to say. This always helps me. I find that having a script to go with is instrumental in keeping my thoughts straight. After about an hour, I had successfully typed two full pages of rebuke concerning his actions and was feeling quite proud of myself. At that moment, I felt nearly able to forgive Ian on the spot. I had put down on paper all the reasons his actions were wrong, how he should have behaved, the ramifications of his actions on our relationship, and the behavior I expected to see in the future. I leaned back in my chair and put my hands behind my head. With a sense of accomplishment, I smiled and let my eyes close; and in my mind’s eye I saw Dillon, naked and smiling, swinging his soft seven inches of cock around in a circle. I immediately opened my eyes, once again furious at Ian.
I contemplated calling my slave into the room solely to scream at him for a while, but I knew that wouldn’t make me feel better for more than a couple of minutes; not to mention, I’m mad at me, not him. I am a woman, so I can admit that I am angry that I can’t get Dillon off my mind, but that’s my fault, not Ian’s. Yes, Ian introduced me to Dillon, someone he knew I’d be extremely attracted to, which is essentially setting me up for failure, but failing is on me. I am a strong, intelligent person and I should be able to control my thoughts. I needed to take charge of myself.
In order to move on, I needed to get past this, so I was ready to force all memory of Dillon from my head, put the whole matter behind me and go on with my life. I had taken several meditation classes when I was in my early twenties, so I knew some techniques for ridding myself of useless or toxic habits by altering one’s memories of events. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and imagined Dillon in my head. He was standing there wearing the same clothes from when we had lunch together. His muscle definition was showing through the stretched clothing, and that was beginning to arouse me. That had to be the first thing to go. In my mind, I changed his wardrobe to be over-sized sweatpants and sweatshirt. He now looked frumpy.
Next, I changed his smile. I imagined him missing a couple of teeth and grinning with gaping holes. Then his hair became unwashed and greasy and his face covered in dirt. A gut started protruding from under his sweatshirt; stretching the front to the point the zipper looked ready to burst.
Once his appearance was altered in my mind, I started running through the luncheon again; this time with the new version of Dillon. I imagined him speaking poorly; like not using good and well properly, dropping the “ly” from adverbs and then putting forth horrifyingly awful opinions on women’s rights. Yes, he was about as ugly of a person I could think of. This would work perfectly.
My mind was completely in the grip of my meditation now, when it suddenly took on a life of its own. Ian began to look extremely sexy. His muscles were bulging, his smile was adorable and his manner seemed more confident. ‘Ugly Dillon’ was droning on about how women should learn their place and that they should only be able to attend a college that taught them how to clean for their husbands, yet I was tuning him out to look at my husband.
Ian suddenly stood up and offered his hand. I accepted and stood to meet him. Our lips came together, and we kissed passionately right there, in an outdoor café, in front of dozens of people. The other patrons applauded our love, and ‘ugly Dillon’ fell silent and disappeared. Romance blossomed and my desire to have Ian take me was overwhelming.
I tried to pull away; to tell Ian to take me home and make love to me, but he wouldn’t let me leave his lips. He lovingly caressed and held me while kissing me with the passion of a lovestruck artist. I felt him pulling off my clothes, and I wanted to resist because I knew we were in public, but I couldn’t; I wanted him too badly. I let him undress me as our lips remained glued together. I realized he was already undressed, for now when I ran my hands along his sides and back, I felt only the rippling muscles under his devilishly smooth skin. I now longer cared who could see us.
I instinctively reached down to grab his chastity cage. I needed to get it unlocked so that he could take me, right there in front of all those onlookers, when I noticed the cage was already gone. I grabbed his meaty cock and felt it start to grow in my hands. It was so girthy and long. I couldn’t wait to have it inside me. I found it so desirable at that moment, I wanted to taste it. I wanted to feel it filling my mouth as I lavished it with my tongue.
I dropped to my knees, grabbed it at the base and stared directly at the head of the half-hard monster. I opened my mouth and tried to swallow it whole. It was enormous. I found it difficult to keep it from scraping along my teeth as it grew harder and harder. My tongue moved back and forth on the base beneath the head to tease and excite him. I moved down a bit; just to see how much cock would still be outside of my mouth when the tip reached my throat. I was able to wrap my hand around the unsubmerged shaft and had about an inch on either side of it left. I reached between my legs with my other hand and ground my fingers into my clit. It was soaked with the wetness coming from my pussy.
I went to work bobbing up and down on the luscious meat in my mouth. I sucked it joyously for several minutes before I went as far down on it as I could. I then bore down with suction and pulled back. His cock came out from between my lips with a pop. It was now rock-hard, and the veiny rod bobbed up and down hypnotically in front of me. I was on the verge of cumming from the ministrations of my fingers. I moved my whole face down to the place where his massive shaft met up with the huge balls that hung silently below. I put out my tongue at the base, and slowly dragged upward along the underside of this magnificent example of manhood. I looked up, wanting to make eye contact with my beloved husband. I couldn’t quite see him because of the girth of this monster, but soon I’d be near the top and get to see his adoring eyes, so I closed my eyes and continued, ever so slowly, to drag my widened-out tongue along his pulsating cock.
I finally reached the end and slipped the head in one more time. I was about to look up when I felt him grab a handful of my hair and then force his cock further into my mouth. I put up my hands and pushed back against his thighs, but his strength was at least triple mine. I wasn’t going to be able to resist him, no matter how badly I may want to. He was in control and I could nothing to stop him.
His cock was right at the entrance of my throat. I had swallowed a few cocks in my younger years, but nothing this size. I was worried I was about to gag when I felt the hand gripping my hair push me away until the head of his manhood was just barely in my mouth. I relaxed, knowing my husband would never force his huge cock down my throat, but then I felt the hand pull my head and the cock went to the back of my mouth again. I felt my gag reflex return, but this time it felt different. I felt as though I wanted to gag on it.
Just as I thought he was going to push that monster beyond and into my throat, he once again pulled back. This happened a few more times until he settled into a rhythm of fucking my face. The onlookers at the restaurant began cheering as I serviced him, and I began to feel proud as his cock seemed to grow even harder in my warm, soft mouth. I reached up and grabbed his engorged testicles and massaged them gently as he continued to use my face like a cheap whore while simultaneously reaching back down to rub myself as well. After a few more minutes, I moved my hand from his balls to rub the shaft outside of my mouth. Not long after, I could tell he was about to cum, and so was I, so I fought against his hand to tilt my head up slightly so I could look my love in his eyes, but he was gone; replaced by a twenty-one-year old god.
“I knew you’d love my cock; that’s why I showed it to you.” Dillon said, looking down at me with an evil grin on his face. “After I cum in your mouth, I going to bend you over this table and fuck you harder that the tiny-dicked husband of yours ever could.” He groaned and I began to feel his hot, salty cum shoot all over my tongue and inner cheeks. I felt my body shudder with a violent orgasm as I wanted to swallow his seed as quickly as I could so that he’d follow through with his threat to bend me over and fuck me senseless.
My heart raced, and my breathing was erratic, as my eyes opened like I was escaping from a nightmare. I looked around, expecting to see a naked man forcing his cock into me, but all I saw was my study. The room looked as it always has; walls lined with books, a simple leather loveseat, my desk and a door at the far side that went to the hall. Nothing was out of place. Everything seemed to be exactly as it should be, except for me. I was sitting in my chair, with my hand inside my panties, and as far as I could tell, I had soaked them, and my sweatpants had some dampness as well.
As the seconds passed, I found myself more and more confused. I had just fallen asleep while meditating and had an erotic dream about a man who was not husband. Sex dreams for me are extremely rare, but to not have my husband playing the male portion was unheard of. To make matters seem even stranger; I was taking on a submissive role. It wasn’t a full-on BDSM type role, but I was sucking cock and feeling the submissiveness that goes along with it. Even worse, it was turning me on. Being man-handled felt right and that is definitely not who I thought I was.
I wasn’t sure what to think about the dream. The only thing I was sure of was that I needed to change my clothes, so I composed myself and toddled off to the bedroom. After stripping naked, I went to put on new clothes, but suddenly stopped when I saw myself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. I didn’t have the body from when I was eighteen, but I was still thin and healthy, my 36C breasts still pointed a little north and had firmness to them, and my legs were still sleek and sexy.
I wondered how many men would want this body. I wondered if they still would in ten years, or twenty. What if I would enjoy being with other men and if I waited too long, I wouldn’t be attractive enough to lure them in (I even knew that sounded shallow, but when you’re young, physical beauty seems important). Then I wondered if maybe I should do as Ian wanted.
I began to remember the dream. I imagined kneeling before that massive member and putting it in my mouth. The idea turned me on greatly and I suddenly realized that just because the idea of sucking Ian’s little dick was repulsive to me, sucking another man’s cock might not be. I hadn’t had regular sex in a veryy long time. I was always on top. I was always commanding the endeavor. If I were to cuckold Ian, I could experience all sorts of different types of sex. I could be submissive. I could have straight up normal sex. I could have a threesome with two other guys, or a foursome, or even an orgy! I could do whatever I wanted!
I went over to the night table and grabbed a dildo and then returned to the mirror. I fell to my knees in front of it, and then using the sexiest poses I could, I wrapped my mouth around my phallic toy. As I sucked the cock, I reached between my legs and once again played with my clit. I watched in the mirror as I worked the dildo in and out of my mouth. Within two minutes, I came, and with that orgasm came a decision.
I stood up and returned the dildo to the nightstand. I sat down on the bed and grabbed my new smartphone from the end table I had left it on. I called out for Ian. Within seconds he appeared at the door.
“Yes, Mistress.” He said with his eyes cast down. “How can I serve you?”
“I want you to go down on me.” His eyes lit up with pleasure and he started walking toward me. I raised my hand to stop him. “But first, I want you to get me Dillon’s phone number. I want you eat me out while I’m texting him.” His eyes lit up even more. He shuddered with excitement as well.