From Work To Play, Part 1 - Alison

Original draft 2008; posted January 2011

If you look at the date above, you'll see that I'm inserting this special post in 2011, with an original draft date of 2008.

When I returned in March 2008 after an absence of over a year, I had planned to put up a series of posts that would properly acquaint everyone with the events of 2007 and the new individuals who had entered my life. Although I had all the chronological detail in my offline diary (which I had meticulously maintained) I still needed to edit it down to create something structured and themed. While I was working on this I put a up couple of posts which gave readers an insight into how I was enjoying myself on a daily basis, without revealing too much about how I had engineered such a lifestyle.

For various reasons which I'm not going to dwell upon here, I never did get to finish the posts that would have given readers the needed context for what had happened during the time my website was offline, and in due course I closed the diary down again after becoming weary of the same sorts of issues that had prompted me to walk away in early 2007.

Now I'm back again for a while, and I have finally got around to completing the diary entries that originally should have appeared in 2008. I have chopped them down considerably because they were inordinately long, but I think they give a fair account of the major milestones in what was arguably the most memorable and eventful year of my life so far. At the time it felt that lady luck was dealing me the perfect hand and without such good fortune I would never have enjoyed so much success with my ambitions, but looking back now I think I would have achieved my goals one way or another. Inwardly I knew what I wanted, and I felt I had already wasted so much time in not reaching for my dreams. The road would have been a different one for sure, but the destination would have been the same.

Rather than append these new entries to the existing ones, I feel it makes far more sense to insert them here. After all, they were largely authored in 2008 and I think they fit well with both the previous posts and the ones that follow. The only problem I have encountered with this is that I don't necessarily hold the same outlook in 2011 as I did three years previously, and of course I know how things have progressed with my plans and relationships, so some of the aspirations I held and predictions I made back then seem somewhat fanciful and ill-considered. Then again, that's the nature of diaries, isn't it?

What I would like you to keep in mind when you read these next few posts is that my thoughts are those of 2008. There has been some heavy editing, but I have kept to the original narrative and I haven't changed anything in the light of what I now know. Therefore, despite their late arrival, to all intents and purposes you can treat these entries as though they originally appeared as they are indexed.

The obvious starting point is for me to give some much-needed background on my relationship with my dearest friend Alison. I have never discussed her in detail because I respected her desire to remain as a peripheral figure in the diary, even though I was always hoping that one day I would be showing pictures of both of us together. She has now relented and accepts that without her presence and input my life would be totally different, but we have agreed that for the time being, photos of her will not feature on my pages. Although she has virtually no contact with my present social circle, she is known to my close family and Martin's too, and what I have already said about her is enough to identify her to them. I am about to remove any lingering doubts as to who it is I am discussing when I mention her name, but with no accompanying imagery there will never be any evidence that she has actually participated in any of my games. At one time it would have dismayed me to be unable to show some of the remarkable video captures I have of us together, but I'm far more relaxed about the diary content now and I don't feel the need to back up anything I say with visual evidence. I'm not going into the reasons for my return, but the primary motivation is no longer the one I had when I first came online in 2005. Let's just say that I am keen to advertise myself to certain individuals and leave it at that.

[When I originally wrote this introduction I said that photos of Alison would never be shown, but Alison herself has suggested that making such a definitive statement would be too strong. Depending on how circumstances change, there is a possibility that I will be posting some pictures of us together at some stage.]

Incidentally, let me save you any disappointment and anticipation by forewarning you that this is the first and only post in Maria's Diary that has no pictures included. I did originally insert some fairly innocuous shots of me, but in the end I decided that these subtracted rather than added to the final result.

So, without further ado, this is how I saw things in the middle of 2008:

I've known Alison since my school days, and until I left for university we were virtually inseparable. She was very much the leader at the time, and I was the meek little sheep who used to follow in her shadow. It may be hard for you to appreciate how timid and lacking in confidence I was at that time, and I very much relied upon Alison to defend me in others' company. For some, this dependency of mine might have aroused a temptation to manipulate and subjugate, but Alison never went down that path. She was simply fiercely protective of me, a sort of big sister guardianship that shielded me from the type of hurtful bullying that is far more prevalent amongst teenage girls than most men probably realise.

On the boys front Ali had very little competition, and certainly not from me. Whereas I was late in developing any sort of figure, Alison had all the curves from a very young age, and in particular her boobs were just awesome (something which hasn't changed I should add). We used to walk home together from where the school bus dropped us off, and daily we had to run the gauntlet of passing by a group of young guys who used to hang out outside the local convenience store. The comparison between us couldn't have been more striking – I would walk by looking at my feet, shoulders slouched forward, clutching my school bag closely to my front with both arms to create whatever barrier I could against inquisitive eyes. Alison in contrast would have her head held high and she would deliberately make eye contact with the boys, taunting them with temptation. She would often remove her school blazer as well, openly displaying her considerable charms to the salivating onlookers. I used to dread this ordeal but I really don't know why – on the rare occasions when I did look up I don't think I ever caught anyone looking at me, and I might as well have been invisible. All eyes were riveted to Alison's amazing chest.

I only had a couple of boyfriends before I went to university, but Alison seemed to acquire a new one every two or three months. She did her utmost to avoid any sort of close or long-term relationship with a guy because she enjoyed playing the field so much, and she certainly didn't intend to start any serious dating until she was in her twenties unless Mr. Perfect happened to drop unexpectedly into her lap before then. Cleverly she managed to steer a course which avoided her being tagged as an out-and-out prick tease or an easy lay. Although she was hugely popular with all the boys, she never lost their respect.

I'm not afraid to admit that I was very jealous of her throughout this time, but not in any spiteful way. I looked up to her, and I was simply envious of both her self-confidence and her physical attributes. It's easy to see how an inferiority complex can develop under such circumstances and I'm sure that the reaction I was seeing from boys to Alison in comparison to how they looked at me contributed a great deal to the development of my self-doubt and low esteem at the time. As I stood in front of a mirror I could see nothing attractive – if I had anything at all then surely guys would be giving me the eye as they did with Alison wouldn't they? Nope, I had to accept that I was a plain Jane and I'd been passed by in the looks stakes despite what others told me.

I suppose you could say there was a silver lining to this period of personal angst about my physical features because it drove me to turn my focus to my school studies. It never bothered me sitting up in my room alone doing my homework or reading around subjects – here was a place where I was safe and unobserved, and to this day I'm very comfortable being on my own despite the complete reversal in my outlook. By the time I was sixteen I had become determined to be a high achiever academically and my teachers at school could see the potential too – they encouraged me to reach for the very top.

Alison on the other hand had no such ambitions. She had all my intelligence and more, and with the same commitment could so easily have emulated what I did, but life was too much fun for her and I don't think she ever saw much point in trying to work her way up the career ladder in what is essentially a man's world. Why jump through hoops when there's an easier way to have a fulfilling and comfortable life? Just work for a while, find yourself a successful guy, have a couple of kids, and enjoy all the trappings. Alison already had the degree she needed – a BA (Hons) in Attracting Men.

I know many close school friends lose touch once they go off to university, but we promised each other that we wouldn't let this happen. We spoke on the phone every month or so, although conversation became increasingly difficult. Alison wasn't much interested in matrix algebra and rigid body transforms any more than I was much bothered that Top Shop had a great new range of 'A' line miniskirts. We had very little common ground, but we managed to keep things going by chatting about the guys we were seeing. Not surprisingly, Alison had an awful lot more to talk about than I did.

Things improved considerably once I got my Masters and was living with Martin. Working in an office environment, together with the light-hearted Friday night get-togethers Martin and I enjoyed with friends, gradually washed away my geeky outlook and I started meeting Alison in town on a fairly regular basis for a coffee and a chat. By this time she had a steady boyfriend, a guy named Chris, and on two occasions we all went out for a meal together.

I can't say we really hit it off - there was simply too much difference between us. Chris was little more than my age and he had that ambitious yet naοve enthusiasm that so many young men have – he was going to make it big within just a few years; he couldn't decide whether he was going to have a Ferrari or a Porsche; and he wanted at least fifteen acres around his country home to give himself breathing space. I'm sure you get the picture.

The problem for Chris was that he was sitting with a man nearly ten years older who not only could already have all those things if he wanted but who also knew just how hard it was to get to that position and how much sacrifice was required. Martin sat politely as Chris outlined his plans, with Alison sitting holding her boyfriend's arm as she kept glancing over at me with a look on her face that said: What a catch!

On our second night out with them Chris went a step too far when he actually started telling Martin where he was making mistakes and how he could expand faster if he changed strategy. Martin didn't lose it, and he didn't openly belittle Chris, but he delivered a masterful put down that made it more than clear that as far as he was concerned Chris had yet to earn his stripes, and until then anything he said regarding business would have to be filtered through Martin's bullshit detectors. It was an extremely uncomfortable moment for me, and although superficially the conversation quickly recovered I knew that this would be the last night we went out together as a foursome.

To me, Alison and Chris seemed perfect for each other. She looked wonderfully attractive, a real babe, and I felt totally outclassed in her presence. After the first time we went out Martin commented that I ought to dress in the sort of outfit that Alison had worn, but I couldn't imagine for a moment that I would look anything as good. She just oozed sex appeal and I could see men looking at her, although by this time I was becoming more aware of the looks I was getting myself. Chris too was extremely attractive – tall, good looking and a very cool dresser. Martin looked quite staid in comparison, but at that time this didn't in any way bother me and I certainly didn't fancy Chris despite his obvious appeal. As far as I was concerned I had found my soul mate and looks were a superficial consideration, something that maybe mattered in one's teens but not when it came to finding a companion for life. I knew that Alison didn't see things in the same light though, and from her point of view Chris was the ideal partner.

As it turned out Alison and Chris never stayed together. It became clear that Chris didn't want to settle down into a long-term relationship at such an early age and he also had a roving eye – he had a great number of girls chasing after him and in the end Alison became convinced that he wasn't able to resist all of their charms. They split apart after nine months or so together and I had to deal with a number of tearful phone calls from Ali as she tried to come to terms with the break up.

She soon recovered when she met another man, Jason, who appeared to have everything that Chris had and more. He had started a web-based retail business which was rapidly expanding and he looked well set to take advantage of the enormous amount of investment capital that was finding its way into the sector. Although I made sure we avoided any more evening dinners, I did meet Jason on a couple of occasions without Martin present and to me he seemed the real deal. I was delighted for Alison when it became clear that the relationship was serious and she and Jason started living together.

I'm going to cut a large chunk out of this history at this point because I don't want to resurrect painful memories for my friend. All you need to know is that a few years later Alison was left with no man in her life, an enormous amount of debt, and other commitments that I won't go into here. Martin and I were able to help keep the wolves from her door, but she had to work tremendously hard to hold everything together, and this combined with the revelations that gradually emerged regarding Jason's conduct inevitably took its toll. It was distressing to see someone who had always been so vivacious become so sapped of enthusiasm for life, and prior to this I would never have believed it possible that Alison of all people could give up caring for her appearance and well being.

Over the next three years or so she gradually regained some semblance of normality to her life and managed to rid herself of her financial liabilities, but the Alison I went out with in early 2006 when I first confided to her that I was having extramarital sex wasn't the friend I knew in my teens and early twenties. There was an ever-present melancholy with her just beneath the surface, and although her mouth would smile, her eyes no longer held the mischievous sparkle that had melted many a man's heart in the past.

In retrospect, telling Alison about my new lover wasn't a particularly tactful thing to do. I'd always been at pains to play down how well my life was progressing and the very comfortable situation I was in, but she's not stupid and could see for herself that my standard of living was at a level that she could only dream of. At the time though I was on a high about my adventures and I was desperate to tell someone close to me about what I'd been getting up to, rather than just the anonymous readers of my online diary. Alison was the one person I could trust to keep my secret to herself.

It's worth you reviewing the last section of the 'Whip Sister' post at this point where I discuss Alison's reaction to learning that I had openly cuckolded my husband, and also her opinions on my web-hosted diary when I later showed it to her. I didn't go into great detail at the time, and I don't intend to now as it's too far in the past for me to summon up the energy to recount those events. In short, over several months Alison went through a whole gamut of emotions as the extent of my infidelity and ambitions sunk in to her – shock, incredulity, concern, fascination, stimulation, temptation, and finally enthusiasm. Interestingly, I never once sensed distaste from her, even over the most extreme of my actions or fantasies, although there was an initial element of disapproval over the way I was treating Martin.

The most rewarding aspect of that period from early to late 2006 was seeing the transformation that came over my friend. She wasn't involved in any of my games during this period but nevertheless my words and experiences inspired her to pick up her life and regain her self-esteem. Irrespective of whatever becomes of my diary or the pitfalls that await me from its public airing, I will always have the satisfaction of knowing that my ostensibly warped sexual nature and outlook have actually changed someone's life for the good. Alison underwent a profound journey of discovery in those months and I'd hold her up as the perfect example of a woman whose life has been immeasurably improved by embracing an attitude where men are regarded as objects for sexual manipulation, in exactly the same way as many men view us. I'm sure there's some smart psychologist shaking his head right now, at pains to point out that what we have with Alison is a damaged individual, a woman who was betrayed by men and who now seeks protection from her demons through stylised sexual domination. However, if you met Alison you'd soon discover that this couldn't be farther from the truth. She's a very well balanced woman – self-confident, humorous, happy, and perhaps most important of all, there is no trace of bitterness in her whatsoever. She got that out of her system a long time ago.

By the summer of 2006, after being prompted by my diary posts, not only was Alison going to great lengths to maximise her attractiveness to men but she was also experimenting with fetish clothing and sex toys. We're a very similar size with both clothing and shoes and I was able to give her quite a few items – a pair of thigh length boots, several skirts and dresses, and a selection of punishment tools. Apart from that however she asked for very little from me. She seemed determined to find her own path and style, and she didn't so much seek advice as just exchange views with me on the things we both enjoyed doing.

Our conversations were very open and thankfully devoid of any real embarrassment – the explicit narrative of my diary entries had removed any hesitancy in that regard. Alison was only playing around with BDSM gear and sex toys behind closed doors by herself, but she was a getting a similar enjoyment to mine from these solo sessions and she admitted that they were increasing in frequency. Initially she found much of the underwear both irritating and uncomfortable, but she forced herself to wear it for long periods, emulating me some nights by wearing stockings, suspenders and high heels to bed. She also borrowed one of my video cameras under the pretext of using it to check how she was moving in her high heels and short skirts, but she admitted later that at weekends she was filming herself playing with her toys, just as I had been doing for years.

In a way it was somewhat surreal having this close friend use my own sex life as some sort of blueprint for her own, but I never felt unnerved by it in a 'Single White Female' sort of way. On the contrary, I was delighted to find that my diary had excited Alison to the extent that it was removing inhibition from her and that she was apparently purposefully working her way towards becoming the sort of manipulative domina persona that she saw in me. I think it's fair to say that there was probably a subconscious motive in all this, some rationale that if she could be like me then she could have what I had in life, but if that's the case then I'm all for it. I genuinely believe many women would enjoy a far better life if they unshackled themselves from worries of social stigma and used their sexuality to greater advantage. The key difference with Alison though is that she realised that you can't just wave a magic wand to make all this happen. You have to work at it, and you have to work at it very hard.

By this time Alison was visiting us for the occasional weekend, and although this obviously curtailed some of my activities I was only too happy to have her stay because I could see how much she was beginning to rely on not only my own friendship but that of my husband too. Although she was rapidly finding her feet and had begun dating again, both Martin and I knew that deep down she was still very lonely. Being with us gave her a security and warmth that was badly missing in her life – a feeling of family. She didn't trust men enough to want a permanent partner, but she did yearn for some sort of company rather than sitting alone at home.

Since I could see that she was taking my lifestyle seriously and that it was having such a positive effect on her, I decided to let Martin know that I had told Alison about my affair with Matt and that she also knew about the domination aspects of our relationship. I didn't really have any ulterior motive for doing so other than wishing to get it all out in the open because I was tired of all the pretence whenever she visited. Martin was surprisingly calm about it. Partly I think this was because he already suspected that Ali knew what was going on to an extent, but also I think he got a sexual kick out of it. Clearly it's an embarrassing revelation for any husband to have to deal with, but on the other hand a submissive cuckold will often fantasise about being belittled in front of his wife's female friends and so this was right up his street. He knew Alison well enough to know that she would keep her mouth shut.

Unintentional though it may have been, things altered quite quickly once Alison's awareness of my unusual marriage was openly acknowledged. There was never any suggestion of her getting involved in any of my adventures, but one immediate change we made (at my request) was that she would arrive fairly early on a Saturday rather than at midday. This meant that she got to my house before I returned from my Friday night visit to see Matt, and that made things very special. We never mentioned Matt or where I had been in front of Martin, but I would walk into the kitchen dressed in leather, rubber and high heels, speaking quite normally as she sat having a coffee with my husband. It was somewhat bizarre to stand there chatting to her with my suspender straps on full display due to the shortness of my skirt, or topless save for a highly revealing latex bra, but I got off on it in a big way.

Furthermore, on a Sunday afternoon we would both disappear upstairs to try on some of my fetish clothing, and I could see for myself how comfortable she was becoming with wearing such gear. At this point it was all merely fun, just girls dressing up as we used to some twenty years before, and I cannot remember a single moment where we exchanged lingering glances or touched each other in a way that could ever be construed as intimate. Unquestionably we both felt the eroticism of the clothing when we put it on, but we didn't discuss or share what we were feeling. Most of the time we were simply laughing and doing some pretty silly things.

I think it was perhaps inevitable where this would eventually lead, but if I had to point to a catalyst for that weekend in October 2006 when things changed so dramatically between us, it would be what had happened on her prior stay. Although Martin was effectively being openly cuckolded in front of Alison when I returned from Matt's on Saturdays, I had come up with a rather delicious idea that would add to my husband's discomfort. The three of us came back home from our usual Sunday lunch at the local pub, and after sitting down and chatting for a while I excused myself and disappeared upstairs. Half an hour later I came down and walked into the main lounge where Martin was reading the paper as Alison watched some TV.

"Okay, I'm just off to see Matt," I said matter-of-factly. "I'm not expecting to be too long, but you never know..."

This was the first time my boyfriend's name had ever been mentioned in front of Alison when Martin was present, even though of course we all knew the situation. I watched as Martin looked up in shock and I managed to disguise my pleasure at seeing his eyes widen in utter disbelief when he saw how I was dressed. I was wearing high heels, fishnet stockings, a rubber corset, and long PVC gloves, but what really made his jaw drop was the latex spanking skirt I was squeezed into – a garment which left my shiny rubber panties totally exposed at the rear.

"Wow, you look great," Alison complimented, playing her unscripted part beautifully. "I'm jealous. Have a good time."

"Thanks," I said with a smile. "See you in a bit."

What awesome fun that was to live the sort of fantasy humiliation that wannabe cuckolds the world over dream of being subjected to. I can't understand why more women don't do things like this. Can't they see the power in this simple pastiche of cuckold fiction? Alison could, and she told me afterwards that just witnessing those few seconds of theatre from me enabled her to finally 'get' the whole cuckoldry thing. It was more than just entertaining for her – it was highly erotic too.

It was even more stimulating for her when I came back from my visit about an hour and a half later. Even with the protection of the briefs, I'd warned her that parts of my backside were going to be red and striped, but that foreknowledge didn't lessen the impact of actually seeing Matt's handiwork at close range when I walked into the room on my return.

Alison commented on this openly in front of Martin, and it was such a turn-on for both of us when I gave my reply:

"I love it when he does that to me, Ali. I just can't get enough of it."

Alison later told me that as soon as I had left the house earlier there had been an uncomfortable silence in the lounge as she sat there with Martin. He buried himself in his paper and she watched a bit more TV, but after a while she felt she had to say something, so she asked him if he wanted a tea or coffee. "No thanks, I'm fine," was all she got in terse response.

She went and made herself a drink, and when she returned she switched the television off and set herself down on the footstool near his chair.

"Come on, you love it," she said.

"I'm sorry?" he responded as he lowered his paper to look at her.

"You love it when she does things like that. She's told me how you always wanted her to do things like that."

Martin bit his lip as he presumably considered how to reply to this.

"There's a difference between dreaming of something happening and being confronted with the reality," he said.

"So, you'd rather she didn't do it? Come on Martin, we've known each other for a long time, and you know she's told me everything. Talk to me. You know I'll never tell anyone else, that's why she entrusted me with her secret."

"You won't tell anyone else, but you'll tell her."

"No, I won't tell her, that's a promise. She's told me how you think and what goes through your mind, but I want to hear it from you. Your words. Totally in private. Just you and me."

And so he told her, and to this day Alison has never revealed what he said. There are a number of interesting and subtle aspects to this that I feel I need to mention even though you may not be so interested in these nuances. First, she never needed to let me know that Martin had opened up to her – since she intended to keep what he said a secret, the easiest course of action would have been to simply keep quiet about their exchange. So she wanted me know that she and Martin now shared an intimacy that was unique to the two of them, something that even I couldn't be a party to.

Second, Alison told me that I might be surprised at some of what my husband had said and that maybe I didn't know all of his thoughts as well as I liked to believe. I had no way of knowing whether this was true of course, but again it gave Ali an apparent advantage over me. I couldn't imagine what Martin could have said that would be news to me, but almost inevitably it bugged me that there could be something I was missing and also that Martin harboured feelings that he had never revealed.

What is most interesting of all though is that I think that conversation between my husband and friend created a special bond between them. Alison would be the first to admit that she has a bit of a thing for my husband, but fascinatingly this 'thing' manifests itself in a very strange way. On the one hand she is very protective of Martin, quite openly motherly and loving to him, especially after he has been severely humiliated. But perversely it is Alison more than anyone else who desires and enjoys subjecting Martin to those humiliations and she is instrumental in devising the most extreme of them. I'll let you shrinks out there pick the bones out of that one because I'm certainly not going to try.

I say I think it was inevitable that Alison would become involved in my lifestyle because I could see she was finding her true home when she was with us. My passion for ritualistic sex is infectious, and only inhibition prevents many women from enjoying these sorts of games. My friend could see me doing this at close range – arriving home from a night of sex with a fabulous looking lover, all dressed up in tight leather and rubber. Who couldn't find some thrill in that? And then there are all my accessories too. You might think your wife is conventional and unadventurous, but get her in my dressing room and let me lace her into a pair of spike heeled thigh length boots while she holds and strokes one of my expensive leather whips. I can promise you she would feel that surge of power. As Alison picked up my instruments of punishment I could see in her eyes the desire to actually put them to use. To actually whip a man; to have him kneel before her and kiss her feet as she strikes him. And in my husband she had the perfect target, a man who was already trained to serve and submit to a Mistress's will. There's no question that Alison was captured long before she and I started playing for real.

Nevertheless it will always remain a surprise to me that what happened between us occurred so suddenly, and I certainly would never have predicted that it would be my friend who primarily initiated events. In early October 2006 I had a Sunday evening phone call from Alison and she asked if she could stay for a long weekend, coming up early on the Friday night and returning on the Monday. As I said earlier, I was always happy to have Alison as a guest and I never felt resentment at her interrupting my weekend fun. All the same, this was asking a great deal. My Friday evening games with Matt would have to be cancelled and she was in effect asking me to take the Monday off work so I could spend the day with her. This hesitation and reluctance must have been apparent in my voice and it was at this point that she revealed what she had in mind for that weekend and why it would be so different from any of her past visits.

I instinctively knew that Alison wanted more than to just dress up and watch some of my videos with me. She wanted to dominate Martin alongside me; to experience controlling, disciplining and humiliating a man for real. Knowing me as you do, you might well have expected me to respond very positively to this request, and I won't deny that I felt a surge of excitement when later in the conversation Alison confirmed my suspicions when I openly put them to her. However I also had grave misgivings. What made me most fearful was the nature of the reaction that I'd experienced as she outlined her plans, because it wasn't images of two dominas whipping and abusing the poor hapless cuckold that had immediately flashed through my mind. Instead it was something that I found quite shocking at the time; it was the thought of having sex with my friend.

The idea of making out with another woman while dressed in my rubber and leather had always been a fantasy of mine (recall for example the scenario I described in 'The Girl Who Loves Cream' post), but not one I had ever pursued or even thought I would realise. I don't regard myself as a true bisexual and I don't walk down the street looking at other women thinking: yeah, I'd like to do you, baby. I just don't see girls in that way, and I most certainly had never viewed Alison in that way. I therefore couldn't understand why I had suddenly thought of the two of us passionately kissing and fondling each other as Martin knelt at our feet, and I intuitively understood how dangerous it would be if I allowed such feelings to take a hold of me.

It was such reservations that prompted a somewhat cautious and lukewarm response to Alison's idea. I told her that I'd be terrified that I'd do something or she would see something that offended her... and then that would create a barrier between us that would always be there. I didn't want to do anything that might damage our friendship. It was far too precious to me.

She sounded deflated when she spoke next:

"So you don't want to do it then? You don't think it's a good idea? I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking... I got carried away. I feel pretty stupid now..."

"No, no, don't," I pleaded. "I'm really flattered... and quite honestly, very excited. I just need to give it some thought, okay? You've taken me completely by surprise... I need to think it through."

I think she must have taken this as a diplomatic 'no', and in her mind she had completely embarrassed herself. She sounded crushed when she just said "okay" flatly down the line.

I tried to sound as positive as possible.

"Look, let me call you again tomorrow, alright? We'll talk about it again then."

"Okay," she said quietly, still clearly crushed, and there was nothing I could do or say to cheer her up after that.

It all seemed so surreal when I put down the phone - the sex-mad kink mistress had just backed off from a weekend of fun and games that held such awesome possibilities. And yet I was glad that I had made that pause. It demonstrated to me that I still had some sense of priority despite my inner urges. It was right that I hadn't simply jumped in head first without any consideration.

I mulled it all through as the evening went on, and despite constantly reminding myself how dangerous such a path could be, I couldn't stop the fantasies entering my mind. By the time I went to bed I was almost intoxicated with the idea of playing games with my friend and I had a sleepless night as I lay there refusing to use one of my toys to get some release. The thought of having Alison kneeling before me with a dildo gag on, pleasuring me as I held her head between my thighs... of fondling her, kissing her, screwing her. And then it got worse... images of me forcing her beautiful breasts into a bondage bra and then viciously tightening the straps before beating her swollen tits with a leather belt... spanking her with a studded glove... strapping vibrators into her arse and pussy before tying her up and leaving her alone in bed with the buzzing cocks driving her wild...

I sobered up the following day. That night of lustful dreaming had warned me where this would all inevitably lead. I'm not someone who can go half-measures; I want it all. However, at least these twenty-four hours of reflection gave me a handle on why I had experienced such intense emotions about my friend, and I was able to articulate this when I rang her the following evening.

"I just don't think it's a good idea, Ali, and it's not because I don't want it. It's the exact opposite – I want it too much, and I need to be totally honest with you why. You remember those cartoons I've spoken of so many times... the ones by Bill Ward that Martin likes? I've shown you a few if you recall. Well, he did loads of drawings with two girls dominating a guy and when you rang yesterday and told me what you had in mind, it's those sorts of images that went through my head.

"The thing is, the girls don't just dominate the man, they make out with each other. I don't just mean touchy-feely with each other either. I mean the full works... you know, spanking, whipping, double-dildos, bondage, all the kinky stuff I love. I've never thought of doing things like that with you, and I don't look at you in that way – I never have done. But I just know deep down that if we start messing about like this, I'll end up wanting to do those things. You wouldn't want to go that far, but I'll get too turned on to stop and I would need to go that far. Sooner or later I'll cross a line that you don't want to go beyond... and that's when we end up with a permanent problem. No way can I afford to take that risk."

There was complete silence on the other end of the line at that point and I wondered whether the mere mention of such a relationship had been too much for her. I found out later though that she only did this so she could appear to give my little speech the consideration it warranted. In reality she knew what she was going to say before I had even finished.

"I'll be arriving around six o'clock on Friday if that's okay," she said, and despite trying to deliver the line in a casual tone she couldn't hide the excitement in her voice. Her next words were almost breathless:

"I really can't wait, Maria. Seriously, I really can't wait."

On the Friday morning I had a call from Alison on my mobile while I was at the office. Uh oh, I thought as soon as I saw the caller ID. However she was just confirming that it was okay for her to come up as arranged. After that I could barely concentrate on my work, and fortunately I didn't have any meetings that day. I kept trying to mentally dull my expectations, but it was next to impossible. Alison's eager reaction earlier in the week to my description of what I would want to do with her told me that the same notions had been keeping her awake at night as she summoned up the courage to ask for this weekend.

You've seen some captures of me preparing for that evening with Alison in the 'Whip Sister' post, but those images cannot convey the excitement I felt as I prepared for my friend's arrival. For years I'd been dressing up in these fabulously erotic clothes and had always wondered what it was like for a man to make love to me while I was dressed in such a way... to run his hands over the shiny material, to kiss it and lick it, to just drink in the sensuousness of a woman's body sheathed in highly polished leather and latex. Then there's the stockings and suspenders too, feeling the silky nylons and playing with the garters. Kissing that woman... putting his hand up her skirt... massaging her breasts...

Alison and I were going to give each other that experience. She would be me and I would be her, and this is why I felt no qualms about having sex with my friend. I didn't know it for sure at the time, but she felt very much the same way. She had discovered the enjoyment of dressing herself in fantasy clothing and not only did she want to be touched and caressed while wearing it, but she also wanted to step outside herself and be a lover giving her pleasure. I'm sure this is why so many women enjoy making love to one another without necessarily being gay. We love the perfume, the lipstick, the hair, the clothing, the jewellery... all those feminine adornments which excite men so much also excite us as well, and who could resist making out with another girl who is dressed just as we love to dress?

Alison had never said whether she wanted Martin to be in the house when she arrived, but I thought it best for my husband to be initially absent, so after he had helped me dress he went out for the evening with firm instructions not to return home until after 10 pm. I wanted my friend to see how I punish my husband on video first, and I'd try to gauge her reaction. Ali had told me how she loved the feeling of power that she got when she held a whip, but I was well aware that this might not translate into actual enjoyment when the moment came to actually strike a man, and I also guessed that she would be reserved with her efforts. I wanted to show her how gratuitously I beat Martin, giving her the confidence to spank and whip with the same force. Nevertheless I was very level-headed with my expectations – despite her apparent enthusiasm I thought it highly unlikely that Alison would warm to a true domina role, simply because it's such a great step for any woman to take. It's one thing to accommodate a man's submissive wishes in the bedroom, but judging from the correspondence I receive, women who get genuine sexual pleasure from inflicting pain on a man are very rare. It would be too much of a coincidence for both of us to have the same unusual urges.

She arrived about half-an-hour later than expected. I had been pacing away between the main lounge, the study and kitchen, constantly checking whether everything was tidy and ready. I had to keep moving because I had real butterflies, far more than I had ever expected. I couldn't stop shaking at times, and in my head I kept wondering whether this was a good idea. It was easy to see how it could all end up as an embarrassing disaster with irrecoverable long-term effects. On the other hand I was also unbelievably turned on, and thoughts of Alison with her head between my legs kept flashing into my mind. I desperately wanted to play with her, and especially to fondle and suck those magnificent breasts. Again, I don't really know what triggered this deep lust for her, but I'm not going to pretend that it didn't exist. If for some reason she hadn't turned up that night, I would have been completely crestfallen.

I have to say that I was a little disappointed when she arrived and I opened the door. She looked great, no doubt about that, and had obviously spent an age preparing herself for the evening. Even though we had already agreed that she would wear some of my own leather and latex clothing, for some reason in my mind I'd still been expecting her to be 'slutted up' for the occasion, and I'd even imagined caressing her then and there when she walked into the hallway. However, even though she was wearing a coat I could see that she just had normal day clothes on underneath. I immediately felt slightly odd as I stood there in red leather and rubber with five-inch heels. Certainly if it had been me I would have driven all the way in some hot gear, just to add to the excitement – and I probably would have had a rubber cock in me as well. I had to keep reminding myself that Alison didn't have my exhibitionist streak, and whereas I would no doubt love it if my car broke down and I had to deal with a breakdown mechanic while dressed as a hooker, Ali would likely be mortified.

I gave her a nervous kiss on the cheek and told her she looked lovely, and she in turn stepped back and said: "Wow, not as lovely as you... you look amazing." There was a sort of uncomfortable exchange then where we chit-chatted nervously in the hallway about irrelevant things such as the weather and the amount of traffic she had encountered on the way. Neither of us seemed able to broach the subject we both really wanted to talk about – what we were going to get up to that weekend.

Eventually I somewhat hamfistedly got to the point:

"Well, erm, I don't know what you were planning on doing... whether you'd like to, um, you know, go upstairs and change into something... or maybe sit down and have a drink first... it's up to you..."

She seemed equally hesitant. "Yes, okay, I'd like to change... that would be fine..."

I led her upstairs and after she'd put her travel case in the guest room we went into my dressing room.

"Well, you've seen it all before," I said somewhat tentatively. "Take your pick."

She gave a nervous laugh. "I don't know where to start," she said as she opened the door to the closet where I keep all my dresses and skirts. "Anything in particular you'd suggest?"

You bet, I thought, and I'm so glad she asked. In my fantasies that week I kept visualising Alison wearing my tight, laced leather pencil skirt, the one you've seen so many times before. I'd even got Martin to polish and buff it to a brilliant shine in hopeful expectation that she would wear it for me, and as I lay in bed at night I'd been tormented by the same recurrent image – of putting Alison across my knee and vigorously spanking her shiny leather-covered backside while she was tightly laced into that skirt.

"Sure," I replied, "I think I know what you'd look perfect in..."

I started to gather various items from the hangers and drawers and lay them out on the bed. I was still shaking a little, and I could sense the same timidity in my friend. We kept glancing at each other and making nervous smiles, but as I picked out a shiny rubber bondage bra and placed it with the other gear I caught Alison's eye and I could see the unmistakable excitement in her as she looked at the kinky garment. I knew for certain then that she was as turned on as I was.

I touched her on the arm so that she looked at me.

"No embarrassment," I said firmly, looking at her straight in the eyes.

"No embarrassment," she confirmed, and as soon as she said those words I leaned forward, opened my mouth and kissed her.

That moment was heaven itself and I'll never forget it. I love kissing as it is, but as far as I'm concerned there is no comparison between kissing a man full on the lips and the sensuality of kissing a woman. I'm sorry guys, but you just aren't in the same league - not even close. The fullness of those lips, the lipstick, the smell of her perfume, the beautiful smooth skin, the soft, perfect touch; the instinctive understanding that a woman has of how to combine the movements of her tongue with those of her mouth. It's an exquisite erotic experience, one that I can never get enough of. To this day Alison and I kiss for minutes on end without our lips parting, whether bondaged in bed together with double-dildo comforters, or in the back of Martin's car with our fingers excitedly tugging and caressing each other's garter straps and panties.

We also know full well what it does to men to see us kissing each other. Several male visitors to my home have now seen certain specially selected video scenes from my collection and it's no surprise to me whatsoever that the one that I usually have to replay for my guest is where Alison and I both orgasm as we are kissing. With our mouths locked together you can hear our muffled squeals of delight as we climax in turn, myself first and Alison a minute later, under the wonderful, throbbing torment provided by the vibrating rubber cocks in our butts and the skilful, sensuous clit massage we are giving each other with our fingers.

That first kiss between us broke the ice completely and from then on I found it easy to talk openly about things, even about sex toys that we might use. The next forty-five minutes were a joy as I dressed Alison, and I wouldn't allow her to do anything. You already know how important the ritual of dressing is for me, and I wanted to experience this from my husband's point of view. Each time I finished putting another garment on to Alison I would briefly stop and we would kiss again, lightly fondling each other in the process. It was electrifying for me to touch and feel the smooth, cool leather and rubber hugging her body. I had to resist bending down and licking the leather waspie corset I had laced my friend into, and I had a similar urge to pay homage to my favourite fetish thigh boots as I laced her legs into them. I have always loved the feeling of this when it's done to me, but I wanted her first experience of this to come from a slave's tongue; my husband's tongue. She needed to feel the power of that moment; her power, the power of a dominatrix.

Putting the rubber bra on her was the most exciting part, as I knew it would be. My hands were trembling as I removed her lacy everyday bra – not through nervousness any more, but simply because of the anticipation. This was the same buckled bondage bra that Simon had run his fingers over when I described my encounter with him in the 'Slut Is Born' post, and I knew for certain that it was going to look a darn sight more effective on Alison than it did on yours truly. There was no way that the cups would normally be able to hold my friend's significantly larger breasts, but the rubber strapping would keep them trussed up nevertheless. Just as I had figured, the tight constriction caused her boobs to appear to swell dramatically as they strained to escape confinement. It created a fantastically horny sight that made me go weak at the knees.

"Oh my God," I gasped. "Just look at that. Will you just look at that..."

I got her to turn around and look in the mirror. "Wow," she laughed, but you could sense some pride in her voice. "You've got a wicked mind."

When she turned back I just stared down at her magnificent rubber-encased tits, completely mesmerised by them. I couldn't resist the urge to touch them, and I lightly ran my fingers across the latex before ultimately cupping them in my hands. It had only taken these few minutes to leave me no longer caring about offending her with what I said or did – I was well past the point of treading carefully. I knew what I wanted and I wasn't afraid to say it, but also I could see those same urges in my friend. We embraced again and while our tongues locked together I massaged those awesome breasts while she held my head in her hands. When we came up for air I pressed my cheek against hers so I could whisper in her ear.

"I need to whip your breasts this weekend Ali - not hard, not so it'll hurt, but I need to whip them while they're strapped up like they are now and I need it on video too. Can I do that baby? It's the noise... I need to hear the sound of my whip striking that rubber."

As I recount those words now it seems an almost insane thing to say, but I never really had any doubts as to the response. We were both on heat.

"Oh yeah," she replied and she put her hands around me and squeezed my buttocks through the short red skirt, pulling me against her "You're going to thrash them, Maria. You're going to thrash my tits".

I knew she didn't mean that, but this is the sort of exchange that we still have to this day when we're together and completely overcome by lust. I was already wet from the preparation Martin had given me, and now I could feel pussy juice literally leaking into my panties.

"I need to come," I said, almost desperately. "You know what I'm like... it won't stop me later. I just need to come now."

It was at that moment that my friend swept aside all the preconceptions I had about how things would go that evening. In my mind I was the experienced kink-loving domina guiding the new apprentice, taking control of proceedings and coaxing my new student to overcome her inhibitions. I had a mental playbook of how I would gradually introduce new experiences to widen the limits of her tolerance, and whatever she had said beforehand, I instinctively felt that there were boundaries that she would not be able to cross for quite some time. It was therefore a total shock when she completely torpedoed my plans with a few casually spoken words:

"Okay," she said as she sat herself down on to the bed and lifted her right leg up, "fuck yourself on my boot."

I could barely believe what I had just heard, and it was only then that I realised that Alison's study of my diary and all that she had learned from our conversations had already gone a long way towards moulding her in my image. She was thinking like me and talking like me, a weird experience I can assure you, but in this case not a frightening one in the least. Oh, wonderful, wonderful I remember thinking, this is going to be amazing.

And so I did exactly what she said, and it was Maria who ended up being the excited ingιnue while my friend played the amused, ice cool dominatrix. She watched calmly as I unzipped my panties, grabbed her ankle with both hands, and then aggressively masturbated myself to climax with the toe of her thigh boot. She even made me lick up my own mess when I had finished.

I don't think I'll ever understand what enabled Alison to slide into a dominatrix role with such ease. She never dipped her toe in the shallow part of the pool; instead she tied a lead-weighted belt around her waist and jumped in the deep end. Maybe it was all those hours spent with me and the constant rereading of what I had written in the diary. Somehow though she had not only acquired the attitude but also the passion, and that has never wavered. Like me she could never give up this lifestyle now that she has tasted its full flavour.

We are so alike and yet there are marked differences too. I thought it would only be a matter of time before Alison acquired my confidence to display herself in public and then we would be able to go hunting together – the two leather-skirted, opera-gloved socialites on the prowl for lovers and slaves. But it has never worked out like that and my friend is not prepared to take the fetish-clad persona she displays behind closed doors into the wider world. For one thing she simply doesn't have my exhibitionist streak, and she also wants to separate the ritualistic sex she enjoys from the day-to-day reality of life. In this respect we are worlds apart - I don't seek such a segregation and indeed it's my commitment to becoming a living 24/7 sex doll that distinguishes me from other women and makes my story so unique.

Alison also doesn't have anything like my capacity to orgasm, and she believes it is this one characteristic of mine that has led me to want to live the life that I do. Her way of enjoying sex is to have a long build up to one major orgasm, a climax that usually lasts quite some time. This difference between us has largely dictated the respective roles we take when we have sex together. It's natural that Alison should be the dominant Mistress, tying up her masochistic and insatiable slave and then spanking and whipping her before punishing her with strapon cocks and large dildos. I nearly always take this submissive part and I have climax after climax as Alison goes to work on me, something she finds great pleasure in doing because my physical response to her attentions is so uncontrollably genuine. I love being fucked by her, especially by one particular large strapon she uses, and if you heard my cries as she pumps this amazing dong in and out of me you'd be convinced I was faking it. Alison however knows that it's all very real and she delights in having me wrapped around her little finger in such a way with all my self-control gone.

When I first started Maria's Diary I had a vague hope that my experiences and the passion with which I conveyed them would encourage other women, particularly wives, to follow in my footsteps. I never expected a female reader to go to anything like the extremes that I have done, but if I could give other women the confidence and desire to expand their sexual horizons and unshackle their inhibitions then that would be a major bonus as far as I was concerned. I'm a great believer that women are repressed in this world, but that repression doesn't come from men (in the West at least) but from women themselves.

During the time that my diary has been online I think I can fairly confidently say that my influence has been... absolutely nil. Big fat zilcho. Partly this is my own fault because my lifestyle is simply too excessive for most women and there are too many things I have done that offend ingrained social mores. And partly it's because my diary is largely dismissed by women as fiction (although I should note that most women have little choice but to try to convince their partner that I'm not real; it's the only way they can rebuff the constant urging: Why can't you be more like Maria?).

And yet despite my online diary having no apparent influence over women whatsoever, in Alison's case it has changed her life completely. She has found enormous self-confidence and freedom of will through embracing an outlook of female superiority. She doesn't take the ritualistic dressing into the outside world, but that is simply a lifestyle choice – it doesn't change the fact that she won't be pushed around anymore and she knows how to handle and manipulate men. So why did the diary work on her and not on Mrs. X out there?

I can only think it must be the physical me. Writing about myself and showing blurry pictures of me isn't enough. It doesn't convey the essence of me. I can only cast the spell over a woman if I'm by her side, if she can actually see the sexuality pouring out of me and the effect it has on men. I think that's what intoxicated Alison – the fact that I'm so alive and so comfortable with who I am. All you men out there who dream of your wife being a little more adventurous than she is now... well, let her be with me for a week and see how she is when she returns. I'm not talking about training her or indoctrinating her, I'm merely saying being with me. Unconsciously she'll copy my attitude and she'll realise that you don't have to lie down in this world for anyone. She'll want to look good because it opens doors for her. She'll want to speak well because like it or not men in this world take notice of a well-spoken woman. And above all she'll be doing her utmost to make men want her. You'll need to be attentive and responsive because you've now got serious competition.

Fortunately for me, my motivation for writing the diary has little to do with influencing the attitudes of women. I sometimes wonder how many men have shown Maria's Diary to their beloved wife with the hope of stimulating a change in her outlook. Disappointed in the response guys? After everything I've written about how women view me when I'm out in public you shouldn't be surprised, and I'm now glad it's going to remain that way. It makes it very easy to lock you in Maria's tractor beam.

I'm not going to give you a blow by blow account of what happened that night or indeed over the following three days. I'm sure if you use your imagination you can get a fair idea of what we got up to. Although I did have to guide Alison in a number of ways, especially in the use of punishment equipment and how forcefully to use it, I was nevertheless taken aback by her ingenuity and subtle cruelty when humiliating Martin. In particular her manner of speaking to him was so exquisitely pitched that I actually found myself feeling inferior in comparison. She had obviously noted what I had said in my diary about the less aggressive tone I had developed when dominating my husband, but the actual words she used and the timing of them enthralled me. Almost from the very first interaction with my husband she put him exactly where she wanted him and she has never looked back.

Some particular moments stand out for me from that long weekend. One occurred when Martin wasn't at home, and it all started when Alison began watching some video of me whipping Martin as I pulled him around on a collar and chain. This was the first time she had ever seen me punishing my spouse in earnest.

"Good grief..." she muttered in disbelief.

"It's not as bad as it looks," I assured her. "Not with that whip, and he's wearing leather briefs as well. I could actually hit him harder than that and he'd be okay. You'll see in a bit when I get really excited..."

"It looks damn harsh to me," she said.

"No, seriously, it's not that bad. Hang on, I'll go and get a couple of whips and I'll show you."

I left Alison watching the video and went upstairs to collect both a riding crop and the stud-handled leather whip you saw in the 'Training Day' post.

I paused the video when I returned.

"Okay, now stand up a minute and take the crop here first... okay? Right I want you to just lightly strike me to start with and we'll build it up."

Alison started giggling. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she said.

I turned away from her and bent forward, pushing my backside towards her. "Okay," I said.

I hardly felt her first attempt and it was my turn to laugh. "Come on," I teased, "I didn't mean as light as that."

"Sorry," she laughed. "I'm scared of doing it too hard."

The next strike was better but still lacking in any real power.

"Right, now I bet what you're doing is decelerating when you're just about to hit me," I said. "What you've got to learn to do is to always flick your wrist with full force, but control the actual severity of the blow by how much you take your arm back. So start off by holding your arm close to me but flicking that wrist as fast as you can."


"Perfect," I said. "You see how different the noise was? That lovely crisp sound as it struck, even with no real power there? That's what you're aiming for. So now take your arm a bit further back and do it again."


"Oh yeah, that's good. Now that one stung, and that's the sort of strike you want to do regularly with Martin as you lead him around. It keeps him on his toes and of course it's great fun to do it too. Right, so now do another one even harder."

"I'm not sure I dare," she said hesitantly.

"Go on," I said, "you won't kill me. I regularly whip myself with that crop when I'm on my own, so it's not like I'm not used to it."

"Okay... here it comes..."


"Jesus," I hissed. "Whew, yeah I felt that one alright."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Alison pleaded.

"No, it's fine," I assured her. "It was perfect. That's the sort of force you use with Martin for proper punishment. You have to accept that it's going cause pretty severe pain when you do it, but you won't leave bruising or anything. Just remember that if you don't hit him hard enough then the whole thing is pointless and it's not true domination; it's play-acting, and he'll get nothing from it. It has to hurt, that's the whole point."

I looked over my shoulder to judge her reaction to this and I was pleased to see the concentration on her face. It was inevitable that she would be hesitant, but she was also eager to learn.

"Do a few more," I told her.

"Are you sure...?"

"Come on, do it," I insisted, and I turned away again, pushing my rear out even further. The final picture of me in the red skirt in the 'Whip Sister' post shows almost exactly how I was standing as Alison delivered her blows.





"That's perfect," I told her as I turned around to face her again. "Ali, you and I are going to have so much fun. Just wait a sec, I need to go back upstairs again."

It was actually a couple of minutes before I returned, but I found her stroking her hand down the crop as I walked back into the room.

"Compulsive, isn't it?" I said.

"Yes," she said absently, not looking up, "yes it is."

I picked up the leather whip and handed it to her, taking the crop in exchange.

"Okay, now whip me with this one. You'll be surprised at how hard you can hit with it. You'll need a lot more arm and shoulder with this. For warm-up strikes just stand your ground like you did with the crop, but for full force lashes remember how I was doing it on the video... actually stepping into the strike rather than standing there passively."

"I'm not sure I can bring myself to do this, Maria."

"...because you can't bring yourself to hurt me," I said. "It's an inhibition you're going to have to overcome if you want to properly discipline someone. I was the same with Martin at first, but I had no one to give me advice then. Just trust me, I want to be hurt. Matt does this to me, and I love it. I want you to do it to me, because I'll love it from you too. So please, I'm asking you baby, please whip me."

I turned away from her and stood facing the wall, spreading my hands apart at head height. Nothing happened for a few seconds, but then I heard her give a long sigh.


"Oh yeah, now harder."


"Harder Ali, come on."


"Oh lovely, yes more of that."



"That's how you give warm up lashes," I moaned. "That's the perfect strength."





"Okay, just a moment," I gasped when she'd struck me about a dozen times, and I reached down and put my hands between my legs, unzipping my briefs and turning on the vibrator I'd inserted into myself during my quick trip upstairs.

"Okay, again, but harder now," I urged once I'd zipped my panties back up again. "Make me come with the whip."

"Maria, I don't believe this."

"Believe it, baby" I gasped. "This is what sex is. This is living. Whip your slut."

"Oh God," Alison moaned.


"Harder Ali. Walk into it."


"Yes, that's it. Just like that... just like that."





I took another six or seven strikes but I couldn't quite get release. I wasn't getting the play I needed on the vibrator.

"I'm sorry, I can't come," I groaned in anguish. "It's the vibrator... it's not quite..."

"Not hitting the right spot?" Alison taunted, and she thrust her hand between my legs, forcing the vibrator up and forwards so that it was buzzing hard against my clit. "Is this any better?"

"Oh yeah, that's it," I moaned. "You've got me... you've got me..."

My knees buckled when I first felt the release and on hearing my cry of orgasm she let go again. Oh Alison, you awesome human being, you knew exactly what to say and do.

"Come on then, let's see you fill those knickers!"





I collapsed on to the couch when it was over. I could barely believe what had happened and I couldn't stop saying "thank you" to her. I also started apologising.

"I'm sorry, but I did warn you," I said. "I told you I'd go too far. I get so turned on."

She sat down next to me. "Are you kidding?" she said incredulously. "You think I didn't enjoy that? Maria, the only thing that pissed me off in the last few minutes was the fact that you laced me into this bloody skirt and I couldn't get at myself. The rest I loved."

She loves it to this day. However there is a strong distinction between the pleasure that Alison gets from whipping someone and my own. In my case I actually get release from inflicting the pain, a true sadistic lust that I like to climax to. In contrast, Alison rarely enjoys an orgasm while punishing someone. For her the satisfaction comes in two forms – when beating a man it's the turn on of subjecting him to humiliation, making him prostrate himself before her, plead for her whip, and later beg for her to stop. When disciplining me it's the pure joy of bringing me to climax as she did that first night together in my home. There is no one who can make me orgasm through punishment like Alison can. It's a divine bonding between us that others will never understand.

Another similarly significant moment took place the following day. I had arranged to see Matt for a short period on the Saturday morning. We had missed our usual Friday night get-together, but the obvious enjoyment of a session with my boyfriend's lovely prick in me was only a secondary motivator for this visit; the primary purpose was to bring home a gift from Matt for me to present to Martin in Alison's company.

At breakfast Alison and I were totally normal with each other. I didn't touch her, kiss her or even give her a lustful look. That's how we still are today, and I'm sure it's this separation between sex and friendship that has allowed our relationship to remain on such an even keel. Yes, when have sex we really go for it and there's a love for each other intertwined with the raw passion. But we know when those moments are and we draw a line under them. We're not touchy-feely at other times and we don't go around giving each other pecks on the cheek or knowing looks. I'd hate it if Alison started doing that and I know she feels the same.

I got back from Matt's a little later than expected, but I found the video cameras all set up as I'd asked from Martin. Alison and I popped upstairs to the dressing room and I gave her a few last tips as to what she should do, but I let her choose her own punishment tool. She selected a studded leather paddle, which was an excellent choice because a paddle is so much safer to wield than a whip, yet it still makes a wonderful sound. Paddles have remained one of Alison's favourite discipline tools and she is now very proficient with them. It was Alison who really got me heavily into prick punishment when she strapped Martin's cock to my thigh boot one day and then beat it lightly with a paddle.

Even though the scene doesn't last all that long, this was one of the most momentous video shoots I had ever made and I had all three of my cameras running. We'd set up a desk in the middle of one of the rooms and Martin lay on his back with his legs pulled up by chains attached to restraints on his ankles. That left his bottom totally exposed to Alison and her paddle, with his head looking upwards so that I could mount his face with my pussy. I could hardly contain my excitement because I knew I would be capturing something on a whole new level of depravity. In fact all I could think about for a while was Martin's mother Grace witnessing this moment – her son being beaten by a woman as he licks the cum of another man out of his wife's dripping cunt.

Alison was only lightly striking him when I took the plug out of my vagina and ordered Martin to tongue the rubber phallus before pushing it fully into his mouth. However when I eventually mounted him and grabbed his head to make him suck my pussy, she upped both the force and tempo of the whacks, and I kept nodding at her to strike even harder. The noise was fantastic and I could see she was really getting off on it. At first I was doing the goading and taunting of Martin, but once my friend started beating in earnest she took over the dialogue and she proved so adept with her words that I have been more than happy for her to take the lead ever since.

That short session demonstrated to me the power of having a submissive beaten by someone else while I am being attended to. I was able to give all my focus to Martin's cunnilingus and my hands were free to manipulate his head and to also pull my pussy lips open for the close-up camera. Hearing the relentless slaps of the paddle as I did this sent me into a frenzy of lust and by the end you see me almost smothering Martin as I vigorously pull his face against me. My climax looks and sounds amazing on camera as Alison continues her steady chastisement.

That afternoon we filmed the scenes that you can see towards the end of the 'Whip Sister' post, but what I didn't reveal at the time was that Alison not only held the camera that day but was an active participant too. I couldn't believe that within twenty-four hours of her first taste of domination my friend was wearing rubber dildo briefs and sodomizing my husband. And she loved it too, even more than the spanking she'd handed to him earlier. I don't know how many women actually get enjoyment from fucking a guy like this, but my impression is that most don't, despite all the strapon toys available these days. Alison however really gets off on it, as do I. For us it's more than just the physical act, it's the dialogue that is exchanged as well. We both like to make the recipient say highly embarrassing things on camera, and when he's in a position like this it's easy to believe a man's forced admissions of wanting to suck prick and take a real cock are genuine. If you use penetration chains as well the results are even better.

[I first used the expression 'penetration chains' in the 'Training Day' post and I thought the allusion was fairly obvious. However I received several emails wanting further clarification, so forgive me if I've caused some confusion. All I'm talking about is when I make a guy wear a leather belt around his waist and I attach a couple of chain dog leads to it. By holding the chains and pulling on them hard you can get every inch of rubber prick into a slave and fuck him really vigorously. Thirty seconds of this and believe me, a man is putty in your hands. He'll say and do anything, and this is one of the best ways to punish a submissive who has severely displeased his Mistress. You can see me holding chains like this in one of the 'Whip Sister' shots, but that picture was captured prior to me using them for real. I didn't want to show me pulling on the chains in full flow in a diary shot – it's a little too aggressive.]

Although I've only given you a glimpse of the events of that Saturday, hopefully you've had some insight into how confidently Alison handled herself despite her inexperience. In the Whip Sister post I indicated how dramatic my friend's entrance into my sex life turned out to be. The scenarios we acted out and the videos we shot just that day pretty much blew away anything I'd done in the past, save for some of the footage I'd shot with Matt earlier in the year. And speaking of my boyfriend, I don't think he could believe his luck either. I'd told Alison on the very first night of our games that I wanted her to have sex with Matt and me in a threesome. She expressed undisguised shock when I made this revelation, but I was very forceful about it and didn't back down.

"You're going to have sex with Matt," I said flatly. "Don't argue with me, because both of us are going to suck him and be fucked by him together. I know he'd love that and I know you'd love it too."

I was expecting at least some token resistance to this, but she made no further comment. Instead she just sat there quietly, clearly mulling it over in her mind. Yeah, that's right, you think about it. You're thinking of taking it up you aren't you? Oh, you wait princess, you wait and see how excited he gets when he sets eyes on those big tits of yours all wrapped up in rubber. Boy, it's going to hurt you alright, but you'll come like you've never come before and a week later you'll be gagging for more, just like me.

I had no timetable for when this was actually going to happen, but since Alison had apparently committed herself to the weekend with such confidence and eagerness, I decided to take her to the limit on the Sunday. We hadn't made any specific plans for that day or the Monday because I had no idea beforehand quite what she would be willing to do or whether she would simply be worn out by that time. Thankfully however she seemed as positive as ever at breakfast on Sunday and she asked me what I had in mind. I told her I would like to do a sort of schoolgirl scene with the two of us playing with each other. It would be a change from what we had done before and it's the sort of thing I really wanted to have on video. She seemed very enthusiastic and commented dryly that she didn't expect the sort of schoolgirls I had in mind would be wearing little white socks and flat shoes.

"Er, no," I giggled, "these are older girls who are allowed to wear stockings and suspenders to school. Oh, and dildo harnesses too."

Alison had inspected my harnesses on a number of occasions but had never used one before, and she became quite excited at the prospect. We had great fun dressing up for that, and it was really horny when she inserted and strapped up my two dildos and I did the same with her single vaginal one (she simply wasn't ready to handle an anal one for any length of time). I put a quarter cup bra on her with a cream latex blouse over the top and she looked incredible, especially when I finished off the outfit with a pleated tartan micro-mini.

I put on a slightly longer dark skirt and a white cotton blouse, and I wore knee boots rather than high-heeled sandals. I even managed to find my old straw boater which I used to detest wearing to school but which actually looked quite cute with my outfit. Okay, so we were a little bit too old to get away with this sort of look, but as we stood together in front of the mirror it was like turning the clock back over fifteen years. And boy, what we would have given to be able to walk back from the school bus past those young guys again, with our high heels clicking on the pavement, our garters hanging below our skirts, our swollen nipples straining at the material of our shirts, and the rubber cocks that the headmaster had strapped into us keeping our pussies nicely oiled for real prick.

We went downstairs and it was then that I put to Alison that I wanted the both of us to visit Matt later that morning. We'd wear coats, but otherwise we'd be dressed just as we were now.

She looked panic-stricken.

"Oh no Maria, come on. I'm not ready for that yet, if ever."

"Of course you're ready," I insisted.

"Please," she implored. "Not today, let's not spoil things."

I wasn't going to climb down so easily, simply because I felt I was judging her correctly. Matt wasn't expecting anything I assured her. It would just be a tease, and we'd merely sit there looking sexy. We'd stay for a short while and wind him up, but that would be all. But I wanted Martin to see us leave the house together all slutted up for Matt. It would cause him considerable anguish, I told her. Furthermore I explained that I wanted her to go out of the house wearing a cock-harness so she could experience what it was like to be sitting in front of someone with her pussy fully plugged, wondering what they would think if they found out that she had several inches of black rubber pleasuring her.

"Ali, just trust me this once, please. If I'm wrong I promise I'll never push you on anything again."

I think it was my sincerity and conviction that did it. Okay, she said, but let's not stay long and for goodness sake make sure that Matt thinks we're just fooling around.

Nervous and unsure she may have been, but it was no surprise when she excused herself some five minutes later and went back upstairs. She must have been up there for over half an hour, and I had to smile when she came back down again acting a little coy. She had looked fine before she went up, but now she had really worked on herself and made that extra effort. Alison was determined to impress.

"Wow," I said, "he's going to love you."

"Don't say that," she replied. "I've just about come to terms with all this, and you're going to make me all nervous again."

"Sorry," I laughed. "You do look amazing though."

All I'm going to say about that visit to see Matt is that we stayed there an awful lot longer than expected, and my boyfriend regards it as one of the greatest experiences of his life. He had absolutely no forewarning of how we would be dressed that day, and the fact that he was so dumbstruck and awkward, especially at the sight of Alison, completely overturned my friend's own lack of self-confidence. It was then that I'm sure she realised that there isn't a great deal of difference between the power we have over Martin and that we exert over supposedly sexually assertive men like Matt. Alison had always fancied Matt, an attraction that she had never disguised from me, and that day, dressed as the most fuckable slut schoolgirl any man is ever likely to encounter, she had him eating out of her hand. The best part was that she knew it.

Since that day Alison has not been able to properly enjoy one-on-one sex with a man and I don't think anything really compares to the excitement she gets from her visits with me to see Matt. It's not just the sex; she gets the same kick that I do when we journey back in Martin's car, talking openly about our evening in front of my husband. And she has found that she can climax a second time when we arrive home, just as she did that Sunday when it was her turn to feed Matt's cum to Martin as he licked and sucked her pussy.

I told you in the Whip Sister post that within a week of that night when Alison watched the videos I had footage of us humiliating Martin in a way that I could never have imagined. That's what happened on the Monday when my husband came home early from work and we acted out the scenario that Alison had devised, not me. What a sensational moment that was. To actually fuck my spouse while kissing and fondling another woman... for her to be riding a dildo strapped to his back... for him to be talking to his mother on the phone as his kinky Mistresses pleasured each other... and to have it all on videotape for posterity.

Alison is untouchable when it comes to humiliation of the male and she has demonstrated that time and time again. The scenarios and positions that she devises are simply breathtaking, and I just don't know how she is able to be so inventive and original. We make an incredible team and we both know it. Partly this is due to a certain rivalry between us, one which I initially feared was becoming damaging. This was predominantly due to an insecurity I developed during 2007 when I felt that not only was she threatening my relationship with Matt but also with Martin too.

She had started to regularly visit me at weekends and on the Friday night we would go to see Matt. It wasn't long before a pattern emerged in what we did on these evenings, and both of us were quite happy to allow my boyfriend to largely dictate proceedings. Matt likes to photograph Alison and me in highly contrived bondage scenes and he is a perfectionist in capturing the shot that he has seen in his mind. This often involves us being tied and chained up for long periods in uncomfortable positions, but we never complain and always do as he asks unless it proves physically impossible. I'm not going to give details here, but in general Alison and I usually end up in single-arm bondage gloves and leg-spreaders, and we are dramatically 'connected' in some way. It's that connectivity that Matt enjoys dreaming up, and it's not just achieved through obvious devices such as double dildos and chained nipple clamps. Once Matt has got the shots he wants he will then discipline us both before he fucks us, often while we're still in bondage.

On one particular weekend I had to attend a formal dinner with Martin on the Saturday night, and I was rather shocked when Alison announced that she was going over to see Matt on her own. She didn't ask whether I had any objections and I was actually quite upset by the whole idea, although I didn't say anything to her. I don't think Matt would have countenanced this had I not been neglecting him at the time, but I tried to rationalise the whole thing – after all Matt was single and he had every right to see whomever he wanted, particularly as I was seeing a number of other men myself. Also, why shouldn't Alison hook up with my boyfriend rather than just sit alone at my house watching TV?

In the end jealousy overcame reason and increasingly irrational thoughts started going through my head. What if Alison and Matt became a permanent couple? She had many of my qualities and had already shown that she would do almost anything for him other than parade herself in public like me. What if she allowed him to have anal sex with her? Wouldn't that give her a hold on him stronger than mine? Suppose he then married her? And had children with her? Oh no, that would be utterly unbearable. To be unable to have sex with him anymore and to have to watch his kids running around my garden when he and Alison visited us...

These imaginings seem crazy in retrospect but at the time they were festering in my mind and I felt enormous resentment towards my friend. How could she be so inconsiderate of my feelings? Couldn't she appreciate the distress she was causing me?

I didn't say anything to her that weekend but she can't have missed my frostiness on the Sunday, even though she seemed blissfully unaware of it. Things became even more strained two weeks later when she came up to stay again. I was late home that Friday due to a business meeting and her car was already in the driveway when I arrived. I went indoors and I found her in the main lounge with Martin. She was sitting back on the sofa, very relaxed, and she had her blouse unbuttoned. My husband was lying across her and she was holding his head in her hands as he lovingly sucked on one of her breasts.

"Hi there," she said as though what she was doing was the most natural thing in the world, "had a tough day?"

I was almost beside myself, but once again I tried not to show it. Sure, it was accepted that she could dominate Martin when I wasn't there but I thought it was tacitly understood that this meant she could get him to lick her boots and maybe give him a few light strokes of a riding crop. But to be breast feeding him in such a motherly, intimate way... that was a direct assault not only on the domina/slave bond I had with him but on the wife/husband one too.

"Oh not too bad," I managed to say, and I immediately left the room to let them both get on with it.

I felt I had strong grounds for my concern. Alison would punish Martin and she loved to humiliate him, but she had also become very close to him and you could even say reliant. On top of his intelligence and wit he's a very resourceful, dependable and caring individual, and Alison knew that if she ever got into trouble Martin would journey to the ends of the earth to see her safe, just as he would for me. If she ever had a problem with anything that she couldn't deal with herself she only had to pick up the phone and call him; that's it, it's done, he'd fix it. You have to understand how comforting it is for a woman to have such unwavering trust in a man, and how protective it makes her feel towards him even though behind closed doors she dresses in leather and enthusiastically beats him with a studded paddle. Alison had lived with a stereotype alpha male, a man that her peers regarded as the perfect catch, and she had her fingers very badly burned.

That night I told Martin that I would drive to Matt's, and that decision combined with my cold demeanour as we prepared ourselves for the visit must have told Alison that something was up.

"You're mad at me aren't you?" she said as we walked downstairs before we left.

"We'll discuss it in the car," I responded curtly.

Once we had turned out of the driveway I didn't waste any time getting to the point.

"What the hell's going on Ali?"

"About what?"

"You know what. First with Matt a couple of weeks ago and today with Martin."

She was silent for a moment and I could see she was looking away from me out of the passenger window.

"I'm sorry," she eventually let out quietly.

"But what exactly are you trying to do? You must have known you would upset me."

"I'm not trying to do anything... at least not against you. I can't really explain it, but if anything it's... well, it's simply envy, I guess. Envy of you."

This did actually make sense to me and I had suspected that this might have been the motivation for her actions. I still wanted to understand more though.

"But why be jealous? We've been having great fun both with each other and with Martin and Matt. We're basically sharing. Why threaten me?"

"I'm not trying to threaten you, Maria, I can promise you. That's not it at all. I just want to have some of what you have. You just take it all for granted. Martin is a lovely guy... he would never have been my type years ago, but as time has gone on I've come to realise how lucky you are. And as if that's not enough you have this other man in your life... drop dead gorgeous and he's like Martin too in that you know he just wouldn't let you down. Two men like that, and they're both devoted to you.

"Honestly, when I was with Matt last Saturday it was fun, but he'll never be the same with me as he is with you. He loves you, you know. I mean really loves you. How many men do you think would put up with the way that you treat them? Seriously, how many? What is it about you that holds them to you?"

I had asked myself that question many times before, and I didn't have an answer.

"I don't know," I said, "but you're wrong – I don't take it for granted."

"But you do!" she came back fiercely. "You're so blasι sometimes with Matt and I wonder whether it's going to rebound on you one day. You don't seem to appreciate what you have. To be given such freedom and to be wanted that much..."

Those words jolted me but I also felt she still hadn't quite understood my relationship with Matt.

"The reason I'm flippant with Matt is because there's a thing between us... it's a form of cuckolding if you like, but there's a difference. With Martin I'm rubbing his face in his inadequacy - you know, his inability to satisfy me. With Matt I'm saying: you're the best, there's no one to beat you, but I'm such an insatiable whore that I need more than what you've got. It's sort of mutually understood what I'm doing... Matt found early on that he was getting turned on by the jealousy thing, just like Martin, but he's not submissive. I can't really explain it."

"Okay," she conceded, "I can sort of see that, now you've said it. But then again, who has a relationship like that? You've now got two men who seem drawn to you because you have sex with other guys! Unreal!"

I started laughing then and so did she. I was so relieved at that moment because I had feared that something nasty was brewing between us, but her admission had removed my inner anger and insecurity. Indeed I felt guilty that I had been so suspicious of her. I should have been more understanding considering what she had been through.

"They're both being drawn towards you too," I said. "That's why I felt threatened."


"I'm not kidding Ali, and I'm not saying it to make you feel better. I can see the changes, especially in Martin. If you start acting like me, which is exactly what you've done, why be surprised if you start having the same effect on both of them?"

I really wasn't kidding either. At that time Alison hadn't yet fully appreciated the bond that forms between a domina and a submissive. She was slowly but surely developing that hold over my husband, although thankfully it didn't seem to be weakening his feelings for me. It was at that moment that I realised that it was good for both of us if she continued to fight for their attentions.

"Well I can't see any of that," she said. "Anyway, it won't happen again, and I really am sorry."

I was so determined to get my point over to her that I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car because I wanted her to see the sincerity in my face.

"No, I want you to make it happen again," I said forcefully. "You're right, I do take them for granted sometimes, and I want you to always keep reminding me of what I have. I want you to turn Matt on as much as you can, and I want you to make Martin adore you as well. And I'll do the same... I'll make them both want me. Let's just be clear that it's a game neither of us ever wants to win, okay?"

I think she got it then just as I had. All four of us could end up winners if Alison and I competed for the affections of my husband and boyfriend, but not destructively. And it would bind both men to us very tightly indeed. Who wouldn't want two highly attractive women trying to outdo each other in such a way?

I'm able to write these words with a satisfied smile on my face today because that decision to become benign rivals has worked out very well indeed, and it's yet another reason why I owe my friend such a debt of gratitude. Both Martin and Matt are getting the sort of experiences that most men can only dream of, and there's a closeness now between all four of us that goes beyond the raw impulses of sex.

The only thing that hasn't really worked out as planned is the relationship between my husband and boyfriend. I never did get that desire in Matt to humiliate Martin. He respects him too much for his other qualities, and in fact recently Martin gave Matt some advice on a business issue which got him out of a real predicament. That was essentially the final nail in the coffin of lover rubbing cuckold's nose in the dirt. All the same, Matt now fully understands Martin's psyche on this and he enjoys playing the part of the tall, handsome lover who is able to satisfy the wife who can't get what she wants at home. He sleeps in my bed, he disciplines me so that Martin can hear, and he will fondle and caress me in the presence of my husband. I would have a problem with anyone else not wanting to actually humiliate Martin, but there's no need with Matt because my spouse can see the love in my eyes as I kiss and hold my boyfriend. It's a special type of pain.

I hope with this post that you can understand how important Alison is to me. She has become an integral part of my life and someone I know I can trust with my most private thoughts and feelings. I am so very, very lucky to have such a friend and playmate. She insisted on being able to veto anything I wrote about our relationship in this post, but there is very little I have had to cut out. Her principal complaint – and she demands that I put this – is that in the original draft I didn't emphasise enough how much I have influenced and steered her towards regaining her self-respect and being comfortable with her life as she now leads it. I know I can easily make that claim, but in the end it was down to her. I may have been her guide, but she still had to climb the mountain.

I will never apologise to anyone for what I am and the things that I do. I have someone by my side who drew inspiration from the way I use my sexuality to manipulate those around me and fulfil my ambitions, and by following that ethos she has transformed herself into a sexy, bewitching woman who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. Furthermore I opened a door to a world of sex that few women will ever experience, and she had the courage to step through and explore that new land. Now that she has lived there long enough she will never want to go back.

It has been my great privilege to be the one that held her hand.

To contact me, email maria at this site