The Dream Consultant
Posted 03 June 2011
As had been the case on previous occasions when I took my posts offline, closing down Maria's Diary in 2009 left me with highly mixed emotions. On the one hand there was a feeling of liberation, of being free once more – freedom from being recognised or approached in public, freedom from the burden of responding to a constant stream of email, and freedom from the self-imposed pressure to stimulate readers with new material (I now realise what it must be like for writers who are working to some sort of deadline). I have always argued that the diary is a sideline to my life, a means to enhance the excitement of my highly unusual lifestyle and an additional conduit for my unashamed exhibitionism. That's certainly what I would like it to be, but I suppose it's almost inevitable that it becomes more than that once thousands of individuals become aware of my site.
At the same time however there has always been a considerable sense of loss and regret when I close the site down. That same email that has always been such a yoke around my neck has also been extraordinarily stimulating, and when you consider what it did to me all those years ago when my husband alone constantly praised my looks and body, imagine what it's like when I receive a daily stream of messages from men who profess that I am their every fantasy; that they dream of having a wife like me; that they want to be whipped by me and lick my boots; or that they want to fuck me, again and again and again. When they have sex they think of me; when they wake up they think of me; when they're at work they think of me; in the evenings they think of me, and after reading a few choice words and studying a couple of pictures from a favourite post the fantasies start, and they only end when Maria has received the homage that she has always desired.
This remote lust has always had a profound effect on me, and it's very easy to project this adoration into my daily life. Get told enough that you are the perfect fantasy slut and it's not long before living up to that idealised image becomes a matter of priority and pride. In my case I wanted to be that woman before I ever started publishing my exploits online, but feedback from readers gave me confirmation that I wasn't deluding myself about my physical desirability and capacity to excite. It also augmented my ambition to take on a large number of extramarital partners and gave me all the justification I needed to live a self-indulgent whore lifestyle centred on my personal gratification.
When the diary is active there's always a feeling that I am being watched, that hundreds of men at any one moment have a window on to my activities and are viewing my every move. When I dress in front of the mirror those same men are watching me from the other side of the glass, and I do my very best to excite them with my clothing, not only via the choice of garments and footwear but in the manner that I put them on. I like them to see how much it turns me on when I slut myself up for men, and I know they love me to entertain them by pleasuring myself in highly inventive ways before I leave the house for yet another prick-teasing excursion or appointment with hard cock.
I can live quite happily without this unusual symbiotic relationship, and I can't say that my lifestyle is all that much different when the diary isn't active, but certainly I get an enormous kick from knowing that I'm the focus of so many thoughts at any one moment, and from all around the globe.
What's she doing right now? Has she got a prick in her mouth? Has she got rubber cocks strapped into her? Is she fingering herself? Is she walking around with a buzzing stimulator bound to her cunt? Is she on all fours being ass-reamed? Is she talking to her husband on the phone while two guys have their hands up her skirt as they kiss and lick her neck? And what's she wearing? Leather miniskirt? Rubber bra? Her masturbation gloves? Seamed stockings? Is she driving her car with wet spunk dripping off her thigh boots? How many filled condoms are in her handbag? Is she lying in bed wearing rubber while she rods herself with her favourite dildo?
The list of fantasy thoughts is almost endless, but the attraction for many men who read my diary is the knowledge that at least one of these mental images quite possibly reflects current reality, and even if I'm doing something more mundane such as reading a book or watching TV, it's a given that I will still be dressed enticingly. Maria always looks hot.
After nearly two years of being offline I had basically forgotten how rewarding it was to have this steady stream of highly complimentary praise and recognition, but when I restored my diary pages back in late January and news spread of my return, messages quickly started arriving from former readers and I was very much humbled by the content. I would therefore like to take this opportunity to sincerely thank all those who have written to remind me of how much the diary means to you and how you view me. The majority of my male readers know that I am not offended by the explicit content of their messages, and it has been so pleasurable to learn of the effect that it has on them when they read my words and view my pictures, both old and new. I'm not going to resort to false modesty here and pretend that I find it surprising that I induce such a physical response from men – the majority of my waking hours are devoted to looking hot for cock and I know full well that I'm both a superlative domina and a fantastic fuck – but that doesn't mean to say that this feedback leaves me cold. On the contrary, it makes me wet with lust, and reading my Maria's Diary mail in the mornings has become a ritual that regularly results in a solo stimulation session or acts as a powerful motivator for looking my very best when I entertain later in the day, either at home or further afield.
Those of you who have written to me will be aware that I now usually only reply to such mail on Sundays, a day that I have increasingly been leaving free of commitments over the past couple of years. This decision to deal with all correspondence in a single session has proven to be a very sensible one and it has relieved much of the pressure that I used to feel with regard to feedback. It can be very daunting when I first sit down on a late Sunday afternoon and begin to tackle my postbag, but it doesn't take long for the excitement to build as I address issues that have been raised. I am once again using these sessions as an additional vehicle to deliver the cuckold experience to Martin, and although he is not allowed to be present in the room when I compose my replies to readers, he is made well aware of how stimulating I find this weekly undertaking through the sounds that carry into the hallway.
As well as receiving this written communication from readers, over the past few months I have been enjoying the very exciting experience of having men phone me to discuss the diary's content. This is a particular turn-on for me because my husband has on several occasions been a witness to such conversations (as has my boyfriend Matt), and he knows full well that the guy on the other end of the line isn't just calling to express his admiration for my writing skills. On balance though, I don't think I can really argue that making men who have shown an interest in me aware of the diary's existence has been a particularly smart move. There's no question that it adds enormously to my allure in men's eyes, and as he reads my pages it quickly dawns on a man that he will soon have the opportunity to play unusual sex games with THE Maria – the one on the Web, the one men drool over and dream of meeting. Then that same guy gets to enjoy several evenings of cock-stiffening mental planning as he chooses what he wants me to wear for him, and decides what he wants to do to me (or me do to him).
However, I've come to appreciate over this period that while men may be enthralled by the diary's content, there's also the downside that they may become overly intimidated by me. The very fact that I'm clearly an intelligent woman who is able to express herself competently with the written word is daunting in itself for many men, and the self-confidence I display in regard to sexual matters isn't necessarily a plus for me. Another unanticipated downside I hadn't foreseen (although it seems obvious to me now) is that some men might conclude that I am a prostitute, with a cleverly designed honey-trap website that portrays me as a nympho hot wife who would take on any guy. After all, who gives out cards with her phone number and website address on them?
A further issue relates to my writing freedom. I don't give any concrete information in my posts that could help identify any of the men I see, and consequently I feel completely at liberty to write about my exploits without seeking the permission of the individuals concerned. However when I know that one of those individuals is going to be reading the post that describes my activities with him, I can't help feeling somewhat constrained. Throwaway phrases such as "John isn't particularly good-looking" or "I can't say that I'm really attracted to him" suddenly seem quite offensive and this puts me in an awkward position – I don't want to upset the guy concerned and yet I need to be able to express myself openly like this if the diary is to maintain its integrity.
The biggest problem however is my almost constant emphasis on my husband's inadequate cock and my disdain for small-pricked men. In particular my discussion of penis size in 'Feedback & Requests 2' inevitably creates the fear in a man that he will be rated by me primarily on the size of his manhood, and if that guy doesn't feel confident in my presence then he's not going to be able to perform well or enjoy our time together. I have painted the picture of the frustrated wife wanting big cocks to play with rather than her husband's meagre effort, and since most men clearly aren't going to match up to the size of my well-endowed special lovers, there's always the risk that I will inadvertently create a feeling of inferiority in guys of perfectly average size.
After all that I have written about the psychology of cuckolding and my personal obsession with big pricks, I would be lying if I said that penis size isn't an issue with me. What's hard for me to get over to someone who has read my diary though is that this is only something that really becomes a concern when I'm at home having sex in front of my husband, or when I'm making videos of men siring me. Away from home the size of a guy is usually immaterial to me, simply because the games I play are tailored to a particular man's desires and the focus of my sessions isn't centred on intercourse.
In London for example my activities are basically polarised into two types of sex – domination at the one extreme, and what might best be described as 'abuse of the wife' at the other. For reasons I have given before, I've tended to avoid discussion of my domination activities but you should never lose sight of the fact that disciplining, punishing and humiliating men is essentially where my greatest abilities lie, and it's impossible for me to convey to you how much pleasure I get from chaining up a man and then whipping him. In my London sessions I usually have the luxury of being able to whip, cane and paddle a man quite harshly, simply because I am less concerned about marking a man I won't be seeing again for several weeks. I don't video any of my London games, but I have a full-length wall mirror in my sessions room so I'm able to watch myself at work. I always wear a harness of some sort so I can have vibrating dildos inside me while I'm punishing a man, and I think it's the fact that I enjoy such intense climaxes while wielding my whips that is the true thrill for the men who subject themselves to this ordeal. Certainly they keep coming back for more.
The non-domination sessions are centred upon my slut wife persona, the debased, sex-obsessed, insatiable whore who wants to be abused in extremely kinky ways. It doesn't really matter who is doing the abusing, how physically attractive he is, how old he is, or how well endowed he is. Sexual intercourse in its conventional sense forms a very minor part of these games, and quite often doesn't feature at all. Instead the acts revolve around exploitation of the wife – groping, spanking, forced fellatio, dildo punishment, pussy whipping, breast bondage etc. It's about as far removed from the idea of 'lovemaking' as you can get, and there's very little that's romantic about it (although as far as I'm concerned it's supremely erotic). My only regret regarding these sessions is that I am unable to indulge in forced cum drinking games, and this will always remain a source of desperate frustration for me. At home I have some remarkable gags and other equipment that allow me to fully explore the fantasy of a wife being made to consume semen against her will, but I don't always have the number of cocks I need to utilise these devices to maximum effect. In London on the other hand I have no shortage of cocks, and yet I'm unable to use this equipment due to health considerations. This is a major bugbear for me and unquestionably a severe impediment to my enjoyment.
I'll never know how many guys were deterred from contacting me after reading the diary due to the issues I've spoken of above. Obviously not every man who is given my web address is going to get back in touch, but I have had to overcome these concerns too many times with men who have contacted me, and this has largely negated the whole point of revealing the diary's existence in the first place. For the time being therefore I have decided to be much more circumspect in using these pages as an advert for my activities, and if I do choose to reveal their existence to a guy then it will only be after he has gained more understanding of the symbolic nature of cuckoldry together with the mentality that accompanies it, and also once he fully trusts my motives for seeing him.
I tend to forget that most individuals are unlikely to view my actions in the same light as I do. In my mind's eye I consider that I am indulging in ritualistic sex of the highest order, which to many people must seem a preposterous claim when you break down my escapades into their component parts. Fellating a man you were only introduced to five minutes ago? Having anal sex on your back lawn at home with one of your husband's business customers, a man you're not in the least attracted to? Driving around in your car in thigh boots and a rubber miniskirt, and at a prearranged spot winding down the driver's window, masturbating the man who's been waiting for you, getting him to ejaculate all over your clothing, and then simply driving away again towards your next such meeting? And you have the temerity to call this 'sex of the highest order'? Are you insane? No, I'm not insane, and if you can't see the beauty of these games, how the individual pieces interlock to complete the overall picture, then you're most definitely reading the wrong blog.
Despite this seemingly backward step, I can give you two perfect examples of where giving my website address to a man I have not long been acquainted with has paid ample dividends. The first of these instances involves a man I was introduced to at the art gallery exhibition I went to in December. That outing generated a tremendous amount of interest in me, and this particular man, Keith, had approached me as soon as Gerald had left the gallery premises (Gerald returned later to take me home if you recall). I had a fairly long conversation with Keith and he didn't disguise his interest in me (which I suppose could be said of most men that day). He was confident, very forward with his questions, and several times he commented on my clothing, saying that without a doubt it was the most stunning outfit he had ever seen. I admittedly lapped up all of this attention, and I was definitely attracted to both his looks and height. He was yet another guy who got a contact number from me that day.
Keith called me in January and asked whether I would be interested in having a lunchtime drink with him, and I agreed to see him in early February at a Docklands bar. One of the problems I faced after wearing that awesome gallery outfit was matching the expectations of any man I subsequently went out with, but on the other hand it was a great opportunity to wear another leather skirt with high heels, stockings and suspenders, and hopefully a guy would get the message that this is a mode of dress that excites me. It certainly excited Keith, that much was very clear to me, and he also discovered that I like to have liaisons outside my marriage that involve much more than a chat over a lunchtime drink. Well before we parted I had marked him down as someone who I would be playing games with if I saw him again, and because my diary had just become active once more I gave him my web address, telling him that the content there would tell him all he needed to know about me. If he liked what he saw then he should contact me again.
Keith phoned a couple of weeks later and he was gushing about the diary, telling me that my website was unique and like nothing he had ever seen before. He had read the posts several times, he said, and he was riveted by the pictures. It was also slightly surreal for him reading the 'London Whore' post and seeing the picture of the outfit I had worn to the gallery – he had actually stood there with me (hmm, it's even more surreal now isn't it Keith?). I was delighted to get this sort of feedback, and one great thing for me is that as soon as I get a phone call like this I can be pretty sure that I'm going to be playing around with the caller in the near future. I therefore get the erotic pleasure of probing for what the man on the other end of the line wants to do with me.
I asked Keith whether there was any particular post that he was drawn to, and I could have fallen off my chair when he gave his answer:
"Oh, unquestionably 'Training Day' is my favourite," he replied. "I've now looked at that one so many times..."
I've said on several occasions that I believe I have an ability to assess an individual very quickly, and I never would have thought Keith could have hidden any submissive tendencies from me during our two-hour conversation at the bar, which just goes to show that such longings can be very well concealed or I simply don't have the intuition and insights that I like to think.
"Really? Training Day? That's a pretty short post but it happens to be a favourite with many men who write to me. I think it's the pictures that appeal most rather than the words. Do you like the pictures, Keith?"
"You like what I'm wearing... those special briefs?"
"Most especially the briefs."
"And you like the thought of what I did to Martin with them that day?"
"I've not been able to think of much else for the past few days. It's what's given me the courage to call you."
Moments like this make me go weak at the knees because I know exactly where things are heading and a sea of kinky possibilities opens up before me.
"Oh, that's really exciting to hear... very exciting indeed. I'd love to wear them for you and let you feel what they're like. I'd also like to use the belt and chains too. Would you like that as well?"
"Oh God, Maria, yes I would... yes please."
"Keith, can I be explicit for a moment and make a suggestion? You live just outside A-------- don't you?
"Er, yes I do. You've got a good memory. "
"Okay, this is just a thought, and don't feel under any pressure to agree to what I say. It's a little out of my way and it would mean you'd have to take the train back, but how about I pick you up when I drive into London to stay at Gerald's? That means I would have the turn-on of wearing my dildo briefs in the car all the way, and once you're with me I could stop the car every now and then and you could suck my cock while I talk to you..."
"...and we could also go to a secluded spot I know where you could get out of the car and suck my cock in open daylight. Think of me in the second Feedback and Requests post where I'm wearing my thigh boots with my legs out of the car. Wouldn't you like to kneel and lick my boots, and then suck my cock in the open air while I'm posing like that?"
"Maria, that's just... an amazing thought. Scary, but amazing. I really like your high shoes though as well. The ones with the really high heels..."
"Rather than the boots?"
"I like both. I can't really decide..."
"Well, don't worry, I can wear both for you. I like to drive in boots though, so I'll wear the shoes at Gerald's. Okay?"
"That would be perfect."
"Okay, we'll do that then, and when we get to Gerald's we can go upstairs and suck each other's cocks before I show you how I deal with Martin when he's been a bad boy. Would you like to do that too? Have a cock-sucking session with me?
"Yes, definitely yes! Shit, this is unreal..."
"Right then, that's what we'll do. Oh and Keith, I need to ask you... do you want me to whip you as well?"
"I, erm... I think so... I mean, I like the idea, but I don't know..."
"You've never been whipped before?"
"I've sort of had it done by my wife but it wasn't really a proper... you know..."
"It was just bedroom fun, not a real whipping, right?"
"Yes, and I don't know whether I could handle the real thing. I mean, the thought is very appealing, but maybe when it comes to it..."
"I can't answer that one for you, I'm afraid. All I'll say is that I don't do pretend domination. If I whip you it will hurt, and you'll be shackled during the process so you won't be able to magically make it end when you feel like it. I get very turned on when I whip a guy and I can't promise I'll stop even if you beg me, unless I think you're in genuine distress. I can only assure you that I know what I'm doing and you won't suffer any lasting hurt, although your back, buttocks and the rear of your thighs will be marked for several days. You need to consider whether that would be a problem too."
"No, you know I'm separated now. Look, I think I've got to know what it's like even if it I can't handle it. It's something I've always dreamed about, and to have you do it..."
"Have you been spanked before?"
"Spanked? Again, sort of, but not..."
"Well, I could give you a good spanking rather than whip you. That might be a more sensible thing for the first time."
"Yeah, I guess it would... actually no, no. I want to be whipped Maria. I want you to whip me."
"Well, I'll probably do both then, and I think you'll love it, honestly I do. It's something to endure for sure, but I've never had anyone not want it again from me afterwards. And I'll have two vibrating dildos in me, so you'll get to appreciate for real just how much I love to punish men. When I've finished whipping you I'll put my boots back on and finish you off with a boot masturbation you'll never forget, and you're going to spunk all over the leather. I want to see your wet cum dripping down my boots, and we'll take a photo of it and send it to my husband."
"Bloody hell, you really do say these things don't you? It's just staggering to actually hear the words! I honestly don't know what else to say other than thank you... I can't believe what's happening, just can't believe it..."
"What are you doing right now Keith?"
"Now? I'm at home sitting at the computer."
"Have you got time for a little chat?"
"Er, sure, yes..."
"Okay, well just give me a second while I go upstairs. I want to lie on my bed, and I think you know what I want to use. And I think you should unzip yourself if you haven't already done so, don't you? We can have a little talk about what you like in my diary, and you can tell me what you've been doing when you've been reading it..."
In the picture above I'm wearing the same outfit I wore for Keith when I drove him to London and had a domination session with him at Gerald's home, and this is a combination that I regularly wear when I go on one of my car excursions. I have also worn this identical ensemble (including the dildo briefs) later in the evening at one of Gerald's parties where I play my hostess role.
When I occasionally look at domination pictures on the Web, I see the dungeons, the whips, the boots, the chains and all the other regalia of the stylised domina, but I don't always see the beauty. For me the reason I enjoy dominating a man isn't simply down to the pleasure I get from physically punishing him, it's also very much due to the worship I receive. I'm not being frivolous when I say that the three men who still visit me every week and who I regard as my slaves under ownership do in fact worship me. I am very much their goddess, and when I walk out of the house to greet them dressed as I am above, it's not uncommon for them to drop to their knees in involuntary obeisance to their leather princess, completely overcome by feelings of awe and sexual reverence.
I always give one hundred percent to looking every inch their fantasy ideal, and on the rare occasions when I'm unwell I simply won't see them. I never make a token effort with my hair and make-up, and the clothing I wear is always chosen with care, striving to combine the fetish fabrics of domination with more feminine detail such as lace, silk and satin. It's infuriating for me that I can't allow you to fully view my face in the diary because I've never looked better than I do today, and if you could properly see me just once you'd immediately understand why I currently have so many men at my disposal and why it is so enjoyable for me to wear extreme clothing in public. The body and the sexy gear get their attention; the face melts their hearts.
I believe this feminine allure is a vital part of my attraction. I've never really been into heavy fetish, although a number of readers have certainly tempted me with their descriptions of what I would be able to experience if I joined 'The Scene' – being able to use severe whips with very little restraint and also dressing in rubber and being caressed by several men while others simply walk up to me and ejaculate over me. I think what's so compelling for men about my style of domination is that although I go out in all the shiny, tight clothing, once I'm sitting opposite a man in a restaurant all he mainly sees is this attractive woman with her seductive eyes and inviting smile, and because she seems so 'normal' it's mind-blowing for him to think that in an hour's time she will make him bend over a table, cane him severely, and then fuck him in the ass with her glossy latex prick, crying out with undisguised delight as she pulls with all her strength on the chains attached to his belt. She always makes him lick the insides of her briefs and her pussy dildo clean as well – she likes him to taste her excitement, not just hear it.
I love wearing dildo briefs, and even if I haven't got a man visiting I'll often wear them around the house during the day and even outside in the garden as well. I almost always use two internal dildos with them, which is why you'll usually see me wearing a harness to hold these stimulators in place. Both dildos have the capacity to vibrate, and I'll usually turn these on to their maximum setting when the briefs are in use (it adds enormously to the pleasure for a man if his Mistress climaxes as she fucks him). I'll also have them gently throbbing when a guy is licking and sucking the rubber cock or when I simply feel like some relaxing stimulation. The two internal dildos are key accessories for me because they mean that I receive genuine stimulation when a man sucks the cock or when I wank the cock myself just as a guy would. At home I'll lie on the couch or sit outside in the garden, turn the vibrators on, and then steadily 'masturbate' the external rubber prick. The double vibration combined with the back-and-forth motion of my hand provides beautiful stimulation, giving me a very satisfying release that is slow to build and lasts for some considerable time.
At home I almost exclusively use the style of dildo briefs you see in these pictures. I could easily have increased the 'wow' factor in these shots by wearing a much larger strapon phallus, but I can assure you that a dildo of this size is all that's required, providing wonderful anal pleasure to a man when used with restraint, and giving him a lesson he doesn't quickly forget when used in combination with penetration chains as a punishment tool (I used the chains with Keith mainly for show – I was aggressive with him, but he didn't get one of my full-force reamings). In London I use a much larger strapon cock on two of the men I see there, but that's down to their preference not mine, and frankly I'm amazed that they can take it (although I imagine a lot of women would say much the same about some of the toys I like to have in my pussy these days). The sheer weight of this dong makes it droop heavily and so I have a chain attached to a ring just below the head which I clip on to my collar if I want the cock to be held more upright out in front of me for effect. The weight begins to tell after a while and so I can't wear this cock for long periods whereas the briefs in these video captures can be worn all day if necessary (but there are limits as to how long I can have the anal dildo inside me).
Since we're on the subject of my domination games, this is perhaps a good moment to briefly mention the current situation with my three submissives Peter, James and David. Before I ever took a man into training to become my personal slave I used to flippantly talk of owning a whole pack of such individuals, and the idea of having seven or eight whipping boys at my disposal didn't seem in any way unrealistic. With the benefit of hindsight I now view that notion with a mixture of amusement and horror, because I now realise just how great a commitment it is to allow a man into your life in this way and to essentially mould him into becoming utterly besotted with you. Of course I love this adoration and the physical worship that comes with it, but even so I should warn any woman out there who is attracted to my lifestyle that such a goddess-like status comes at a price. A slave becomes highly dependent on his Mistress both sexually and emotionally, and above all he needs her time, that most precious commodity for someone like me.
Before I started staying in London for two days each week I didn't have any problem fitting in my sessions with my three subs, but it's now become much more difficult and if I decide to stay in the capital for an extra day then I have to start juggling my visiting times. Sometimes I wish I could just pick up the phone and say 'not this week I'm afraid James', but that's something you simply cannot do with a man who has become so strongly bound to you. Don't get me wrong though - I'm not saying that the sessions I have with my slaves have in any way diminished in appeal. It's simply the week-in, week-out commitment that has become burdensome, and the reality is that I'm not actually as free as I would like to be. Consequently if I could go back again to 2007 I would certainly think twice about training more than one man into becoming my personal lapdog. I would still want to video scenarios with Alison where several men are dominated by us together, but I think those games could be accommodated without any need for permanently bound slaves.
If you were to witness one of my weekly one-on-one sessions with Peter, James and David I think you'd be surprised at what you were seeing. You have to remember that these men are in love with me in the truest sense of the word, and I am the centre of their existence even though they only get to enjoy my company for a few hours each week. Consequently it's very important that I let them know how special they are to me and that their devotion is not taken for granted. For the first twenty minutes or so of a session you will therefore usually find me lying on a couch with my slave, giving him lengthy full-tongue kisses as we caress each other and talk quietly about what has been happening in his life. As the session progresses I become more and more assertive and my sub receives the punishments and bizarre milking he craves, but only after we have had these more intimate moments.
Also you have to consider that not only am I a domina but I'm a cuckoldress as well, and I therefore use the sessions I have with my three submissives to make my husband jealous - which means I'm quite prepared to override normal Mistress/slave conventions if it enables me to deliver some cuckolding torment. For example Martin will sometimes arrive home to find me lying on the lounge rug enjoying a sixty-nine exchange with my slave, and I don't even acknowledge my spouse's presence as I gently suck my boy's little cock as he in turn eats my pussy. This is an act that I will never perform with Martin again, and it burns him to see me giving such an accommodation to a man who is most surely not worthy of it. Nor does Martin ever share my bed these days, but my slave-boys do, and I will lie there in my dildo briefs with my arms wrapped around my sub, kissing his neck, stroking his prick, and talking to him as I steadily rock my body back and forth to maximise his anal pleasure. On occasions I will call Martin upstairs and he will be required to help buckle his wife into the special harness she owns which keeps her slave's lower body strapped tightly to her so that he will remain fully skewered on her cock while she enjoys a light late-afternoon nap.
Another source of great frustration for Martin is that I allow a slave to wear a penis extension sheath or hollow dildo and have penetrative sex with me. As far as I'm concerned this is no different to strapping a dildo gag on to a slave and making him attend to me – my sub is nothing more than an animated sex toy for my gratification and as I'm being serviced I like to ridicule my 'lover' for having to put an artificial device on his cock to have any hope of giving me pleasure. However my husband is left desperately resentful and envious of my three boys for being able to copulate with me in this way, and I just love seeing his face when he walks into the room to find me with my boots wrapped around the back of my grunting submissive as he dutifully fucks his Mistress with his prosthetic.
[At some point I may well let you know what I allow my slaves to do to me on three special occasions: a slave's birthday, Martin's birthday, and my own birthday. Those of you who have been paying attention may also be aware that we are getting to the stage where I need to start thinking of how I can properly celebrate my husband's fiftieth birthday. I've got plenty of time yet, but I certainly intend to make that day a very memorable one for him.]
These twosome sessions are in sharp contrast to the other audiences I hold where two or more of my submissives are present together (and I'm including Martin here). These are completely different in nature and they are very much humiliation-based, with the men often being forced to interact with one another according to my direction or that of Alison if she is with me. I very often film these sessions and they can be quite elaborate with a great deal of equipment used. It's also a time where I'm happy to have the good summer weather so I can video these scenes in the garden (I think such imagery has so much more power when men are being made to debase themselves out of doors).
Driving around in my car wearing dildo briefs is something that I began to do on a regular basis after I took on my submissive David. Before then I had worn them outside the house on a number of occasions, but almost always under a coat and I was only using the car as a means of getting from A to B. As I explained in 'Training Day', such punishment for my husband is far more unnerving for him when he receives it outside the security of his own home, and I have actually fucked Martin in his mother's bedroom when his parents were on holiday and we were checking on the house (and I have the video to prove it).
If you recall I picked up David and took him for a drive when I first considered allowing him into my life, and he was blown away by seeing me in my car in thigh boots and a rubber miniskirt, with my stockings and suspenders on open display. We began to go out periodically for a drive like this and he would sit in the passenger seat wanking as I talked to him and drove. This happened initially only at night, and on one occasion I surprised him by turning up wearing my dildo briefs with no skirt. He went crazy with lust, and when I stopped the car and held his head in my hands as he avidly sucked my cock I too became hugely aroused and had a beautiful release once my vibrators were turned on. Playing this game subsequently became a regular occurrence and we even started doing it in daylight, something that I found extremely exciting because of the sheer audacity and the element of risk involved.
Keith had been expecting me to pick him up wearing fairly normal clothing with my briefs on under a loose skirt. He could barely believe it when he saw me in my black rubber top with no skirt on at all, but it didn't stop him getting into the car and we'd only driven about five miles before we made our first stop in a lay-by and he tasted my prick for the first time. I did put a coat around myself once we got into the slower moving London traffic, but I left it unbuttoned and by then my halter neck top had been removed and I was driving with my breasts visible through my stretch-lace top as they are in the shots here. It's an experience that Keith will never forget and I know that he has masturbated every day since with that vision of me in mind. Well, he's now got some pictures of me to jerk off to as well, but don't get too frustrated Keith baby – not long to wait now until you'll be kissing those breasts and sucking that rubber cock in my car once more.
When we arrived at Gerald's we went upstairs to my sessions room and I stood in front of the large mirror, hands on hips, as Keith knelt before me and sucked my cock again. I gave him his first taste of the whip at that point, just basic correction strikes that I use in training sessions. These have no real force behind them and they simply give the recipient a short, sharp sting that is designed to keep him on his toes. I can easily deliver two hundred or more of these during a full domination session and I do them almost unconsciously. Keith told me afterwards however that these alone were more painful than anything his wife had ever given to him.
After this initial homage to my cock I changed out of my thigh boots and put my seven-inch heeled shoes on, together with a latex microskirt. This softened the outfit quite considerably, but Keith absolutely loved it, and when I walked back into the room he was quite overcome. Some men definitely prefer this less aggressive style and I think it comes down to the point I made above – it's actually more exciting for some guys if a domina has a very feminine look about her, particularly if she has relatively soft facial features to match. Keith became almost rabid with his attentions, and I didn't in any way deter him when he dropped to his knees again and began to worship me with his mouth. I love seeing men lose control like this, and he was eagerly kissing my shoes, legs, and garter straps, sucking my cock, and licking my rubber skirt. I set my dildo vibrators gently humming and stood there looking down at him with a mixture of excitement and amusement as he soaked my skirt with his saliva.
"Slow down, baby, slow down," I kept on saying. "We've got lots of time. Don't get yourself too excited... I don't want you to come by accident."
"I can't help it... I just can't help," he moaned in response at one point. "You're unbelievable. Your husband really is the luckiest man alive. I don't care if you see other men and don't let him have sex with you. He gets to see you almost every day like this... EVERY DAY!... and he gets to do this to you as well. It just doesn't seem fair!"
I'm not going to go through all the details of that session and I'm sure you have a very good idea in your mind what I did with Keith that day. One thing I will mention though is that Keith was made to lube the cock that fucked him. This is something I almost always do with a submissive I'm about to screw, although the manner of how the lube is applied varies according to my mood. In Keith's case I kept it very simple – I lay back on the couch, opened my legs and then with a tube of lube in my hand I squeezed a small amount on to the tip of Keith's tongue and made him do long licks up and down the shaft. Then I'd squeeze some more out and he'd do the same until the prick was glistening with the slimy mixture. I kept goading him all the way:
"That's it, that's a good boy. It's nearly time isn't it? You've always dreamed of this and now you're going to get it. In a minute I'm going to chain and strap you to my special bench over there in front of the mirror and you'll be able to watch me fuck you. I'm going to put a gag on you and I'm not going to stop ramming my cock into you until I hear your muffled squeals. Every inch is going into you today, Keith. I know it's your first time, but you're still going to take all of my cock. And I'm going to come when I'm doing you, do you know that baby? I'm going to have my vibrating pricks buzzing on full power and you'll be able to feel that lovely throbbing in your arse as you watch me orgasm in the mirror."
Oh, and I never did put my boots back on. It was clear to me that Keith preferred the outfit with the shoes, and I knew he'd love spraying all over that tiny rubber skirt and my stockings. And damn, you should have seen it when he'd finished – it brought a whole new meaning to the expression 'cum-soaked'.
The second notable occasion where a reading of my diary prompted a very positive response came in early March, when a man who had seen the picture of me dressed in the outfit I wore to the art gallery had contacted Gerald and asked for an introduction. I'm not going to give any background information whatsoever on this individual other than to say that because of who he is there will never be any possibility of him going out with me in public. Normally this would be sufficient for me to turn down any request for a meeting, but for reasons I simply can't go into I was highly flattered to receive the request and was very keen to at least have an initial face-to-face conversation with this man, Russell. The following week I stayed an extra day in London so I could visit Russell at his apartment, accompanied by Gerald, and although there was no prospect of anything happening that day other than a friendly chat, I was dressed to excite and Gerald had made it quite clear to Russell before we arrived that if I was sufficiently attracted to him then there was every likelihood that I would be willing to take things much further at a subsequent private meeting.
We really hit it off and I would have been quite happy if Russell had serviced me that very afternoon rather than waiting for a later session with him, but this would have broken the very respectful and chivalrous way affairs had been conducted thus far (as I have mentioned before, Gerald is 'old school' and his courteous, diplomatic approach always lends a high-class feel to events even though what we're talking about here is effectively my friend pimping me to another man).
Gerald subsequently gave Russell my diary web address and my contact number and it was left with him to pursue matters further if he so wished. Less than a week later I got the call, and Russell didn't beat around the bush as to his reasons for making contact. As with Keith above I asked him whether he was drawn to any particular diary entry, and he cited two particular posts that he had read several times: 'The Shoe Queen' and 'Business Slut'.
After some further conversation it became clear that Russell was very much into the whole 'office slut/nympho consultant' image and he was captivated not only by what I had done when I was working but also by what I had fantasised about doing with my clients. He was quite open and frank with me, and he noted that on more than one occasion I had described how I dreamed of a client bending me over his office desk, lifting up my skirt, and taking me anally. He also singled out a particular section he remembered in one of my posts where I had revealed how turned on I was by the fantasy scenario I had concocted in the 'Working Girl' post. He couldn't recall the actual post where he read this, but in fact the relevant paragraph is in the 'What, You Thought I'd Gone For Good?' entry:
"You might recall in the 'Working Girl' entry I talked through a hypothetical scenario with a business client who wanted to see me pleasuring myself with a giant phallus. When I wrote that piece, I tried to imagine what sort of encounter would agitate Martin most if he knew I was playing sex games with one of my clients. But it was also partly my own fantasy. The thought of having my rear impaled on an upright dildo attached to an office desk and then having to sit open-legged as a client rammed a huge, oversized rubber cock into my pussy really did it for me. I've orgasmed whilst reading that little story many times."
I didn't need to hear any more from Russell to know what he wanted even though he went on to describe how much he had been stimulated by my account of my first session of vaginal sex with Robert, where I was once again anally impaled on a rubber prick and my legs were held wide open with straps while my business client fucked me.
"It sounds as though you're in need of some of my special business services, Russell," I teased.
"Yes, I think I am. In fact that's very much what I was hoping you'd say."
"Good, then I'd be absolutely delighted to offer you a full consultation. Now, I'm wearing quite a number of work outfits in my diary. Is there anything that particularly takes your eye?"
"Er, yes, actually there is, but it's not one of your main pictures. There's a thumbnail photo at the top of each page where you're wearing a white shirt and tie and what looks like a leather miniskirt..."
"Oh yes, I know which one you mean."
"Did you actually wear that to work?"
"No, I didn't. I certainly wanted to, but I could never have gotten away with that."
"Would you wear it for me Maria?"
"I'd love to Russell."
"And your rubber bra? The one that you've got on when you show your husband helping you to dress before you go out?"
"Yes, that's a real favourite of mine. Great choice."
"I'll leave the rest up to you if that's okay. It's exciting to imagine what you might be wearing... you know... underneath."
"Well, it's exciting for me to imagine you using your hands to explore what I'll be wearing underneath. That's something I'll be really looking forward to..."
I visited Russell at his apartment in late March and we had a sensational session together. He totally got the extent of my business slut fantasies and he also fully understood the symbolism associated with cuckoldry. Furthermore the diary had made it clear that I have the capacity to experience several climaxes during a session such as this, and Russell took full advantage of this knowledge, bringing me to orgasm in a number of different ways, one of which was breathtakingly kinky, even by my standards. As part of the fantasy image I had taken a business case with me which had a number of toys and accessories in it, most of which I assumed would be just for show, but we ended up using all of them, and throughout the afternoon Martin received a succession of extremely provocative, highly explicit photos of me (and only me, apart from Russell's hands), showing full well how Russell was enjoying his new business consultant.
I left London for home that evening in a state of exhilaration. I had been given a further glimpse of what my business slut career could have been like if I had ever been able to make it work (which in retrospect was never a realistic prospect) and I knew that Russell and I would be enjoying more such encounters in the future. In addition I knew how Martin would have reacted to the imagery he had been sent and there would be plenty to talk about when I arrived home. The only let-down was the fact that I hadn't been able to parade my slut consultant persona in public, and although at one time I would have struggled to display myself in such a short skirt in the daytime, my outing with Gerald at the end of last year when we toured the car showrooms had very much reduced my former restraint over such exhibitionism – at least when I felt the occasion warranted it. I actually felt the temptation to stop somewhere on the way home and briefly put myself on display, and had it been earlier in the day I might well have done so.
Once I was home again I made it clear to Martin that displaying my sexy office image in public was now a genuine prospect.
"I want to go out dressed like this," I told him as soon as I arrived back, "just as though I were going to work. This is what I should have been wearing for my clients – I always said this is how I wanted to look when I went to work. Bloody social conventions."
Martin just laughed. "If the social conventions weren't there you wouldn't want to wear that stuff," he ribbed. "It's the shock factor you like, and the fact that you want men to eye you up. Strange as it may seem to you, competent professional working women don't feel any desire to go out looking like a hooker."
"I don't look like a hooker."
"Well, if you think wearing a striped tie and carrying a black case somehow deflects from the fact that you're wearing a fourteen-inch leather miniskirt with seamed stockings and high heels, and your black underwear can be seen as plain as day through your white shirt, then fine, by all means carry on deluding yourself. You're a fucking sexy business hooker, I'll give you that, but you're still a hooker."
I wasn't deterred by this in the least, even though my husband was absolutely right. The truth is that a business hooker is what I always wanted to be, and dressing as one is a thrilling experience for me. However Martin had given me pause for thought as to where exactly I could go in this outfit, and perhaps even more importantly, who exactly I could go with. I wanted to have a man alongside me, but not any man would do. This was a case where I felt the trophy doll scenario just wouldn't work and I would look far more convincing (if that were remotely possible) if I had a tall, good-looking, smartly-suited professional colleague by my side. For me to carry off these role-play outings with panache and complete conviction, everything has to match the image I have in my mind – and that doesn't just include the clothing and props but the character cast too.
It didn't take me long to come up with the perfect candidate for this sort of outrageous prick-teasing display. Matt would also have fitted the bill and he's a great actor in these situations, but daytime games like this are not really his thing and he's usually busy at work anyway. On a Saturday night almost anything goes, and you should see some of the gear I've worn when I'm out with him, but at other times he's far more conservative. However that certainly isn't the case with my lover friend Michael who I introduced to you in the 'Dish Served Cold' post.
[You may recall that when I wrote about my lovers three years ago, I was fairly dismissive of them, saying that they didn't mean all that much to me and that the feeling was largely reciprocated on their part; we were simply using one another for sex. Well, I have to say that my view on this has now changed considerably, and I didn't realise how important these men are to me until my lover Nick went overseas in mid-2009 to work on an engineering project. He was away for well over a year, and within weeks I found myself missing him dearly. It wasn't just the sex though; it was much more than that. It felt as though I had lost a friend, even though we were still in touch remotely. I came to appreciate that these lovers of mine are in a sense like family to me. They're actually very loyal and extremely protective, particularly in the case of Nick's brother Andy who sometimes accompanies me in London when I participate in group games where I am bondaged and disciplined (Andy has also had sex with me in front of a man who prefers to watch rather than play). These men make me feel very safe, and I also feel completely at ease in their company, just as one does with close friends where pretence is never required. As a consequence they are now very special to me, even though I don't necessarily like every aspect of their characters (which again is true of close friends, and even one's spouse).]
Here's what I said about Michael's preference for my wardrobe:
Another thing that sets Michael apart is that he likes me to dress in a sluttier style than I would normally choose for daytime wear. I only rarely accommodate this, especially if I think we're likely to bump into anyone he knows, but I must admit that I do get quite a kick when I dress up in this way, and I get to wear some of the outfits that I would normally only put on when I go out at night in hooker mode with Matt.
Michael is a great fan of shiny PVC skirts and underwear, and I showed in that post one of the fairly shameless hooker-style outfits that I had worn for him in public. As I mentally envisaged going out with my lover in public I became very turned on by the thought of being a PVC mini-skirted office slut, and the next day I tried out this outfit in front of the mirror. Oh yeah, I thought, this I've got to do.
I also decided to contact another of my lover friends, Adam, who as you know from 'Just Another Day 2' is very happy to indulge in role-play games in public with me where I'm his sexy personal assistant whose duties not only include handling her boss's schedule and phone calls but also taking his cock into her mouth while in his car and swallowing his ejaculation. At the end of the 'Dish Served Cold' post I mentioned how I was trying to coax Michael and Adam into having a threesome with me, and I said that there was a fair chance that this would happen because the two of them knew each other quite well. In the summer of 2009 I got my wish when I took on both men at the same time at Michael's offices and Adam properly fucked me for the first time (previously I had only given him oral accommodation).
It was a wonderful session, and since then we have had several more such threesome encounters together, although not nearly as many as I would have liked. For Michael and Adam it's an exciting experience, but not something they want to do every time they see me. For my part though such multiple partner scenarios are a very big deal, especially where the men concerned are so physically attractive and well-endowed. I regularly view my past video sessions when I'm pleasuring myself at home, and my list of favourites is dominated by scenes where I'm having extraordinarily kinky sex with my three lovers Chris, Nick and Andy while Martin is humiliated by Alison. Most of these staged video sessions work around a central theme of cuckold fantasy – that of the wife being roughly used and abused by strong, virile, big-cocked alpha studs while her inadequate, physically weak and little-pricked spouse watches on in confusion and shock. In my case I like the added kicker of having my husband cruelly whipped and sodomised as I'm being taken.
These group sessions have mostly been filmed at my home at weekends when Martin isn't at work, and it was a big thing when I started seeing Michael and Adam together on weekdays during business hours. I could tell that my husband was experiencing a high level of inner turmoil coupled with excitement just from his demeanour in the morning before he left for work, when he knew I would be going out that day to be double-cocked. I would deliberately leave my dildo harness in full view on my dressing table, tormenting him with the fact that I would be returning home with both my arse and pussy plugged, the two rubber pricks holding my lovers' ejaculations inside me.
This is why a woman will never properly appreciate just how sensational a lifestyle centred on cuckoldry is unless she actually experiences it herself. I get to enjoy this fantastic sex, but the buzz I get when I'm driving in my car later with cum all over my clothing or held tightly inside me is equally mind-blowing. I have also walked away from Michael's offices with sperm literally – and I really mean literally - dripping from my panties. I had taken both ejaculations in my pussy and hadn't used a plug on this occasion, and I could feel my thin, lacy panties filling up with cum as soon as I put them back on and stood upright. By the time I was walking down the stairway towards the exit door, drips of spunk were already landing on my inner thighs and splashing on to my stockings, and once I was out in the car park area I knew that I was leaving small globs of semen on the ground behind me. I'll openly admit that this was no accident and that the panties together with the particular sex position we used had been consciously chosen to produce such a result, but it's depravity like this that drives me forward every day, and it's hard for me to imagine anything that will ever be able to top these sorts of memories.
Much to my great disappointment and frustration, I have been unable to persuade Michael and Adam to join Chris, Nick and Andy for a group session, and I've now given up trying. Being taken by three men in one go certainly makes for exciting viewing, but in my fantasies I've always wanted to be screwed by more men than this in front of my husband. I'm constantly tortured by a mental image of a video shoot I planned long ago where I am triple-cocked while I simultaneously masturbate two big-pricked lovers with my long leather gloves as they await their turn to penetrate me. Two of my submissive slaves kneel and lick my thigh boots while I'm taken like this, and as usual Martin is being sired by Alison as he dutifully waits on all fours with an 'O'-ring gag in his mouth, fully aware that he will soon be dildo-fed the ejaculations as well as being required to clean my boots after my slaves have emptied themselves on them. What's so annoying for me is that I'm so tantalisingly close to being able to record this scene, but Michael and Adam simply won't agree to it.
[I prefer to use dildo-feeding rather than the more traditional 'creampie' cleanup humiliation for my cuckold husband or a submissive, especially on video where I think it's far more dramatic. This is where a dildo (black is best on camera) is pushed deep into me after I have taken an ejaculation, and once it's withdrawn again the 'victim' has to lick and suck it clean. The dildo is then reinserted and the act is repeated, usually at least a dozen times. The imagery is especially powerful after serial ejaculations, when the phallus is initially coated in large amounts of sperm. It's also a huge plus when the wife has a female friend with her, as the two women can have strapon sex after the wife has been fucked by her lovers, with the hapless husband being intermittently fed cum. Scenes where Alison is holding Martin's head tightly with both hands while ramrodding his mouth with her semen-oiled strapped-on cock look absolutely stunning on video.]
Okay, where was I? Oh yes, Michael, Adam, and my office slut excursion. I went out one lunchtime in early April dressed in my white shirt/tie/PVC skirt combination with my two lovers dressed in their business suits, and wow, what an experience that was, even though there was no sexual activity in public – not even the discreet fondling that Michael likes to indulge in. It was a purely visual display to satisfy my own exhibitionist dreams, and I lapped up the attention, even though I knew I had gone way over the top.
When I'm out in a short but respectable length leather skirt and a smart jacket, the sexy businesswoman image is very believable – unusual and provocative certainly, but still highly believable. But looking believable wasn't the aim that day. I was living for real a long-held fantasy about what I wanted to wear for my clients, and I wasn't in any way fazed by looking so outrageous. My black bra and corset were easily visible through the white shirt material, a complete fashion no-no unless of course you want men to start fantasising, and my skirt was so short that it was impossible to prevent the lace tops of my stockings from being on open display, another fashion faux pas under any normal circumstances. Even so, I played my part to the letter as always, acting every inch as though I was dressed quite normally, not looking around me for admiring glances, and going through all the motions of being a professional consultant on the move. The comments I overheard were wonderful, and with a style of dress this brazen men don't always feel the need to keep their thoughts muted (we deliberately went somewhere where we knew there would be a largely male clientele, but I was on such a high that it wouldn't have perturbed me if more women had been present, even with the disparaging looks and backchat).
I had a black case with me, packed with goodies just as it had been for Russell. It was all for symbolic effect and the contents would never be seen, but as in London the toys and accessories came into use later in ways that I hadn't expected. And the sex... oh God, that was perfect, particularly when Adam bent me over Michael's office desk and slid his lovely prick into my arse. I was eating Michael's big hard cock while this was being done to me, and I'd be back at work tomorrow if I could really accommodate my corporate clients like this on a daily basis while wearing such an outfit. We had the video camera running throughout this session and you see both men get very aggressive, Adam vigorously stretching my rectum as he pulls on the chains I'd brought with me, and Michael holding me by the hair as he fucks my greedy mouth. Both men are continuously goading Martin, and they're now superb at doing this. They know exactly what to say, and hearing these comments as I'm being taken hugely amplifies the intensity of my orgasms. This is what sex should be, not the five-minute stick-it-in-her-pussy-ugh-ugh-ugh-squirt-squirt-thank-you-very-much crap that so many wives end up having to put up with. Girls, you have no idea what you're missing.
This brings me to the essential reason for this post. I found that outing so exciting that I knew full well that I was going to do it again and I decided that next time I wore gear like this I'd have Martin at home to video me dressing for the occasion, and I would post some of the pictures in my online diary. As I have mentioned before, a significant proportion of my male readers come from the professional classes and they are highly stimulated by the thought of having a business consultant like me who would sit in front of them in a short, tight skirt with stockings and suspenders, and who would be only too willing to provide extra special services to her client. Whether these readers would be quite so thrilled to have me turn up at their offices wearing my business hooker outfit is somewhat debatable, but whatever, I like to imagine what their reaction would be if I did so, and the unusual things they would do to me during our meeting.
As it turned out Adam couldn't make either of the two dates I had in mind when I chose to do this, and so I arranged to go with Michael alone this time. It's here that I'm left to consider what would have happened if my diary had not been online again, because as soon as I knew that Adam wouldn't be with us I had the daring thought that I could wear a latex miniskirt instead of the PVC one. Michael is virtually obsessed with seeing my garter straps protruding through my skirt material, something that he openly made me aware of that first time I had dinner with him, and you may remember how keen he was at a later date to see me in a semi-transparent outfit where my underwear would actually be visible to onlookers. A tight latex skirt leaves very little to the imagination as to what the wearer has on underneath, and I knew Michael would be completely bowled over if I turned up at his offices in such a garment and we then went out for lunch together.
The thing is, I would never normally contemplate going as far as this, even with someone like Michael. I once wore a latex blouse in the daytime (with thigh boots if you recall) with Matt several years ago, but basically wearing rubber during the day, especially at normal public venues, simply isn't a realistic option. It's just too bizarre, and the underwear profile is far too blatant. And yet I felt extremely excited at the prospect of doing this. Why? Because of YOU. Your feedback, compliments and praise push me to take risks, make me want to openly exhibit and prostitute myself to men, purely so I can later sit down later and tell you about all the kinky things I have done. Let me repeat my words earlier: Get told enough that you are the perfect fantasy slut and it's not long before living up to that idealised image becomes a matter of priority and pride. The diary may well only be a sideline for me, but I'll never be able to deny that its existence pushes against the boundaries of my ambitions and provides considerable additional motivation to be the consummate real-world embodiment of the fantasy whore wife.
So, to all those readers who have written to me and thanked me for restoring the diary pages, let me once again return those thanks. Your homage to me and the lust you feel for me puts me in a state where my desire to excite and shock overcomes fear of social embarrassment, and although this could arguably be dangerous for me, I have never come back from one of these prick-teasing outings thinking: Well, that was pretty stupid Maria... what the heck do you think you were doing? On the contrary, I return home exhilarated and on heat, and my favourite dildos are always kept very busy later that night, as are my whips as I punish my husband and taunt him with descriptions of what I wanted leering onlookers to do to me.
That outing in the daytime in my zipped rubber skirt was one of the most daring prick-teasing excursions I have ever made, and once again I loved every moment of it. Interestingly I found myself wishing that Michael wasn't with me, because the looks and comments I was getting made it virtually certain that I would have been approached by other men that day. In particular there were several younger men at the venue we went to, and I think I enjoyed their attention more than anything else. I said in the 'Just Another Day' post that I like it when younger men eye me up when I'm out prick teasing, and although at present most of the men I see are older than me (considerably older in many cases), I've started to fantasise about taking on a lot of younger men when I'm into my forties. I especially like the thought of good-looking guys in their mid twenties to early thirties taking me in front of Martin when he's well past his fiftieth birthday.
Because those two business slut outings were so unforgettable for me, I've now decided to give extra priority to men who are willing to let me share such fantasies in public, or even in an actual office environment. I never did get to be the prostitute consultant of my dreams, but I've now been out of the house in outfits that I always imagined wearing to work, and this persona feels so perfectly 'me'. I am that woman, and she's going to be seen an awful lot in public over the next few years, of that I'm determined. After all, she now has a new client base to cater for, a group of readers around the world who will be very disappointed if she doesn't continue to get out there and do her very best to make cocks hard, and to milk as many of them as she can in the process.
Remote the relationship may be, but never forget: Maria will always remain your very special slut.
|To contact me, email maria at this site|