A New Year, A New Life
Posted 6 January 2006
Happy New Year everyone.
First, I'd like to thank all those who have mailed me recently. It seems my last diary post, coinciding as it did with the festive season, prompted many of you to drop me a line to wish me a Merry Christmas and add some comments regarding the cuckolding of my husband.
There was one dissenter, whose viewpoint I fully respect because it was put over in such well-considered terms, but apart from that all the rest of you were supportive of what I have done. If I could paraphrase the general consensus, it would be something like: Good for you, Maria. Your husband tried to manipulate you, and now he's got his just desserts.
Despite the extraordinary humiliation Martin is now suffering, I'm amazed to find the majority of writers saying the same thing: I wish I was your husband. It seems there are many men who dream of being dominated and cuckolded in the way that Martin now is. Some of you are in marriages where your wife already plays dominant games in the bedroom, but you feel she isn't really committed to it - she's indulging you rather than getting pleasure from the domination for its own sake. Others are in the regrettable situation where you dare not even mention your longing to be dominated. You instinctively know that your wife - whom you love unconditionally - would not be able to handle such a revelation and it may destroy your relationship.
As I explained in one reply to a correspondent, I'm a very unusual woman. First, I get genuine sexual pleasure from domination, so much so that I don't think I would experience excitement from having sex with my new lover Matt if I didn't have the added attraction of taunting and humiliating my husband with my exploits. In addition however, I'm able to separate the sexual and spiritual sides of my marriage. I respect my husband as a person and as a successful businessman even though I have virtually no respect for him as a sexual partner. Most women can't do this and consequently when the sexual respect disappears, so does the whole basis for the marriage. This is why I always urge the utmost caution to those who wish to take their relationship further down the femdom road.
Above all though, I have to keep reminding would be submissives that they need to fully consider what it would really be like to be married to someone like me. Forget the fantasy, think about the reality:
Do you really want to be whipped until you beg me to stop? Do you really want to have to lick and kiss my thigh boots and suck my high heels, not for a few minutes but for up to an hour, with me paying no interest in you whatsoever? Could you really wear a rubber penis hood for half a day, servicing me every couple of hours or so when the inclination takes me? And could you really tolerate watching me dress for sex for another man, going out and leaving you, then returning many hours later having been satisfied in ways that you could never match?
Think about this. Really think about this before you seriously decide that this is the life you want.
In my last diary entry I said that I'd let you know what happened when I came home on the Saturday morning after that first night of sex with Matt.
Once we'd both recovered after we'd had intercourse for the first time, I got Matt to pass me my latex panties and I rubbed them all over my vagina. I even stood up in order to allow more of Matt's milk to leak out of me. The latex of course couldn't soak up any semen but the lace edging could, and when I'd finished I was delighted to see sticky globules of cum trapped in the lace.
Matt obviously understood what I was doing.
"If you're going to do what I think you're going to do..." he started, shaking his head in amazement.
I gave him serious look.
"It's very important," I said. "I'm not going to explain why."
We kissed and fondled each other for a while, then went upstairs to the bedroom when Matt began to get hard once more. I sucked him again several times, but it was now my turn to withdraw his prick when he approached climax. I wanted the first ejaculation in my mouth to be a full one, and that would have to wait for another day.
We had intercourse another three times and in between these sessions we just lay and talked. I revealed a great deal more about the dominant aspect of my marriage than I had ever intended, but Matt was obviously getting turned on by it all. As I told him how I punished Martin physically he became harder still, particularly when I explained that I had no desire whatsoever to do the same to him and in fact it was the other way round.
I still can't put into words what it feels like to have Matt's prick inside me. At one point he lay on his back and I was on top, and I had the gorgeous experience of feeling as though I was being impaled on his cock. I realise that much of this is psychological on my part. After all, I hadn't used to particularly enjoy my larger sex toys. Much of the pleasure I'm enjoying from having such a large penis penetrate me is undeniably symbolic - the big-pricked lover satisfying the frustrated wife. Nevertheless there's also no getting away from the fact that I'm now experiencing incredibly intense orgasms from my larger vibrators and dildos (which I've started using in earnest), whereas my smaller toys don't seem to give me quite the same pleasure they once did.
The anticipation as I drove home from Matt's was almost as great as it was the previous evening when I was going in the opposite direction. I still couldn't get my head round the fact that Martin had witnessed his cuckolding. He had actually heard his wife's scream of ecstasy as she orgasmed while being penetrated by another man. That thought alone made me dizzy. It was beyond any expectation I had ever entertained and I'll always be eternally grateful to Matt for dreaming up something that (surprisingly) had never even crossed my mind.
Martin was still in bed when I arrived back at the house, but he was awake as I knew he would be. I also knew he would have been masturbating for most of the night, which is something I could use against him.
When I entered his bedroom I'm sure both of us knew what would happen first. I unzipped my leather skirt, hitched it up and climbed on to his bed, straddling his face. I wasn't wearing my latex panties (I was holding them in my hand) and I roughly pulled his head up to my bare vagina.
"Taste what a real man gives a woman," I said harshly, and without hesitation Martin began to lick and suck my pussy.
In truth I doubt that he was able to taste much at all, but once again this was a symbolic moment, a ritualistic rite of passage that the cuckold must go through to crystallise his shame. Even so, Martin at least had all the evidence he needed that I wasn't exaggerating about the size of Matt's prick - I was still very stretched from the several fuckings I'd been given and Martin's tongue seemed lost compared to normal.
I was already hugely turned on and I began to excitedly masturbate myself using his face.
"That's it, you wimp. Lick the cream out of your Mistress. Come on, drink up! You may as well get used to it... there's plenty more where that came from. Ahh, yes, that's right..."
I didn't let myself orgasm, though I would have loved to have done so. Instead I pulled myself away after a few minutes and smiled at my husband. I gently stroked his face, giving him one of my most enticing looks.
"You poor baby," I said. "You really don't know what you've started do you? The thought of having sex with Matt was so exciting, but the reality...Oh God, Martin, the reality is so much more. His prick is incredible. I couldn't stop licking and sucking it. Right now I wish Matt were here so I could go to bed with him and just spend all day stroking and feeling his cock. He's so much more of a man than you are."
And then I pulled my soiled panties over his head. He looked ridiculous with his nose and mouth hidden behind the thin latex mask, with his eyes partially visible and his ears sticking out the sides. I should have got the video camera out and filmed his humiliation.
"Smell the mixture of cum and rubber, loser."
I pressed my hand against his face and rubbed hard, forcing the latex against his mouth and nostrils. Then I slapped him hard across the face.
"Does it smell good?" I demanded.
"Yes, Mistress," he whimpered. "It smells very good."
I pulled the knickers off him again. Although the semen on the latex had by now dried, the black lace edging was still wet. I pinched Martin's nose and then roughly shoved the spunk-riddled knickers into his mouth when he opened it to breathe.
"Chew and suck," I commanded. "Suck all of Matt's sperm out. Come on!" and I slapped his face again.
Martin did as he was told, and periodically I took the panties out of his mouth and rearranged them before shoving them back in again, making him feed on a new section. When I finally allowed him to stop, my panties were completely sodden with his saliva.
It was a fantastic turn on forcing him do this, an exquisite act of humiliation. But as far as I was concerned the fun had hardly begun.
"Go into my bedroom," I ordered, and as he did as he was told I looked at him with a mixture of derision and disgust. This wasn't all feigned. He looked so slight as I towered over him in my high heels and I couldn't help but compare his unimpressive physique with Matt's powerful, muscular frame. Martin really does look much less of a man.
I followed him into my bedroom and took off my skirt. Then I lifted myself on to edge of my dressing table and opened my legs. In an earlier diary entry I made the rather presumptuous claim that Martin's cock would never penetrate me again. Well, I was wrong, because that morning I allowed him to enter me once more. In fact I ordered it:
"I'd forgotten how fantastic it is to be screwed by a real cock," I said. "So, luckily for you, you're going to fuck me, Martin. Let's see if you can thrill me like Matt did."
I had real trouble keeping a straight face as I saw Martin's panic. He looked down at his small, limp dick and almost blubbered out what I knew was going to be his excuse.
"I... I've been playing with myself too much. I can't get erect. Maybe... maybe later."
I put on my sternest look.
"Listen here, you pathetic bastard. I'm really serious here. If you don't get hard and give me a fuck then I'm going to whip the hide off your backside. It will be a whipping like you've never experienced before, I promise you."
Martin grabbed hold of his prick and frantically started to massage it back and forth, but the more he tried the more flaccid it seemed to become. He looked mortified.
"Please," he begged, "I can't get hard. I can't!"
I stared at him for a minute, allowing the panic inside him to build to a crescendo as he contemplated what my reaction would be.
"Go and get my laced thigh boots and a pair of leather opera gloves," I eventually said, my voice more tolerant now. He visibly relaxed a little at this less aggressive tone and eagerly left to get what I had asked for.
When he came back I made him lace me into the boots as I worked the gloves on to my arms. Assisting me in putting thigh boots on is the one thing that is guaranteed to give Martin an erection. The one thing guaranteed to maximise that erection is to hold and stroke his prick while wearing leather gloves.
I spoke to him gently as he finished lacing the boots.
"That's good, now kiss the leather. That's right, that's a good boy. Okay, now put the toe in your mouth and suck it. Yes... good... now lift it up and suck the heel. Very good... see if you can get some more in... excellent, that's right, suck it like it's a cock... maybe one day I'll make you suck a cock..."
As he concentrated on this task Martin became erect, probably without even realising it. I took hold of his prick and began masturbating it with one hand, the other cupping and squeezing his balls.
"There we are. See? You're nice and hard now. That wasn't so difficult was it?"
"No, Mistress. Thank you. Thank you."
I gave him a loving kiss.
"Now you can give me screw," I said. "Make me come like Matt did."
I leaned back, opened my legs invitingly, and Martin dutifully entered me, the first time his prick had been inside me for three years. For a moment - just a brief, fleeting moment - I felt a pang of guilt at what I was doing, but it was soon replaced by a sadistic relish. It was cruel to play with Martin's emotions like this, but it was no less than he deserved.
I figured I would get virtually no stimulation from the penetration, and I was right. After the amazing multiple shaftings Matt had given me just a few hours earlier there was no way that Martin was going to be able to make an impression with his deficient member. On top of this I was very wet with the excitement of the domination, and poor Martin must have known as soon as his penis went inside me that he was fighting a lost cause.
"Come on," I urged with fake passion. "Don't hold back. Make it hurt like Matt did."
I watched as Martin's face got redder and redder with frustration and effort as he tried his best to satisfy me, but it was never going to happen. I didn't have to tell him that his efforts were achieving nothing - he knew it instinctively. But he's an intelligent man and it was probably already dawning on him that I had deliberately manipulated him into a situation where he would face embarrassment. That didn't change the fact that he was clearly inadequate though, and this must have been another blow to his ego.
I kept up the pretence but didn't become angry as I'd originally planned. Intuitively I felt that now was the time to feign compassion.
"Martin, what's the matter? Come on, give me a good screwing. What's the problem?"
"I'm doing my best," he blurted with effort. "I'm trying."
But the panic was by now affecting him physically and he quickly lost his erection. His prick pretty well flopped uselessly out of me. His humiliation was complete, and it was written across his face.
"I'm sorry," was all he could mumble.
I pulled him towards me and held his head in my hands, stroking his cheeks with my gloved fingers.
"It's okay," I assured him. "I'm really sorry. I got carried away because of the fantastic sex I had with Matt. I forgot that you can't give me what he can."
He looked forlorn. If there was ever a moment when Martin was going to regret encouraging me to have sex with another man, this was it. For me, his demeaning was a huge turn on, and I kept turning the knife.
"Look, don't worry about it," I soothed. "I've got Matt to satisfy me, so it doesn't matter that you can't. I'll still need you to worship me with your mouth. Matt can't do that like you. And, of course, I'll need your help in preparing for sessions with him."
I began to massage his flaccid cock with my gloves.
"You do understand, don't you, that on some days I'm going to be angry that you can't give me what a man like Matt can? You do realise that I'm going to have to punish you for being inadequate?"
"Yes," he nodded. "I understand."
"And you do understand that there are loads of women who are chasing after Matt. To keep him I'm going to have to let him do things with me that other women wouldn't, to make sure he always wants me?"
Martin's eyes narrowed. "What sort of things?" he asked suspiciously.
"Just things that make him feel like he's in charge, that feed some of his desires. Things I've never done with you. You'll see."
He didn't make any comment. Yeah, lie in bed and think over that, I thought. More frustration and insecurity for him.
"Look," I said, "go and get my big realistic cock and I'll finish myself off with that while you kiss my boots."
And that's how I had my first orgasm that morning, half-seated on the dressing table with Martin paying homage to my thigh boots while I pumped a big eight-inch dildo in and out of me.
"Oh yes, that's closer to what Matt feels like, only he's even better. That's it, he completely fills me, skewers me. Oh, God, it's just fantastic. I can't wait to have him in me again..."
I've seen Matt twice since that first night and the sex has been just wonderful, although I have to admit that nothing will ever quite match that first penetration by him when Martin was listening - at least, that is, until I can persuade Matt to have sex with me at my home with Martin present.
I'm taking things slowly for now and for this reason I may not post so regularly in future. The danger with writing weekly diary entries is that I'll keep trying to come up with something new, and I don't want to rush things.
Matt is pressing to have sex with me on more than just one night each week, but I'm playing hard to get. The carrot I'll be dangling soon is that he can have a whole weekend of sex - and much more varied sex - if he stays at my house. Originally I felt that I would have great difficulty in ever initiating a situation where Matt makes love to me with Martin either listening in or even watching, but as I've learned more about what excites Matt I'm no longer so worried about this. With care and patience I now know I can make it happen and that's tremendously exciting.
As I had planned, on the second visit to Matt's I sucked him until he ejaculated in my mouth, his first climax that day. I could sense when he was going to come and at the right moment I moved his cock head so it was just inside my mouth, leaving as much room as possible for the inevitable release. I managed to swallow almost all of his ejaculation, although a small amount of cum leaked out the edges of my mouth. It was an exquisite moment for both of us. I'll openly admit that I don't particularly like either the taste or texture of semen, but that was irrelevant at such a moment. It was my act of obeisance to my new big-pricked Master, and swallowing his sperm is something that I will now regularly do - and with relish.
I'm also getting used to the fact that Matt spends a lot of time playing with my breasts. Being a submissive, Martin is more often than not on his knees worshipping my lower body and breast play has not been a major feature of our sex life for some time. It's a new and very enjoyable experience being with someone who has his focus elsewhere. Although I've got quite a few unusual bras and tops, I'm currently in the process of looking for several more to stimulate Matt.
Similarly with kissing: Martin is rarely at head height with me and consequently we don't kiss much during sex sessions. Matt and I are constantly kissing each other and I'd forgotten how arousing and sensual a long, loving kiss is. This is something that my husband really ought to worry about and it will be interesting to see how he responds when he sees me kissing my lover with such passion. It's a very intimate act between a man and a woman, and Martin is bound to feel threatened by it.
On my most recent visit to Matt's I took a dildo harness with me with an attached vaginal plug. After Matt had come inside me, I immediately put it on, trapping all of his cum inside me. Matt loved it - he thought the whole thing was fantastically kinky, even more so when he learned that I wear such harnesses in public, with both front and rear plugs. The only downside was that he couldn't screw me again that day (my mouth had to work overtime!) and also I had to go home somewhat early to make full use of the imprisoned material.
I don't need to describe in vivid detail what happened when I got home. It was a stunning moment and I videoed the whole affair in close up. It's now one of the centrepieces of my offline diary and I can't stop watching it. Heavenly.
Tonight I'm going to wear a backless latex skirt to Matt's and I'll be asking him to spank me for the first time. He doesn't know anything about this intention, and nor does Martin. I think Matt will love the idea and the only problem I'll face is getting him to spank hard enough. I really can't wait for this; the thought is driving me nuts.
As far as my overall outlook is concerned, it's amazing how just a couple of weeks can change things. Before I became intimate with Matt I had more or less decided that I was going to have sex with several men in the not-too-distant future. Now however I'm thinking that Matt is the only man I need. I'm not going to find anyone more perfect, and perhaps more importantly, I feel safe with him. I'm happy having unprotected sex with him. I'm no fan of condoms but I'd be taking silly risks in not using them if I started having sex with several partners. I just hope I can keep hold of my new lover, and as I've already warned, this diary puts that relationship at risk. Be prepared for some big changes in due course.
I do intend to indulge myself however. Penetrative sex with others may now be off the menu, but I'm now keener than ever to offer 'extras' to some of my business clients. Basically I'd like to masturbate a client while he puts his hands up my skirt and feels my suspenders and knickers, or fondles my breasts. I know this sounds sordid and sluttish, but I'm not ashamed of this desire. To me it's low-risk sexual fun which gives me the thrill of being a sort of prostitute, one of my great fantasies. I've absolutely no idea how I'll initiate such intimacy and I'm certainly not going to be overly forward about it. I just know that I want it to happen.
There's one particular client I have in mind who is an ardent boot lover - he's basically admitted as much, and I wear boots especially for him - and when I see him in March I'm going to see if I can steer things so that I end up giving him a boot-wank if he wants one, something I'm very skilled at in several different positions.
I'm also very keen to take on more submissives, but this is something I'll return to at a later date.
This entry's pics show the outfit I wore to Matt's on my second visit. Both Matt and I had the day off, so I went round in the early afternoon rather than the evening. This gave the added bonus that I could dress in daylight and get some good captures of me preparing myself. To my great surprise, when I got there he told me that there are two nightclubs in London where he'd love to take me dressed like this. I asked him if he meant with the stockings and suspenders showing as well, and he said yes, it wouldn't be any more outrageous than other outfits girls wore. He's been on about it since, but I'm extremely dubious. For one thing, I'm thirty-two now and like it or not, my body isn't what it used to be. I can't compete at a nightclub with young girls in their early twenties and I'm afraid of embarrassing myself. Matt insists this wouldn't be the case. So, laughably, it's just like the early days with Martin all over again.
What is it with men and the need to show off their women?
Note from Maria, December 2010:
In 2009 I took my diary offline and at that point I was convinced that I would never be returning. In my goodbye message to readers I revealed that I had twisted facts somewhat in this particular entry, a lesson I learned not to repeat. In my posts I have never fabricated my actions, and I didnít in this case either (at least in the sense that I concocted some scenario that never actually happened). However I did change the timeline of events when I recounted what happened when I arrived home after Matt had taken me for the first time.
Martin and I had always shared powerful fantasies about such a moment and they invariably involved the wife humiliating the husband in some way as she taunted him for his failure. The scene I describe where I humiliate Martin by getting him to try to satisfy me with his prick happened the week after his initial cuckolding. I felt that what actually occurred was too uninteresting and unexciting and therefore there didn't seem much harm in juggling events. It didnít take long for me to realise that I should have told it as it really was because as time went on the poignancy of that moment grew in my memory.
When I returned from Mattís that first time I went upstairs to Martin's bedroom and when I walked in I simply stood with my back against his wardrobe, resting my weight on my hands which were held behind me.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi," he returned, and that was it for several seconds. There was very little emotion in either of our faces, and it's hard to describe how I felt. It wasn't guilt, but there was certainly some sense of loss, a feeling that I had done something that meant my relationship with Martin could never be the same. I know his feelings were very similar.
"Are you okay?" I eventually asked him quietly.
"Yeah... yeah I'm alright. And you?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Again, more silence as we just looked at each other or gazed around the room. It was Martin who broke the ice.
"So, was it as good as you made it sound on the phone?"
I remember how calmly I answered this. There was none of the excitement or gloating that we had always imagined I would use against him.
"It was wonderful," I said, "absolutely wonderful. Beyond my wildest dreams."
I saw how that hurt him, but I felt no relish in it, not as I did later that day. He looked down at his fingers when he asked his next question. He couldn't look at my face.
"So what did you do... you know, after."
"We went to bed. I sucked him a lot and we had intercourse another three times. Mostly we just lay there and talked though."
Some colour had left Martin's face, but he couldn't give up asking. He was still looking at his hands when he delivered his next question, and he asked it so softly that I could barely make out what he said.
"Is he really as big as you said?"
"Are you hard at the moment?" I asked back at him.
"Yes," he confirmed.
I went over to him, lifted the sheets and stood there looking for a few seconds.
"I'd say he's at least two inches longer than you, probably more, but the difference in girth is enormous. I'm not kidding Martin, just to satisfy your fantasies - he's absolutely huge. Think of the big flesh-coloured suckered dildo you like to see me use. Well, he's like that."
"Oh God," Martin groaned and his hand went straight to his prick. Any other time I would have been excited by seeing this, but I was curiously unmoved. I dropped the covers back on to him and walked out of the room, leaving him to wank on his own.
Later that morning I was sitting at the kitchen table writing up what had happened on my laptop. I wanted to record every detail while it was still fresh in my mind. Martin came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder.
"I'm scared of losing you," he said emotionally.
I didn't turn round but I lifted my own hand up and put it lightly on his.
"Don't be," I assured him. "It's not going to happen."
"How can you be so sure?" he said.
"Because I just know," I replied firmly. Then I turned in my seat so that I could look him in the eyes.
"The only way I'll be going is if you become so insecure about this that I can't tolerate it any more, okay? I'm telling you that I won't be leaving you, but if you're thinking that somehow we're going back to how things were then forget it. I'm always going to want this from now on, I just know it. And if it's not with Matt then it's going to be with someone else. You're going to have to accept that and learn to deal with it."
That's what should have been in the January 6th diary post I made, but at the time I didn't feel like airing those exchanges. I don't think it made a major difference - for example, later that day I did make Martin chew and suck my cum-soiled panties and I got a tremendous thrill from doing so - but I wanted to set the record straight before I took the diary offline.
The penultimate paragraph of that goodbye post is also worth repeating as itís highly relevant here. This is what I said:
ďAny other final observations? I think I'd like to make one about Matt, who many I suspect have viewed as a stylised partner - tall, incredibly good-looking, physically impressive and very well endowed; too much the perfect nemesis for my husband. The plain fact is though that my boyfriend is every bit as desirable as I paint him in the diary. He's drop-dead gorgeous, and the reason I'm mentioning this is because I very much wonder whether I would ever have broken my marital fidelity had I not been so smitten with him. No matter how promiscuous I have become, it wasn't a given that I would cuckold Martin and it was the gradual but remorseless longing in my mind to have sex with this amazingly attractive man that eventually broke my will. It wouldn't have been so easy with anyone else.Ē
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