The Complete Seductress
Posted 21 January 2007
Over the past few weeks I've been pretty much bombarded with requests to update the diary and give readers an insight as to what's been going on in my life, even if I'm unable to be as open and frank about events as I have been in the past. Although some of these requests have come from those of you who have been reading the diary from early on, the great majority have been made by correspondents who have only recently discovered my pages.
A couple of months ago mariasdiary.com was fully indexed by Google, and this has considerably widened the readership mix. Whereas before my site was mostly being accessed via links from cuckoldry and female domination forums and blogs, all of a sudden I began to get traffic from straight web searches. This was evidenced by emails I started getting, where writers would mention that they had come across my site whilst searching for 'leather skirt' or 'thigh boots'. Since my pages are now reaching a much wider audience, the chances of someone who knows me stumbling upon Maria's Diary have risen considerably. As a result I have removed some of the content from certain diary entries and further edited some pictures. While I dislike doing this as it causes the relevant diary posts to lose context, I nevertheless feel I owe it to my husband to not be so explicit regarding some of the punishments he endures.
As you well know, I gave up regular posting because my friend Alison was completely opposed to me publicly discussing our relationship. Although she finds the diary extremely erotic and would be the first to admit that it has been the primary influence in shaping her own recent lifestyle changes, Alison sees little upside in any continuation of me posting online, and an enormous amount of downside. To be fair on my friend, she arguably has more to lose than I do if our highly unusual escapades were to become public knowledge, and for this reason the whole idea of 'plausible deniability' has been at the forefront of both of our minds recently. When I first started writing the diary it bothered me that a few readers had doubts as to whether I was for real, particularly as I had taken such a risk in exposing myself publicly with all the potential fallout that might ensue. It didn't take me long to rationalise that this was in fact no bad thing, and that the extremity of my sexual desires and the acts I perform work to my advantage - I am too much the 'ideal' domina and cuckoldress, and consequently if (when?) someone recognises me then with luck it won't be difficult to laugh away the whole exercise as fantasy fiction.
The trouble is that deep down inside there's a part of me that wants to shock everyone with the reality of my life and the bizarre sexual games I enjoy. This is made so much worse because my boyfriend Matt is so tremendously attractive. I know quite well that if I'm recognised, pictures from my site would be plastered all over the walls at work, at Martin's offices, and at the gym and the various sports clubs we are members of. At whatever functions we go to we would have to put up with the glances and barely disguised innuendo from friends and colleagues. But at the same time I know that underlying this social intimidation would be a big fat dose of hypocrisy.
A husband would go home after joining in the jokes made at us behind our backs, and as he watched his overweight, unprepossessing wife get out of her prissy, boring clothes he wouldn't be laughing any more. He'd just be wishing that the plain Jane in front of him was Maria; that he could put his prick in her mouth while she's dressed in high heels and leather. Meanwhile that same frumpy, frustrated wife would be looking at her husband's beer-filled pot belly and sagging muscles and wishing she could curl up in bed with a beautiful, powerful, athletic man like Matt, and experience what it is like to be taken in the ways that Maria is taken.
Coupled with this is the thrill I get from wearing provocative clothing in public, something that I get an even bigger kick out of now that I'm able to do so with a man like Matt. It used to be a problem when I wore such clothing with Martin in public - we just didn't look right together - but with Matt I'm absolutely fearless, and the fact that my lover gets off on seeing me go out like this makes the experience even more enjoyable and erotic. A couple of weeks ago I bought a pair of red leather thigh boots and there's no way that these could ever be considered as anything other than fantasy bedroom wear. Even so, I just cannot wait to wear these in public when I'm with Matt, combined with a tight jacket and a very short pleated kilt. I don't want to look fashionable; I want to look like an out-and-out hooker, a cheap one, with Matt my businessman trick for the night.
Realistically, I know that these exhibitionist tendencies of mine will be my undoing. It's not going to be easy to dismiss the diary as fiction if I've been seen with Matt in a bar somewhere wearing thigh boots and a latex blouse, with a studded collar and penis-shaped silver earrings. And it will be impossible to deny my sluttish tendencies if a business client can't keep his mouth shut and finds the need to show his friends pictures he took of Maria rodding herself with a 13-inch dildo as she sat on the edge of his office desk.
Of course I should really now take the site down again, but we've been through all this before - the diary is precious to me and adds to my excitement. And despite her reservations, Alison is prepared to admit that she also found it exciting when she was mentioned in my last diary post. However, the increased risk of recognition has made both of us change our plans and for the time being one thing we won't be doing is going out together in public dressed in any way unusually. Alison isn't really ready for this yet anyway (she needs to rid herself of any self-consciousness, something that will take quite some time), but maybe it would be best if she never takes that step. As long as what we do together takes place behind closed doors then she will always be able to argue that my supposed antics with her are nothing other than make-believe. I think she'd find it very easy to argue that I've let my kinky imagination run away from me.
Even with this deniability in place, I don't think Alison would have sanctioned this post were it not for the fact that the principal event I'll be discussing (in a later post) came about through her initiation, not mine. I think she now appreciates that what may have started as a purely sexual adventure for both of us has quickly morphed into something far more subtle and complex, with potentially destructive elements such as jealousy and competitiveness interlacing with the more obvious motive of carnal desire. At the same time though, these less apparent elements are adding a huge amount of excitement to our games, and I think we both recognise that as long as we remain conscious of certain boundaries which should not be crossed, we can use such rivalry to drive ourselves to even greater levels of pleasure and fulfilment.
I've only been seeing Alison on certain weekends - usually from late Friday afternoon to Sunday evening - so don't get the impression that my life has been taken over by her arrival. However, it's true to say that many of the most interesting things I have done recently have happened while I've been with her, which is the primary reason why I've not posted anything until now. There have been a number of significant developments elsewhere, but in most cases these are going to have far more relevance as time goes on. I've meticulously maintained the patient perspective that I promised myself I would last year, and consequently I haven't gone out of my way to initiate intimacy with men that I know, except for a couple of occasions. I've done exactly what I said I would - wait for opportunities to come my way, as I know they surely will.
Sustaining this self-discipline has actually become quite enjoyable in itself. Just eighteen months ago I think I'd have suffered considerable self-doubt and guilt over the magnitude of my obsession with sex, but I've now gone past that and instead I've simply embraced it. I love prick; I love domination; I love cuckolding. It's as simple as that, and there aren't now many minutes of the day that go by when I'm not thinking of such things. But life would become impossible if I allowed these imaginings to interfere with my work and everyday social life, and so I've learned to keep my fantasies quiescent. I don't try to expunge them - I love having these dirty, slutty longings always in my mind - but instead they enjoy a passive coexistence with less extreme thoughts that serve to at least give me an outward appearance of relative normality.
Martin, to his enormous credit, has I think now fully appreciated the transformation that has occurred in me since I first cuckolded him over a year ago. Inwardly he understands that my need to humiliate him through cuckolding goes way beyond having a lover or two such as Matt or Robert. I hope that everyone reading my diary understands this and also appreciates that I am not some nymphomaniac who is merely obsessed with having sex for its own sake. No, I'm obsessed with having sex so I can taunt and humiliate my husband. Masturbating men, sucking them, allowing them to grope, finger, and fuck me - it's all so I can go home and torment Martin with accounts (and evidence) of my sordid infidelity.
Such mental torture is coupled with physical punishment, and this is something else that has changed over the past twelve months. Before he was cuckolded I would physically discipline Martin perhaps two or three times a week, but nowadays he receives punishment on a daily basis, often more than once. Martin knows that whenever I come home from work these days, I'll normally want to spank or whip him. The sexual tension and excitement builds within me throughout the day, and this is my release - abusing my husband as I pleasure myself in some bizarre way. I still get many of my most intense orgasms when I do this - just as rewarding and powerful as those I enjoy when having intercourse with my lovers.
You may be raising your eyebrows at this point, wondering whether what we have here is a woman who is gradually spinning out of control. I have no such worries however. I feel I know exactly what I'm doing, and what has happened over the past year is that I have simply discovered my true self. I am a pure sadist: someone who gets sexual release through inflicting pain and humiliation. I am also a blatant exhibitionist and prick tease, at times quite shameless in my effrontery. And I flatly refuse to feel in any way apologetic about these traits. I love being like this, and although the majority of my female peers may sneer with disapproval at my actions and wardrobe, they can't take away the fact that a huge number of men love me being like this too.
Close friends, work colleagues and relatives would be staggered to learn that I enjoy maltreating my husband in the ways I describe and that I want to make other men suffer too as I dominate them. It's one of the great protections I have. Ask most people what a sadistic woman would look like and they'll probably describe a cold-eyed, sneering, humourless, angry, thin-lipped female who shows little care for anyone in life unless they're on the receiving end of her bullwhip. Yet this image is about as far removed from me as you could ever get. I'm very laid back, playful, considerate, and unpretentious (don't confuse the unavoidably immodest self-assessments I make in the diary with my outward demeanour in the everyday world). I've said before how Matt looks at me with mirthful eyes, but when I mentioned this to him recently he said that I'm only seeing a reflection of myself, and thinking about it, I guess this is largely true. Most of the time I don't take anything or anyone too seriously, and that particularly applies to people who take themselves too seriously.
Dress me in leather and place a whip in my hand though and you're dealing with a different animal. I don't necessarily become harsh or cruel, but I do become far more self-aware and intense, especially if I have the make-up and styling to accentuate my dominant attributes. I move on to a sort of sexual high, and I become totally aware of my desirability to men. I know I'm extremely fuckable even on my bad days, so get me properly dressed for sex with my pupils dilating and my lips pouting and I know I'm a dream woman for most men. The reason I get off on punishment so much is probably because when I'm like this, any man with a submissive nature cannot hide his inferiority. He wants to be completely subjugated by me. He knows with great certainty that he couldn't come close to satisfying me, and he knows that I know it too. Seeing that fear and weakness in a man's eyes is like a drug for me, and once under its influence I find myself wanting to tie up and thrash that individual for his inadequacy and lack of self-esteem. The problem at present is that this desire of mine remains just that - a desire. I now want this to move to the next logical step: I want to hear the whip strike that man's flesh and hear his futile pleas for forgiveness.
Despite Martin's acceptance that his wife is a whore-slut cuckoldress who will never be able to get enough cock, the problem he has yet to face is that as far as I'm concerned I'm only at the intermediate stage of where I want to be. Mentally I believe he's probably come to terms with the fact that I wasn't indulging in fantasy when I outlined my plans to have sex with numerous men in the next few years, including sessions where I am simultaneously pleasured by several lovers in front of him. But what I don't think he is quite cognizant of yet is that having only one submissive man in my life to abuse and degrade isn't going to be nearly enough for me either.
At present all my sadistic attentions are focused upon Martin, and despite all the punishment he undergoes, I'm willing to bet you that he revels in this. Once again you'll have to excuse my immodesty here, but for my part I think it's absurd that someone with my desirability and dominant skills should only have a single male sex toy to play with. I deserve more, and I fully intend to have more. Martin is going to have to learn that not only is he deficient as a lover, but he's also deficient as a whipping boy. However hard he tries to please her, and however many strokes of the crop he bravely manages to take without a murmur of complaint, his greedy wife will always want more. Her appetite for kinky dominant sex is insatiable, and I wonder therefore how Martin will be able to cope with sharing his Goddess with other devoted worshippers.
To give a concrete example, I've often dreamed of having two submissives with me, both wearing dog collars which are joined by a short chain. Tethered together like this, they kneel in homage, one in front and one behind me, pleasuring my arse and pussy with their mouths as I perform some mundane task such as putting on my make up or making a business call. In all seriousness, is there any reason on this earth why this should remain a fantasy for someone like me? I can't think of one, and consequently I fully intend to make this happen. Furthermore, I'll make the two of them masturbate each other as they are paying oral homage to me.
Or how about four slaves: two kneeling before me with their erect cocks strapped to my thigh boots, taking turns to pump a large vibrating dildo in and out of my pussy; and two others standing beside me sucking my breasts as I masturbate them with my leather opera gloves. As each kneeling man wanks his prick against my boots by moving his body up and down, he will be required to turn his head to one side and open his mouth so that he can swallow the ejaculation from the cock I am milking in front of his face. Can you imagine the intensity of the climax a woman like me would experience from participating in this sort of scene? Can you appreciate what a turn on it would be for me simply knowing that video footage of such depravity existed that one day might be seen by relatives and friends?
The only thing stopping me indulging myself in kinky scenarios like this right now is actually finding the submissive men to exploit and dominate. That isn't going to be easy, but apart from this there's nothing else holding me back. It's frustrating knowing that if I could only source these submissives from the pool of admirers who write to me then I would have a queue of men stretching all the way from my front door to the bottom of my driveway. Unfortunately that's never the way it's going to play out, and I know I've got some difficult and challenging times ahead as I attempt to gather more sheep into the fold.
Evidence of Martin's compliant understanding of my needs first came a couple of weeks after my previous diary post. It was a Monday evening and I'd come downstairs dressed in my thigh boots, leather miniskirt and some PVC underwear. As usual I went into the lounge where Martin was sitting so that I could tease him by flaunting the sex toys I would be using when I went into the study to write my offline diary or edit my videos. As I was about to leave the room Martin said:
"Oh, by the way, I've found a few pictures on the Web that you might be interested in. I can show them to you now if you want, or maybe another time..."
My initial reaction to this was one of suspicion. I really thought that what he was hinting at was that he had stumbled across the mariasdiary site and was about to let me know it. This wouldn't in fact have been any great surprise, and knowing full well Martin's predilections I'd say it's odds on that he is now one of the most avid readers of my posts. I actually very much enjoy the thought that he's a helpless silent witness to my public airing of our sex life online. He must know that nothing he can do or say will persuade me to remove these pages until I feel like doing so; they will remain as long as they give me pleasure, and the risk of humiliating exposure is just another agony my husband will have to learn to live with.
Despite my intuition I was nevertheless intrigued. "Okay," I said, "I'll have a look at them now."
We went into the study together and Martin booted up the desktop in there (this is basically his machine - I usually work on my laptop). As I sat down in front of the screen Martin activated the photo editor and opened up the directory where he'd stored his findings.
"I just thought that you might like to see these, knowing what you think about nowadays..." he said as he selected one of the files and opened it.
As the picture suddenly appeared on the screen I felt my breath being taken away.
"Jesus," I blurted, and immediately my hand went up my skirt. I've got this same picture up on screen as I write this, and it's a close-up of a highly attractive girl sucking a huge prick. When I say huge I really mean HUGE. The girth on this thing is at least that of my boyfriend Matt's, but this cock is several inches longer. You can't see the head of the cock - it's completely inside the girl's mouth - but I'd estimate that the visible portion is around ten inches or even more. This gorgeous, rock hard prick is shiny and wet with saliva that has dribbled from the woman's mouth. It's just stunning to look at.
Now, I'm not so innocent that I don't realise that this picture is likely faked in some way, but as far as I'm concerned it's an absolutely brilliant fake, and I simply don't care. All I know when I look at this picture is that I'd give anything to have a prick like that to suck on and run my tongue up and down, especially if I could do it in front of Martin. Women supposedly don't get turned on by visual porn like men do, which leads me to conclude that either I've got too many male hormones in my body or that such a factoid is a complete load of horse shit. For as I sit and eyeball this photo right now I'm about as turned on as you could get and in a couple of minutes' time I'm going to do myself so I can calm down and attempt to finish writing this piece.
I said in a previous entry that although I had started obsessing about oversized sex toys, this hadn't translated into any desire to have sex with a man who had such a large phallus. Well, after seeing this picture I have to qualify that statement somewhat. While I wouldn't in any way want a lover who was built like this, there's no question that I would like to film scenes which show me orally accommodating such a beautiful prick, and also attempting to take a good portion of it into my vagina. Understandably perhaps, I also can't help but imagine that such an excessively large penis would ejaculate an excessively large amount of cum, and the thought of a prick like this spraying its voluminous load over my face or breasts is another reason for me to stop for a break right now and relieve some tension.
"Oh God, Martin, that's fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. The lucky bitch. I hate you, you lucky, lucky bitch."
As I said this my eyes were riveted to the screen and I had already started to masturbate myself with my fingers. Martin was leaning over from behind me and he let go of the mouse so he could start massaging my breasts.
"I knew you'd like it," he said softly into my ear. "You'd like that in your mouth wouldn't you, hmm? Imagine sucking on that..."
I didn't object in any way that he had for once taken control of the situation, taking full advantage of my delirium. I just closed my eyes for a moment and imagined sucking on a cock head that would surely barely fit into my mouth.
"Oh yes, yes," I moaned. "One day I'm going to have one of those. I want you to watch while I suck it dry. And I'm going to make you put it into my cunt..."
"So, how about this one then?" he said, and he reached forward to load another picture.
This next photo was another close up fellatio shot, this time with a different woman lying face up with an enormous cock penetrating her mouth from above. She's clasping the man's balls with both hands and two long threads of cum are leaking from her mouth. Her expression is perfect - eyes closed in passion, cheeks pulled in from the sucking motion, and her full red lips wrapped tightly around the fat, engorged shaft.
"Oh wow... oh WOW! Look at that cum leaking out! Just look at it!!"
Once again I was transfixed by what I was seeing and my eyes didn't move from the screen when Martin pushed a large rubber dildo into my hand so I could start pleasuring myself in earnest. I didn't lose it though - I could see there were several other files to view and the anticipation of what was to come was almost as exciting as the actual images themselves.
"Show me another," I begged. "Please, show me another foot long prick that I can eat."
This went on for roughly another fifteen minutes as Martin gradually cycled through the dozen or so photos that he'd selected for me. I've no idea where he got them from and I don't want to know, but his understanding of what would turn me on shows just how attuned he now is to my desires and fantasies.
He saved the best till last. He must have known how I would react to it. In fact if anyone recognises my description of this scene and knows where I can get more of the same, please write to let me know. I have had more orgasms from looking at this picture than any other photo in my collection - and that includes the captures from my private videos.
The image shows a very good-looking young girl with long auburn hair holding a ridiculously long prick in her right hand. She has very full breasts (much larger than mine) supported by an open cup bra and she's wearing a silver necklace. Her head is leaning back somewhat and her eyes are half-closed, as if she's in ecstasy. A long rope of cum extends from the cock she's holding up to her mouth, and then continues across her left cheek all the way to her shoulder. This cum thread is so long and so perfect that you just know it's a fake, but once again it's skilfully done and for me it just adds to the horniness of the picture. The cock itself is out of this world. Comparing it to the oversized dildos I own I'd guess it's fourteen to sixteen inches long - once more, clearly faked. It's a fantastic looking prick, with a large girth at the base gradually narrowing to a more normal girth towards the head. The base of the shaft is supported by a sort of studded leather harness the guy is wearing, and from what you can see of him he's got a great torso and powerful, sexy legs.
Fabricated though it may be, this picture just blows me away when I look at. It's just like seeing one of my largest dildos brought to life. I don't look at it and imagine being penetrated by a cock like this, but I do fantasise about being able to suck and caress such a beautiful monster for hours on end. I also dream up kinky scenes where I'm out in public with its owner. I imagine sitting beside him in a bar and massaging him while his cock is strapped to his leg. To the outside world it might look like I'm stroking his knee, but in reality it would be the head of his prick I'm playing with.
I've told you why I believe I respond like this to unrealistically sized pricks. Massive cocks make Martin seem tiny, and when my husband sees me reacting so uncontrollably at the sight of a giant penis it subconsciously deepens his feelings of inadequacy. A humiliated Martin equals a turned on Maria, and it's no more complicated than that. On a more rational level I'm not in any way on the lookout for such well-hung males. I'm sure it's no different than men who ogle over women with enormous breasts - they fantasise over them, but they wouldn't want to be married to a woman who owned them.
I had a fabulous orgasm when Martin showed me those pictures. In the end he had all of them on the screen, although some were partially obscured by others. As I brought myself to climax my eyes kept flitting from one amazing picture to another, but it was that last one that I was ultimately drawn to most.
"Aahh, fantastic, fantastic. Thank you, baby, thank you. Oh God, LOOK AT THAT COCK! It's so unfair that some girls get to play with pricks like that. Why them and not me? I want to be in porn shoots like that, sucking dicks like that! Aahh, yes, yes, it's up me now... stretching me... ruining me... exploding in me... aaaahhhhh..."
Martin got his reward for that, a big reward. They might only have been pictures, but he had performed well. He had brought a tribute to his Queen and it had pleased her. I want him to learn that bringing cock to me is the best way he can show devotion to his Mistress, and in return he will reap numerous benefits. You may recall that last year I asked Martin to assist me in finding more lovers, but I don't think he ever took this seriously. I appreciate it must be very difficult for a husband to act as pimp for his pseudo-prostitute wife, but I see this as an essential requisite of his cuckold subservience. On New Year's Eve I made it clear to my husband that this requirement was not optional. I told him that by the end of 2007, either through direct invitation or via indirect manipulation of events, he is to arrange that I have sex with either one of his business customers or one of his employees (his choice - I don't care who it is). Trust me, this isn't as extreme as it sounds - from the way most of them have reacted to me in the past this isn't going to be a problem. I'm not going to tell you what retribution Martin will face if he fails in this because it will never come to that. There is no doubt whatsoever in my mind that Martin will organise things as required, and once he experiences the extent of my gratitude for fulfilling this duty, I expect my spouse will be devoting a good portion of his remarkable intellect into thinking of up ways of getting men to share my bed.
Carrot and stick - three words that perfectly sum up the art of female domination.
Don't take this diary entry as a resumption of regular posting. I intend to put up another post which will acquaint you with some recent events that have occurred and after that I want to write in some detail about a particularly significant weekend that I recently experienced, the one which Alison was instrumental in originating. The problem is that there is so much going on in my life at present that I don't know when I will be able to complete these posts, and of course as soon as I have done so I can guarantee that other events will have occurred which I'm sure you'd like to hear about. As I said earlier, I haven't gone mad in the past three months but I am making steady progress in my ambitions, and just to prime you for what's to come I can tell you that another of my business clients had the pleasure of being sucked to ejaculation by me at our most recent meeting.
For now however let me just describe how things with my businessman friend Robert have been progressing because I believe this has a great deal of relevance to what I will be doing with other men in the future.
Towards the end of my "Whip Sister" post I said:
"I know some of the things that are going to happen to me. I know for example that in a few weeks' time I am going to have anal sex with Robert. I no longer need the ritualistic ceremony I described earlier my diary when I lose my anal virginity. There will be just the two of us, and it will happen in his office with me lying on my back on his desk with my legs in the air. He will have the joy of licking my shoes and sucking my heels as he sodomizes me; I will have the joy of travelling home with a rubber plug in my rear, my lover's sperm trapped as evidence of the manner in which a worthy male is permitted to pleasure me."
This wasn't an ill-considered prediction made in the knowledge that I perhaps wouldn't be posting again. At the time I wrote that, it was exactly how I intended to play things at my next meeting with Robert. As it turned out I changed my plans slightly as the day of my visit approached, but not in any great substance. I was absolutely determined that Robert was going to come in my rear that day, and I wasn't doing it just for the thrill. The ritualistic scene I discussed earlier (beautiful as it sounded) had actually become a sort of barrier for me and I somehow instinctively felt that once I had finally been anally penetrated by a real cock, that part of my body would at last be fully available to anyone I decided to offer it to. I wanted to be free so that at any time, anywhere, I could bend over a table or chair, pull up my skirt, pull down my panties, and allow a man to ass-fuck me. I knew what a tremendously powerful weapon this would be. I would be able to offer a sexual experience to business clients and other potential lovers that many of them would never have enjoyed before, and I would be able to torment my husband with the fact that other men were regularly performing a sex act on his wife that he would forever be denied.
And to do it to Maria of all women - for a man to actually be asked to put his hard cock into the rear of a looker like her; to watch her buckle a strong leather belt tightly around her waist, attach chains to it, and then tell him that she wants him to pull hard on those chains as he reams her backside; to watch as she sexily bends over his desk and pushes her arse high into the air - a hot bitch desperate to be pleasured; to see the glistening lube already in place, telling him that she had prepared herself that day in the hope that she would be taken like this; to tease her by fondling her bottom cheeks, stockings and suspenders with his hands as the moment approaches; to put his shiny, engorged cock head against her; to push and feel the resistance; to push again, harder; and again, even harder; and then... beautiful, beautiful penetration; to feel it suddenly slide in, all resistance gone; to hear her gasp with delight; so tight, oh so wonderfully tight compared to his wife's pussy; such amazing friction; no way can he last long with this sort of stimulation; just a gorgeous feeling; oh God, and now she's talking to him, telling him how fantastic it feels; give me more, John; use the chains; pull on those chains; that's it, yes that's it, oh that feels amazing; now even more; come on, let me feel your balls slapping against my cheeks; Don't come, oh God please don't let me come yet. Too fantastic for words. I can't believe it - I'm fucking Maria's ass; Gorgeous Maria... all those times she sat there in front of me, that lovely face, those sparkling eyes, that beautiful mouth, those sexy clothes and heels; and to find that she's wearing kinky underwear - that leather corset is unbelievable; I can't hold it, just can't hold it; apologise to her, tell her I can't hold on; Oh Jesus, I can't believe what she just said... fill me up with spunk, baby. I want to feel it leaking into my panties as I drive home... what sort of woman says things like that? Oh, here it is... aahhh... yes... aahhh; greatest fuck ever; simply the greatest; aahhh...
The minor change I made to the scenario I planned with Robert was that I decided to not be taken whilst lying on my back. I knew Robert would love to be able to kiss and lick my shoes as he screwed me, but that pleasure would have to wait. Instead I wanted to be taken doggy style, a submissive bitch on all fours being mounted from behind. I felt it was so important that I submitted to Robert like this rather than the original way I described. I knew it would hurt Martin far more to know that I had been penetrated in such a submissive position, especially as I intended to take a number of bondage accessories with me that would accentuate the image my spouse would have of his wife totally surrendering herself to the base urgings of another man.
Right from when I first started writing my diary, the one issue that bothered me more than anything else was the extent to which I should reveal and discuss my enjoyment of anal stimulation and the way I use it for discipline. When I first drafted the "Object of My Desire" post I actually avoided the subject altogether, changing the facts of what had occurred so that Martin apparently gave me cunnilingus as I punished him in the hotel bedroom. In the end though I decided that if I couldn't be honest about my feelings and actions then I shouldn't be writing at all. Anal domination is such an integral element of Martin's humiliation that to omit any mention of it would take away the essence of our domina/slave relationship, and would make it impossible for me to properly express my sexual urges and desires. The fact is that I just love anal penetration, whether it's Martin's tongue or a longer phallic stimulator. When I wear a harness with two plugs, it's the rear one that I enjoy having in me most. That's the one that drives me wild with excitement. And my orgasms are always more intense and have longer duration if I'm being penetrated anally when I climax.
The reason I was so hesitant to discuss this is of course because I knew that some readers would find discussion of such practices distasteful. I can fully appreciate why this is so, but what you have to understand is that I am scrupulous in my cleanliness and hygiene in this regard, as is my husband. I'm not going into details on that last sentence - there are pages and pages about this on the Web if you want to learn more - and all I will say is that as far as I'm concerned, Martin licking my anus is essentially no different than him licking my vagina, except for one vital aspect: I am usually facing away from him. It's a way for a Mistress to convey to her slave that although she requires worship from him and the giving of pleasure, he means nothing to her. He doesn't exist; only the pleasure does. She is quite content - perhaps even glad - to have him out of her sight, for she has more important matters to attend to: brushing her hair, phoning one of her lovers, or simply admiring her leather-clad body in front of a long mirror as she fantasises that the thirteen-inch black rubber cock she is sliding in and out of her pussy is real.
Having Martin attend to my rear with his mouth or with a dildo gag has provided me with some of the most memorable sex I have ever enjoyed. A few years ago we were on holiday together in Northern Italy, staying in a fairly exclusive hotel overlooking a large lake. Our room was on the fourth floor (the top floor) and one evening as we prepared to go out for dinner, I went outside and stood on the balcony, looking into the street below. The sun was just starting to go down and the warm reddish-yellow light bouncing off the gently moving water on the lake and the tall mountains behind it created a beautiful, almost hypnotic scene. There was plenty of bustle and chatter from below as people made their way to the various small restaurants that were hidden away in the alleyways in the old town centre beyond, but the voices were light-hearted and the faces smiling, nothing like the looks of resigned drudgery and impatience that you see in the big cities as workers prepare to survive once again the hell of the nightly commute home.
I was wearing a fairly unremarkable summer dress and high heels (but not outrageously high) and little else save for an open-cup support bra. I didn't need panties because I was going to be wearing a cock harness, with two dildos. Although in the summer I'm not able to wear stockings and suspenders, that doesn't mean I'm not able to indulge myself, especially when I'm on holiday abroad. I love walking slowly down a street in high heels with all the people-watchers in restaurants looking out at me, and that pleasure is magnified a hundred-fold if I've got rubber pricks strapped into me. If I tighten a dildo harness in just the right way I suffer discomfort from having the belt cut into my skin, but I also experience the magical effect of being gently dildo-wanked as I walk. And although I may be imagining it, I think I walk in a sexier way when I'm double-cocked and I wonder whether men who watch me can somehow sense that there's a great deal more to me than meets the eye. Whatever, simply thinking of the reaction I would get from onlookers if a gust of wind suddenly lifted my dress and they set eyes on the buckled black leather straps of my harness is enough to keep me on a permanent high.
Martin came out on to the balcony holding my harness, with the two dildos in his other hand.
"Do you want me to help you put this on now?"
I was so lost in the tranquillity of the moment that for a few seconds his words didn't quite register with me.
"Hmm? What did you say?"
I turned my head to face him, saw what he was holding and then realised what he had said.
"Yes, I think so," I said vacantly. "But I want you to put the rear cock in using only your mouth. Kneel down and do it now, and don't stop until I tell you to."
I turned back to look down at the street again.
"Yes, Martin... here."
The next ten minutes or so were dreamlike. I straightened my legs, pushed my bottom upwards and pulled my waist down as I leaned on the balcony handrail. Then I felt the weight of the material of my dress land on my lower back as Martin lifted it up at the rear and folded it over on to me. A few seconds later I felt the pressure of the rubber plug against my backside and I let out a long sigh as I began to anticipate that divine moment when he would make his initial thrust of penetration. It may sound ridiculous to you when I say that for me this was not only an extraordinarily erotic moment, but also a particularly romantic one too. Yet that's exactly how I feel about it. The warm air; the soft light; the enchanting, timeless setting; and the slave that I love, a man so devoted to his Mistress that he will unhesitatingly mouth-wank Her rear for the simple reason that She has demanded it of him.
I hope you can now understand why for me anal sex in its various forms is such an important part of my life. If such descriptions still bother you, then I simply ask that you no longer read my words, because this manner of sex is always going to feature very highly in my games, and consequently in any future diary posts I may make. I'm tempted to give specific details of what I have in mind simply because it would turn me on to write about my intentions, but I think it would be better if I left you with the anticipation of what's to come. And of course I may take the diary offline in which case you'll never know - there's great prick-teasing satisfaction in that for me as well.
That day when I saw Robert I wore a rubber girdle under a leather skirt, with no panties. I was originally going to wear some open-crotch latex briefs, but when I put this girdle on one evening for a visit to see Matt I realised that it would be perfect for my anal session with Robert. It's black with red trim, and at the rear there's a six-inch laced section, again in red trim. I loved the idea of being on all fours and feeling Robert slowly undoing this lacing so that he could access me.
The two hours of preparation before I left that day were just awesome. For all you men out there who harbour cuckold fantasies, I want you to close your eyes just for a moment and try to mentally place yourself in Martin's body as he assisted me that morning. Try to imagine my husband's thought processes as he dutifully prepared his wife's rear to put it in the perfect state for penetration by another man's penis. This man, a businessman who as far as you are concerned has no special qualities that exceed your own, is going to be allowed to do something to your wife that you have never done, and that you will never be permitted to do at any time in your life: he is going to sodomize her; he is going to put his prick in her arse, fuck that arse, and then ejaculate all of his cum into that arse. As you ready your wife's rear passage with a lube-soaked dildo, you look again at all the equipment lying on the dresser that she will be taking with her - the spiked collar; the ball gag; the nipple clamps with attached weights; the leather belt; the wrist and ankle cuffs; the studded leather spanker; the chains; and of course the fifteen-inch oversized black rubber dildo. She's already told you what the latter is for - she wants something to masturbate her clitoris against while she's being ass-fucked so that she can orgasm when her lover finally unloads his hot semen into her. This monster is so long it can reach all the way from the floor to her soaking pussy, giving her the ride of her life as her backside receives its first ever pleasuring from a real cock.
I masturbated Martin just before I left, a cruel, taunting, goading masturbation that he will likely never forget. I described in detail what Robert would be doing and how I would be loving it - loving it more than anything that he, Martin, had ever done with me. How after that day I would probably despise him even more for his appalling inadequacy and his miserable little prick. How Robert was going to open a door to a new life for me, one where I would be searching far and wide for hard pricks to sit on and masturbate with my arse. Yes, that's right Martin, the men won't even have to move. Just as I've learned to skilfully use my mouth, I'm going to learn to use my arse to give a man a milking that will blow his mind. I'm going to make you so proud, my darling - in time I'm sure you'll want to tell mummy and daddy what an expert masturbatrix their daughter-in-law has become and how heavily in demand her services are...
I made Martin ejaculate into a pair of my satin panties as I said all these words, and then watched mockingly as he exchanged his clean briefs for this soiled pair. He probably couldn't see the delicious irony in all this - that a husband who gives nothing other than abject compliance to an instruction to wear spunk-ridden ladies panties to work had no one but himself to blame for his wife wanting to take cock in her backside from another man. Oh Martin, you poor, pathetic sap.
Robert was well aware of what I wanted him to do to me that afternoon. I have to come clean here and tell you that I didn't let on that I'd never had anal sex before. Although Robert doesn't make love in this way to his wife, he had done so many times before with a former girlfriend and I felt somehow embarrassed to tell him that I'd never taken a real prick in my rear before. It didn't seem right that the Shoe Queen was so inexperienced and so I played it cool, making out that it was nothing particularly out of the ordinary for me.
I'm not going to describe every detail of my meeting with Robert. I've done that twice before and I think I've set the scene well enough so that you can visualise for yourselves what happened with him that day. For me the memories will always remain vivid. I'll never forget the sharp stinging pain as he put me over his knee and used the studded spanker on me. It's a very expensive one, outwardly sheathed in finely stitched patent leather. The rounded metal studs added considerable weight and penetration to each blow, and by the time my businessman tormentor had stopped, I had tears in my eyes. It was exactly what was required - that day I wanted to be subjugated and abused. That afternoon I was Robert's fuck-toy and nothing more.
The huge fifteen-inch rubber cock worked like a dream. The smooth bulbous head was wedged between my pussy lips as Robert unlaced my rubber girdle in the final moments before my long wait for anal baptism was finally over. I could so easily have come then and there if I'd moved aggressively, but I controlled myself well enough to hold any climax at bay. Saliva was dripping on to the floor from the ball gag in my mouth and I couldn't stop my body shaking with excitement. This is it. This is really it. After all the dreaming, all the waiting... it's going to happen.
I squealed loudly from the merest touch of Robert's cock head against my anal opening. He must have wondered what he'd done, but when he heard my subsequent groans of pleasure he surely realised that I was simply getting off on the anticipation. I assume he was holding his prick in his hand because I felt the cock head moving in a sort of circular motion, the pressure against me building as he attempted to open me up and get the perfect placement for penetration. Then he stopped and I felt his cock wedged there, poised for entry. Please, please, baby, for God's sake shove it in me. I can't bear it any longer. A few seconds later I felt his hands against my buttocks, and as his thumbs pulled my ass-cheeks wider apart he gave one strong push...
Ecstasy. Utter ecstasy. It wasn't so much the feeling - it wasn't that much different from a realistic dildo - but it was knowing that his cock was in there. It was knowing that I had taken my cuckolding to a new, more powerful level than ever before, and now that it was done there was no going back. I was being ass-fucked in bondage. A married woman who had stood in pure white at an altar in a house of God and given a vow of fidelity to her husband was now on her knees, her mouth gagged, her neck collared, her wrists and ankles cuffed, her nipples clamped, with a criss-cross of silver chains connecting all these devices together. And her arse was being deep-screwed by a man who bore no resemblance to the one who had stood beside her in that hallowed place over a decade ago.
"Maria, will you take Martin to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honour and protect him, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"
...for about ten years or so, after which all bets are off. How about you Reverend? I saw you looking at my short skirt when we came to the rehearsals. Would you like to book a fuck with me now? Get on the list early?
In a way I wish it had been Matt doing me. Robert was going: "Yes, yes, oh yes" as he vigorously rammed me, but Matt would have been far more vocal and provocative, telling me that I was a dirty fucking bitch-whore whose slut ass deserved to be cock drilled until she passed out. But that's being too picky, and anyway I'm glad I've never allowed my superbly endowed boyfriend to screw me anally. Robert's normal sized prick was plenty, and I have to admit I did suffer a little later that day as the effects of his abuse finally registered. This was mainly my own fault, because I'd asked him to give me really agressive fucking - a dirty slut like me deserved nothing less. I can see that the gangbanging I intend to have in front of Martin some day is going to be quite an ordeal, but that's exactly how I want to be taken when several men are doing me while my husband watches on impotently.
I thought the tightness of my ass and the sheer kinkiness of the way this mode of sex was being enjoyed would make Robert ejaculate very quickly, but he kept going for quite some time, slowing down later to a steady rhythmic motion. Although I was slightly disappointed that I hadn't caused him to lose all self-control, it did at least give me a chance to calm down from the initial thrill of the penetration and properly enjoy the whole experience. I gradually started to lower myself more and more on to the big dildo, and it really did feel as if the head entered me towards the end. I've tried to insert the massive cock-head into me since then and haven't even come close, but what I can't reproduce is how soaking wet with excitement my pussy was that day. Maybe I'm dreaming that I was able to force entry, but it certainly turns me on to think that I was genuinely dicked by such an awesome phallus for a short while.
Robert didn't give much warning when he came. One moment he was fucking away as he had been for the past few minutes, and then suddenly he let out a huge gasp, pulled incredibly hard on the chains attached to my belt, and lunged his body forward, holding the position. Just as when I'm being vaginally screwed, I couldn't feel the cum ejaculating, but the pulsating feeling in my rear as he emptied his balls was more pronounced than with vaginal sex.
I was delirious now with the thought that a man had filled my arse with his cum. I closed my eyes and thought of all that warm sperm spurting into my rear as I frenziedly rubbed my clit against the megacock. Within twenty seconds I too was climaxing, just after Robert had started to ease back from his own. I desperately wanted to tell him to keep on pumping just a little longer to make my own orgasm as powerful as possible, but I couldn't speak because of the gag. All I could do was make a series of high-pitched squeals which gradually lowered in tone and volume as my release began to subside. I suddenly felt drained then; completely, emotionally drained. Weeks of nervous anticipation of that glorious, unforgettable moment finally took their toll, and I let my arms give way, lowering my head to the floor where I just rested it to one side.
Robert withdrew and immediately came round to me and removed my gag. I was panting heavily, hardly able to speak.
"Are you okay?" Robert asked, clearly concerned.
"Oh God, yes," I managed to blurt. "Fantastic. Thank you, baby. Just fantastic. Now plug me. Quickly, plug me."
I'd been quite clear with Robert what my intentions were when I arrived. He didn't show any particular excitement about it, but then again he hadn't in any way objected. He disappeared from my sight and I just lay there as I tried to get some breath back. A moment later I felt the rubber butt plug being eased into my rear, and then Robert took off my leather belt so he could put the rubber harness on me that would ensure the plug stayed firmly in place until I got home.
We showered together after that, an exhilarating, liberating experience for me after all the tight constriction from the bondage gear, even though I was still wearing a harness. Robert got hard again and I masturbated him as I told him how his fabulous cock had given me pleasure that Martin's couldn't and how in a couple of hours time my husband would be slavishly licking my rear. We stood in the hot spraying water together for a long time as I worked him to another climax, and eventually I got him to turn around so that he was facing the shower wall, reaching my arm around so I could continue to wank him. I gave him a little anal fun of his own then, sliding a finger into him and curling it up to his prostate, making him groan with pleasure.
"Do you like that, baby?" I said above the noise of the spray.
"Oh yes, oh you're good. Really good."
I played with him like this for some time, a slow, long wank. Finally I turned him back round, told him how amazing he was as a lover, how much he turned me on, and then gave him a long, full kiss, bringing him to ejaculation while our tongues were still entwined. All in all it was the sort of business meeting that I could definitely get used to.
I'd have loved to have videoed that session, but I didn't think there was any chance that Robert would agree to it. It was a different matter when I got home though, and all three of my cameras captured the moment when Martin was forced to suffer what I regard as one of the Great Humiliations. I made him lie naked face-up on our kitchen table, save for a head harness and collar. His head was actually hanging over the edge of the table so that I could straddle him while I was standing up. I was wearing my D-ring belt again to which I connected five separate leather straps - two attached to Martin's collar, and three from his head harness. All I had to do then was remove the rubber plug from my rear and tighten all the straps, pulling Martin's face up to my backside (if you ever try this just make sure that you don't pull the straps too tight, or else your partner will struggle to breathe). My husband's head was now fully supported, but all he could do was pay homage to my anus, and whenever I felt like it I could tug on the straps to force extra penetration.
I didn't chastise my spouse as I've always fantasised I would over the past few years. My tone was understanding, almost motherly. Mistress had got exactly what she had always wanted, and it was time to offer encouragement, not express displeasure.
These are some of my exact words as captured on those videos:
"That's it, my baby, that's a good boy... Oh yes, oh yes, that's it, that's it. V-e-r-y nice. Hmmm, does that taste good now? Is his spunk tasty? That's it, go up a little more... oh yeah, that's right, push, there'll be more up there... he was really hard up me when he came... oh YES! Yes, that's right, like that. Give me more of that..."
You won't be shocked to learn that Martin's prick was as erect as it could ever be, and I occasionally leaned forward and lightly masturbated him as he carried out his duties. In the end I got so turned on that despite my soothing tone of voice I still couldn't help punishing him, especially since the cameras were rolling. I actually whipped his prick and balls for a bit with a tawse, something I very rarely ever do. That certainly snapped him to attention and got his tongue working overtime.
My intention had always been to ring Matt while I was doing this with Martin, but by the time I actually got round to calling my boyfriend I was well on the way to climax. I was so overcome with the erotic kinkiness of it all that I could hardly get the words out.
"Hi, it's me. Oh God... look, are you free to talk?"
You might think that was a dangerous call to make to Matt. Not many men would be able to handle that sort of revelation, but then again Matt is no ordinary man. Also, (and I know it's tempting fate to say this) I think that Matt would find it almost impossible to manage without me in his life now. However many outrageous and whorish activities I get involved in with other men, he knows how special he is to me. He knows that he's the number one and that I regard all other men as lesser beings in comparison. He's probably as close as any man will ever get to inducing an admission from me that a member of the male sex could be my equal.
I wasn't due to see Robert again until the middle of this month, but at Christmas time I purchased a pair of knee length patent leather boots which have seven-inch metal heels. As I sat posing in these (there's no way I can walk in them) I began to imagine Robert screwing my arse again while I was on my back on his office desk with my legs in the air. I couldn't get the thought out of my head of him licking up and down my boots and sucking the cold steel heels as he steadily shafted my rear, and in the end I couldn't stand the frustration any longer. I gave him a call and told him what was on my mind. I must have sounded desperate.
"I need your cock in my arse again, Robert. I really need it badly."
I saw him three days later and I got exactly what I wanted. I'm sure he'd have preferred me in the shoes he adores, but I'll give him that reward soon enough. Anyway, he loved the heels on those boots, just as I love them. It's like wearing metal cocks on my feet.
I stayed the night with him in the end, something I hadn't been planning on doing. It was marvellous to be able to ring Martin and break the news that I would be sharing another man's bed instead of returning home. It was even more thrilling to be able to explain to my husband exactly why I was going to stay. It had always been a dream of mine to fall asleep with a man's penis in my rear - to be curled up in bed with that man's arms around me, drifting away to paradise with the feeling of being completely filled inside. I went to bed with my boots and latex underwear on that night, and Robert gave me exactly the skewered embrace I was looking for. I half woke later as I felt him withdraw, but by then I had got what I wanted. As I drifted away again I felt myself glowing with satisfaction.
2006 turned out to be an unforgettable year for me, without question the most important in my life so far. I started it as a cuckoldress who had just earned her stripes, and I ended it as the fully equipped seductress - a woman who can, and most certainly will, use every part of her body to ensnare and ultimately subjugate men to do her bidding. I have added a lover to my retinue, one whom I believe I have handled with exquisite touch and insight. I gave him everything he wanted; I gave him his dreams. In return I got all that I wanted from him and more, but without complication. It's just sex, it's only sex, and my relationship with Robert has shown me how I can enjoy my extreme kinks in a private, consensual way with many casual lovers. I don't need their money, I'm not after their influence or support, and I don't want their love.
I just want their cocks.
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