Whip Sister

Posted 21 October 2006

Governess Maria

In this post I'm going to bring things completely up to date and then I'm afraid my diary updates will cease. This isn't what I had planned to do, but as I intimated in my previous entry, events have taken a course that I never could have expected and I now need to clear the decks for what will almost certainly be another long leave of absence. For the time being the site will remain up, but I may remove or fade out some of the pictures. I would hate to do this, but I hope you will understand my reasons if I do so.

I had a major shock in early August when Matt told me that he'd been headhunted by another firm and had decided to accept a position with them. He would be leaving work later in the year (as it happened, once he'd informed my company of his intentions, by mutual agreement he left immediately). He'd kept me completely in the dark about this, something I was none too happy about. My immediate concern of course was whether we would be seeing each other as often, but it turned out that he would be working in London and he had no intention of moving from his present home.

We had done remarkably well in keeping our affair secret from work colleagues during the past eight months. Partly this was due to the fact that Matt and I never, ever gave any clues whatsoever when we were at work together that there was anything going on between us. No knowing looks, touches, or comments. If I walked into Matt's office, even if we were completely alone, we would both act in a friendly yet totally professional manner. I was still wearing my usual provocative office wear, but Matt never made a single reference to anything I had on. We took a great deal of pride in maintaining this act and it became almost a religion for us. I would join the other office girls in discussing why we no longer saw Matt with a young stunner on his arm any more, and it wasn't me who started the rumour that he was seeing his ex-wife again.

Realistically we've been very lucky in keeping our relationship quiet. Although we've stayed well away from home when we've gone out together in public, there have been too many visits to venues where we might bump into people who know me, particularly in the business community. We're not all over each other when we're out and about and in the normal course of things someone who knew me and saw me with Matt might conclude that we had been somewhere on business and there was nothing more to it than that. The trouble is we're never in 'the normal course of things'. Five inch heels, fishnet stockings and a short leather skirt isn't the sort of attire you'd expect a married woman to be wearing when she's passing time with a work colleague.

Sooner or later someone is going to see us somewhere and the jungle drums will start. I just see this as inevitable, but I feel that as long as Matt and I don't shove our relationship in other people's faces, it won't be the end of the world for me socially, providing that it also becomes known that I'm not conducting my affair behind Martin's back. Several months ago I came close to actively promoting the fact that I had cuckolded my husband and that I was now 'available' to other men. I'm so glad that I learned the lesson of the Simon episode before I allowed such a reputation to develop because I think it would have damaged my ambitions considerably and would have been equivalent to pressing a self-destruct button as far as my social life was concerned. I certainly think it will be impossible for me to maintain for much longer any charade of being the loyal, faithful wife. I still intend it to become fairly well understood that I am a highly sexed woman with a definite penchant for unusual shiny clothing and footwear, but one who is discreet about her sexual dalliances.

Matt's early departure from my own firm meant that he could start immediately at his new one. At first I didn't think his job would make much difference to our relationship since I would be seeing him in the evenings much as before. It was Matt who actually opened my eyes as to how his new position could be used by me as an outlet for my exhibitionist tendencies. In mid September he attended a seminar with a group of his managers at a major London hotel, a venue he knows very well. He knew exactly where he would be at lunchtime that day, and to my complete surprise and delight he suggested that I 'bump into' him there. It was the perfect opportunity to indulge in the sort of role-play that we both enjoy.

That day I had the sublime experience of going out in the shortest leather skirt I have ever worn in public. It's quite unusual, with pockets and two full-length zips at the front, and a half-length zip at the back (although no one would see it that day, the back zip is really sexy because in utility terms it's redundant. The only reason, other than for decorative purposes, for having such a zip would be for access to the wearer's rear). Despite the shortness of this skirt I still wore stockings and suspenders, but this forced me to wear a long coat too, because if I sat down the garter straps at the sides became immediately visible. I could wear the coat open to show the skirt and it would do just enough to cover up the blatant leg show when I was seated.

Thus at around 1.15 one September afternoon in central London, Matt was sitting in an armchair in a hotel bar with five colleagues when he suddenly saw someone he recognised.

"Hang on a minute, Steve... Maria? Hey, Maria... Hi there."

"Matt! Sorry, I didn't see you sitting there. How are you?"

Matt had already got out of his seat and he gave me a kiss on the cheek when I came over to him.

"I'm great thanks. How about yourself?"

"I'm fine. How's the new position?"

"Yeah, okay, it's coming along well. Are you here for the seminar?"

"No, I didn't even know there was one until I walked in and found the place packed with suits. I've just seen a client here."

"Oh, right. So, will you join us for a drink?"

He stood out of the way of his watching companions and they finally got to see an unhindered full frontal view of me in my skirt. God, how I love those initial moments when men can't disguise their reactions. It was worth the trip into London just for those few seconds.

"Erm, yes, that should be okay," I replied. "I can't stay for long though."

Matt briefly introduced me to his colleagues and one of them got up to get me a drink from the bar while another pulled up a chair. I had to sit with my legs tightly held together because there's no doubt that onlookers would have been able to see straight up my skirt had I done anything else.

Normally this would have been one of those embarrassing moments that men hate, when a woman sits down with them and they don't really know what to say or where to look. But here Matt and I talked mostly to each other and his associates just looked on, and I didn't need to see their faces directly to know where their attentions were focused. This was equally true of the men at an adjacent table and others at the bar.

I only stopped there fifteen minutes or so, which just goes to show the lengths I'll go to when I see an opportunity to display myself. I had to journey all the way into London and then make the same tortuous crawl back again for my few minutes of teasing, but I'd do it every day of the week if I could (actually, if I'm honest here, it was a bit more than a few minutes. I hung around the hotel reception area for a while and also walked out into the street with my coat flapping open as I did a little window-shopping. May as well milk a situation for all it's worth...).

About to leave for London in my double-zipped leather miniskirt. Showing off in front of numerous businessmen in a skirt this short was another dream come true for me.
Maria wears a zipped leather miniskirt in public

Fabulous as this experience was in itself, there was a bonus to it, which is why Matt had suggested it in the first place: he would be there to hear the post mortem, warts and all.

"Jesus, did you see the legs on that?"

"You couldn't bloody miss them. Unbelievable."

"That's Maria D----- isn't it Matt? She works at H--------- doesn't she?"

"Yeah, that's right. I worked with her there. She's really something."

"God, imagine being married to someone like her. You'd never get out of bed in the morning."

"Does she always dress like that? I mean, she said she was seeing a client."

"Yeah, makes you wonder what sort of client she was seeing." [Laughter]

"She's got it though, hasn't she? I don't know what she was like when you worked with her Matt, but whenever I've seen her she looks something like that. Very sexy, but never cheap."

"Yes, I agree, although I've never seen her quite that upfront."

"Well, I thought it was way over the top. I wouldn't be happy if one of our staff was seeing a client looking like that."

"She pulls in a lot of business for H---------, Craig. And she keeps it."

"Maybe so, but come on - I mean, a leather miniskirt with zips for Chrissake. And she was wearing suspenders..."

"Really? How do you know?"

"You can tell."

"Yeah, she was John. Definitely had the sussies on. Made my day."

"Mine too. I saw her at a party once and I thought then that she was one of the best looking women I'd ever seen. And with the suspenders and leather mini as well... fantastic."

This isn't the entirety of Matt's recollection of the subsequent exchange after I'd left, but you get the general drift. I know it must seem more than a little narcissistic of me to publish such comments in my own online diary, but I don't think I could do these sorts of things if I didn't know inwardly that I'd 'got it' as far as the other sex is concerned. Nothing that Matt told me really surprised me, and it shouldn't have surprised you either if you've read everything I've written so far. Oh, and if you'd like to see me knocked down a peg or two, then don't worry - a time will come when I don't have it any more.

At the beginning of September I arrived home from work to find a card from a national courier informing me that they had tried to deliver a package which had to be signed for, but no one had been home. They would try to redeliver the following day or the item could be collected from their local depot. I jumped in my car and drove straight to the depot, a round trip that took almost an hour. When I returned home Martin was sitting in his usual spot in the lounge, reading the newspaper. I went into the kitchen and sat down at the table armed with a pair of scissors. I don't really know why, but my heart was thumping away in my chest with excitement.

I opened the package and slowly withdrew the contents. Inside was a dark blue plastic bag which was folded in half, and taped together. I cut this open, and found it contained another plastic bag, this one transparent. I took a deep breath as I laid eyes on my lace-edged leather panties which had been in Robert's possession for the past six weeks. The depravity of it all was divine.

"Martin," I called out, "come and look at this."

Martin arrived in the kitchen a few moments later and I waved my hand towards the plastic bag on the table. "Robert's handiwork," I said.

My husband came closer and looked down. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

I'd told Robert to cake my briefs in cum, and that's exactly what he'd done. I opened the polythene bag and pulled the soiled garment out. "Oh God, they're still damp," I said, and I reflexively clasped my legs together. My favourite dildo would be going to work early that night.

As I carefully examined the briefs I saw that only the thin strip of leather and lace around the hip area had escaped Robert's attentions. Everywhere else, inside and out, there was a film of whitish residue, mostly dry except for the area just under the stitching at the front top. This part was still dark and moist.

"I told him to ruin them," I said. "What do you think?"

Martin took the briefs from me and carefully looked them over.

"No, I don't think so. I can get them back with time. The problem will be washing the lace without damaging the leather. It just requires patience."

I toyed with the idea of making Martin take the briefs to the local dry cleaners, but I figured he'd probably get arrested for it.

"Okay," I said. "I'm just going to get the video camera because I want to take shots of them in the state they are now. Then you can make a start on cleaning them straight away - first of all with your tongue while I film you."

After I posted the 'Shoe Queen' entry describing my encounter with Robert I had a couple of emails which basically asked the same two questions: Did you really leave your briefs for Robert or was that just for dramatic effect? Why would you risk him refusing to do what you asked?

First of all, I don't put anything in the diary 'for dramatic effect'. On the contrary, there have been a number of times where I've omitted actions that I've performed, either because I don't think the reader will find them plausible, or because I've done them in the throes of passion and I'm actually somewhat ashamed of myself afterwards. Second, there was never any doubt in my mind that those briefs would one day arrive at my house in the state I'd demanded. You have to understand that Robert at that point was a captured soul. I could have asked for something far more extreme of him and he would still have acquiesced. From the moment I masturbated him with my shoes he became mine to manipulate in any way I saw fit. That hold over him will diminish in time, but only if I fail to surprise and excite him with new games and pleasures. That, probably more than anything else, is my quintessential skill.

I rang Robert the following day to arrange a meeting.

"I got your package," I teased. "I was very impressed."

"You know me, always thorough," he said.

"Anything in particular you'd like me to be wearing when I see you?"

His voiced dropped slightly, as if he were slightly embarrassed to answer. "Erm, I'd appreciate it if you'd wear the shoes again. The rest is up to you."

"The same ones? I've got some others fairly similar."

"I really like the ones you wore last time. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all. Whatever you want. Oh, and by the way, rule number one - no touching yourself the night before I see you. Not ever."

On the morning of my visit to see Robert I dressed as usual with Martin preparing and filming me. Once I'd put on my shoes, stockings and underwear I posed in front of him for a few minutes. I then gave him quite an aggressive spanking and as I was doing so I added a little extra spice to the day's events:

"Robert's going to fuck me today, Martin. His cock's going to be in my pussy and he's going to make me come. I'm going to make sure that at exactly two o'clock this afternoon his prick will be pumping in and out of my cunt. Remember that - two o'clock. I want you to choose the skirt I'll be wearing when he fucks me. It'll need to be a very short one that I can pull up around my waist."

Dressed for Robert. Imagine what it's like for a husband to have to choose the skirt his wife will wear when she visits another man for sex. Think what Martin went through, knowing that Robert's hands would be rubbing all over the shiny PVC before he put his hand up my skirt, played with my suspenders, and then fondled me.
Maria in PVC miniskirt

One of the special thrills that day was driving all the way to see Robert wearing my collar that has SLUT written on it. I certainly made sure I lived up to the label. I'd like to have one that says FUCK ME and another that says SPANK ME.
Maria in PVC miniskirt and slut collar

A few hours later I had no qualms whatsoever about relating this to Robert as we kissed and caressed each other in his office. I'd only been there for about five minutes and I'd undone my coat so he could play with me.

"Wow, this is sexy," he said as he rubbed both hands down the front of my zipped PVC miniskirt. "Martin doesn't know you're wearing this does today, does he?"

I was massaging his prick through his trousers. He was beautifully hard. It was going to be a fun afternoon.

"He actually chose it," I said. "I told him that at two o'clock this afternoon you're going to have your lovely hard prick inside me, and I wanted him to choose the skirt I'd be wearing when you're screwing me."

He suddenly froze. "He knows about us?"

I didn't stop squeezing his erection.

"Of course he knows. Look, let me make this clear. Martin can't satisfy me - it's as simple as that. He's got a small dick and he can't keep it up, and for someone like me who needs a lot of sex he's simply deficient. The only way he can get off these days is if I'm with someone else."

Robert didn't look entirely happy, but that didn't stop him beginning to play with me again. Both his hands moved to my breasts.

"So how long has this been going on?" he asked. "I thought you said I was the only one who you'd done anything serious with."

"You're the only business client," I replied truthfully. "I've got a boyfriend I see a couple of times a week. He gives me what Martin can't."

"I see. And I'm expected to go along with all this?"

I leaned forward, half closed my eyes and gave my sexiest pout, almost touching my lips to Robert's as I spoke.

"Come on, baby, you mean it doesn't turn you on? Fucking another man's wife, not behind his back, but with his full knowledge? Knowing that while you're putting that beautiful hard cock of yours inside me he's sitting in his office pathetically jerking off because he's not man enough to do the job himself? Don't tell me that doesn't do it for you..."

It did do it for Robert, just as I know it does it for Matt. I suspect I'm going to find that it does it for most men too.

I don't know whether Robert was conscious of it or not, but I was the one who controlled the whole of the session we had that day. Everything was done under my lead, and not once did my partner suggest something we should try or come up with any variation. I don't think he's ever going to surprise me like Matt does, but I'm not too unhappy with that. It means that in all likelihood I'll be able to take Robert wherever I want to go.

I played things much as I had on my previous visit, but this time I extended the duration of my stay. I wanted Robert to be in his comfort zone so that when I took him further he wouldn't feel disoriented or reluctant. We started off with him taking pictures again, and initially my poses weren't too dissimilar to those at our last meeting. However as things warmed up I allowed him to take some much more explicit shots for his collection. I'd brought a prop again, but this time it wasn't the black dildo I had toyed with previously, it was a seven-inch heeled shoe. I unzipped my PVC skirt about halfway to reveal my zipped briefs and I put the metal tip of the shoe heel between my legs.

"You know, at home I do myself with high heeled shoes and boots. Would you like to see me do that, Robert? Would you like to see me actually have an orgasm as I fuck myself with a shoe?"

"Oh yes," he said, breathing heavily.

And that's exactly what I did for him. With the camera clicking away at regular intervals I started off by pressing the heel of the shoe hard against my pussy, forcing the PVC of my briefs into me. Later I unzipped the panties and the end of the heel disappeared into me as I began to rub it against my clit. I started to sigh heavily, then moan, as I worked myself towards climax. Knowing what this was doing to Robert - seeing a woman masturbating with an item of footwear - gave me such a thrill that it was easy for me to lose myself to the pleasure and genuinely enjoy these minutes of self-abuse. As my excitement grew I gave Robert the option of choosing the mode of my release:

"What do you want me to come with?" I gasped. "The heel or the toe?"

Robert didn't reply for a moment. I'm sure he was thinking it over.

"The toe," he eventually said.

"Good choice," I moaned. "Oh yes, good choice."

A true shoe fetishist. The heel was the obvious candidate - a shiny seven-inch penis - but I've no doubt that in his mind he could see that masturbating with a shoe heel is a very delicate business. The heel has to be very lightly touched to the clitoris and aggressive movements are out of the question because of the heel tip. But with the toe... wow, with the toe...

I leaned back, opened my legs wider and inserted the toe of the shoe into my pussy. Then I began to pump my arms back and forth as I grasped it with both hands. I wasn't looking down and I had no idea just how much of the toe was going inside me, but Robert was going nuts as he stood really close and took picture after picture.

"Oh yes! Yes! Maria, that's unbelievable. It's right inside! You've got it right inside!"

He kept raving but I can't remember what else he said. I was lost in my own world of pleasure and it wasn't long before my back arched and I thrust my pussy upwards, ramming every bit of smooth leather I could into it. I'm not sure Robert could believe that a woman could experience such a powerful orgasm using just a piece of footwear, and he was ecstatic. I still find it amazing to witness this normally impassive individual become so animated and uninhibited. The power of unhindered desire...

There was a moment then that was a big test as far as I was concerned, a moment that would help decide how I would develop our relationship. I stood up and placed the stiletto pump upright on Robert's desk.

"God, look at that," I drooled, "look what you made me do. The leather's soaking."

Robert was now standing by me and he was taking shots of the glistening leather. I began to stroke his hair.

"One of us ought to lick it clean, Robert. Do you want me to do it? Or do you want to clean it for me?"

Without hesitation Robert put down the camera, bent down and began to run his tongue over the toe of the shoe as he held the heel. I moved behind him and reached underneath him so I could massage his balls. Simultaneously I reached around with my left hand and masturbated his prick through his trousers.

"That's a good boy," I said as he paid homage to the shoe-prick that had fucked me. "Make sure you clean all of Mistress's shoe."

I think Robert began to get a true insight into just how sexed up I am when I had another orgasm just fifteen minutes later as I got him to play out another of my groping fantasies. I struggle a little when I talk about these publicly because I think they come across as being somewhat ridiculous when I air them in the diary. I fear they must just seem silly to you.

I asked Robert to pretend that we were strangers in an office lift, just the two of us. He was to imagine that as he stood behind me eyeing up my shiny PVC skirt he suddenly felt the urge to feel it, and when he did so I didn't object. Instead I pressed the emergency button to halt the lift, and we would take it from there. I went and stood facing one of the walls in the office and I even picked up my leather case so that I could really play the part of the businesswoman on the move.

Robert hasn't got Matt's gift for role-play, but he did pretty well as far as I was concerned. One thing I wanted to find out with this little cameo was whether Robert was comfortable with anal play. In due course his hands went up both the front and rear of my skirt, and I was delighted when he eventually undid both zips on my briefs. I've always dreamed of standing in a lift and being simultaneously fingered front and rear, although in my fantasy two men do it to me. That day I had to make do with just Robert, but he had no trouble at all in bringing me to climax.

Although I'd already decided that Robert was going to penetrate me that day, I still wanted his first release to be via another shoe masturbation. It was vitally important that I maintained the hold I had on him through accommodating his fetish and I wanted him to experience again the ecstasy of having his penis caressed by the objects of his dreams. I took up a position very similar to the one I'd taken at our last meeting, except this time I pulled my legs right up so that my knees were close to my chin and my feet were directly above my face.

"This time you're going to spray over my face, okay? Don't try and direct it, just let go."

Once again Robert was just about beside himself as he tried to come to terms with what I was going to allow him to do. A minute or so previously I'd unzipped my PVC mini and removed it, placing it underneath my head as I lay on the floor. Robert had looked at me with some puzzlement as I did this, unable to grasp its meaning. Now he fully understood.

I didn't use a dildo on myself this time and I was able to give every bit of my concentration to the shoe wank, but don't think that I didn't share in the passion of this performance. I'd never had a man ejaculate over my face before as I pleasured him with my feet, and the thought of receiving a cum bath in such circumstances had always turned me on. Robert's cock looked bigger than I had remembered it, but maybe that was all in the mind's eye. All the same, his swollen prick head seemed huge as I pumped my legs back and forth, and as he began to synchronise pelvic thrusts with my leg movements, I knew he was going to spray at any moment.

My mouth had already been wide open for about ten seconds when he finally went: "Yes, yes, YES!!" and he creamed over me. Regrettably the very first spurt missed my face completely and landed on the PVC skirt, but after that I took what seemed like a never-ending shower. There was so much more cum than on my previous visit, and it went into my mouth, my eyes (ouch), my hair, and on to just about every part of my face. Matt had never given me that much before, not on several attempts.

Both my hands immediately went to my pussy as I felt the sperm soaking me. I was swallowing globs of the stuff, and yet I could feel it trickling down my cheeks and my chin, and could feel further threads hitting my forehead and hair.

Robert was groaning as if I'd just drained every ounce of strength from him. "Unbelievable," he managed to say. "Maria, that was the best ever. I'm serious, I've never... oh God, there's more... it just won't stop..."

"Oh baby, that was brilliant!" I enthused as it became clear that his balls had finally emptied. I really meant it.

When he eventually stood up I let my aching legs slump to the floor. I was still playing with myself as I tried to lick Robert's semen from the corners of my mouth. After the two orgasms I'd already received, I'd assumed this would be very much Robert's moment, but the sheer volume of cum he'd emptied on me changed all that. I was enormously turned on.

"Get a spoon from the kitchen," I managed to gasp. "A dessert spoon. Quickly."

He looked at me quizzically, but immediately went out of sight. Within fifteen seconds he was back.

"Feed it to me," I told him as my fingers burrowed deep into me. "All of it."

The orgasm I experienced as Robert gathered up his cum from my face, hair and skirt and fed it into my waiting mouth was more powerful than either of the two I'd enjoyed earlier. What did it more than anything was the thought that later that day I would be telling both Martin and Matt that I had asked a man to do this to me. I had been spoon-fed cum that had been ejaculated over me. This is the sort of sex that I live for - deviant, depraved, slut sex.

Both Robert and I were left exhausted after this, and for a while we just sat and talked. I tried to get him to open up about his marriage, but he wasn't very forthcoming and we ended up mostly discussing me. I didn't divulge the domination side to my relationship with Martin, and the conversation eventually centred on the sorts of things that I like to do and the clothes I enjoy wearing. I spoke quite unemotionally, knowing that my matter-of-fact treatment of some of the acts that I indulge in would begin to arouse him again. It was also an opportunity to explore his current limits and prime him for the future.

"...and I can't really say when the fantasies started. It's mostly variations on the same theme - I'm in an office or business environment and eventually some guy puts his hand up my skirt and starts playing with me. That's why I enjoy wearing kinky underwear so much - it's not just the sexy feeling of the fabrics, it's the thought that at any moment I could be in a situation where a man plays with my suspenders and unzips my shiny panties. Often in my mind it's several men."


"Oh yes. Having sex with more than one man at the same time is a big fantasy of mine. Just then when you came over my face - that was just magical for me, Robert. I dream of having several men doing that to me simultaneously."


I leaned over and began to stroke his inner thighs.

"Does that thought turn you on? Seeing me take on several men at once?"

"Hmm. Yes, it does."

"It's turning me on right now just talking about it," I said softly as my hands made their way to his crotch. "There'd be one fucking my pussy, one fucking my arse, and one fucking my mouth. Which one would you like to be?"

He exhaled heavily as I began to massage his prick. He was well on the way to another full erection.

"I don't think I'd really care," he groaned.

"Well, I think I'd like you to be the one fucking my arse. Do you know why, my baby? Because your prick's perfect for it. I've never let Martin do that to me because his little cock's not worthy, but yours is just the size I like. And you produce so much lovely spunk. I'd want you to fill my arse so I could go home to Martin to show him what a real man gives a woman. Would you like to fill up my arse, Robert?"

"Oh, Jesus, Maria, do you go to classes to learn how to talk like that?"

I smiled at him. His eyes were half closed now as he pictured the scenario I had painted and I could tell from the response his cock gave that I was pressing the right buttons.

"Ah, but the irony is that you think I'm just trying to turn you on with dirty talk. What you don't realise is that I'm deadly serious."

"Stop it," he moaned. "I mean it. Please stop it."

"Well, there's only one way we can keep my mouth from yapping away isn't there?" I said as I unzipped him and withdrew his prick. "We need to keep it busy doing something else."

It was about twenty to two when I said this, and I gently started licking and kissing my client's cock. Occasionally I took it into my mouth and sucked for a few moments, but then I'd take it out again and resume the kissing. He's still got the delight of full ejaculation in my mouth to come, something I'm also looking forward to because during that oral session I'm fairly confident that I'll be able to take all of his penis, getting the head right into my throat. To be able to tell Martin that I've licked a man's testicles while I've got over six inches of prick in my mouth...

At a quarter to two I put my skirt back on and immediately pulled it right up. It was totally unnecessary, but I'd told Martin I'd be wearing it. I then went to my case and pulled out a realistic vibrating prick which has a rubber sucker on its base. Robert watched incredulously as I fixed this to the edge of his desk and then smeared a substantial amount of lube along it. I then took off my panties and turned around, facing away from the phallus. I asked Robert to hold my hands as I gradually lowered myself on to it. Without my high heels on it would have been an impossible task.

"I can't believe what you're doing," Robert said wide-eyed as I began to move up and down, letting that little extra bit of rubber prick enter me each time.

"I do this at home with two cocks," I said breathlessly, "and I make Martin watch."

Once my rear was fully impaled on the dildo I asked Robert to look in my bag and pull out the restraints that were in it.

"You should find two thigh straps in there, and two long training leads," I said. "There's also a ball gag and some handcuffs."

Robert had given up saying "I don't believe it" and he just pulled out the mixture of buckles, straps and metal and began to sort it out on the side of the desk.

"Yes, that's one of the thigh straps. Buckle it on to my leg just above the knee."

He did as I instructed and then he fastened the one for the other leg too.

"Okay, now you need to clip those long dog leads to the thigh straps and pull them behind me across the desk and secure them somehow - probably to the back legs of the desk. Just wind each one round the leg a couple of times and then knot it."

He immediately understood what I meant and he clipped both leads to the straps. I opened my legs wide as he pulled the leather leads back and bent down to tether them to the desk legs. I'd have preferred it if they'd been chains, but I feared the metal would damage his expensive desk.

"Tighter, Robert," I said. "Pull my legs right open."

When he'd finished I was left skewered to the desk by the rubber cock in my rear, with my bondaged legs stretched wide. My pussy was totally at Robert's mercy.

Robert took off all his clothes again. The kinkiness of what we were doing hadn't fazed him at all. On the contrary, his prick looked ready to explode.

"Your cock looks fantastic," I moaned. "I can't wait to have it up me."

"I'm going to use a condom," he said, almost apologetically.

"Of course," I said. "Go ahead." I would have preferred it if he hadn't used one, but it was completely understandable that he did.

It was only a few minutes to two as he stood naked before me, his sheathed prick ready and waiting. My leg muscles were already beginning to ache from the bondage, but in the state I was in such discomforts were a complete irrelevance.

"Martin's sitting in his office right now," I said. "He knows your balls are going to be banging against me in a minute as that lovely cock gives me the satisfaction that he can't. Would you like me to call him, right now? Hear me tell him what a little dick he's got while you screw me?"

For a moment there was a glint of lust in Robert's eyes when I said this, but I saw it fade as he mulled it over. I don't know what thought processes took place in is mind but he could obviously see a downside to my suggestion. I couldn't really blame him.

"I don't think so," he said.

"Okay," I said brightly, doing my very best to hide my disappointment. "In that case I want you to handcuff my hands behind my back and buckle the ball gag into my mouth. Oh, and can you turn the vibrator on too?"

At two o'clock that afternoon my husband was indeed sitting at his office desk and I wasn't surprised to learn later that he was vigorously playing with himself as thoughts of what I was doing tormented his mind. I had told him exactly how I was going to let Robert fuck me and I'm not sure how he was able to mentally cope with the image of his wife impaled on a desktop, her legs strapped wide open, her hands cuffed behind her, her moans of pleasure muffled by the gag in her mouth as the vibrating artificial cock in her ass and the pumping real one in her pussy brought her to yet another of those exquisite multiple orgasms that in ten years of marriage he had never been able to provide.

I came quite quickly, overwhelmed by both my situation and the knowledge that what I was doing would be crushing Martin. Robert's cock will never be able to pleasure me like Matt's can, but I was loving the fact that it felt so different. Only a few months since I'd broken my marriage vows, and already another man's prick had tasted the delights of my eager slut pussy. And in an office too... bondaged to a businessman's desk... oh, if only there had been a queue of men to take me in that immobilised, vulnerable state - so many that the cum would have been pouring out of me, forming a large white puddle on the office floor.

Robert took a fair while longer, but I was still experiencing secondary waves of pleasure when he finally thrust his hips permanently forward, put his head back and released. All the time he could feel his cock rubbing near the hard vibrating phallus in my rear. He said it was a unique feeling, quite unlike anything he had experienced before. For me the sensation was actually slightly painful. With the rear prick so far inside me, Robert's thrusts were a little too powerful for comfort. I've had both a Matt-sized dildo and a Robert-sized one in me simultaneously at home before, but not with full penetration, and I've been able to move on the dildos gently. I can see I'm going to have to be far more animated in my double-cock sessions before I enjoy the real thing.

That evening, after humiliating Martin with a detailed description of my afternoon with Robert and the exceptional pleasure he'd given me, I had to go to face Matt once again. The first time I had done so we'd enjoyed fabulous sex after he'd put me across his knee and made me confess everything I'd done with my new lover. On that occasion however I'd played a largely dominant role with my negotiator friend, and it hadn't resulted in penetrative sex. This time I'd let Robert have full intercourse, and even though he'd been wearing a condom and his balls were already virtually drained, he had nevertheless climaxed inside me. I still couldn't be sure how Matt would react to the reality that I'd been screwed by another man.

It probably says much about my warped nature that despite my anxiety as to how Matt would take this latest turn of events, I still took a video camera to his house that night because I wanted my punishment to be filmed so I could taunt Martin with it. We don't normally film anything at Matt's house - it's a sort of unwritten rule. This was one occasion though where I needed to be able to watch repeatedly how I had suffered for my sins.

Matt's reaction was more than I ever could have hoped for. I suppose ever since the conversation we had that night in the car he had been mentally preparing himself for the inevitability of me being penetrated by someone else, and somehow he'd managed to come to terms with it. I'll never be sure whether there's going to be a straw that will break the camel's back, but for now he seems to be channelling any frustrations into sexual energy, which as far as I'm concerned is perfect. He didn't even back off when I told him everything that I'd done with Robert and the retribution I thought I deserved for my betrayal.

"You need to punish my pussy, Matt," I said with real conviction on my face. "With a belt, a crop, or whip - it's up to you, but you need to strap my legs apart like Robert did and discipline my cunt."

It was primarily a symbolic act. I was wearing zipped latex briefs and I had a rubber plug in my vagina, and consequently I would not experience too much pain as Matt struck me. I think Matt appreciated all of this, especially my need for cathartic penance. In the end he used both a crop and a thin belt - six unrestrained strikes with each. The sound they both make is unbelievable as they smack against the rubber briefs, and the video is everything that I wanted and more. I've always felt that for a husband to have to witness his wife having her vagina disciplined by another man is as great a humiliation as seeing her copulating with someone else.

When he'd finished delivering my punishment, Matt unzipped my briefs, removed the rubber dong, and then gave me a fucking I'm never likely to forget. My legs were still strapped apart as he went to work, and we kept a constant dialogue going until he finally creamed inside me. Unfortunately he'd turned the camera off which was a great shame.

"Is this what he did? Hmm? Is this what you got, you fucking bitch slut?"

"No," I gasped desperately. "He couldn't give me what you do. No man will ever be able to give me what you do."

"You were still loving it though, weren't you? With that rubber cock in your arse and your kinky slut collar on, you were loving it. Don't tell me you wouldn't have been screaming the roof off if you hadn't got that gag in your dirty cock-sucking mouth."

"Yes, I was loving it. Every second. I had a multiple orgasm - he made me come again and again. And you know what? Next time he's going to fuck my ass, something you'll never do. I might even ring you up when he's doing it."

"YOU FUCKING SLAG!! Don't you try and play me!"

"What's the matter, big boy? Can't handle it when another guy pricks me? You'd better get used to it, there's going to be plenty more."

"One more word like that from your dirty mouth and I'll whip your cunt again, you... ah, ah, oh shit here it is... oh, you dirty, dirty, tramp... AAAHHHH..."

It will be several weeks until I see Robert again and the wait is going to be much harder to bear than it was last time. It's not just the sex, it's the attendant leverage I get on both Martin and Matt. I can think of so many ways in which I can exploit this growing menagerie of mine. It's a domina's dream, and just goes to show that there's more to such a lifestyle than just boots, whips and chains.

In my last post I told you that something unexpected had happened that had made the diary's existence a problem for me. I'll give you some very sketchy further information on this to help you understand my dilemma. I've told you that this issue involves a woman of approximately my own age. I've known this woman, Alison, for a very long time and apart from my husband Martin I trust her more than any other person in the world. She holds the same level of trust in me. Having such a bond with someone is a very special thing, and I have always drawn great comfort from having someone so close to me to turn to whatever the circumstances.

Alison will be reading these words and I hope she won't be offended by anything that I say. I really need to detail the full history of our relationship to give you the necessary context to understand our present position, but I'm unable to do that (and it's very doubtful I will ever be able to do so). In innate physical looks there really isn't much to separate us, but because of our differing lifestyles I think Alison would be the first to admit that until recently, if you passed us both in the street it would be Maria who turned your head.

We've always been quite open with each other and whenever we've been alone we'll often discuss sexual matters, although this has usually been general 'girl talk' rather than getting overly specific about our personal relationships. Alison has always known that Martin likes leather and boots for example (she often jokingly calls me 'leather girl') but I'd always portrayed this as a minor quirk rather than the deep fetish it really is. I'd never divulged the femdom aspect of my marriage, although that wasn't because of embarrassment or guilt - I'd just never felt the need.

Alison learned about Martin's cuckolding shortly before I closed the diary down in February earlier this year. I'd actually written a very long piece on this in which I went into great detail about the evening when we went out together and I shocked her - shocked her to the core - with the news that not only was I having an extramarital affair, but that it was happening with the full knowledge and compliance of my husband. As I tried to explain the history of how this had come about, one thing led to another, and by the end of the evening she had become acquainted with more of my private life than I had ever expected to reveal. I never put up that piece because I didn't think it would have much appeal - it's basically a very long philosophical discussion between two women on life, sex, children and marriage; about what we're trying to achieve in life, what sacrifices we have to make, and where we'll be in twenty years' time. Knowing the sort of readership I have now, I wish I had posted that debate - it very much explores the hard choices and regrets that confront so many women in life.

Alison was both fascinated and appalled. I think she must have said: "You're making this up - please tell me you're making this up" a hundred times that night. This should give you an indication of just how well disguised my relationship with Martin is to the outside world. Alison had never received even an inkling that my husband was a submissive partner to me. Although she knew full well that I had a confident, independent character, up until then she had still viewed me as being the sort of wife who did her utmost to present herself in the best possible way for her husband's as much as her own sake - to maintain the successful image that he portrayed to the rest of the world.

I went to great pains with Alison to make her understand that Martin's submissiveness is a sexual trait only. I've had a very hard time in this diary articulating that, and in fact I know I've failed - failed because the diary is about sex and it dwells predominantly on my husband's sexual inadequacy and humiliation. Since Alison had known Martin for so long, she was able to intuitively understand the point I was making (women in a cuckold relationship who have written to me show the same understanding of their submissive partner). Fortunately, therefore, Alison didn't suddenly look upon Martin with either loathing or contempt; in fact I think it's true to say that she felt considerable compassion for him and if anything she felt some initial animosity towards me and the faceless new man in my life, Matt.

At first Alison was very much opposed to meeting my boyfriend, but eventually the three of us went out together, and I think then she began to get some insight into the whole cuckoldry thing, including its symbolic aspects. To say that Matt made an impression on her would be a complete understatement. With the help of one or two drinks she went from suspicious, disapproving, stony-faced cynic to gushing, doe-eyed groupie in the space of about three hours (come on, Alison, you know you did). And when I drove her home that night, for the first time she began to ask some searching questions about how Martin and Matt compared as lovers. A day later I received a text message from Alison which read:

"Thanks for a great night out. I think you're mad, stupid, unwise and reckless - and I've never been so envious of someone in all my life."

It was a couple of months before I saw her again, and she was at my house one evening when I revealed to her that I had for a time maintained a weblog of my experiences. Again she was shocked, even more so when she actually read through my cached version of it and saw the pictures. She already knew the broad brushstrokes of the triangle I had with Martin and Matt, but here it was laid out in explicit detail. Now for the first time she heard my own inner thoughts and longings as my lascivious, oversexed nature was fully laid bare.

She loved the pictures, loved the clothing, but was staggered that I could delude myself that simple blurring of the photos would disguise who I was. To Alison the fact that it was me in those shots was as plain as day, and despite some subtleties I had made with the narrative, it's overall honesty only confirmed my identity. Did I realise what a risk I had taken by posting such material online? She asked me how many visitors I had been getting to the site, and what percentage were from the UK. "You were playing a statistics game, that's all," she said when I told her the rough figures. There was no doubt in her mind that if someone who knew me well had chanced upon the site, recognition would be highly likely. Why hadn't I made it text-only? With no pictures, even if someone believed it was me, there was no evidence about anything, and the site could even have been put up by someone who knew me - either a fantasist, or someone who wanted to create mischief.

I reminded her that I'd given the reasons for this in the diary itself. She had to try to put herself in my position to understand why I couldn't omit the photographs. The response that I get from men when I'm at work or somewhere else in public is a visual one, I told her. They react to my face, body and clothing and I find the physical feedback I get from men's arousal sexually exciting. I explained that the response to certain styles of clothing is so automatic in men that I now only have to put on those clothes to experience a taste of the thrill I get from wearing them in public. This is why she would find me invariably wearing a leather, rubber or PVC miniskirt when I'm at home, or a pair of thigh length boots.

Sure, I said, the pictures aren't particularly good, especially when you compare them with the pro photography that you get on the Web. The shots are taken in poor lighting with cheap video cameras, and I then blur them heavily. I told her how I detested having my face disguised in this way, especially as the blurring often badly distorts my looks. But the pictures did something the words couldn't do - they showed me dressed exactly as I am when I leave my house and go out into the everyday world. This isn't someone who stands in front of a camera in a studio and who then changes into her jeans and loose top when she leaves. This is someone who is prepared to walk into a hotel, a public bar or a restaurant dressed as you see her in those photographs, and you then have to imagine what reaction she gets from men and women when they set eyes upon her.

"It's this reaction that I live for, Ali, and I know what you must think. It probably seems crazy to you that I want to be viewed purely as a sex object, but that's all I want when I go out dressed in stockings, high heels and a short skirt. 'Wow, imagine fucking that.' is the one thought that I want to be in men's minds, and I don't really care what else anyone thinks."

Alison was far more vociferous in her disapproval of the fact that I had publicly aired my diary than she was of the actual content. I was very nervous when she read some of the posts, as I'm well aware that I indulge in sex games that go well beyond what might be classed as 'normal'. I seriously wondered whether any distaste at what she read would create a permanent barrier between us. Surprisingly however she was completely non-judgemental in this regard. On the contrary, she admitted that she found many sections of the diary extremely erotic. She even asked to see my wardrobe of clothing and accessories, and made no adverse comments when I gave her a tour - even when she saw items such as my dildo briefs and my collection of toys. She tried on a couple of my skirts and one of my dresses, and I'd defy any woman not to get a buzz from zipping herself into tight leather or rubber garments like those, especially when worn with killer heels.

You can imagine Alison's reaction when I reposted the diary online and began writing again, but my mind was closed to any arguments against its publishing. The initiation of my relationship with Robert was too exciting for me to keep to myself. I needed to tell the world. "It's your funeral," she eventually said to me. I think she had given up trying to persuade me that I was making a mistake. A couple of months on, Alison is now less opposed to the diary and is somewhat ambivalent about it. Her doubts about the wisdom of such an exercise are as great as they ever were, but at the same time she acknowledges that without the existence of the diary she would not have discovered some of her own inner longings and would not have found the motivation to change her life for the better. One thing she is adamant about though is that apart from in this post, she does not wish me to discuss my relationship with her. To me that is a great pity, and has taken away much of my desire to continue writing online.

One thing I haven't done is try to influence the direction of Alison's life in any way, and I can honestly say that the remarkable change that has come over her in the last few months has not been due to any deliberate prodding from me. Whatever rut she felt her life was in, she has pulled herself out of it, and the confident, highly attractive, beautifully styled and manicured woman I see now bears little resemblance to the one who sat in my car all those months ago when she poured her heart out to me and told me how much she hated her own life and so envied mine.

I'm having to skip a great deal of background here, so you'll have to trust me when I say it was no great surprise when Alison contacted me recently and asked if she could come to stay for a few days. What was totally unexpected was when she also said that during her visit she would like to view a selection of the videos I have discussed in the diary - not just the ones made with Matt, but ones where I have disciplined and humiliated my husband. I was very dubious as to whether this was a good idea, not only from her point of view but from mine too. It was one thing to read about the things that I had done, but to see them for real, to actually witness the sex acts at first hand, could be acutely embarrassing for both of us. It was then that she made her intentions more clear, but I shall not dwell on that any further, other than to say that at her request we would watch the videos together, and we would both be dressed from my wardrobe when we did so.

It's here that my diary, for now and perhaps permanently, has to end. I can't be too specific about what has happened over the past couple of weeks, but let's suppose that I had another of those unforgettable nights when I knew that once again my life had changed forever, a night when some magical new doors opened for both of us. Imagine what it would be like if Martin now had two women to taunt and discipline him; two whips, two pairs of boots, two strapon dildos. Imagine what Matt would do if he had two naughty schoolgirls to punish, with two mouths to simultaneously attend to his beautiful hard cock. And have you ever seen one of those double-double vibrating dildos you can get now, a single sex toy with four pricks on it? Can you imagine what it would be like to be Matt, filming two girls sitting opposite each other, both being double cocked by the same device, their breasts bondaged together and their legs pulled up on to each other's shoulders so they can lick each other's boots and suck each other's heels as they are both vibrated to orgasm? Just imagine that...

Imagine also that Alison turned out to be just as inventive as me; that she has already suggested that I buy an inflatable latex doll for Martin so we can laugh at him and whip him as he humiliatingly tries to insert his flaccid little prick into his new girlfriend's pussy to copulate with her. Suppose she has also proposed that I make my husband buy us one of those very expensive masturbation machines that can be mounted like a horse so that we can film each other having multiple orgasms as we go for a ride on a rotating, throbbing prick while dressed in our leather and rubber.

Imagine that after just a single week I am already in possession of a video tape that makes many of my previous domination efforts seem puerile in comparison. In this scene you see Martin on all fours and he's talking to his mother using my mobile phone's headset. Alison is sitting on my husband facing towards his rear and she's riding a large dildo which is strapped to my spouse's lower back. At the same time I'm screwing Martin, and Alison and I are kissing passionately as we fondle each other's breasts. Have you ever seen such a depraved scene? A year from now this will seem tame.

Then imagine sitting in a restaurant when two striking, stylishly dressed women walk in and sit at one of the tables. Tight skirts, seamed stockings, prominent suspenders, and awesomely high heels. As one takes off her sexy long leather gloves the other is looking nonchalantly around, her confident, relaxed demeanour only adding to her attractiveness. And then she looks at you and her gaze lingers, with the merest hint of a smile. She turns to her companion and says something, and now the other woman looks over too and makes a comment. What was that she said? From the way her mouth moved it looked like it could have been: "Not bad." Who are these women? Are they high-class hookers? Is it worth risking the embarrassment of trying to find out more?

These next few pictures are very special to me because they were filmed as I prepared for Alison's visit that evening. I had a good idea of where things would lead, and it's absolute torture for me to not be able to recount the events of that night. This is an outfit that I have worn before (minus the stockings but with an unbuttoned white blouse and sunglasses) while driving an open-top car on a hot summer's day.
Maria in red leather bra and red rubber miniskirt

These shots are fairly typical of the discipline Martin endures practically every day of his life. I never tire of whipping my husband or of making him pay homage to me while he's tethered on a lead. He's a special toy that I own, and soon I'm going to have more like him. Would you like to be part of Maria's husky team?
Maria disciplines her husband

Maria disciplines her husband

In the main shot here Martin is putting me in the perfect state of arousal for Alison's arrival. He does much the same when I visit Matt, and often in the mornings before I depart for work.
Martin prepares Maria for Alison's arrival

These pictures and the ones below were taken the day after Alison and I had our special evening browsing my video collection. I wore a variety of outfits that day as we filmed several training sessions. Martin has been disciplined like this a hundred times before, but now imagine him having to endure it with another woman holding the camera.
Martin is disciplined by Maria

Imagine the psychological effect on my husband when two women laugh at him and mock the size of his penis; when they openly discuss how sexually inadequate he is; when they make him watch as they both suck and lick the same giant rubber phallus, fantasising that it's Matt's prick they are pleasuring. Could you handle all of that?
Martin is disciplined and humiliated by Maria

This last year has been one of self-discovery for me and it's hard to believe how much my life has changed. Part of that change has come about because of you, the readers of this diary. I came wanting cheap adoration and instead you accorded me a level of respect that I don't think I deserved. I came thinking that I was unique, an untouchable, incomparable goddess who did things that no other woman would ever do, but then I received letters from professional dominas whose pictures vastly outshone mine and whose experience and skills put mine to shame - and yet they still spoke kindly and only offered support. I have been humbled by the realisation that there are many women in this world who can surpass me in almost every respect, and yet that knowledge has now given me a perspective and contentment that will allow me to fade into the background without too much regret.

As new relationships develop for me, I am finding I have less and less time to sit alone in my study and write. With the latest events that have happened there is now no longer any doubt in my mind that my dream of having highly erotic, highly unusual sex each day and every day is going to be realised. I hope I am going to be only one of many women who begin to emerge in our modern world - dominant women who are unafraid to admit their selfishness, unafraid of the fact that all they care about is their personal gratification; women who take for granted that most men exist only to provide submission and wealth for them to enjoy, with a few chosen males granted special status as lovers to their queen.

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 in 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.

Just as thrilling is the thought that there are going to be experiences and delights that I had never for a moment anticipated, such as the sensational events that have occurred just this past week. But I don't need novel incidents such as these to be assured that I will never tire of sex. I already know that the joy of whipping a man will always be with me; the excitement of lacing my legs into a pair of thigh length boots will never diminish; the pleasure of sucking on a big, hard prick like Matt's will always give me a glimpse of heaven. There are so many variations, so many combinations, so many ways of arousing, abusing, and milking men. Even age won't stop me - I'll find a way, somehow or other I'll find a way.

This is Maria - domina, cuckoldress, uber-slut, whip queen, leather princess, rubber doll, fuck-puppet, prick tease, boot babe, cock lover, and whore wife - saying au revoir, but not necessarily goodbye.

To contact me, email maria at this site