Stepford Slut - Part III
Posted 21 December 2014
The following morning Martin woke me up with a cup of tea and then he went back downstairs to make breakfast. I lay there in bed for a while and then got up to shower. After drying myself off I waited a few minutes to let myself cool down a little and then I began the lengthy but hugely enjoyable task that has become the centrepiece of my life for the past decade: dressing for sex.
Twenty minutes later as I stood in front of the mirror fastening a rubber collar around my neck I heard Tom go downstairs. He slept in his own room after we had finished our late night session, which was past one o'clock in the morning.
As I continued dressing I tried to imagine what the atmosphere would be like downstairs in the kitchen where both Martin and Tom would be acting as though nothing had happened. No matter how much they tried to maintain the pretence of normality though, nothing would change the fact that several hours earlier the husband of the house had been tortured by the sounds of his wife being repeatedly fucked by the man who was sitting opposite him at the breakfast table. There was little doubt that his beloved's cries of passion, her moans, her urgings and her screams of climax would still be echoing in her spouse's head throughout the day, along with thoughts of what she must have been doing. He knew it wasn't just straight intercourse; she would have been standing in front of her dressing table, legs wide apart and bent over at the waist, and her lover would have been pumping two vibrating dildos in and out of her pussy and ass until she almost collapsed from pleasure. And there was the spanking too he must have counted at least a hundred of those.
Awful as it may sound to some, the thoughts of the anguish I was causing were already beginning to excite me, and mentally I began focusing on our house guest, picturing his attractive face, his lovely eyes, and that mouth that was made for kissing. Today I was going to give myself to him utterly and he would experience things that few men will ever enjoy. I was certain for example that he had never actually whipped a woman before, and yet this day he would do so in open daylight with his victim helplessly chained to a pergola with a ball gag in her mouth and a double dildo harness strapped to her lower body. He would strike her rubber encased breasts with a lash and he would spank her bondaged pussy with a whippy short crop. He would lock her mouth open with a fellatio gag and fuck her throat; he would lead her around the garden on a collar and chain like a dog, stopping now and then to let her feed on his prick; and he would sit and watch her sucking on a huge black dildo as a fucking machine double dicked her to climax.
The one downer for me was that I wouldn't be able to video all of the scenes. I intended to capture the outfits I was wearing and Tom could hold the camera whenever I performed acts for him with my toys and other equipment, but I wouldn't be able to get fixed camera shots of us together. I could have asked him to wear a latex hood, but I'd tried that before with another partner and wasn't at all happy with it. For one thing I associate hoods with slaves and furthermore I like to see my lover's face, especially if he's very good looking. Tom certainly fell into that category.
One session I was particularly looking forward to was the early afternoon one where I intended to show Tom parts of my video collection. Over the past decade I have accumulated hundreds of hours of video, but it's only more recently that I have made a serious attempt to properly catalogue all the sequences and create something more substantial from them. Whilst I had certainly spent a good deal of time editing my special video shoots so they had a story-like progression to them, these stylised, meticulously-choreographed weekend sessions only formed a small part of my collection. With the remainder I would simply select short clips for my daily journal to complement my narrative, an unquestionably very effective use of them. You can probably count on one hand the number of days in the past four years when my husband hasn't sat at his computer and masturbated as he reviews my highly diverse activities, and I get a tremendous kick from seeing him in this state, particularly when I'm all dressed up and about to go out.
A particular encounter in 2012 with an admirer spurred me into doing something more with all this video footage and since then I have created a growing library of themed montages which I like to think have been edited to a very high standard. I now work on these on Sunday evenings and it's a pastime that I have come to really enjoy. However this simply wouldn't have been possible when my diary was last active because this period on Sunday was fully taken up with responding to my website email.
I'm sure many of you must be wondering what prompted me to suddenly remove my diary posts nearly three years ago. The assumption was probably that some personal crisis had befallen me, but the actual explanation is far less dramatic. As I explained to several readers who emailed me immediately after the posts disappeared, I was becoming concerned that my diary entries (and particularly some of the images within them) were climbing ever higher up the search engine rankings and this was increasing the risk that someone who knew me might randomly stumble across Maria's Diary. Taking the site down for a few weeks would hopefully lead to Google and other engines removing links to my site from their search results, allowing me to slip back into relative obscurity again.
That was the original intention at least an absence of no more than a couple of months or so. However once the site was down I felt that same sense of relief that I had previously experienced when I no longer had the burden of email to respond to or the pressure to add new material. Above all though I felt far more relaxed and unthreatened when I put myself on public display, and I hadn't realised just how much my prick-teasing desires had been compromised by the fear of being recognised by someone who had read my online diary. So two months soon became three, then four, and during that time my motivation for posting gradually lessened. Although I still long to be ogled and fantasised over by thousands of men, I'm now highly reluctant to do anything that might in any way undermine my present lifestyle because I love every moment of it. Each new day is a delight for me and I consider myself exceptionally fortunate to be married to a man who has a deep, deep need for his wife to exhibit and prostitute herself to other men on a daily basis, and who wants her to unmercifully humiliate him in the process.
With more free time on my hands, video editing became a new passion and I focused on making a particular style of imagery, with each completed montage consisting of many short clips, most of which last somewhere between fifteen and thirty seconds. Initially I did this specifically so that I could stimulate the aforementioned admirer in a private viewing session, but after a while I began showing these videos to my most trusted male friends in London and they were completely blown away by them. I could give a number of reasons for this, but essentially I think it's the fact that the themes are quite unusual and so are the settings. A good example would be a montage I created of me being serviced by slaves wearing dildo hoods, something I've always loved having done to me (and I've shown examples in the diary). In a porn film you might get a couple of minutes close up action of this with just one slave, but my sequences are mostly taken from farther away and it's the context that creates the eroticism. I might be on the telephone to my mother, reading a book in the garden, dressing in front of the mirror, or sitting at the dining table. Sometimes I'm being vaginally serviced, sometimes anally, and quite often both, with two slaves simultaneously pleasuring me. And then there are the positions I get into and the clothing I'm wearing... with so much practice I think I've now mastered the art of presenting the most provocative and erotic ways of being hood fucked.
What I think guys are also drawn to with these montages is that I'm not performing the acts for them, but for me; they're merely capturing the modes of sex that I like most and that I indulge in almost daily if I can. So boot masturbation was one of the first videos I made, and I had so many clips for this that the end result lasts nearly fifty minutes. Double breast sucking is another, a hugely popular video with guys. This only lasts eight minutes because I haven't got that many clips (I have this done to me a lot, but it's rarely videoed except when slaves at home are doing it) but in every sequence I have two men with me and I'm also fully clothed. Again, I can be talking on the phone or performing some other mundane task and I often seem oblivious to the fact that my blouse is undone and two guys are hungrily feeding on my breasts.
The less bizarre themes can be just as popular. One video I made contains nothing other than clips of me or someone else fastening or tightening my suspenders. A number of these were taken in public places or in my car, and they're extremely varied. Sometimes I might just lift up my skirt to adjust things, in others I'll hoist my leg high up on to a table, and then there are the ones where a guy tightens my rear straps, which almost always reveals my panties when he hitches up the skirt. The great thing about a theme like this is that it's not explicit and I can have it looping all evening on either the lounge or kitchen TV when we have one of my special parties at Gerald's.
Arguably the most popular montage video is the one which shows guys ejaculating over my clothing and footwear, and this now features over one hundred and seventy separate clips, with several new ones being added every three months or so. In the past I've tried to explain what drives my desire to have semen sprayed over my clothing and I think you either understand why this is such a turn on for me or you don't I'm no longer going to attempt to rationalise it. In 'The Dream Consultant' I briefly mentioned how I would drive to a meeting with a man just so I could get him to ejaculate over me, and I would then move on to another such prearranged liaison where the next guy would do the same. This is one of the games I now periodically play when I'm returning home from my weekly stay in London, and on the week of Martin's fiftieth birthday I did it with six men on one trip, the first being Gerald and the final one my boyfriend Matt. In my previous post you saw the results of a single ejaculation over one of my leather skirts, and I'd now like you to visualise what that skirt and the rest of my clothing looks like when several men have emptied themselves over me. You might also want to imagine the kick I get from driving around in such a state, knowing full well what's coming when I arrive home.
In one of my early diary entries I told you of the profound effect it had on me when I first witnessed my husband lick his cum from my boots, and from that day on I acquired the need to see him perform some variation of this humiliation on a regular basis. At the time I would have been hard pressed to imagine anything that could be more sexually exciting than forcing Martin to eat his own semen in bizarre, elaborate ways as I dominated him, but I can tell you now that the release I get from seeing this pales into insignificance compared to watching my spouse consume the ejaculate of another man at my command. And what if it's several men at once? The thrill is beyond description.
When I play this car game I usually have a clit stimulator strapped to my pussy that has a built-in vibrator, and for the last three miles or so of my journey I'll turn it on with its remote controller (I don't trust myself to start it buzzing any earlier). By the time I get home I'm so turned on it's ridiculous, but I try to appear outwardly calm as I drive the car up to where Martin is waiting with the fixed video camera mounted on a tripod. How I feel in those next few moments as I sit there with my body turned sideways and my legs out of the car as my husband kneels before me and licks my leather skirt clean is once again impossible to put into words. I will stroke his hair telling him what a good boy he is and how I like to keep him well fed, and I will theatrically ask him if he can tell who I saw on the way home from the taste alone. Does it taste good, sweetie? That's it, now those bits there on my stockings. You just think of me sucking and playing with those cocks before they sprayed over me. Only two this week I'm afraid, but I'll try to make it more next time, I promise.
Despite my passion I don't usually reach climax in such circumstances because I need that extra bit of pressure on the clit stimulator to allow it to fully do its work. However when I eventually get out of the car and paddle or whip Martin as he turns his attention to the inevitable splashes of cum on the leather upholstery of my car, I'll pull up my skirt a little and use my free hand to massage the stimulator. In those moments I get an explosion of pleasure, just wave after wave of delight, and it always hits me regarding what I'm doing despite having done it so many times before. My husband is eating the cum of several men, men who have been brought to ejaculation by his slut wife as she pleasures them with her mouth and hands. If Martin's parents or my own parents could see this scene... the shocking depravity of it in their eyes.
It's this potential shock factor that makes it all so sublimely erotic, and the same goes for when I play out a similar scenario with my boots. I can't get guys to ejaculate over these when I'm in my car because the cum will have dripped off them by the time I arrive home, so I'll get them to release into condoms instead which I'll tie with an elastic band rather than knotting. Then when I get home I'll put my legs out of the car and empty each sheath over my boots. On close up video this looks stunning, and although you've maybe seen pictures before of a man licking up cum from his Mistress's boots, I doubt you've seen anything that comes close to some of the imagery in my private collection.
In addition to the montages which I directly edit myself, Martin has also assisted me in compiling several videos which contain the same clips from my library but spliced together in a completely random order. I'll play one or more of these compilations during a one-on-one session and I've found they're ideal for helping me discover what really does it for a particular partner. I'll get on all fours in front of the TV screen and the guy will take me from behind, slow fucking me as we both watch the scenes together. When my lover suddenly views something that intensely arouses him he simply can't disguise his excitement, even if he wants to. He may say something out loud, he might thrust into me harder or faster, his hands may tighten around my waist, or he'll perhaps pull harder on the penetration chains if he's using them. It's purely reflexive, and from this I've discovered some longings in a man that he was too shy to ever reveal to me. And incidentally, it works much the same with submissive men too the guy can watch the imagery as I'm doing him with my strapon or dildo briefs, although in this case I really need to see his face in a wall mirror to get the necessary feedback.
I'm not going to give a walkthrough of the time I spent alone with Tom other than to say that he comfortably broke the record for the longest aggregate time a man has had his prick inside my rear in a single day. He penetrated me so many separate times in this way that at one point I feared we might run out of condoms, and every time I changed into a new outfit the first thing he wanted to do was bend me over a table and ass fuck me again. Not that I'm complaining though - I knew full well how much he wanted to experience anal sex, and I'd deliberately denied him that pleasure the night before. From the moment I walked into the kitchen that morning in my open rear latex spanking skirt and crotchless briefs I made it clear to him what was on offer and he didn't need any second invitation. Judging by the look on his face I think he would have taken me over the breakfast table then and there in front of Martin given half a chance, but I was saving that milestone for later. However I made sure that my husband knew what was coming, and when he was about to leave for work he found Tom standing in the hallway working a heavily lubricated anal probe in and out of my arse as we passionately kissed.
"Ah yeah, that's it... that's it," I moaned in front of my cuckold. "Oh baby, I want you up me... I want you to stretch my arse with your beautiful dick. I'm just going to lock up Martin's little cock and then when he's gone we'll go into the garden so you can do me on the lawn..."
By the time Martin arrived home Tom had already ejaculated three times while his cock was in my backside and he'd had his first climax less than thirty minutes after Martin left. You might think it odd that I played things this way, allowing him to enjoy this particular sex act so early in the day. However from experience I've found that fighting the urge to release is a serious impediment to a man's enjoyment of an all-day session, and also my own. The guy ends up constantly backing off and he never really loses himself to the pleasure. It's far better to let him unload early to get the frustration out of his system and then have a quieter period where I do all the performing and talking to get him excited again. Tom had demonstrated the previous year that he could easily become aroused again after climax and I had no worries on that front.
After that initial ejaculation there's usually no looking back and most guys are able to give it everything for lengthy periods, banging away at me like a stallion with only physical tiredness rather than loss of desire ever impeding performance. I've been able to show many men that they have it within them to enjoy several climaxes in a single day, and all that's really required to get a guy hard again is that I look hot to him and say the right words. I've found the key is to be patient and to keep the come-on look on my face even though for fifteen minutes or so I may be seeing few signs of passion. Then I'll usually get up and refasten my suspenders before finding an excuse to walk around a lot so the guy can ogle me in my tight miniskirt and high heels. On the rare occasions when that doesn't light the flame then making love with my mouth to an oversized dildo and telling its imaginary owner what I want him to do to me is almost guaranteed to get things back on track.
One of the most magical moments for me that day was when Martin walked out on to the patio that evening to find us sitting at the table. Tom had a bottle of beer in front of him and I had a glass of white wine and we both acted as though everything was quite normal, asking my husband how his day was and urging him to go and get his own drink before joining us. When Martin sat down with his beer we carried on with the light social chat and the only difference between this day and the one before was the constant buzzing noise in the background and the fact that I would periodically interrupt the conversation with passionate moaning.
"Oh God, that's beautiful... aah... aah... aah... oh, it's wonderful..."
I was sitting on Tom's lap facing away from him and I had his erect prick in my rear. I also had a vibrating dildo strapped into my pussy which had a cock ring at its base, the type which has a vibrating rabbit-style clitoral stimulator moulded to it. Both vibrators were turned on, and with Tom gently pumping the pussy cock with his right hand while feeling my breasts with his left I was slowly grinding myself on his prick, getting as much penetration as I could. The feeling was beyond divine.
I know I'm guilty of overusing the phrase "it's impossible to describe with words...", but in all seriousness there is nothing I can write on this page that can come close to helping you understand what it does to me when I have sex like this in front of my cuckold husband. Just think about it for a moment; think of what it was like for Martin to have to witness me ass-wanking myself on another man's dick while my pussy was being remorselessly pleasured, and yet there I was holding a normal conversation with him for most of the time. Eventually as the stimulation became irresistible I couldn't help boasting about my earlier activities as I began bouncing aggressively up and down on my lover's cock. Tom had made me come and come and come again, I told Martin deliriously. And it would be several hours until we finished; he was going to make me come some more.
I left the two of them together after I had climaxed and I went upstairs to change. When I came down again the two men joined me inside where I had already set up a couple of cameras so we could video a domination session. During the afternoon I had deliberately avoided showing Tom video clips where I was punishing my spouse or another man, and although I intended to let him view plenty of these later that night, I wanted him to witness me abusing Martin in a live exchange first. So far during his visit he had only seen me belittle and humiliate my husband, and I knew it would an unforgettable experience (and probably a considerable shock) for him to see just how cruel I can be when I have a physically inadequate man under my whip.
As the date of his visit approached I had made several phone calls to Tom, deliberately contacting him when he was at work so that I could prick tease him and leave him sitting at his desk frustrated for the rest of the day. The whole 'I wish I had a wife like you' thing hadn't gone away and I consciously played on this to torment him, just as I do with many of the guys I see (and of course my online diary is in many ways simply another extension of this). When I rang him Tom would always ask what I was wearing at that moment, and during one of these calls he became particularly excited as the conversation progressed.
"Well, right now I'm dressed as Jessica the secretary and in about half an hour I'm going to whip and cane my boss when he arrives at work."
"Huh, you're what? Who's Jessica the secretary?"
"I'm down in London at a friend's house and I've got a room upstairs here which I use for special sessions with guys where I can play out my fantasies. It's got a big desk, a couch, some armchairs, a filing cabinet, stuff like that - and this afternoon I'm a secretary at the office. Tomorrow I might be a naughty schoolgirl in the headmaster's study."
"You're having me on."
"No I'm not, I'm deadly serious. I've got a submissive guy coming to see me this afternoon and he likes to be tied up and punished by his dominant secretary. For ninety minutes I'll be Jessica, and I do mean BE her. I think you'd really like Jessica, Tom. She's a fully qualified Leather Secretary."
"Tut, tut, shame on you. You mean you've never heard of Leather Secretaries? They're trained at a special school in London and only a few of them graduate each year. Needless to say their workplace skills involve a good deal more than knowing their way around Microsoft Office. And Jessica is a legend at the school - on Friday afternoons the senior girls pose in their short, sexy uniforms and thigh boots for groups of businessmen who have paid to watch them on display, and for a substantial extra fee a voyeur can go to a private room with a girl of his choice and be dominated by her - licking her pussy and boots while being whipped, wanked and fucked by her. To this day Jessica still holds the record for both the number of boot masturbations and strapon penetrations performed in a girl's final year."
Tom started laughing and I could picture him shaking his head in disbelief.
"Where do you get all this stuff from?"
"I write stories to give my fantasy characters some background and help me get into the part, and after reading them guys are practically beating the door down to have a role playing session with me. I can send you the two I wrote for Jessica if you like - the first details her time at school and the second her early work history."
"Yes please... and send them today if you've got time. And maybe send a picture of Jessica dressed for work too?"
"Well, whatever you do, don't read them at work - I guarantee you'll need to relieve yourself afterwards. As for a picture, hmm, I don't think so... I think you really need to see Jessica in the flesh. Maybe when you visit she can make an appearance. You could watch her dominate her boss Martin."
"Yeah, that would be great... and does she only dominate men, or are some allowed to... you know..."
"Oh, she'll let some of her boss's customers play with her, but she's very selective. They have to be tall and good looking, and they have to measure up. She's into big dildos Tom, and I mean REALLY big. Even a guy who is well endowed will often be required to wear a cock extension sleeve to give him extra length and girth when he fucks her pussy."
"Is that last bit just in the story or for real?"
"For real. You know the sort of sleeves I'm talking about, right? The ones Jessica likes have lots of spikes and nodules on them."
"Oh God, you're doing it again," he moaned. "And so Martin is at work today and you're down in London dressed up as a nympho secretary and later you're going to be whipping a man, and on other days you might be... oh Maria, you're just incredible..."
Tom's breathing was noticeably becoming more laboured, and this is like a drug to me when I'm on the phone with a guy.
"Mmm, that's right," I goaded, "you think about that. And sometimes guys come here just to watch Jessica working in the office or playing with her toys and other equipment during her lunch break. She walks around the room in her leather miniskirt and she'll bend over with perfectly straight legs as she reaches into the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, giving a very tempting view of her open crotch latex panties and the dildo harness she's wearing."
"Oh yeah, Maria... oh yeah... yeah... is that what you've got on now?"
"No, today Jessica is wearing leather panties, but they're unzipped and she's got a big stainless steel dildo that's being held inside her pussy with a silver chain that's pulled tightly between her legs."
"Oh yeah, fantastic. The thought of that..."
"...So you can never be sure what's she's going to be wearing underneath her skirt Tom, which is why so many guys like to watch her, often several at a time. She might have a silver bell dangling from her clit that rings as she moves around the office, or a vibrating butt plug, or maybe labia straps which are fastened to her stockings, or..."
"Oh God, what the hell are they? Labia straps?"
"I'll let you think about that one. She likes to make her boss kneel behind her and eat her pussy as she bends over the office desk and pulls the chain attached to his cock. The straps make it more exciting for both of them."
"Ahh fuck... the way you describe these things... you've got to stop it though - I've got a meeting in half an hour... I need to calm down."
"Oh, and I was just getting going as well," I taunted. "I've even turned on my shiny metal cock's vibrator... can you hear it buzzing?"
"Please Maria, I mean it, you're doing my head in. Sometimes I find myself wishing I'd never met you. It's not that I don't love the calls, it's the fact that you keep reminding me of what Martin's got and I haven't. It just doesn't seem fair."
"Okay, suit yourself. You won't find out what I'm going to be doing later then."
"Oh, so what are you going to be doing later?"
"Oh nothing. Just a little group event I've got organised for this evening."
"What sort of group event?"
"You just told me you wanted me to stop."
"Yeah, well I've changed my mind. I want to know what you're going to be doing. Please tell me... please Maria..."
Tom loved my stories, as I knew he would. They were originally written in early 2012 for a wealthy guy who had seen a couple of the pictures from my 'Dream Consultant' post after Gerald had circulated them, and he had developed the mental image of a woman he described as his 'Leather Secretary', a sexy, cock-loving PA who would come to work in extraordinarily short skirts and drive him wild as she walked around the office giving glimpses of her kinky underwear and leather strapping. Just a month later I gave Jessica her first public outing when I travelled to 'work' from Gerald's to the guy's Hampstead home via the London underground.
I spent two hours at the 'office' (which is actually a beautiful study/library with wonderful light) during which time I posed in just about every position I could think of; I tightened and refastened my suspenders numerous times; I made theatrical pretend phone calls (which I'm able to convincingly ad-lib as a legacy of my solo Saturday sessions at home); I strapped a number of different toys into myself; I clamped my nipples; I rode vibrating dildos which were suckered to the big antique desk; I self-flagellated both my arse and pussy with various implements, including a spiked clothes brush; and as a finale I brought myself to climax with a sixteen-inch long dildo which has an eight-inch girth, something that I would never have been able to do before Karl, Martin's other customer who stays at my home, showed me how I could use an inflatable dildo to prepare my pussy for penetration by either a jumbo cock or more than a single normal-sized phallus at a time (and that includes real pricks). What I didn't do that day however was have sex with my voyeur host or dominate him, and in fact I never acknowledged his presence for a single moment as he sat silently at the opposite end of the room and openly played with himself throughout the entire session.
One thing that you should appreciate is that although this man's fantasy had been the initial trigger for Jessica's creation, the end product overwhelmingly encapsulates my own longings, and the same goes for the other role play personas I use. Writing the background stories for these dream dolls is a huge turn-on for me and has been a major source of inspiration for the highly diverse games that I play in London, and also for a good proportion of the present-day equipment that I use during my sessions, some of which is very unusual.
These girls all fundamentally reflect some aspect of my own character, but each has her own individual personality, sexual tastes and mode of dress. Jessica for example is particularly sadistic, especially towards any man who has a substandard penis. She is icily cool, haughty, superior, and doesn't suffer fools gladly. She will only ever accommodate physically attractive men who are well-endowed, and she never makes any exception to this rule. Those who fail to meet her demanding standards have to settle for licking her leather and boots, tonguing her rear, and sucking her pussy as she methodically wields her favourite punishment tools before she cruelly sodomises the grovelling inadequate. She is by some margin the most requested fantasy character that I currently use in London.
We spent over two hours on the domination session that evening, and after seeing Martin endure relentless punishment and humiliation I think Tom came very close to agreeing to be videoed when we played out the finale where Martin was made to watch his secretary being repeatedly fucked by one of his customers. If I had agreed to let him have the video file rather than just a series of captures from it then I'm pretty sure he would have gone ahead, but that wasn't a step I was prepared to take (I'm sure that must have seemed very unfair to him, but for my own peace of mind I severely restrict access to my video library). It was frustrating that I wasn't able to film us together because he lost all remaining self-consciousness in those last forty minutes and really performed magnificently in his role as Martin's nemesis. Long before the end it had become obvious that he wasn't actually acting the part of the superior alpha male any more - he knew he was superior and he was revelling in that knowledge. It had also become apparent to me that he was getting a big kick from seeing my husband being sexually humiliated, and although this is a characteristic that all of my current alpha lovers share, with most of them it's something that has only developed over time. With Tom it was clearly innate, and that realisation on my part opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the future.
A Morning At The Office
Arriving at workIt's 8.30am and Jessica walks into the office with another busy day ahead of her. She decided to leave her car at home again today and travel in on the Tube so that she could tease some pricks and make them hard. It's always a real turn-on to sit in the carriage with her legs crossed and see the gawping, leering faces as guys fixate on the suspender strap that's she's revealing, but today was even better because the train was packed and she had to stand for the entire journey. Several guys ended up pressing themselves against her, and one in particular had actually started to rub himself against her thigh. He had also followed her up the escalators and along the street for a couple of blocks, and she knew that he was taking video of her on his phone. In response she had lengthened her stride to give the sexiest walk possible, and this only increased the wonderful stimulation she was receiving from her harness cocks as they moved around inside her. And yet despite the sublime pleasuring she was being given as she walked, the aloof, dispassionate expression on her face never for a moment wavered.
She's particularly excited today because Tom R-------, her favourite of Martin's customers, will be visiting for a meeting to discuss his account. Normally when she arrives in the office she'll attach a vibrating clit stimulator to her harness and set it gently humming as she makes herself a coffee and opens the mail, but today she decides to forego this pleasure and let the desire grow in her so that she'll be even more eager for Tom's prick when he visits. Of course this will leave her highly frustrated, but she knows that she can relieve some of the tension by abusing her employer.
This combination of my short PVC coat, black seamed stockings and super high heels is one that I'm not afraid to wear in public, although I'll usually have at least one male companion with me when I do this because I don't always feel safe wearing something so provocative if I'm on my own.
The power of this look relies on the ever fertile imaginations of men who are studying me, and as I indicated in my 'Winter Boots' post, a short coat with no visible sign of a skirt underneath is a fabulous prick tease. It's critical that the coat remains on at all times so that the fantasies can be allowed to run wild even after I've left the onlookers' company, and if I'm able to sit down and give a leg show where I can briefly reveal a suspender strap or two then as far as I'm concerned my job is done the human mind will do the rest.
Another vital factor is one of misdirection. If I were to wear this outfit at a bar for example then the obvious hooker suggestiveness would work against me men would just assume that I'm on the game, and although I'd still retain their interest I wouldn't have the same hypnotic appeal. If however I go to somewhere like the car showrooms I visited with Gerald in 2011 then I can play my sexy wife role and the men who see me become completely mesmerised by what they're looking at. In late 2012 I went with my lover Michael into a busy estate agent's branch in this gear with just a bra, suspender belt and dildo harness on under my coat, and we stayed there for over half an hour looking at expensive properties and discussing the current state of the residential market with the office manager. By the time we left, the guy had pretty much become a drooling wreck and I had received a succession of filthy looks from both men and women house hunters (although I should add that the definition of 'filthy' depends on the sex of the observer).
It's an enormous thrill for me when I publicly wear a dildo harness under a short coat with little else on underneath, and I started doing this well before I first cuckolded Martin. In my 'Journey's End' post I showed a picture that was taken on a Saturday in 2004 as I was about to go out alone on a shopping trip wearing thigh boots, a short coat, and a double dildo harness. I would plan something like this days in advance, and on the Friday at work I often found it hard to concentrate as thoughts of what I would be doing the following afternoon kept invading my mind. And on the Saturday itself I would set up a video camera outside and film myself for twenty minutes or more before I departed, bending over or lifting the hem of my coat to refasten a suspender strap as I imagined the shock on onlookers' faces as they set eyes on the press-studded, looped strips of black leather that were holding the rubber cocks inside me. I would also lift my leg up as in that picture, and with the leather protecting me I would repeatedly strike between my legs as hard as I could with my riding crop as I allowed my pussy-whipping fantasies to run riot. They were magical times, and make for compelling viewing for guys who have seen excerpts in my video montages.
The double dildo belt I wore during that domination session is one I use regularly these days when I'm out of the house. It's actually a strapon harness which can take many different cocks, and I'll simply detach the locking plug which holds the external dildo. The two internal plugs are just the right size for public wear as far as I'm concerned, with the anal dong tapered for long-term comfort. They're secured by a single leather strap that goes between my legs, and as with the cock harness I'd worn on the first night of Tom's visit, this belt can be worn discreetly with almost any style of skirt.
When I go out wearing this harness I'll usually have the bright orange locking plug with me in my handbag, together with a six-inch black rubber dildo that can attach to it. In theory this means I can fuck a man at a moment's notice if the opportunity arises, although I haven't actually ever done this yet with an impromptu encounter as opposed to a pre-planned outing. However on more than one occasion I've attached the cock and just posed in it, and I even made a guy suck on it in my car once when I discovered he had bi fantasies. Also, when I'm on my way home after being with a man I can attach the dildo and roll a filled condom on to it, enabling me to casually walk into the house and stand there in front of Martin as if it's the most normal thing in the world (and I don't think I need go into detail as to what happens next).
In my second background story I described how Jessica likes to travel to work in a packed carriage at rush hour on the London underground and she's frequently surrounded by suited male office workers who aren't afraid to press and rub themselves against her. Some have roving hands too, and rather than take offence at such a blatant groping she will instead encourage the perpetrator by discreetly pressing her hand against his crotch and gently massaging him. This is actually a long-held fantasy of mine, and on two occasions I've parked my car at a railway station outside London and made my way to Gerald's by train and then Tube just so I can play my Jessica persona in public. Both times I wore thigh boots with a short coat, and I had my friend Andy watching over me from a distance. Apart from the personal safety aspect, Andy was able to surreptitiously take some video of me and I still get a major buzz from looking at the edited clips in my journal (as does my husband).
Everyday office wear
It's only been fifteen minutes and Jessica's already missing her usual early morning build up to release. She picks up her riding crop and starts tapping it impatiently against her left hand as she walks around the office. She's tempted to go downstairs and whip the hide off that small-dicked pervert in Accounts who wants to buy a pair of her used panties, but she needs to keep stringing him along until she can get some photos of him ejaculating into her underwear so she can send both the pictures and the soiled garment to his wife.
She finds her phone and makes a call. Hello Terry, she says, she's just wondering whether the cream leather has arrived yet for her new riding breeches. It has? And is it as shiny as she wanted? Oh that's excellent, she tells him, well done. Yes, they'll need to be exceptionally tight, just like the biker pants he made for her, but don't put a zipper in this time - just leave the crotch fully exposed so Martin's customers can see her being pleasured by her special saddle when she goes riding with them. She'll need a matching crotch piece of course for public wear. Erm, no, not snap fasteners, make it buckles and a waist belt so she can pull it really tightly between her legs. Oh and she wants internal metal studs on it please - spiked not rounded, like her punishment thong. Sorry, say again? Oh yes, the biker pants are fantastic. She wears them with thigh boots when she goes out on her Yamaha R6, and she straps on a double cock harness over the pants which of course means that the crotch zip has to be fully undone to give the dildos access. The reaction she gets from male drivers when she draws up alongside them at traffic lights is just amazing, especially when they see the coiled bullwhip clipped to her belt. And as for when she gets off her bike at the service station to refuel it...
This is fairly typical of how I look when I'm playing Jessica in London, although sometimes I'll wear thigh boots rather than shoes. The first half of the session is normally voyeuristic, and the guy (or guys) I'm with will sit and masturbate as Jessica goes about her daily routine in the office. As in my very first Jessica session that I mentioned earlier, I never acknowledge the presence of anyone until it's time for them to enter the scene. The whole idea is that Jessica is alone, and when she's on her own she's constantly finding ways to stimulate herself. I try to be as inventive as possible with the accessories and equipment that she uses to bring herself to climax, and she often indulges in self-bondage and self-flagellation (I do actually own a leather thong with internal spiked studs and it's a massive thrill for guys to see Jessica striking her pussy with a whippy short crop while she's wearing it).
For the past eighteen months I have usually stayed in London for two nights each week. I normally leave home at mid-morning on Tuesday and arrive in the capital around lunchtime, although I will sometimes make a small detour to visit two of my long-standing male friends, Adam and Michael, in which case I will arrive at Gerald's later in the afternoon. I will subsequently return home sometime between 4pm and 10pm on Thursday depending on what commitments I have for that day.
Making London the focus of my extramarital activities has been a conscious move on my part. I have been welcomed into a particular social circle there and as trust in me has grown, the men I see have gone out of their way to accommodate my preference for prick-teasing exhibitionism and highly unusual group games. I'm now able to enjoy a fantasy sex lifestyle which regularly involves accommodating several male partners at the same time, and I'll readily admit that I'm highly attracted to the wealth and ambience of London it very much fits the self-image I have of being a sophisticated high class whore.
Concentrating my games in London has also enabled me to restrict the number of visitors to my home. In 2007 I acquired several new lovers and submissives and there's little doubt that by the end of that year I was becoming overconfident and complacent. The number of men arriving at my house during the day had begun to increase, and although in most cases these visitors didn't have any contact with my friends or family, I don't think it would have been that long before I became involved with someone who wasn't able to keep his mouth shut. At one point for example I seriously considered having an affair with one of my husband's employees because I was excited by the thought of the humiliation he would suffer, but fortunately I never followed through on this. I realised it would likely lead to disaster, with Martin completely losing the respect of his workforce.
Then in late 2007 I had an enormous stroke of luck when I met Gerald, and that changed my life completely. I'm sure he'd be the first to admit that self-interest lay behind his persistent urging that I should regularly visit him in London so that I could be introduced to his friends and his wide network of contacts, but irrespective of this I will always be eternally grateful to him for opening so many doors for me. No man has done more to try to understand my dreams and then bring them to life, and his wise counsel has frequently prevented me from making serious errors of judgement. It was Gerald who dissuaded me from showing some highly revealing pictures in my diary when I wanted to prove some of my more extreme claims, and he also convinced me that basing myself in the capital for a few days each week would provide unique opportunities to live out my domination and slut wife fantasies with little risk of any social fallout.
Because of the professional circle I move in, office scenarios are very much at the top of the list of games that most men want to play, especially after Gerald circulated the images I showed in my 'Dream Consultant' post. I'm only too glad to help them realise their dreams, especially as so many of these fantasies match my own. What I'm really into though is the group games, and things have moved on somewhat since I last wrote about these. As I have explained before, I'm quite happy having sessions where guys abuse me without exposing themselves and I'll entertain them individually afterwards if that's what they want, but one thing I love is to be bondaged and then repeatedly fucked anally by guys who take turns with me while my pussy is being pleasured with a wide variety of sex toys. Some of Gerald's closer friends now do this with me on a regular basis while Gerald himself skilfully taunts my husband over the phone, and it's one of the reasons why I'm so excited on Tuesday mornings as I dress in front of the mirror in preparation for my journey into the capital.
Another reason why the anticipation builds as I drive into London is because I know that my sucking duties will start as soon as I arrive at Gerald's. There was a time when I'd turn up there and my mentor would be waiting for me alone, but nowadays his friends know full well what sort of mood I'll be in when I arrive and I've walked into the kitchen to find up to four of them sitting around the table. We don't pussyfoot around, and minutes later I'll be perched on the edge of the table with my blouse undone and bra cups pulled down, and I'll have a guy suckling on each breast teat as eager hands roam over my body and explore up my skirt. Gerald will be on the phone to Martin to confirm that I've arrived safely and that I'm waiting expectantly for feeding time to begin with a fellatio gag in one hand and a pack of sheaths in the other.
Jessica whips her employer
Jessica doesn't waste any time satisfying her sadistic urges and Martin is made to strip down to his rubber briefs as soon as he walks through the office door. He needs to be punished, she tells him, because he neglected to inform her that the customer she went to dinner with last night was into breast bondage. If she'd known in advance she could have worn her zipped leather bra and taken her special tethers and clamps.
She decides to use a leather stranded whip as the first punishment tool of the day, giving backhand strokes initially to warm up his backside, and soon she is admiring the rosy red artwork she's creating on her boss's rear. But the day is young and the canvas is still relatively untouched. It will be several hours before she completes her masterpiece.
I only rarely have domination sessions with Martin these days. That's not to say that he doesn't regularly receive punishment any more, it's just that such abuse is delivered by me on a more ad hoc basis. I've described before how I will whip or paddle him as I'm about to leave the house to meet another man for sex and I've also given you examples of the degradation he suffers when I have a lover with me such as when my friend Andy spanks Martin's cock with a belt while I'm being fucked. I simply haven't got the motivation to hold formal sessions with him any longer because there are so many acts that I won't permit him to perform with me due to his cuckold status.
As I have mentioned in the past, it's in London where my domination desires are given free rein nowadays because I'm able to whip men very harshly when I'm only seeing them every couple of months. With the weekly sessions I have at home with my trained slaves (there are only two of them now, but the explanation for this will have to wait for some other time) I can't be as brutal, and over time the nature of their visits has changed markedly. I realised that it was as frustrating for Martin to see me interacting with a small-pricked sub as it was with a well-endowed lover, and so I began to regularly suck my whipping boys, allowing them to unload in my mouth as Martin watched. My husband will also arrive home to find me lying on the sofa passionately kissing my sub as he fucks my pussy with the vibrating hollow dildo he's wearing, or I might be using his cock as an anal masturbation toy.
Cock and ball punishment
It's cock inspection time for Martin and his secretary calmly explains to him why his penis is useless to her. Fortunately she's able to get most of the daytime prick she needs from his senior managers and business customers, but that doesn't excuse his failure and she has no alternative but to punish his dick and balls.
She takes a long, flexible plastic ruler out of the drawer, and after ordering her boss to mount the desk again she starts tapping his balls with the flat side of it.
Tap... tap... tap... tap... tap...
Then she begins to hit a little harder and a little bit faster.
Slap... slap... slap... slap... slap...
When she begins to strike even harder Martin starts crying out, but she's enjoying herself too much and the noise is making her even more desperate to have Tom inside her. She puts her hand up her skirt and starts to massage the pussy plug that's held in place by her strapon harness but this is a mistake... it just makes her want to punish her employer more severely.
Smack!... smack!... smack!... smack!...
Martin starts squealing but there's no stopping now... this is too exciting. It's no wonder that so many men fear this seemingly harmless plastic tool more than any other in her extensive arsenal. The expression 'enough to make a grown man cry' always seems so apt when she uses it, especially when she delivers the final trio of strikes:
Whack!... whack!... WHACK!!
Jessica now locks Martin into a thick leather chastity jock which will at least offer some protection from the full force whipping she's going to deliver to his wretched manhood. She also makes him wear a latex hood the less I see of your boring face the better, she tells him.
She carries on using the plastic ruler for a while, delivering over thirty forceful smacks as she takes aim at the head of his cock. Then she picks up her beautiful black riding crop, one of the great loves of her life, and she begins to cruelly whip her employer's shaft. Your cock is an affront to women Martin, she says, and it should be beaten like this every day, not once a week as it is currently. Consider yourself very lucky that I'm so incredibly lenient with you.
In my earlier diary entries you won't find me writing much about cock punishment because this is something that I very rarely indulged in at the time. Although I would frequently mock Martin's prick, I fell short of physically expressing my disdain for it, mainly because I was fearful of doing some sort of permanent damage. Also I'd never been turned on by dungeon-style cock-and-ball punishment, with hanging weights and vice-like clamps, and although I enjoyed seeing Martin's prick all strapped up it used to really bug me when my intricate bondage work that had taken maybe twenty minutes to complete all fell apart in seconds when my husband lost his erection.
It was Alison who changed things for me in this regard, and that day when she strapped Martin's cock to my thigh boot and started hitting it with a paddle was a huge eye opener for me. She wasn't striking that hard but I became enormously excited and I began urging her to smack more forcefully. Not only was it a fantastic sight, but also it seemed so right. A deficient cock like Martin's should be punished, I reasoned. There was every justification for women like us to beat pricks that couldn't satisfy us and didn't turn us on, and the deficient owner should suffer this debasement in front of others to add to his shame.
Punishing a man's cock and balls is now a major passion of mine and I'll usually subject more than one guy to this ordeal each week. However I think you have to be quite experienced to do this and I wouldn't recommend a woman indulge in this sort of play until she's able to deliver bread-and-butter discipline to a man's backside without even thinking about it. I also like to give the recipient some level of protection commensurate with the punishment tool, and I'll only hit a bare cock with a leather or PVC belt.
The whippy pastic ruler I use is perfect as a testicle punisher. I absolutely adore the sound of it smacking against rubber-encased balls, and although I start off lightly it's a real struggle for me to not get carried away in the end.
Fucking the boss
Jessica fucks Martin at least once a day at work and she's certainly going to ream his ass in front of Tom later. However the cock punishment has left her on heat and she can't resist the urge to give her boss an extra screwing.
She looks in her dildo drawer and almost picks up the six-inch pink jelly dong, but then her eyes are drawn to 'Matt', a much larger realistic cock that she named after a well-endowed boyfriend she regularly sees. Oh yeah, she thinks, let's remind him what it feels like to take a real man's prick.
"Come here and suck Matt," she commands her boss once she has locked the phallus on to her strapon harness. "Let's make him nice and wet for when he fucks you, shall we?"
Martin has done no wrong and Jessica isn't angry with him, but she has needs - powerful urges that she simply has to satisfy every now and then. She can lose control at moments like this, especially when she's got two comforters inside her.
"Okay, I need to do you now, baby... and then I'm going to whip you really hard... come on... that's it... open your legs more... that's a good boy... here we go... ooh, that's really stretched you hasn't it?... does that feel good, hmm?... now, I'm afraid this is going to hurt, sweetie... I'm sorry, I just can't help it... I need this to hurt..."
Preparing Jessica for cock
Martin's business customer will be arriving in twenty minutes for his meeting and it's time for Jessica to ready herself for his lovely prick. She removes her strapon harness, and although the internal plugs have loosened her up nicely, she knows that she's going to need more preparation for someone who fucks as aggressively as Tom R-------, so she squeezes lube on to her boss's tongue and makes him lick her pussy and arse until she's heavily oiled.
Just ten minutes to go now. Jessica tells her boss that she wants to kiss Tom and play with his prick for a while before the two men sit down and talk, and she certainly doesn't want any interruption from Martin. Consequently she makes her employer lie on the desk with his head over the side so she can straddle him, and after guiding his mouth into position she bondages his head to her pussy with chains.
"Keep me wet for him," she orders.
Two minutes later reception calls to say that Mr R------- has arrived for his 11 o'clock appointment.
"Send him up," says Martin's secretary calmly. "We're ready for him."
Jessica has been passionately kissing Martin's customer and massaging his cock for five minutes as she stands there with her employer's face humiliatingly bondaged to her pussy."You two will have to talk some other time," she announces as she unzips Tom and frees his superbly erect prick from his smart business suit. "I want to play with this for the whole hour."
She begins to masturbate the engorged cock with her skilled hands, just inches from Martin's eyes. "Are you watching this, Martin?" she mocks. "This is what a real man looks like... oh look, it's leaking some lovely pre-cum... let's wipe it on your hood shall we? You can lick it off later."
Five minutes later she finally frees Martin and he has to sit impotently watching as his secretary kneels before their visitor and sucks his prick, frequently taking it fully into her throat. After a while she removes a latex cock-and-ball sheath from the desk drawer, and after smearing the inside of it with lube she coaxes it on to her business lover's excited dick. She loves to see a cock sheathed in rubber like this, especially one so hard, and she's soon sucking avidly again.
"Oh, I love shiny black rubber cocks," Jessica moans as she deliriously licks up and down Tom's now glistening shaft. "I can't wait to be fucked by you while you're wearing this."
A few minutes later she's lying on her back on the desk with her head over the side and she tells Tom that she wants him to screw her throat again, this time while her head is upside down.
"Come here and stand close to me Martin," she orders as she temporarily removes the studded leather collar from her neck. "I want you to lick and kiss my throat as Tom's fucking it. Feel it bulging outward, baby... feel how much cock I'm taking."
And that's just the start of the games. Martin is made to watch as his slut secretary is spanked and paddled before she's fucked vaginally and anally in several different positions. He is then made to join in proceedings, slavishly tonguing Jessica's rear as she lies on top of her stud and rides his cock.
Jessica climaxes twice during the sixty minute meeting, and it's hard to say which one is the most powerful. The first comes when she is on all fours in front of the office TV set with a vibrating stimulator strapped to her pussy and Tom is drilling her arse yet again. The video they are watching is one of her favourites and she has been saving it especially for Tom to view. It's a montage of clips showing her submitting Martin and other hooded men to cum drinking humiliations, and the bizarre scenes feature filled condoms, bowls of fruit, chocolate cake, wine and sherry glasses, rubber and plastic tubing, funnels, an icing syringe, and even a hollow pussy dildo which has a small tap at the base of it.
It takes all of Tom's willpower not to climax himself when he sees the final clip which was taken at the special party that Jessica arranged to celebrate Martin's fiftieth birthday. "Oh my God!" he cries out. "OH MY GOD!! I don't believe it!!!" It's the same reaction Jessica has received from all who have witnessed it and she hopes that one day Martin's mother will be another of those to experience the symbolic and erotic beauty of the scene that she and her friend Alison spent months planning and organising.
As for her second release, before the meeting Jessica had already decided how she wanted to enjoy orgasm that day and it was now a matter of persuading Martin's customer to indulge her exotic whims. Tom had once spent a day at her home and he had videoed her playing with a number of huge rubber pricks. There was one particular monster that had fascinated him and she had told him that if he was a good boy then one day she might let him watch her fuck herself with it. Tom had said that he didn't think that was possible, and the time had now come to show him that he was wrong.
After ordering Martin to bend over the desk she pulls Tom to one side so that she cannot be overheard.
"Beat him with that belt over there and I'll screw myself with that huge black dildo of mine," she says. "Inside me Tom, and not just the head... I'm talking deep penetration here... just think about that."
For a moment Tom seems hesitant, but his eyes soon begin to sparkle.
"Okay," he agrees.
Ten minutes later Jessica is sitting on a chair just a few feet away from the desk and she's working the giant phallus in and out of her saturated pussy as she urges her lover to thrash her employer's backside harder. She's only able to take seven of the sixteen inches of length on the inward thrusts but nevertheless it's an amazing sight for Tom, just as it is when Jessica later gets him to fuck her while he's wearing a special extension sleeve. A hapless Martin has to look on as Tom aggressively thrusts his augmented dick in and out of his secretary's stretched pussy, with the vicious-looking lube-soaked spikes on the penis sheath brutally ravishing her heavily engorged clit, leaving her screaming with delight and urging his customer to fuck harder. And after Jessica has climaxed Tom experiences one of the most unforgettable moments of his life as he is allowed to fuck Jessica's arse while she has the giant rubber cock buried deep inside her cunt once more.
Oh to have captured that wonderful scene for posterity.
After Martin had left for work on the Friday morning I showed Tom my daily journal, which is written in a somewhat different style from my online diary and contains short video clips in addition to still photos. I allowed him to read the entry for a particularly busy day I had enjoyed in London at the end of 2012, and after that we moved to my second lounge which has excellent light in the morning, ideal for showing the glossiness of my very short PVC mini. I sat down in an armchair with my body turned slightly sideways and my legs crossed so that my guest could have a garter strap feast as he sat on the sofa opposite me. He was soon openly massaging his crotch as I spent half an hour giving him more details of my activities in the capital.
"I keep thinking that you can't possibly surprise me any more, but then you come out with stuff like that," Tom groaned when I'd finished my account. "It's just riveting - I could listen to you for hours."
"It's been a bit like that with you," I told him. "You keep surprising me."
"Oh?" he responded. "In what way?"
"Well, it's just that you didn't need nearly as much persuading to do some of the things we've done as I would have expected, especially in front of Martin. In fact you've gone much, much further than I would ever have predicted. A couple of the guys I've had here before have been super-confident and arrogant, but even they have needed more than one visit before they've been comfortable in doing some of the things that you did yesterday. Outwardly you're more reticent, but beneath the surface..."
"I'm not sure I'm naturally like that," he shrugged. "It's you who does it to me... I can see it in your eyes. I mean, you really do get off on the humiliation thing in a big way, don't you? And dishing out the pain as well... that's unbelievable to witness, I can tell you. Such an incredible turn-on."
"Yes, but I saw it in your eyes too, Tom. When you were beating Martin yesterday... you enjoyed doing that. Really enjoyed it - and don't kid yourself that you didn't."
"Yeah, I suppose I did," he admitted.
"It was the same with the videos I showed you later. I've never shown those to a man on his first time here before and I hadn't planned to with you, but after seeing you in that session I knew you'd like them."
"Yes, I did, but once again it wasn't just what I was seeing, it was knowing that you wanted that. You weren't doing it for Martin or anyone else... it was because you get off on things like that. The opening one, for example... God, what a surprise that was."
I gave him a conspiratorial smile.
"After that you'll never look at Martin in quite the same way, will you?"
"No, I don't suppose I will," he agreed.
"Everyone gets fooled by that clip, which is why I always show it first, but it was never consciously planned like that. It just so happened that Alison had started off with the camera quite close and Martin's head was blocking the view. You get glimpses of my latex panties and it's obvious that he's avidly licking and kissing them. You see my leather mini hitched up, my leather corset, the suspenders and stockings, and the tops of the boots, and from the way he's rocking his body back and forth it's clear that he's enjoying a boot wank. And of course you hear my voice as I urge him to feel all over the clothing and to keep licking and kissing the rubber, so why wouldn't you assume that it's me? It's only when Ali moves away a bit that you see me standing next to James and realise that it's him who's wearing my gear, not me."
"Yes, I can see all that, but in my case I think I assumed it was you because Martin seemed so... uhm, what's the right word?... enthusiastic."
"Well, I have tried to explain that to you. And it was James of course... he can have quite an effect on someone when he's dressed up like that, especially me. He still looks great now, but you should have seen him when he first started coming here several years ago."
"So you actually like to see a man wearing things like that? Really?"
I had a stock response to this question because I'd been asked it a number of times before. The straight answer to whether I get turned on by seeing a man wearing a skirt, high heels and women's underwear is no. I can understand why a guy would want to wear such gear, but I don't see how he can honestly expect me to get aroused by it. For domination it works well though because I can use it as a means to humiliate a man, and seeing him like that usually makes me want to punish him more severely. However it was never a big thing for me until I cuckolded Martin and started seeing guys at my home. That changed things considerably, and I realised that I could use it as a weapon to increase the already huge divide between my husband and my lovers.
As usual with all things domination related, my introduction to forced feminisation fantasies came through the drawings of Bill Ward, and I was surprised by my reaction to some of the images. Show me a photo of a man posing in stockings and suspenders and hand on heart I have to say that in all likelihood it won't just leave me cold but it'll actually be a turn-off. On the other hand, show me a picture of a bondaged guy being fucked with a strapon or brutally whipped while he's wearing a corset and stockings and quite probably I'll get excited. That was certainly my reaction to many of the Ward drawings and the accompanying stories, and in the end I was able to rationalise this apparent paradox because I realised that it was the humiliation, control and sadomasochistic elements that had the appeal for me. In time I developed my own fantasies of tying up feminised guys and unmercifully beating them with paddles and whips, and in my mind's eye these men conformed to Ward's stereotype: their bodies were well-toned with good muscle definition, they had narrow waists, and they had legs which didn't look at all amiss in hosiery.
Unfortunately when I began to experiment with this in the real world, I quickly discovered that my middle-aged businessman husband could never match such an idealised image. Martin just didn't look the part, and as a result I didn't get the kick I was seeking. I would get turned on when I caressed the leather and rubber gear, but this was primarily due to my own developing fetish for these fabrics and I found myself wishing that someone else was wearing them. Consequently I largely gave up on such games, apart from regularly making Martin wear a leather miniskirt so I could whip him harder.
I revisited feminisation when I started seeing Matt and even more so when I began having Chris, Nick, and later Andy at my home at weekends. I realise that it's almost impossible for any woman in a conventional marital relationship to comprehend why a wife would deliberately seek to subject her husband to quite appalling humiliation by making him walk into a room dressed as a French maid (for example) and then ordering him to openly masturbate in front of her female friend and male visitors. Equally she will never be able to understand why that same wife would want to watch her girlfriend aggressively paddle and verbally abuse her spouse while she is having sex with her lovers. However this is what we would regularly do on Saturday nights and Sunday mornings, and Alison and I revelled in it. We always had video cameras capturing every moment, and during the week we would exchange emails as we discussed new ideas for forthcoming shoots.
Once James appeared on the scene Ali and I began videoing sessions with more than one sub, and it was always James who we dressed up. Even today we get a massive kick from it, and we're always thinking up new scenarios - the kinkier the better. The key though is James, and these scenes just wouldn't work without him. For me he's the one exception with the feminisation thing, and he's the only guy who has ever genuinely sexually excited me in the same way that Alison does when she's dressed for sex. He's the only man I'm involved with who is allowed to wear thigh boots, the only one who wears my own skirts, corsets, and panties, and the only one permitted to share my bed at night dressed in such gear. I have a unique relationship with him - it's very special indeed.
I dearly wanted to describe my relationship with James in my 'Whipping Boys' post, but in the end I thought better of it and only gave him a brief mention. He was very young and naοve when I started seeing him, and although I claimed in that diary entry that I didn't feel any guilt over how I had ensnared and manipulated him for my own ends, if I'm honest I have to admit that I think I was trying to convince myself with that statement. After all, if I had truly been comfortable with what I had done then I would have given as much space to his background in that post as I did with Peter and David. Thankfully though I know he now sees the training and conditioning I gave him as a gift, and after the experiences he has enjoyed over the past few years he would never want to wind back the clock. His only problem as he approaches his thirties is that he knows that his allure is going to fade at some point, and possibly rapidly. For the moment though he's still got it, and on a few occasions he has accompanied me down to London where he has proven to be VERY popular in my sessions there.
When I first met James it didn't immediately occur to me that he would be such a perfect candidate to feminise - I was just drawn to him by his sweet looks and his youth. I had already been training my slave Peter for some time, but as I've stated before, Peter wasn't naturally submissive and so my focus had almost exclusively been on conditioning him for discipline and punishment, and also training his mouth for worship. Dressing games would have to wait.
I initially took the same approach with James, but after just a few sessions I changed course. He was so unlike Martin and the other men I was involved with - slender body, nice legs, slim waist, and he had those beguiling pretty-boy features. I just couldn't resist the urge to dress him, and apart from footwear and gloves, I could dress him from my own wardrobe.
I will never forget my first session with James when I feminised him, and fortunately I had a video camera running so I've been able to watch it again and again. It was intended to be a standard 'Mistress worship' exchange, with a slutted-up slave kneeling before me and paying homage to my own outfit. However as I was about half way through dressing him I got him to stand in front of my full-length bedroom mirror so I could check my progress, and at that moment my heart nearly stopped. There he was in six-inch stilettos, black fishnet stockings, lace-edged latex panties, leather opera gloves and one of my boned rubber corsets, and it was like seeing one of those Bill Ward forced feminisation drawings brought to life. It was just how I'd always imagined my dream feminised guy would look, and in the space of about ten seconds a myriad of delicious thoughts had raced through my mind.
I let James wear my favourite laced pencil skirt that day, the one you've seen so many times before. I had to take his panties off so that I could ensure his cock wasn't upright, and as I laced him tightly into the skirt I became tremendously excited as I saw the head of his prick straining against the leather as it naturally rebelled against being held vertically downwards. Also his legs were being forced together and this was causing his cock head to rub against his stockings, resulting in him uttering small moans and gasps when he made even minor leg movements. Because I had never made Martin wear a skirt of this length and tightness I had to ask James what was provoking these outbursts, and when he told me the reason I instantly knew that I had discovered a new form of cock masturbation. I made a mental note to find some way to bondage his prick and thighs into such a position so that he would experience this effect even in a miniskirt. And if it was so stimulating just through small changes in leg position, what would it be like when he actually walked? Could it possibly induce full ejaculation? The bizarre thought came into my head of walking down a street with James dressed like this and witnessing the cum squirting down his nylons as the stimulation from the stocking wank finally became overwhelming.
By this time in the session my aloof Mistress aura had begun to crack. I couldn't resist kissing and licking his cock through the shiny leather, and I remember the thrill I experienced when I put my hand up the skirt and started playing with his dick and balls. James only has an average prick, but I think what was exciting me so much was the realisation that from that day forward I was going to be educating him differently from Peter. He would be trained to become a fetish-clad fuck doll who knew how to pleasure men with her clothing and boots, and she would work alongside my whip as well as under it. I instinctively knew that one day I would watch a guy doing what I was doing at that moment, and eventually he would unlace the skirt and suck James's prick, just as I was about to. Later in the session I had James on all fours and I dildoed him with one of my larger realistic vibrating cocks as I steadily masturbated him with my other hand. I wouldn't normally have done this so early, but the sooner I could get him to associate such lifelike toys with intense sexual pleasure, the sooner he would be ready for the real thing. The thought of that sent me wild and I ended up deliriously licking the back of his rubber corset as I pumped the big buzzing dong in and out of his backside.
James had the latex panties back on at this point and they were pulled down to his knees. As he approached climax I hoisted them up to his cock and two minutes later he filled them beautifully for me, with rope after rope of cum spurting into the insides of the rubber garment. I was almost overcome with passion at this sight and there was no way I was going to end the session as originally planned. Instead I made James walk around the house in his cum-soaked knickers as I gave him some initial heel training, spanking him and flicking my whip across his rear whenever he failed to follow my instructions. However I wasn't concentrating that hard - this was all to kill time until my husband arrived home. Not only did I want Martin to see my sexy new slut but I wanted him to worship her as well, and the thought that this might be too much too soon for James never for a moment entered my head. I wanted to see Martin suck her heels, kiss her stockings and suspenders, lick her gloves and corset, but most of all I wanted to pull those semen-saturated panties down again and bury my cuckold's face in them, holding the back of his head and grinding the rubber and lace against his mouth as he licked up every last drop of my pretty slave's milk.
That was one of those magical days when I just knew that things would never be the same again. After talking for almost an hour on the phone to Alison as I told her about my new discovery I spent the rest of the evening on my laptop, tapping away at the keys as I tried to translate into words the endless stream of kinky thoughts that were racing through my mind. The possibilities seemed boundless, and every now and then it would hit me once again: Oh my God, I've got my own slut with a cock! This is going to be amazing!
That day last year at my home Tom received a more condensed reply to his question, but I can remember how it ended:
"So anyway, that's the best I can explain it really. Apart from James, the kick I get from feminisation is through the humiliation and control aspect. It's also a tool that I use to increase my contempt for Martin, which is why I'll sometimes deliberately make him dress up like that when I'm going out on a date, just so I can provoke such an emotional reaction within me. Seeing him like that makes me desperate for alpha cock and makes me want to whip him, which is precisely what I'll do as I'm about to leave."
"Oh wow, you really do that? You whip him when you're about to go out!?"
"Oh yes, quite often. Outside in the open air as well. I make him lean over the bonnet of my car or get on all fours on the slabs by the garage and I thrash him, usually with a stranded whip."
"Sweet fuck... and you're all dressed up... in your leather skirt, stockings and high heels... going out for sex with someone else... oh God, Maria..."
By now his arm was working rapidly back and forth.
"Easy, easy," I cautioned. "Calm down a bit. Save it for me."
He immediately backed off and took his hand away from his groin.
"Sorry, I can't help it," he said breathlessly. "It's just that you're so incredible. Everything about you... and it's painful for me because the clock's ticking and in a couple of hours I'll be going home. Tomorrow it'll be back to the usual drab routine for me, but here it'll be just like this won't it? Even if you've got no-one here you'll be dressed like you are now, won't you?"
"Yes, I'll be in something like this. It's everyday home wear for me."
"Do you know what it does to me to know that? To know that tomorrow Martin will have more pictures to look at and more things to read about? I don't even know when I'm going to see you again."
"Well, that's something I'd like to discuss with you," I said. "The thing is, after seeing how confidently you acted with Martin and how much you got off on me humiliating him, I'd like to have you here more than once a year."
"Are you busy tomorrow?" he quipped.
"Unfortunately I am," I laughed, "but seriously, I'd like you to come back in six weeks or so if you could make it."
His eyes brightened. "I'm sure I could arrange it somehow."
I couldn't help looking down at my fingernails as I said the next bit.
"The thing is Tom, there's one major problem, and that's the video. If you hadn't been so good yesterday I maybe wouldn't feel as strongly about it, but the final fuckings you gave me in front of Martin yesterday were just sensational. It was everything I've ever wanted in front of my husband... the aggression, the things you said... and you didn't just say them to me, you taunted Martin as well. Right to his face! I've never had a guy act so positively on his first time before. And you're so good looking too in comparison to Martin... it makes it all seem so perfect, so right that it should be a man like you servicing me. I'm just gutted that I haven't got that scene recorded."
"So you're saying that I can't come here again unless I agree to you videoing us?"
This time I looked him in the eye.
"Yes, I'm saying that, and I'm not going to apologise for it. The videos are such a key part of my life, and if you make that step then things will be a lot different between us. You'll be invited here regularly and you'll be able to have unprotected sex with me - which means you'll be able to watch me feed Martin your cum in some very kinky ways. I'd like to introduce you to Alison as well, and you should perhaps consider what that means... having your cock pleasured by both of us at the same time, and then watching Ali and I make love before you fuck us both. And you saw those fantastic tits of hers - you and I can suck them together."
His hand went straight back to his crotch.
"Oh sod it, you're doing it to me again, aren't you?" he groaned. "You know I'm going to say yes, don't you?"
"I'm pretty confident that you will, yes. You won't regret it, I promise you that."
There was silence for a moment and Tom's gaze drifted towards the window, although he didn't seem to be focusing on anything in particular.
"Maria, these past three days have been a life-changing experience for me," he said almost absently, "and I'm absolutely serious when I say that. I thought I'd sleep like a baby after everything we did yesterday, but I woke about five o'clock this morning and I couldn't get back to sleep. All I could think about was that I'd be going home this afternoon and it would be back to the same predictable daily grind. There's no particular strain at home and outwardly Laura and I get on okay together, but these days we don't talk all that much and we don't share any interests. We just... share the same space. And I'm thinking: do I want to live the rest of my life like this? What's the point of living the rest of my life like this?
"And then I think of you... how with someone like you we'd maybe be out for dinner somewhere tonight and you'd look fantastic as always, and I'd want you. I'd be sitting there knowing what you're wearing underneath your dress and I'd know that when we got home we'd be all over each other. And I'd be able to take video of you and watch it later, I'd be able to spend my time searching for clothes for you and those toys you like... and I'd wake in the morning and watch you dressing in your sexy gear and... oh God, you know what I mean. Being with you makes me feel alive. I want someone like you, someone who makes me constantly look at my watch at work because I can't wait until it's time to go home. I want a wife like you, Maria, and I really mean it."
This impassioned little speech wasn't new to me. Over the years I've had several men say much the same thing and in every case I've tried to deflate the guy's expectations. I'm sure a psychologist could write a lengthy book on the subject, but I can give you the concise summary: Tom's dick was doing the thinking for him.
"Well, what you've just described isn't a wife like me is it?" I countered. "You want a sexy dresser who always looks hot for you and wants it all the time - from you or sex toys though, not other men."
"No, you're wrong, I just didn't put it very well. I want a wife who dresses like you every day and wants it all the time, and because I'm at work she has to get it from other men. Lots of other men. And I want the phone calls, I want the pictures, and I want the write-ups. I want it all."
"The domination too?" I asked with obvious scepticism.
"I'll say it again - I want a wife like you. The domination thing is a vital part of you... such an incredible turn-on. And I don't think you'd find it so easy to dominate me."
You're fucking kidding me, I thought.
"No, I'm sure I wouldn't," I lied tactfully, "but seriously Tom, you really think you could handle your wife walking into the lounge in a rubber mini and stockings, fastening her nipple clamps in front of you as she tells you you're going to have to sleep in the spare room again because she's got a couple of guys coming round? You think you could deal with what Martin heard last night and the night before? The moans, the cries, the spankings? Come on..."
"Yes, I could handle it. I'm certain I could."
"...and when she walks into the kitchen and casually drops her panties on to the table in front of you? Not damp with cum Tom, not wet with cum, but drenched with cum."
"Yeah, and I know you're not exaggerating because I've seen the video, but that was just fantastic to see, as was all the other stuff you showed me. You seem to think that Martin is some sort of one-off individual who's the only man who can deal with what you do. Can't you accept that there may be hundreds or even thousands of men like him and that I might be one of them?"
That comment did actually shut me up for a moment, but for his own sake I wasn't going to give up. It was time to change tactics, and I softened my tone.
"I can understand how you feel, Tom, really I can, and I'm not going to try and persuade you that your life is better than you make out. It's just that I'm not so sure that the alternative would leave you feeling any less frustrated. There's just no guarantee that if you go searching for someone like me that you'll find her. I mean, what are the chances? How many women do you honestly think are out there that have my outlook on life, hmm? And I know you'd want a looker with long, sexy legs who's much younger than you... so where on earth are you going to find this girl?"
"I don't know," he admitted, "but I've got one big advantage... I've got an awful lot of money. Even after an expensive divorce settlement I'd still be well up there, and eventually there'll be my parents' estate as well. I know it sounds mercenary, but a lot of good looking women are drawn to wealth, you know that, and age isn't a barrier."
"Yeah, and in most cases the wrong sort of woman. You'd be pretty vulnerable with that attitude I can tell you. Don't kid yourself otherwise."
"Oh don't worry, I'm aware of the risks, but I wouldn't let that stop me. And anyway, I'm not so much thinking of the sort of woman who moves in upper circles seeking a wealthy mark. The type I have in mind is more like the great looking waitress in a restaurant who doesn't quite appreciate what she's got until someone like me comes along and changes everything for her... clothes, shoes, car, holiday home... the whole lifestyle."
"You forgot to mention the accent, Professor Higgins," I laughed.
"Is it so different from what Martin did with you?" he shot back, and there was little sign of mirth.
"Yes, it is," I said somewhat frostily. "Money was never part of the attraction with Martin. I admit I'd struggle without it today, but our relationship was based on love, Tom. I was never bought."
He sensed the irritation in my voice and immediately back-pedalled.
"Okay, sorry, I appreciate that, and really I'm digging myself a hole here. I don't mean it like it sounds... I would hope it would be love as well. It's just that I have this vision of meeting this girl and devoting my time to helping her appreciate herself, to make her want to display herself. Yes, it would be for me, but it would also be for her. That's what happened with Martin isn't it? You've repeatedly said that you consider yourself the lucky one, not him."
"Well, that's certainly true and I'll always be forever thankful, but it took him several years remember..."
"I've got plenty of time. And I'm patient."
"...and there was never any guarantee that I would change in the way he wanted. Suppose at some point I had just said no? How could you be sure you'd got the right girl?"
"I couldn't. It wouldn't stop me trying though."
Despite the expressed determination, at that moment he looked quite forlorn, as though he knew what I was saying was true but couldn't bring himself to admit it. I suddenly felt great sympathy for him because his words were so heartfelt, and really he was only expressing the sort of selfishness that had driven me for almost a decade. Why shouldn't I have what I want? Why shouldn't I live my dreams? Who's going to stop me? However I was still convinced that Tom wasn't thinking rationally and that after a few days away from me he would come to his senses, so I threw him a bone. What was the harm?
"Okay, I'll make a deal with you. You find a young girl with the body and looks - she needs to be eighteen to twenty-one years old, no more than that, and don't worry about the age difference - and you send her to live with me. I'll train her to be your Maria, but it'll take me about three years. At the end of it she'll be the slut of sluts, a dominant nympho who wants it every minute of the day and who makes damn sure she gets it. You'll have pictures, phone calls, the journal, the whole works. The price you pay is that for three days a week you won't see her because she'll be down in London with me. Oh, and on your wedding night she'll be gang-banged. Everyone will be up her except for you."
Tom started laughing.
"You're not telling me that came out of nowhere," he said.
"No, it didn't," I admitted. "I have a long-standing dream of training my own gorgeous slut and having her attend to me every day. I've got a good idea of where to find her as well. The only problem is fear - the fear that she'll eventually supersede me in almost every way and I'll have the agony of seeing what my life could have been like. The flipside is that with her by my side I could continue living the life I do for years and years to come."
"It sounds absolutely awesome. I'd pay for everything, Maria, whatever it takes."
"Come on, Tom, it's purely hypothetical. It's a fantasy. I think you'll feel differently after a few days at home. Don't even think of making any life-changing decisions until you've been well away from me for a while. Splitting up from your wife after being with me for just three days would be complete madness."
"Yeah, I know you're thinking that I'm just turned on and I've momentarily lost my marbles, but I really am serious about this. I don't think Laura would be that bothered if we separated, really I don't. She'd be upset at first but in time she'd probably welcome it. It's only the kids that keep us together and they'll be gone soon. And God, the thought of life at home if there's just the two of us... no, I think it's going to happen at some point, so why not sooner rather than later?"
At that moment I couldn't help imagining what would happen if Tom actually went through with it and ended up divorcing Laura. I knew that I'd been a contributory factor in a marriage breakdown before, but only because I appeared on the scene when the relationship was already as good as over. This was different, and I might be facing the fact that my machinations had directly led to the separation of two people who had been together for over two decades and who also had children. I'm not sure what you're going to think of me when I say this, but I can't deny that the idea of this had considerable appeal, and my reflexive reaction was that I would want Laura to know that it was me who had taken her husband from her. I'd have to wait until he was actually divorced, but then I'd want to be somewhere where she could see all the guys in the room obsessively ogling me: six-inch heels, seamed black stockings, tight leather zipped-back mini, semi-transparent black top with a visible bondage bra beneath it, silver ankle chain with a dangling penis charm, whip earrings, leather choker with attached chains that disappear into the bra, glossy lips and seductive eyes that say "I love cock". Then I'd look over at her and stare into her eyes, giving the merest hint of a smile, and she would instantly KNOW. She'd know that her husband had been emptying himself inside me while he was still married to her.
"Well, I've said my bit and from now on I'm not going to try to influence you either way," I said firmly. "It's none of my business and I certainly don't want to be involved in any break up, so keep me out of it, okay?"
"Oh don't worry, you don't exist."
"I do for the next two hours though, so would you like to go upstairs?"
"Oh, yes please."
"Okay, and what would you like me to wear for you?"
Tom had already been slow-fucking me for half an hour when I called Martin. After speaking to my husband for about two minutes and telling him what we had been doing all morning I handed the phone over to my lover.
"Hi Martin, I'd just like to tell you that your company's customer care is by far the best I've ever enjoyed. Maria really does give premium service, and you must be very proud of her... I can't believe how hard she works in London as well... anyway, right now she's wearing that latex dominatrix outfit... you know the one... it's just brilliant to feel, and she got me to wipe my prick all over it so that you'll have to clean it later... oh and she likes her toys doesn't she? We're using that dildo with a ring on it that slides on to my prick so I can fuck her both ways at the same time... she loves that one doesn't she?... and I've got the extension sleeve on again... after seeing her yesterday with that monster rubber prick I'm surprised she didn't get me to wear one earlier... oh she's absolutely incredible... hang on let me just kiss her again... hmm, perfect... you know, I've been telling her that I want to have a Stepford Slut of my own one day, but it'll be a bloody miracle if I get one as good as this... anyway, sorry I wasn't able to come in and see you today, but every minute spent with you is a minute taken away from fucking your gorgeous bitch whore wife, so I'll maybe see you next time, okay?"
I took the phone back from Tom and said goodbye to Martin.
"That was brilliant!" I praised once I'd disconnected. "Wow, for a first timer that was amazing!"
"Thanks," he said sheepishly, and I could see that he was pleased. "I lost my way a bit in the middle... and sorry about the 'bitch whore' comment at the end - it just came out."
"No, no, that was perfect," I assured him. "That's exactly the sort of thing I want you to say."
"I am going to have one Maria."
"What? A Stepford Slut?"
"Maybe I'm the only one. I might be unique."
"Nah, I'll be able to get one off the shelf at the Apple Store one day. Maybe I'll have two when they're on offer... buy one, get one free."
"You mean when you're, like, a hundred and twenty?"
"Won't matter. With medical advances I'll have the mind and body of a thirty year old."
"Yeah, right. In your dreams..."
I neglected to mention that it was very much in my own dreams as well.
|To contact me, email maria at this site|