Publish And Be Damned?

Posted 22 December 2008

These boots were put to very good use in September when I made a late morning visit to see a former business client. That day I wore the same fishnet stockings, skirt and sweater you see here, and the only thing that's missing from the scene is my admirer kneeling before me with his head between my legs. It was a very satisfying meeting, and I hope to tell you all about it soon.
Maria poses in her steel-heeled boots

Merry Christmas everyone, and I hope 2009 brings you good fortune and happiness.

I thought I had it all worked out when I revived my online diary in March. So many exciting events had occurred during my absence, so many of my dreams and fantasies brought to life just as I had planned. When I had made what I thought would be my last post in February 2007 I was already well on my way to becoming the real life manifestation of the dominant, leather-clad, sex-obsessed socialite whore that my husband had always fixated over. Numerous artists and writers had provided me with a blueprint of what such a fantasy female should look like and do, but it was no longer a case of following their guide in order to provide what they wanted; no, I was following such a path because it was now what I wanted. I wanted it all, the full-time depraved lifestyle of a kink-loving slut wife.

In the year of my absence I attained many of my ambitions far earlier than I had ever expected. Primarily this was due to the fact that I gave up work and this granted me far more time to concentrate on my main aims. This led to the rapid acquisition of new sexual partners in the latter half of last year, and the decision to start seeing men at my home allowed me to finally enact on film all those fantasies that for several years had been tormenting me as I lay alone in bed at night or when I was undertaking a long journey in my car.

All I had to do when I restored my website in March of this year was to write about those events, to excite you with a detailed narrative of what I had been up to and the extreme extent to which I had taken the cuckolding of my husband. The only problem that I could see was how to organise such a history. With so many new actors and so many threads to the story, I wasn't quite sure how to present the final package. Should it be a chronological retelling, or should I concentrate on a particular theme in each post to give the reader a better context of how my life developed? It had to be one or the other, and I knew that if I chose incorrectly I would regret it later because there would be no turning back.

The solution was fairly obvious, yet daunting. I would need to do both versions and only then would I be able to decide which course would be better. The chronological version already existed in detailed form because I had meticulously continued to write up my offline diary. This just needed to be edited down. So it was the 'themes' version that I worked on first, and while I laboured away at this I put up the Just Another Day post to hold your interest (which I really enjoyed, and I'd like to do something similar again).

I had written some 70,000 words of the history by early July, but by this time a number of concerns had arisen in my mind as to whether what I was doing was both advisable and meaningful. I feel I've always had good instincts as to whether my writing is going astray or is reckless from a personal perspective, and when such alarm bells start ringing I pay very close attention to them. We've all seen the movie sequel that should never have been made, the TV show that went one series too far, the politician or sports legend who should have quit while they were ahead. I always promised myself that I wouldn't allow that to happen with my diary.

Let me try to explain my misgivings as I see them - there are several, but they are all very much interconnected and it's this combination that has given me such pause over the past few months. To begin with, there are the issues I alluded to in my Living Fantasy post when I returned after my long absence. I think for many readers the original appeal of my diary was that it related in so many ways to their own experiences. A great number of you wrote to me saying how closely my own story paralleled the development of your own marital relationship, with the main difference being that I had been determined and unafraid to reach out for my desires whereas so many wives couldn't take that irreversible step that would forever change their marriage, even though they longed to do so. Despite my outrageous exhibitionism and sexual drive, I was still somehow touchable to you - a wife who had strayed and was enjoying her new sexual freedom.

The experiences I have indulged in over the past two years go well beyond this. As far as I'm concerned I've been totally consistent with my intentions, as any review of my early diary entries will demonstrate. I made it quite clear that I wanted to have sex with a large number of men, and I also explicitly stated that I wanted to make my husband watch me being penetrated by several men in a single session. The trouble is that if I describe such sessions in detail I can't help but believe that the Maria you fantasise about and lust after will seem increasingly detached from you. When I said at the end of the Lights, Camera, Action! - Part II post that: "nothing marks a woman as a whore more than the knowledge that she has been taken by two men simultaneously", I really meant it, and if I acquainted you with my deeds with multiple partners you would come to realise once and for all how utterly selfish I am as far as my sexual requirements are concerned.

For some time now I've been experiencing some frustration due to what I see as a lack of understanding about what makes me tick. The reality is though that it's me who needs to better appreciate that in most people's eyes my lifestyle and longings are decidedly unnatural. Readers are excited by my exploits, but a proportion of you stop short of countenancing my cruelty towards men, and this is where I think a divide has been growing between some of us. Many of you simply cannot understand how a woman can derive pleasure from physically hurting someone (even if it's only relatively harmless, transient pain), and even more so, what possible enjoyment there can be in sexually humiliating a man.

Yet the enjoyment I receive from spanking, whipping and humiliating my husband (and now other men too) is the essence of me. It's the root of everything that I have done. I cuckolded Martin because I wanted the thrill of witnessing his humiliation. I started having sex with my business clients for the exact same reason. The taking on of multiple lovers and also allowing plain, unattractive men to pleasure me is simply a natural progression of the cuckolding/humiliation meme.

Once I began having men visit my home for special filming sessions, I took this humiliation about as far as it could go. Being filmed having sex with two men and later three at the same time was very exciting for me, but such episodes in isolation were never high on my list of priorities. But having sex with one or more men while my husband is on camera being forced to participate in some demeaning way, or having him punished by my friend Alison as I'm being pleasured - now that's a completely different story.

On weekends when Alison is staying and we're filming, I'll have sex with a well-endowed lover as my husband services me while wearing a latex penis hood. If I'm lying on top of the guy then Martin will be on all fours behind me, his face bent down, dutifully pumping the dildo in and out of my rear as my pussy is beautifully filled with hard cock. With another of my lovers, Nick, who is very strong, I slide myself on to his prick and he then stands upright, lifting me so I'm completely impaled on his cock with my legs wrapped tightly around him. While we kiss and fuck like this, Martin kneels behind me and once again pleasure-pumps my arse with his mouth dildo. At other times I like to sit on a lover's prick, facing away from him with total anal penetration. I then lift my booted legs over Martin's back and my husband is required to dildo-fuck my pussy as I urge him on with my spurs and whip.

The above are just minor, almost mundane examples of the way I like to enjoy myself now when Martin is present with my lovers. The climaxes I receive when having sex in such depraved circumstances (and also when viewing the video at a later date) defy description, and the buzz I get is magnified if either Alison or another man is disciplining Martin as he is made to perform. Just thinking right now of the noise of the cane or whip striking Martin's backside as he thrusts his rubber mouth-cock into my vagina until it meets the immovable resistance of the rock hard prick in my ass is making me wet with excitement. Even in my dreams I never imagined that indulging in sex of such an extreme nature would be so incredibly thrilling.

Humiliation: here my youngest and most attractive slave James is forced to wear a leather miniskirt and lacy panties as I discipline him. Not only does this strip him of his masculinity, but also I can whip him much harder. I like to punish a submissive in a session like this at least once a day.
Maria humiliates a slave

A large chunk of the 70,000 words I wrote in order to bring you up to date with what I had been up to over the previous year or so specifically detailed the indignities Martin suffered as I acquired new lovers and slaves. It was as I read through those accounts that I began to have doubts about the wisdom of ever publishing that part of my story. Not only was I struck by the somewhat repetitive nature of it all, but also it became blindingly obvious to me what a precarious position I would be putting my husband in if I fully revealed what he had been made to do to satisfy my urges. Sure, based on what I've already revealed you can argue that things cannot get any more embarrassing for Martin than they already are, but the things that my spouse has been required to do and witness me doing in the special video shoots I've produced (particularly in the second half of 2007) go way beyond my earlier excesses.

I also faced the problem of protecting Alison as well. She has been inspired by my diary and has been hugely understanding of my desire to publish my activities, but she has never wanted to become a major feature. Unfortunately that presents a serious problem for me because my friend has been a critical player in my games, and especially in my video sessions.

Before I cuckolded Martin I often fantasised what it would be like to have him watching me have sex with someone else. In my dreams I would imagine myself being screwed by a big-cocked stud while verbally taunting my spouse about how fabulous a real prick felt and how useless he was in comparison. However, once I had made the set of videos with Matt that I described in the Lights, Camera, Action posts I realised how disturbing it is for a husband to see his wife totally captured by lust - so overcome by the power of the pleasuring she is receiving from her lover that she loses all consciousness of her surrounding environment. With her eyes closed and her mouth open, she completely submits herself to the ecstasy that is coursing through her body, and in that moment nothing else matters to her.

For a husband to see his wife so lost in passion is far more hurtful than any words could ever be; to see her kissing her handsome, muscular lover as his long, hard, pounding shaft gives pleasure that her spouse could never begin to give; to see her neck arch backwards as her whole body shudders in multiple climax; and to hear her screams as hot cum spurts into her greedy, cock-loving cunt... that's what every cuckold should be made to witness at least once in his life. Yes, he'll enjoy the excitement of it until he's forcibly milked, but then comes the shame and guilt that will rarely leave his mind - a mental torment made worse by knowing that his wife's glowing demeanour will only last a day or so before her hungry pussy will want filling with another man's semen once more.

Alison has given me the very best of both worlds, and I'll never be able to thank her enough for it. While I have sex with my male visitors, my friend takes control of Martin - taunting him, belittling him, and disciplining him as I am repeatedly fucked in front of him. Although I have taught her a great deal, I never told Alison how she should speak to Martin while he watches me being taken. She'll tell you that she copied my tone and expressions from watching videos of me, but while that may be true, the mastery that she shows in manipulating my poor spouse is most definitely a natural gift - soft-spoken, yet firm; seemingly kind, but savagely cruel; barbed wire wrapped in cotton wool.

"Oh look, Martin, look at that... she's never taken that much before has she? Did she lift her legs up like that when you used to have her, hmm? Can you remember when you used to have her? Yes?... Did she get all wet like that?... Martin, I asked you a question, don't make me angry... I said did she get all wet like that?... No? So why do you think that was then?... That's right, yes, but it's not just because of your little prick, don't think it's just that... I mean, she lets Peter put his prick in her sometimes doesn't she, and she always gets wet even though his prick is even smaller than yours... no, it's because you just don't do for it her... you haven't got what it takes... I'm the same - I like you, I care for you, and I'll readily admit that I get excited when I dominate you, but I can honestly say that you don't turn me on in the least as a man, a true man... I mean, look at Nick, look at his body... he's going to fuck me later and I can't wait to have him inside me... some men have just got it Martin, and you haven't... and you know what? Seeing you on all fours dressed like you are now while you allow another man to screw your wife sickens me. And you did nothing to stop him when he spanked her, did you? You just meekly watched... you should be ashamed... are you ashamed? Yes?... Then we need to make it up to Maria, don't we? That's right... so listen, what I'm going to do is beat you with this, my darling... yes, yes, I know, I know, and I'm sorry, I don't want to do it, really I don't, but I need to do it to turn Maria on more... you know she'll love the noise, and she'll have a beautiful orgasm when she hears it. And imagine how she'll love looking at the video later when she sees me hitting you with it... you want to make her happy, don't you, hmm? Don't you want to please her? Yes, that's right... so I'm just going to put your gag back on and I want you to bite on it very hard, okay? Bite really hard, it'll help... oh, and don't be afraid to squeal, sweetie... you know she likes to hear you squeal..."

Faced with the dilemma of not being able to decide how much to reveal in the diary and what video captures to show, my response was to simply do nothing. I was completely trapped by indecision - wanting to tell the world about my exploits and show you glimpses of the amazing imagery I've produced, while simultaneously maintaining the deniability that will protect both myself, and more importantly, those I'm involved with.

Some progress in deciding how I should resolve this came from my close friend Gerald whom you may remember was instrumental in coaxing me to put the diary back online again. I'd discussed my predicament with him several times since I last posted and he was completely sympathetic and didn't push me one way or the other. However I know he sensed I was becoming increasingly frustrated at the impasse and he was well aware that I was considering taking the site down again. When I met him in London a couple of months ago he didn't so much as tell me what to do as steer my mind to where the real problem lay.

"Look, the way I see it you've lost sight of what you were trying to achieve when you first started the diary. You said it yourself... you had some fairly harmless pictures of you dressed up in exciting clothing to accompany some highly explicit text. You never felt the need to show photos of Matt or Alison, and you've mainly kept Martin out of things too. If someone recognises you, then so what? Just a sexy lady who tells a good story."

"I'm not a sexy lady who tells a good story, Gerald. I'm a sexy lady who lives a good story."

"Yes, and that's the key isn't it? You can't live with the thought of being considered fictional so you want to prove to everyone you're real."

I couldn't deny what he said. Despite the undeniable logic that it's in my best interests for the diary to be viewed as fantasy fiction, I deeply dislike being regarded as a fake, especially since I've taken such risks in chronicling my exploits.

"It's not as simple as you think," I shot back at him. "It's important that men know I'm real. The diary loses something vital if it's just a fairytale. I can kid myself that it doesn't matter either way, but you know as well as I do that I don't really believe that."

Gerald just smiled at me condescendingly. I'll never be able to properly explain our relationship to you because I don't altogether understand it myself. He has never had intercourse with me, and yet apart from Matt he has a hold over me that is probably stronger than that of any other man I know. Partly it's because I'm in awe of his connections and knowledge, partly it's his amazing ability to express himself, but above all it's because he seems to completely understand my warped nature and has done so much to turn my desires into reality.

"But you'll never be able to definitively prove it and in the meantime you'll put yourself more and more at risk," he said firmly. "What's more important to you? Becoming world famous as the ultimate dominatrix wife or living the completely indulgent and stress-free existence you do today?"

"You know there's no contest," I responded flatly, and Gerald just raised both arms then and pulled a face as if to say: Duh... so what's the problem?

"Maria, you've got to get to grips with this. Stop caring about what other people think. Let them believe what they want to believe. Let them doubt what they want to doubt. You don't have to prove anything. Just live your life as you want, and if you get a kick through writing about it online then fine. Stick a few sexy pictures of yourself on the site as well to feed the imagination, but abandon the idea of showing the group stuff or anything too extreme. That way you have very little to worry about."

I was quiet for a moment then as I thought about what he had said. After ten seconds or so he continued, but less forcefully now:

"Look," he said, "I know I persuaded you to put the site back up, but if it's causing you so much dissatisfaction and regret then give it up... let it go... it's totally their loss."

"No, it would be my loss too. I love men looking at me and fantasising about me, and many women like the diary too - not everything I do, but certainly the idea of having such power and freedom."

He leaned forward then and took one of my hands in both of his.

"So just accept that you can't have it both ways. Show some restraint with the pictures and what you've done with Martin and then you can write whatever else you like without fear. Otherwise call it a day. You can leave the site up and just tell readers you're not posting any more, but for God's sake get rid of any feelings of obligation to anyone out there."

Gerald was right, and as I thought about it more over the following days I could see how I had painted myself into a corner by feeling the need to prove that my extreme exploits aren't fictional. I simply had to accept once and for all that there is no mileage in putting myself and others at risk purely for the vanity of developing some sort of online celebrity status.

Had that been the only issue that was causing me hesitation then by now I would have posted some more material, but another factor has come into play in the past few months, one which deep down I knew would inevitably cause complications for me at some point.

Despite the large volume of mail that is sent to me, until the late spring of 2008 I had never received a message from someone who said that they knew me, or even anyone who claimed to have seen me in public. This wasn't actually any great surprise. I get a steady stream of visitors to my site, but it's not that likely you'll stumble across with casual browsing. I have very few inbound links, and the reason I avoid outbound ones is to try to keep my site off the radar if I can. I want visitors to find me either by word of mouth (which will usually come from a comment left on a cuckold forum for example) or through someone typing "dominant wife" or a similar term into a search engine. The Net is an awfully big place, and I'm tucked away in a very inconspicuous corner of it.

Does this bring back memories Mr P ?
Wearing thigh boots in a hotel foyer

In May however I received an email from an American reader who had only just discovered my site, and he stated that he was certain that he had seen me in a London hotel some five years ago wearing thigh length boots. I was more than sceptical of this claim because he didn't identify the particular place where he supposedly saw me. Even so I wrote back to him and asked for more details, and he was able to recollect two specific facts (which I won't discuss here) that makes me certain that it was indeed me he saw.

I had a rather ambivalent reaction to this. On the one hand it was very exciting because the man described what a profound effect it had on him to see a woman wearing such boots openly in public, and that memory had become even more precious now that he had read the diary and fully appreciated how stimulating I find it to wear thigh boots. On the other hand it made me realise that the diary doesn't reside in some vacuum that is somehow detached from my everyday life. Even though many men write saying that they are always hoping to see me one day in a bar or restaurant, it's very easy for me to forget that this will almost certainly happen some day.

It certainly has its appeal, and I have thought about it many times before.

"Wow, look at her... there, over by the bar... in the fuck-me boots."

"Jeeze, that's horny. She must have... wait a minute... bloody hell, it's her!"

"Eh, what you on about?"

"It's her, I'm sure of it. It just has to be her. I can't believe it. It's Maria!"


"Well, she calls herself Maria. She writes a blog on the Web - pretty kinky stuff, actually - about how she likes to go out in thigh boots and leather skirts in public. She gets off on it... you know, just to get a kick from seeing blokes looking at her."

"You're dreaming."

"I'm not bloody dreaming. There are pictures of her on her site - she blurs out her face, but I can tell it's her just from the hair alone."

"You're really serious?"

"Honestly, I'm not kidding. Check it out when you get home. You'll see it's her."

"You gonna say something to her?"

"Uh, like what?"

"Well, anything. Just to let her know that you know who she is."

"I'd be too embarrassed. Seriously, she's an absolute man-eater. She likes to whip guys... and worse. Mind you, if your dick's big enough she'll let you whip her."

"Okay, now I know you're having me on. Anyway, she doesn't look the type, despite the boots."

"Well, yeah, I agree, but that's the image she likes to give - sort of a high-class business type. And you ought to see some of the other stuff she wears. She likes to... oh brother, did you see that? Bloody hell!!"

"See what?"

"Just then, did you see how she moved herself on the bar stool?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"She likes to go out with dildos strapped into her. I'm not kidding mate, that's what she does sometimes. Just then she moved herself on the seat... it was hardly noticeable, but you just wouldn't move like that normally. I'm telling you, she's got a rubber dick in her arse."

"Oh come on, you're completely fantasising now."

"Well, you watch carefully and I'll bet you she does it again at some point. Wow, what an awesome, AWESOME, piece of stuff."

"So what're you waiting for? Oh for fuck's sake Steve, she's sitting there all alone and you're not even going to chat her up a bit? I want an intro... she's one of the hottest things I've ever seen."

"Out of our league, mate. You think she's gonna waste time talking to us?"

"Well, let's find out, just for a laugh. You know you'll always regret it if you don't."

The thought of being approached in such a way doesn't really bother me and it's actually quite a turn on thinking about how I'd handle such a situation. However, it's fine as long as that's as far as it goes, and what I don't like the idea of is some individual thinking that because he knows me from my online diary that he can take liberties with my privacy and personal security. Even though that is always a risk when you go out dressed as I do, I can imagine it being a greater problem if some obsessive guy who has read my diary automatically thinks he has some sort of green light to take things further.

It may be a mere coincidence, but four months after I received that initial email saying I'd been recognised, I had another one from a UK reader describing how he'd seen me in a restaurant wearing my leather opera gloves. He cited both the date and the actual venue and there is no question that it was me he saw. Once again this man only found my site after the event, but it did make me think hard about the difficulties such recognition could present. For a start I don't feel I can go to that restaurant again, and secondly I wonder what would have happened if I had been approached that day. I was dining with a man who was completely unaware of my online chronicles and who was only an hour or so away from being masturbated by those shiny black gloves as we sat in my car. I can imagine a very awkward situation developing if someone indiscreet comes to the table claiming I am 'Maria' when I'm in the company of a male friend.

Like it or not these two harmless instances have caused me to change my behaviour somewhat and to take extra precautions when I'm out in public. In this sense it's made me resent the diary a little because it has encroached upon my freedom, something I value above anything. If that encroachment ever becomes more than a minor irritation then I hope you will understand why the diary will be instantly removed.

Of course it may seem far more inevitable that I will at some point be recognised by someone who actually knows me by name. That has always been a major consideration, but it's slowly becoming less of a threat I feel. For one thing I'm no longer working and that has made me far less visible. Furthermore my day-to-day social contact with what might be termed 'normal society' is gradually lessening as I continue to devote time to my indulgences. This doesn't mean I'm becoming a social recluse, and in fact I'm out of the house most days at some point, but my trips tend to take me to places where I'll be enjoying more than just light conversation. Again, I'm being entirely consistent here - it's the life I always wanted to lead.

It's only a matter of time now before Martin and I move house, and this should enable me to live an even more carefree lifestyle with fewer worries about being recognised online. Martin's firm will be hit by the deep recession we're moving into, but since we always anticipated such a severe downturn was coming we've positioned ourselves very well and have zero debt. Although we are currently tentatively looking at properties, with the UK housing market in freefall we think much better opportunities will be available in eighteen months or so.

I'm very keen to get somewhere with substantial private grounds and also a large outbuilding that can be converted into a studio. Most of the imagery I currently show is limited to the same innocuous and by now repetitive pictures of me posing and dressing in my bedroom, a backdrop that I feel safe in showing because hardly anyone I know socially has ever seen it. My ambition though is to create full working sets so that I can shoot my favourite fantasies in properly choreographed dramas (the three most appealing being an office, a restaurant and a school classroom) and I can see my existing video collection gathering dust once I create the new one. The thought of shooting a professionally lit restaurant scene where the two attractive, opera-gloved socialites talk nonchalantly to each other as they calmly masturbate their big-cocked waiters until they cream over their chocolate desserts gives me the shivers.

I also need a house or flat in central London. Due to the way things have gone this year this has become a necessity and my hope is that in due course I'll be spending at least three days per week there. If you remember I always wanted a London property but crazy prices in the capital were a huge deterrent. That situation is now changing rapidly, and it would be very satisfying to have my own place where I can keep a full wardrobe and range of accessories. Instead of having to go to hotels with Martin's business customers I could take them back to my own residence and play far more inventive games with them. I'm not sure I'd actually want to buy a house - renting might be the better option, giving me the flexibility to move location if necessary. On the other hand outright ownership would allow me to convert such a place internally to accommodate my unusual needs. I would certainly want my Trophy Room to be there, and a room walled with mirrors would be very useful too.

The circumstances under which the requirement of a London base has come about are quite unusual, although I can't say that I didn't expect things to end up like this eventually. You may recall my mention of the fact that Gerald has been instrumental in opening doors for me, and one of these involves me acting as hostess at some special evening functions in London. It would be highly unwise for me to detail these events, but that really applies to any discussion that may identify any of the individuals present rather than an account of proceedings. I don't think I'm going to be able to resist talking about what I've been up to, although it may all seem rather mild to you because it doesn't involve penetrative sex (actually, there has been penetration of sorts, but you know what I mean).

I think it's fair to say that a number of the guests at these functions (almost all of whom are older than yours truly) have been totally captivated by me. I am actually introduced as 'Maria' to the gentleman there, and that's all they really get to know about me apart from the fact that I'm a married woman who needs a lot more than her husband can provide; who enjoys exhibiting herself in fetish clothing; and who not only likes to be looked at by men but also intimately touched by them too.

This wasn't sourced from a video capture but a photo taken by Gerald at his London home where he organised a special evening for me. I'd only been introduced to the man in the picture some two hours earlier. I'm wearing my laced leather pencil skirt and halterneck latex top yet again, simply because this outfit is VERY popular with men. Interestingly, both my husband and my boyfriend find photographs like this one far harder to deal with than more explicit imagery.
Maria enjoys the party

It was as I was having a phone conversation with Gerald a few days after one such evening in late summer that he revealed in passing that one of the guests had contacted him and tentatively asked whether I ever saw anyone for "a private session". Gerald told this man (a long-time friend) that unfortunately no, Maria didn't indulge in that sort of thing (which was a complete bald-faced lie considering the number of times I'd already sat on Gerald's knee in private and had his hands up my skirt). Gerald knew I'd love hearing about this enquiry and needless to say it had quite an effect on me.

That same night I found myself thinking about it in bed and a substantial length of hard black rubber was helping me focus my mind. I found the whole idea deliciously tempting and I tried to anticipate what downside there could be. I had already been introduced to the man in question and I didn't have any real worries about his character. As with most of Gerald's friends he's old school, a true gentleman who is very polite and highly respectful of women even though he'd witnessed me acting in a highly unladylike manner. Also, based on what I had already surmised, I felt I knew what the guy wanted and it wasn't anything overly wild, although I won't mention exactly what it was here. So what was the harm? I meet him at Gerald's place, take him to an upstairs room, give him a series of experiences that appeal to his particular fantasies, and almost certainly enjoy a couple of highly satisfying orgasms in the process.

I wasn't impetuous though, as I knew I could so easily be allowing desire to overcome common sense. Instead I thought it through in the cold light of day and I even discussed it with Martin. None of this served to deter me in any way whatsoever, and instead I came up with an idea to make it all even more exciting.

Two days later I rang Gerald back.

"I want you to tell Patrick that I would be happy to see him privately," I said.

"Well, well," he laughed, "why am I not surprised by that?"

"The only thing is I'd need to see him at your place. A hotel room wouldn't work if I'm going to be making a lot of noise. Would that be okay?"

"Yes, of course, but whether he'll be happy with that is another question."

"Well, if he isn't happy then it's not going to happen," I said firmly. "And I want you in the house too, although well out of the way of course - he'd have to agree to that as well."

"Hmm, that might be pushing things too far," he said dubiously.

"It's entirely up to him... I've got nothing to lose if it doesn't happen, so I feel I can set the ground rules."

"Fair enough, but maybe you'd best discuss it all with Patrick directly. Do you want me to give you his number?"

"No, I don't want to contact him yet. Instead I want you to give him the web address of my diary and tell him to read it all. Then he can decide whether he still wants to meet me. He'll get to understand what I like and the sorts of things I can do for him. Make it clear that I won't have intercourse with him and I won't play a sub role, but I think we both know that's not what he wants. Tell him I'll wear whatever he likes from the diary pages too. Anything. I take it he's got Web access by the way?"

"Oh yes, definitely."

"Okay, good, then tell him if he wants to go ahead after he's read the diary he's to let you know and I'll get in touch with him."

"You've obviously been thinking about this a great deal, and I know what that means. I'm getting jealous," he laughed again.

"It's very tempting Gerald. If I could make this work..."

"Yes, I think I know where you're going with this. I can see the appeal for you."

"Oh and one more thing - no money, okay? I don't want him to think I'm after any payment or even a gift. Make it absolutely clear that I only want to do this because it would turn me on, no other motive, and assure him that his privacy will be respected."

"Yes, okay, I know I can vouch for that."

I certainly considered asking for payment at one point. That would have fitted perfectly with the prostitute image I have of myself. As I've noted before, I have accepted money in exchange for sex in the past eighteen months. One reason was simply because I wanted the thrill of being able to say that I have worked as a genuine hooker, although I have to come clean and admit that I didn't just solicit guys off the street. All the same, I will never forget that first time when I walked to my car afterwards with the heels of my boots clicking loudly on the pavement in the still, cold air of early morning. I couldn't stop thinking about the knotted condom in my handbag and the envelope of cash that had paid for it to be filled while the owner's prick was inside me. The other reason of course was so that Martin would always have to live with fact that his darling wife had sold herself for money despite all the riches he gifted her, a reality made even harder to bear by the knowledge that she absolutely loved the hard boning her John gave her.

The reality is though that I simply don't need the money, and not only does it avoid all manner of complications if I keep things on a strictly non-commercial basis but also I can be far more demanding with my requirements.

Patrick was completely blown away by my diary and as a consequence I met him at Gerald's London home one afternoon in October for a session that lasted just under three hours. It was tremendously fulfilling for both of us. I don't think he could believe his luck in coming across such a desirable and comparatively young woman who genuinely received sexual pleasure from what she was doing, and for my part I discovered I was more than happy to accommodate a man nearly thirty years older than me. I certainly had more than the couple of orgasms I talked of above.

I saw Patrick again in November and I told him, as I had told Gerald, that I had no problem with him discreetly revealing to other guests who see me at Gerald's get-togethers that Maria is available for private interviews on a strictly non-payment basis. That's all - I didn't push the matter any further than that. Since then I have seen him yet again this month and I'm currently waiting for a response from another individual who has expressed interest in having a session with me.

I'm sure you can see where I would like this to lead, although it's much too early to say whether I'll ever get there. Seeing several clients like Patrick (I'll use the term 'client' as it somehow seems appropriate despite the non-professional relationship) on a regular basis with a fixed appointment schedule is just the sort of pseudo-prostitute existence I've always wanted. Three or four clients each day in separate two-hour sessions, two days a week. Combine that with my current lifestyle at home and surely I have hit the jackpot. There's no way I could do this at my present house because I would live too far away from my clients. A second home in the centre of London would solve everything.

I've thought about this a great deal more since that first conversation with Gerald, and whereas initially I only considered that I'd play limited games with such clients I've come to realise that this would be far too restrictive and may even begin to bore me. I just know I'll want to have penetrative (but protected) sex with some men and if possible I'll want to wear my phone headset during intercourse so that I can taunt Martin. Similarly I see no reason why I shouldn't allow myself to be disciplined and bondaged providing that someone I know and trust is physically present to ensure my safety. I love being tied up and spanked by a handsome, dominant man, and several of Gerald's friends and acquaintances I meet at the London soirees he organises fall into this category despite the age gap. But there will be no cameras and no sound recordings. I don't even want to know anything about a client's personal life unless he volunteers it, and I won't be documenting sessions on these pages other than in a generalised form. I want clients to be confident that their identity and privacy will be fully safeguarded at all times.

If I can make this work then it places the diary in a rather interesting position and I can't say for sure what I'm going to do. Logic tells me that with such a full itinerary I won't have the time to maintain an online presence and it will also probably be wise to slip back into anonymity to shield both myself and those around me from inquisitive eyes. At the same time though the diary more than proved its worth with Patrick and I'm hoping to get a similar response from the latest potential client who is currently reviewing it. In Patrick's case he said that reading my online posts added enormously to his desire to be entertained by me. He simply couldn't believe how fortunate he was, and I'm very proud of the fact that the first session I had with him exceeded all his expectations despite the evocative imagery my written words had put in his mind.

Yes, I could show these men an offline version of the diary but I don't believe that would have the same magnetism. My website has verifiably been up for over three years and viewers can see that I have done what I can to protect the identity of the men I have been involved with. You certainly wouldn't be able to recognise anyone but me from the pictures I have posted and there is sufficient lack of detail in the text to pin anyone down. Furthermore anyone reading the diary knows that many hundreds (and quite possibly thousands) of men the world over drool over me and dream of being with me. For a man to read my posts in the knowledge that all he has to do is say 'yes' and he can be one of the few fortunates to privately touch and caress Maria in her leather, and even possibly fuck her in bondage too, is powerfully seductive.

Take the Just Another Day shots for example, where I videoed myself in my spare bedroom before I went out prick teasing. I ended up on all fours mouthing a rubber cock I'd suckered to the wall, and unsurprisingly I started fantasising. "Oh, yes, my panties are being pulled down and there's another queue behind me now... yes, that's it boys, give Maria everything you've got". Well, maybe after reading that, a potential client would want me to dress up in the exact same gear. Perhaps he'd want to use some light bondage on me, just to make me seem more vulnerable - say a buckled gag in my mouth and cuffs on my wrists and ankles. Would you like that Mr Client? Would you like to pull down those rubber panties as Maria imagined and then ream her backside with a dildo? Yes? Would you like to then get on the bed and fuck her ass while she squeals with delight through the gag? Have a long, hard think about all those things you'd like to do to your own private slut.

Maria is about to be fulfilled

Building such a clientele with set visiting days and appointment schedules would be the final piece in the jigsaw to see me through the next twenty years of my life. I'm enough of a realist to know that walking around in public in leather miniskirts isn't something I'll be able to do forever, but I don't see any reason why I shouldn't be exercising my talents on men for many, many years to come. I have another ambition as well which I hope will maintain my excitement in my later years, but I'm keeping that one to myself for now.

So for the present I intend to keep the diary going, although I hope you will accept that in addition to being an outlet for my exhibitionism it is also becoming an online advertising brochure for my services, and some of the content may now reflect that. You may think it odd that I'm revealing all this to you, but I see minimal risk and a tremendous amount of upside potential. I get a big extra kick from having my diary online, but only if you know the reason why, and I can't believe it won't add to your excitement knowing that I am now publicly prostituting myself. I can be fairly sure that this will also provoke feelings of jealousy in some cases - a few select readers are now being accorded a higher status than the rest of you, and they'll be studying my pictures extra closely, choosing which outfit they want me to wear when I whip them or kneel before them and suck them. Does that gnaw at you a little? Well, now you get another insight into how my husband feels.

Ideally I'd like to get the diary back to its roots - an outlet for me to turn myself on by writing about my experiences and expectations in a 'stream of consciousness' manner where the reader is a voyeur into my private life rather than the target of my prose. Conequently I'm hoping that this will be the last introspective discussion about the diary itself for quite a while. It's time to get back to discussing the sex I enjoy and who I've been enjoying it with. There's also the interesting aspect of what people know about me now and how they got to know about it. My friend Alison is no longer the only confidante who is aware that I have cuckolded my husband, although thus far that revelation doesn't extend beyond the impression that I have a single extra-marital lover. Oh, and what of my dear mother-in-law Grace... how does she view the idle, childless wife of her precious little boy? Ah, now therein lies a wholly unexpected tale...

To contact me, email maria at this site