I read a post by Naughty Nora recently in which she described her fantasy life. That got me feeling rather inspired and I decided to take her lead and do the same. But first, some context to explain my motivation… Master and I haven’t been living our best M/s life for the past couple of months. There are many factors. My sudden aversion toward cuckqueaning some months ago plays a part. Master’s backbreaking work schedule plays another. But then there is also something very exciting that inadvertently drew our focus away from kink. We have spent the past few months searching for and procuring our forever home, or at least for the next decade. You can imagine the amount of time and energy that went into this endeavour, so I suppose it is no surprise that we haven’t been too focused on M/s.
In slightly over a month, Master and I will be shifting into our first owned property. I’m delighted, to say the least. It is a four-bedroom duplex apartment located in a small town to the south of Lyon where we currently reside. Between the two of us, that is a lot of space. I know that it is probably not surprising to those of you who live in places like the US, but coming from Singapore, I’ve only ever known small spaces. Anyway, with so much space comes so many possibilities. Master and I have talked and come to the mutual decision that we would really like to restart our M/s dynamic in the new year, building it up systematically until we shift into our new apartment, at which point we will have the structure in place with no bad habits to fall back on.
Let me clarify what I mean by ‘bad habits’. When I am accustomed to a certain way of life, there is a tendency to fall back into those routines when the focus on M/s wanes. For example, we had, for a period, set up my sleeping space on the floor of the living room, akin to a pet bed. That was really hot when the dynamic was strong, but once we got busy with other things, I wheedled my way back into bed with Master, and that’s where I’ve been ever since. I like to think, perhaps naively, that if we set up the rules and structures from day one, I won’t feel entitled to something I never had. Certainly, I have no clue if this will actually work, but Master likes the idea of permanence in some of our rules, so that is something we will work towards. Some other less consequential ones can be lifted when needed, such as in the event of an emergency or illness.
In my writing, I allowed myself to imagine my best slave life. I have a pretty vivid and ambitious imagination, particularly when horny, so there are some bits that will probably not be explored in real life, but we are using my writing as a reference for discussion. In essence, my wishlist is (1) for us to put in place certain restrictions to very clearly mark my role as his slave, (2) to add to my current list of tasks, ideally to include tasks of a sexual nature, and (3) to safely reintroduce cuckqueaning into our dynamic.
On cuckqueaning, I’ve spent the past couple of months thinking and overthinking our recent experiences. I’ve pondered what went well and what went wrong. I came to the conclusion that I want need to be cucked. In truth, it is the only thing I think about when masturbating. It is the only type of porn I gravitate to. I loved certain aspects of the experience, namely the way it added to the intensity of our play and the way it lent authenticity to some of the restrictions we have in place. For instance, Master doesn’t focus on my pleasure when we play, and while I can absolutely find this hot through the lens of his fuck toy, it is just that much hotter when viewed through the lens of his cuckquean, particularly when I bask in the knowledge that he does indeed very much so focus on pleasuring his other partners. I also figured out that I have a tendency to fixate and obsess when I know too much about the other party. I see her as a direct contender and fear he will replace me. Perhaps if his ‘conquests’ were nameless and faceless (and we stanced this lack of knowledge as a privilege I was not allowed), it might be easier for me. Again, this is pure speculation, but Master agreed this was an interesting angle worth exploring.
So without further ado, here’s my take on ‘My Fantasy Life’…
The alarm clock rings at 7.30am, signalling the start to a new day. Every morning, I am to wake at least an hour before Master needs to start getting ready for work to tend to his needs. I start the day by putting my bed away. I sleep on a quilt intended for the convertible sofa that functions as a guestbed. As his slave, I am not allowed to sleep on the sofa, so I sleep on the quilt laid out on the floor beside the sofa. The guest room, which also houses most of my belongings, is located on the first floor of our two-storey apartment. It has an attached toilet and shower, the only ones in the apartment I am allowed to use.
I neatly fold up the quilt and deposit it, along with my pillow, in the wardrobe of the guestroom. Technically, it is my room since all of my things are in it and it is where I spend the most amount of my time. My desk and computer are in it, my craft materials, even a good proportion of my clothes, and we don’t even have guests stay the night often. However, Master is adament that as a slave, I must never believe that I have a right to anything. All of these are simply on loan to me, and Master can take them away just as easily.
After making my bed, I freshen myself up. I wash my face, brush my teeth and wash my pussy as best as I can underneath the steel chastity belt I wear pretty much permanently. Master only removes it when we go out, but I have to wear a butt plug whenever the belt is off, so I never forget what I am. The steel shield of the belt is tight across my genitals, cutting off access to my clit and pussy. Well, that’s not quite true. I can still access my pussy by sliding the shield to the side, but the most I can insert is a finger at an awkward angle. Hardly satisfying. I can, however, insert and remove tampons, thus I wear the belt even when I am on my period. I daresay this is the most difficult time because everything is sensitive and the belt only heightens my perpetual arousal.
Anyway, I clean myself up just in case Master chooses to deposit his sperm in my pussy, more lovingly known as my lube dispenser and cum hole. He never fucks it anymore; he always uses my ass or mouth till he is very close and then finishes in my pussy in just a few thrusts. It feels good though, I can’t complain. I know my pussy doesn’t deserve his cock, so I am contented to take what I can get, even if it is just a few seconds of fucking. The only reason why Master even bothers with my pussy is because we are trying for a baby. I can’t imagine what will happen after we succeed or if Master decides we will remain childless. I suppose I will have to be thankful for the few half strokes he gives me to lube his cock up before plunging it in my ass, or the annual pussy fucking I get on my birthday, also our wedding anniversary, just to remind me of what I have given up to be his slave.
When I am done, I climb the stairs and enter Master’s bedroom as quietly as I can. The time is now 8am, just half an hour before he has to start getting ready for work. I give him a gentle kiss on the cheek and wait for him to acknowledge me before slipping under the covers. He takes me in his arms and warms me up before telling me to wait. Master heads to the toilet to pee and then returns to bed. This is my cue to start his morning blowjob. I make my way between his legs and take his cock in my mouth. There is a drop of residual pee, but I lap it up greedily, knowing that fuck pigs take whatever is given without complaint.
I work hard at Master’s cock, licking, sucking, using my hands when my mouth tires. Soon, I hear him groan I feel his hand at the back of my head, urging me to keep going. I know this means he is close so I maintain the momentum, stroking his shaft and sucking his cock head at the same time. He cums with a loud growl, filling my mouth with his seed. I swallow hungrily, just a little bit disappointed that my pussy won’t be getting any attention but I’ve gotten used to serving Master without reward. I emerge from under the sheets to his wide smile. “Good morning, Master,” I say, settling into his arms for a little bit of morning cuddles. “Good morning, piggy,” Master replies, kissing the top of my head. We stay like this for awhile, and then Master goes off to freshen up while I prepare his breakfast.
A cup of coffee and a small bowl of yoghurt and fruit await him as he descends the stairs. “What is your plan for the day, piggy?” Master asks. I fill him in on my goals for the day – an hour of French class, an hour of yoga, a trip out to get some bread, how much writing I hope to achieve, etc. I also run through my list of slave tasks – an enema to prepare my ass for fucking, 30 minutes with the nipple clamps on while I practise my deep throat skills on a dildo, and at least an hour with the butt plug inserted. I may not have to work, but my days are filled serving Master and working on myself.
“I have a date tonight so you don’t have to prepare dinner for me. I don’t want you eating rubbish though, so just a salad for yourself. Make sure you take a photo of your meal and send it to me so I know you aren’t being a greedy piggy. No need to clean your ass today, clearly I won’t be using it. You will, however, go through the entire list of your cucking tasks when I’m out, sending me pictures to prove they are done. As usual, don’t expect a reply since I’ll be busy enjoying the company of a real woman, but I want to see that you know your place. Do you understand, piggy?”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, Master.”
“Don’t look so sad, piggy. Come here, kneel at my feet.”
I did as he asked.
“Why do I fuck other women, piggy?” Master asked.
“Because I am just your fuckpig, Master.”
“And what does that mean, piggy?”
“It means I’m your toy to use when you need a warm hole to cum in, Master.”
“That’s right, like a living breathing fleshlight. And remind me, what do I do with real women that I don’t do with my fuckpig?”
“You make out with them, you go down on them, you finger them and you give them plenty of orgasms.”
“And do you get any of these, piggy?”
“No, Master.”
“When was the last time we made out?”
“We don’t, Master. You only peck me on the lips, but I never get your tongue in my mouth. I make out with your feet, Master.”
“Exactly. And why don’t I make out with you?”
“Because I use my mouth to make out with you feet, lick your ass and suck your cock, even if it’s dirty from fucking my ass.”
“That’s right. I wouldn’t want to make out with that dirty mouth hole of yours, would I? And when was the last time I went down on you or fingered you?”
“I don’t remember, Master… Before we moved to France?”
“And do you think you deserve to have my mouth or fingers on your pussy?”
“No, Master. Not ever.”
“Good piggy. But I do enjoy eating and fingering pussy, just not yours.”
I swallowed hard again as I felt my pussy gush from Master’s words. “Yes, Master, piggy knows it doesn’t get to feel Master’s mouth or fingers on its pussy, except maybe on its birthday.”
“Very good, piggy. And finally, when was the last time you came, piggy? From your clit of course. I don’t care how often you cum from your ass.”
“Erm… 3 weeks ago, Master.”
“Yes, and tell me how you came.”
“Piggy gave itself a ruined orgasm with the vibrator over the chastity shield.”
“Ah yes, that’s right. It made me laugh to watch you struggle so hard to cum in your belt, only to have to ruin it. But that’s the only way you cum these days, if absolutely necessary. And when was your last proper orgasm, piggy?”
“Piggy can’t remember, Master.”
“Well if you’re a good piggy and an even better cuck, maybe you’ll get to cum on your birthday. Would you like that, piggy?”
“Yes, please, Master.”
“Now, remind me of what you have to do tonight while I am out fucking someone else.”
“I have to wear my piggy hood for the whole evening so I always remember what I am when I look in the mirror. I am to write Master a heartfelt letter thanking you for cucking me. After that, I have to insert my anal plug, and tease my clit over the chastity belt with the vibrator on low, imagining you fucking a real woman. If possible, I am allowed to edge three times. If not, I will stop after 30 minutes. Once done, I am to write lines until bedtime. I will write the line “It is Master’s right to fuck whoever he pleases because I am just a fuckpig.” over and over again until 11pm. I will sleep with the anal plug inserted tonight, so I remember that when Master fucks me, my ass is filled but my pussy always stays empty, unlike the other women that Master fucks.” I’ve memorised this spiel so it isn’t difficult to regurgitate it. I repeat it to myself often when I need a reminder of my station as Master’s cuck.
“Good piggy. Now that doesn’t mean I won’t fuck her in the ass, but I will very much enjoy her pussy. Anyway, none of that is relevant to you, is it?”
“No Master. Piggy has no right to know anything about who Master fucks nor what you do with them.”
“That’s right. If I’m in the mood, I might tell you a little but it’s none of your business, is it, piggy?”
“No Master, it’s none of my business.”
“Good. Now get on with your day. I have to work. I love you, piggy.”
“Yes Master. I love you too,” I said before getting up and clearing Master’s dishes.
And this was our life. Once a week at maximum, Master would head out for a few hours to meet and fuck someone else – a real woman. I never knew if it was the same person or if it was someone new. We realised that when I had a name and face to fixate on, that was what I did – obsess – and I would get overly worried that I was going to be replaced. So instead, I was no longer privy to that knowledge. When Master was in Paris, he would sometimes drop me a text with instructions to do my cucking tasks that evening and I’d understand that to mean he was meeting someone. Or sometimes he wouldn’t tell me at all until he returned. When he was home, he would tell me the morning of his date. All of this was so that I wouldn’t have time to overthink.
It was difficult initially, but I think I’ve come to accept it as part and parcel of my life. In fact, there are rewards to being cucked. I get to spend the following night, sometimes two, in Master’s bed. He also sometimes give me little momentos from his dates – a picture of the restaurant he’s taken his date, the used condom wrapper from their time together, even a used g-string on one occasion. I keep all of these in a box that I look through whenever I needed a reminder of just how pathetic I am. Sometimes, I do so just before I start my cucking tasks for inspiration. And of course, Master always takes a renewed interest in me after fucking someone else. He pushes me a lot harder in our scenes and breaks me down just a little bit more than usual. I particularly love it when he makes me thank him for cucking me while caning me hard.
Master has hinted that he will eventually start bringing his dates home to fuck. Master likes the idea that everytime I am allowed to sleep in his bed, it is with the knowledge that countless other women have been pleasured by him in it. Just not me. I will probably be confined to the guestroom while they are over, or maybe even the garage, as Master has suggested. I can’t say the idea doesn’t turn me on, and knowing Master, it will be a reality sooner rather than later.
Master wants us to revisit this piece of writing, drawing ideas on how we can proceed. I’m eager to hear his thoughts – what resonated with him and what didn’t. As always, he has the final say, but I am blessed to have an owner who constantly listens and takes my needs to heart.
Little Quean Piggy 