Ma Vie en Rose

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.

My brand of warm and fuzzy

Photo by Preillumination SeTh on Unsplash

There is something deeply sordid in the way Master takes me. We don’t make love, we never have. Wait, that’s not quite true. I do recall us attempting to have slow romantic sex once or twice in our first year together. You know, the way they do it in the movies, with a lot of kissing and gentle groping. I can’t say I wasn’t into it; I love the man so I responded in kind. But my arousal is directly tied to my mental state, and romance wasn’t cutting it. Despite the warm and fuzzy feelings that enveloped me, my pussy stayed dry. I suppose, over time, Master figured out that the way to make my pussy wet was to give nothing and to take everything.

Today, Master told me to be ready for him at lunchtime. It’s a Monday but since Master works from home, mid-day sex is fair game. I lowered the shutters so that the neighbours wouldn’t be treated to a view of our afternoon depravity, turned on the night lights and put on some music. At exactly 12.45pm (Master loves punctuality), I met him at the entrance to our bedroom. One might expect him to meet my excitement with a kiss, but instead, he gripped the back of my neck firmly and pushed me onto my hands and knees. Keeping his grip on the nape of my neck, he steered me crawling past the threshold and straight to our bed.

“Stand up and bend over, hands on the bed, piggy.” I did as I was told, feeling somewhat unsexy in my home ensemble of a purple pullover and black sweatpants. After placing a light swat on my ass, Master pulled my sweatpants down and I silently gave thanks that I had put on a pair of black thongs underneath. Master must have liked what he saw for he started spanking my bare ass and teasing my clit through the fabric of my thongs. When he eventually pulled my thongs down, he found me soaking wet and laughed. “You’re such a horny piggy. This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?” Master asked. Yes, it was true. I rarely get fucked in the pussy these days, save for when I’m ovulating, which was today.

I heard Master pull his pants down and then felt the tip of his hard cock up against my slit, rubbing up and down till it was slick with my juices. When the head of his cock breached the entrance to my pussy, I just melted. It’s been so long since I last took him in my pussy. Usually, he just uses my ass, penetrating my pussy only when his cock needs lubrication. I knew my pussy would need some time to adjust to his full length, but I couldn’t help myself. The longing to be filled and taken, even painfully, overwhelmed me and I started pushing back onto Master’s cock. It was exquisite. I found myself asking for permission to orgasm barely five strokes in. “Est-ce que je peux jouir?” This is perhaps the first full sentence in French I learnt and one I have perfected with practice and overuse.

If you were to ask me which position my favourite is, I’d have to go with missionary, except missionary is anything but boring for us. Missionary frees Master’s hands up to choke me, slap me and grab at my tits. I adore the visuals the position allows. Master has gorgeous blue eyes that darken to a stormy grey-blue when he is aroused. I drown in them when he stares me down while plunging hard into my wet needy pussy. There is also the struggle to keep my hands at both sides of my head while watching his palm draw close to my cheek, knowing that the smarting of skin is inescapable, inevitable. The only times I allow my hands to come into the equation is when I stroke his arm in a wordless signal that he’s choking me well within my limits; a light tap on his arm indicates the opposite.

If I had to liken our love-making fucking to a style of dance, I’d compare it to the tango. We’ve danced it so many times we know the steps at the backs of our hands. We move in tandem, slow at first, but always ending with a passionate flourish. I turn, twist, raise, lower, suck, moan, scream to Master’s lead. I’ve always wondered what we might look like to someone on the outside looking in. The R word comes to mind, but nothing could be further from the truth. “But how can she possibly enjoy being treated that way?” Oh, but I do. Not by anyone, of course. Just him. Just Master. It may not look it, but every strike of flesh he gives me is measured, not much different from the ‘normal’ form of touch most others are accustomed to. It’s just the way I’m wired. No, the way we’re wired.

After Master emptied his balls deep inside me, I took his cock, still hard, in my mouth and cleaned the mixture of our juices from his shaft, the way I’ve been trained to do, regardless of which hole he’s been in. I waited to see if I’d get some time with the vibrator on my clit, but there was none of that today. “Go clean yourself up, piggy, you’re disgusting.” I laughed, headed to the shower and cleansed myself of the remnants of our fucking. Back in the bedroom, after having been thoroughly used, finally came time for the sweet nothings. Master held me tight in his arms, planting kiss after kiss on my face, reddened from a mixture of being choked and being pushed into the mattress. My face against the mass of soft blond curls on his chest, my hands stroking and exploring his arms and chest, that’s my happy place where I find love, acceptance and joy.

Musings on life

Photo by Tj Holowaychuk on Unsplash

Locktober is nearly over. There are just five days till the end of the month. I haven’t cum. My last orgasm was on the last day of September. It hasn’t been a particularly difficult Locktober for me. Master has been extremely busy with work so we haven’t played that much. That’s not to say it was a famine; we did manage to squeeze in a handful of very satisfying sessions in the past three weeks. I’ve had short bursts where the arousal was quite heady, but more or less, it’s been a nice slow burn.

I’m not absolutely certain that I’ll get to cum once Locktober is done. Master has hinted that he likes me on denial. I’m easily aroused and a lot more submissive. At this current moment, I can’t say that I have much of an opinion on whether I get to cum or not. I do enjoy being kept in the state of denial, and I havent quite peaked yet. The last time I was denied for a long period, I held out for two months… or was it three? I’m not sure. Anyway, I haven’t reached the point where my body is screaming for release and I think I’d like to get there before cumming. But it’s up to Master, of course.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my marriage of late, in a good way. I’ve been feeling very grateful to the universe or God/fate for bringing me and Master together. I’m not particularly religious, but I do believe in a higher power. I’m agnostic, I’d say. I find it incredible that I found the love of my life in someone born in an entirely different continent from me. Had Master not made the decision to head to Asia to work, we’d never have met. The irony is that it was his then-girlfriend who had pushed him to make the move, so I guess I have her to thank.

I just watched a series on Netflix called “From Scratch” about an American lady finding her soulmate in Italy, whilst on a six week long art immersion programme. I highly recommend it if you need a good cry. It’s a real tear jerker and had me bawling towards the end… to the point where Master had to text me: “Stop crying, piggy. I can’t wank.” I thought that was hilarious, of course, and so he was then treated to the ugly sounds of my laugh-crying/cry-laughing.

The show made me reflect on the work we have done to merge our different cultures. When Master was in Singapore, he had to learn about my culture, meet my family, learn how to communicate with them. And now that I am in France, it is an ongoing process for me to learn the language, the culture, the social nuances. There are a lot of differences. For instance, my family is quite typically Asian. We rarely touch, we rarely display emotion. It’s been eye-opening for me to see just how warm and caring his family is towards one another.

Recently, my father-in-law had to undergo an operation. It was relatively low risk, but there’s always a risk when one goes under the knife. The night before, he texted/called all his children to tell them that he loved them. I wasn’t expecting a message but I received one. He told me that he loves me like a daughter, and asked me to continue taking care of Master should anything happen to him. In the moment when I received the message, I was extremely emotional, but I also felt sorely ill-equipped. I didn’t know what to say in response, settling for something that did not quite encapsulate what I felt.

And this is something I am learning – to say what I mean and mean what I say. In getting to know Master, his family and other French friends, I’ve come to realise that they rarely hide their thoughts and opinions from you once they consider you a friend. This is so contrary to the Asian way of doing things. At home, the closer you get to a person, the less likely you are to want to offend them. Often, we censor our words so as not to create conflict and to avoid confrontations.

Here, the sharing of thoughts and opinions in the form of healthy debate is expected and appreciated. There is no shame in having your opinion challenged as it’s all done in good spirit. We do not shy away from confrontations and the night still ends on a high note even if the conversation runs a tad tense. Of course, we stay away from the very sensitive topics (like politics on which nobody can agree) because the objective is not to offend or argue for the sake of argument, but to engage in intellectual discourse about a variety of subjects. I appreciate this.

I feel like I have gained so much from Master. On the personal front, he has taught me to better express my emotions, to manage and let go of my anxiety, and to be a happier and more present human being. When we have disputes, he encourages me to share my thoughts and feelings and he does the same, all without pointing fingers. And then, together, we mutually decide on a course of action to take. We don’t shy away from apologising to the other, and we always end our disputes with a good long hug and multiple ‘I love you’s.

On the ‘life’ front, he’s given me a new home – one I absolutely adore. I often feel guilty about barely missing Singapore, but it is the country that carries a lot of heartache for me… with my ex, my dysfunctional family, my life lived for others but not myself. Here, I feel content, free and at peace. After so many years of fumbling around in the dark, wondering whether every relationship needs that much tolerance and effort to make it work, I am so thankful to have a husband who leads our household with strength and confidence and who tells me things like, “You’re a wonderful wife. I hope I deserve you.”

Sorry this wasn’t particularly kinky. Just some thoughts in my head that I really needed to put into words. 🙂

Finetuning the Slave

Photo by Samantha Gades on Unsplash

I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m a little bit of a perfectionist. When I do things, I like to do them “right”. Clearly, my concept of “right” probably isn’t the same as yours, or most people, thus the quotation marks. My original intention of keeping this blog was to use it to pen my journey in cuckqueaning. However, once I found myself losing steam for the one thing I had thought I was passionate about, it was très difficile to own up to my shortcomings.

But here’s the truth: I am, at present, no longer keen on cuckqueaning. It’s lost its shine in my eyes. I don’t know if it’s a result of us having gone at it with too much fervor or if I’m just not emotionally built to deal with the challenges such a lifestyle brings. I have no choice but to admit that it’s just far too much for me to manage and process. The funny thing is, I still find myself returning to cuckquean porn whenever I touch myself. It still turns me on mentally, but perhaps I am just too weak to be one in real life.

I thought about removing my writings and taking this blog down, but a recent encounter with an aspiring cuckquean showed me that there was much for others to learn through my experiences. For this reason, I will keep this blog going. I’ve gone through all my past entries to ensure they are correctly categorized, and I’ve also gone a step further by tagging all the cuckqueaning entries. You’ll find the tag to the right of the page on desktop mode.

Master and I have been taking a break from kink, largely driven by me, not him. He is, as always, keen to get back into the thick of things, but I needed some time to reframe my thoughts and figure out just what I want from this lifestyle. Over the past few months, we’ve been keeping our kink to our scenes, our day to day lives no different from your regular married couple. Of course, my household is not quite egalitarian so our given roles still remained the same: Master brings in the money, I take care of the household. This is something that will not change.

I’m of the mindset right now where I want to tune back in to kink. I miss the power play, the high from a good beating, the surrender from being taken roughly in all my holes. That’s likely the direction that our D/s will go, at least for a while. Master has dropped hints that he would like us to explore cuckqueaning again in the distant future. I’m not closed off to the idea. I suppose that over time, I will learn to shed my emotional baggage and not jump straight into a projected future of betrayal and heartbreak.

I took the initiative today and suggested to Master that we participate in Locktober. If you don’t know what that is, October is when most kinksters interested in chastity play commit to a month of denial. We all know how horny I get when I am denied, so I can’t think of a better method to get myself back in the game. Of course, Master was thrilled at my suggestion. “I can get behind that” were his exact words. I’m not sure how it’ll play out as we haven’t discussed the specifics, but I would love to be locked back up in my chastity belt and denied clitoral orgasms, something I’ve been enjoying rather indiscriminately, for the month.

Famous last words? Perhaps.

A Change of Pace

Photo by Phil Reid on Unsplash

The past few months have been instrumental to my personal growth in kink. I know it looks like I disappeared, but really I’ve just been finding myself.

For three months following our move to France, Master and I found ourselves in a dynamic that was deeply intense but also incredibly unsustainable. My entries for the period provide a very clear overview of everything we got up to, from long-term chastity to intense cuckqueaning. I will not go into it again as it will be repetitious for those of you who have been keeping up with my writings. (If you haven’t and you’re interested, take a read. You won’t regret it.) What you need to know is that most of it was driven by me. I asked and I received. Master was happy to embark on the experiment with me, and to his credit, he often tempered my requests because he knew they were not coming from a place of reason. So… why?

When I first arrived in France last December, this was on the back of a 7 year long successful career as a Professional Dominatrix. Master and I have always been 24/7, but my work always came first. And so it should – our move across continents was made possible by my hard work. After the initial month of apartment and employment hunting, we finally settled. I found myself in a weird space. I was hungry to make up for lost time. I wanted the real 24/7 M/s experience I felt I had been denied whilst in Singapore, not for lack of wanting on both of our parts. But also, I was empty. My ‘baby’, my successful Pro Domme career, had come to an end and honestly, I didn’t know what to do with myself.

Then, there was also my irrational fear of making a new life in France. I still find it ridiculous when I talk about it, but I have learnt to give myself permission to respect my need for time and space. I was immensely afraid of undertaking the simplest of tasks in my first few months here. I didn’t want to meet new people, I feared taking public transport, I dreaded doing the most basic of things like shopping at the butcher, bakery and market. I kid you not, I relied on online deliveries for the first few months despite living in a country where I have ready access to the freshest produce at the farmers’ market. The truth is that I was terrified of using French. I did not want to embarrass myself, I was deathly afraid that I would be stereotyped as ‘the stupid tourist’.

And that’s why I wanted so badly to have an intense dynamic that would take up all of my time and energy. It gave me less room to focus on what I did not want to think about. Penning my entries after every scene and interacting with all you lovely people here gave me the social engagement I needed so that I did not feel like I was lacking. But of course, it was an apples and oranges kind of situation. I did, in fact, need actual face-to-face bonding/communication with adults other than Master. Who knew?

In the past few months, Master has gotten increasingly occupied with work. It’s a happy problem. He is doing well at his job and his efforts are being recognised. On my end, I’ve found a small circle of new friends to expend my social energy on, and I’ve become a whole lot more serious about my yoga practice and health. Our M/s has found a nice rhythm. It is perhaps not as intense as the both of us would like it, but we recognise that our present and upcoming priorities do not give us the time and energy to maintain the lifestyle we had previously committed to, and it is OK.

Our roles in the household have not changed; I still see to Master’s needs as I have done from day one. We still make time for play, although our kinks are now limited to scenes and not so much in the day to day. So, no, I do not wear my chastity belt anymore, although I am certain it will find its way back onto my body from time to time. No, I am no longer on long-term orgasm denial, but Master still controls my orgasms. No, I am not currently into being cucked, although this is a kink we will probably revisit in the future. No, I am no longer anal/oral-only, my pussy gets a lot of attention these days. And all of this… it is OK.

I am giving myself permission to acknowledge that I don’t have to be a poster submissive for the masses in order to prove that I am in a meaningful M/s dynamic. Don’t worry, I am aware that the pressure was entirely self-inflicted. I’m not sure what direction our dynamic will take in the months that follow; we have upcoming changes that will surely occupy most of our time and energy, but I’m happy and excited for us to find our new sustainable rhythm. I look forward to filling you in when we do.

Signing off from a much healthier mental place,


Denial Consequences & A Fresh Start

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Whew, it’s been a long time since I last wrote about what Master and I have been getting up to. Sadly, we hit a bit of a rut after my last post, ironically titled Back With A Bang. Clearly, we weren’t. That was published on 17 April, exactly a month ago. Since then, we haven’t played nor fucked. If you’ve read my writings, you’ll know this is not normal for us. We usually play/fuck multiple times a week.

You see, I had found myself in a very strange place sexually. My libido was pretty much gone and the thought of kink turned me off. I felt like I needed a bit of a reset, and so I asked Master if we could take a break. Master hasn’t needed to head to Paris in weeks, so we took a timely break from cuckqueaning as well. Apart from my chores, everything else in our dynamic was suspended for the period.

Initially, I assumed my libido had been affected by my hormones and would sort itself out once my hormones balanced. But a week then a fortnight passed, and still nothing had changed. And that’s when I realised what was probably the culprit – orgasm denial. More specifically, Master had me in chastity and on no-touch for months. I didn’t even edge. I teased myself with the vibrator but for no longer than 30s each time.

I knew this was one of the possible consequences, but I didn’t pin my state of mind on the denial immediately. I guess it slipped my mind till much later. Anyway, I shared this with Master and we decided to reintroduce edging. We agreed that if things didn’t improve by the end of May, we’d do a proper reset by giving me a clitgasm. I hoped we wouldn’t need to do that because I really really adore the concept of long-term orgasm denial, or at least of being permanently denied proper clitgasms.

Fortunately, it worked. After 2 nights of edging for 30 minutes, I started feeling more in tune with my sexual desires. And the weekend that just passed, we played! Our scene was really good… It was what I needed after such a long hiatus in which I felt really disoriented towards kink. But before I tell you how that scene went down, I need to fill you in on a few things.

First, Master and I are putting a pause on him seeing Ms D. I still enjoy cuckqueaning as a kink and I will continue to fantasise and write about it, but I’ve came to realise that I lack the emotional fortitude to cope with Master having a constant partner. Really, she’s great. I like her. If I were polyamorous and could feel compersion, etc, she would be perfect. BUT I am not.

The fact that they were building a connection outside of sex really got to me, and I had been battling with anxiety, trying to shove aside the bad feelings and focus on the horny ones. Catching covid and then the subsequent few weeks when Master didn’t have to head to Paris gave me a much needed respite. I realised I was in at peace, something I hadn’t felt for the months Master was cucking me regularly.

Those months were exhilarating, but also emotionally charged! I’m glad I had the experience, but I don’t think I can live like that beyond a few months. I guess I’m far too jealous a submissive to be comfortable with my Master having a permanent lover who is not me! I ended up growing resentful with Master, nitpicking that he wasn’t paying me enough attention, that he wasn’t playing with me with sufficient intensity, etc etc. It was unhealthy!

Second, our focus for now is to solidify our M/s dynamic.

  • I’m still on orgasm denial and will continue to be. Master has introduced infrequent ruined orgasms, but a nice proper clitoral orgasm is still far from reach.
  • I will start sleeping outside the bedroom again, starting tonight. I spend weekends in Master’s bed, the rest of the week in my pet bed.
  • I will wear my chastity belt at night only. Master and I agreed it makes sense for me to be unlocked during the day, assuming Master is home, since I am quite active and sometimes can do 2 yoga classes a day. When Master heads to Paris, I will be locked for the entire duration.
  • We reintroduced pussy sex since cuckqueaning is off the table. Infrequent, but now an option. The focus is more on training me to service all of Master’s sexual needs, considering there is now no one else.

Once everything is back up to speed and I am feeling good again, we might explore cuckqueaning in person but perhaps with someone who can play with us together. Or maybe Master will pick things up with Ms D again in future (they will remain friends for now) and I will be supportive of this. We’ll see!

As for our scene yesterday, it was charged. I don’t know if it was because we haven’t played hard in a while, but it felt like Master had a lot of pent up energy that he released on me. I felt like a ragdoll most of the scene, thrown around and manœuvred to his liking. He fucked me really hard in my pussy for the first time in months, forbidding me from using my thighs to keep him from thrusting deep. I had been doing that without realising, but it really turned me on when he instructed me to pull my thighs to my chest and to beg him to slow down if he hit the cervix of my tiny pussy, rather than try to keep him out by force.

Master also fucked my throat plenty, in multiple positions. At one point, I felt lightheaded because he’d cut off my oxygen for just a tad too long, but he sensed it and pulled out just before I blacked out. That was intense and made me realise how much stronger than me he is, and how easily he could hurt me if he wanted to. (I love being overpowered. Master is judo-trained so he does have experience with choking and also with throwing me around in a safe way. I’ve never been hurt by accident before.)

Master gave me a good caning which made me realise how much I missed pain. It was difficult taking a caning after so many weeks without impact, but I was sufficiently aroused that I could take it. It felt like Master needed to give me pain just as much as I needed to receive it. He was demanding and merciless and I absolutely loved it. When he was done, my upper thigh was left stinging from the pain. I thought he might have broken skin, but he hadn’t. He’d just left a nice thick long welt in the spot where my ass meets my thigh.

The highlight of the scene was when Master edged me after he’d cum. He made me lie on my back and pull back on my pubic mound, exposing my clit. Then he held the vibrator in place while he choked me with his other hand. When I was close, I started begging him for permission to cum, and to my surprise, he said Yes! But just as I crossed the edge, he removed the vibrator and started spanking my clit hard. 😦 I felt my orgasm disappear within 5 pitiful throbs, each weaker than the one before. The orgasm was replaced by the sharpness of his spanks on my poor clit. Ouch. I think I started crying and he started laughing.

I leave you with that hilarious image in your mind. I’m quite excited to refine my M/s dynamic over the next few weeks/months. Of course, I’ll make sure to share more! Have a great week!

My M/s Contract (1 Apr – 30 Jun)

Photo by Dimitri Karastelev on Unsplash

Of piggy’s own free will, it offers itself in slavery for the period beginning 1 April 2022 and ending 30 June 2022. 

During the period expressed above, piggy will devote itself completely to Master without hesitation in accordance with the rules, rituals and protocols outlined below. 

General Rules

piggy submits to Master’s will and accepts his authority over it for its purpose is to serve, obey and please him. piggy consents to being managed, disciplined and controlled in a manner beneficial to its training and long-term service to Master. 

piggy accepts that all important decision making is in Master’s hands. piggy will submit to Master’s decision once it has been made. 

piggy is responsible for communicating its thoughts and feelings to Master through its journal honestly, thoughtfully and respectfully. piggy will willingly discuss any issues with Master that limits its trust. It will not hide anything from Master. 

piggy will wear its collar 24/7. If it is the leather collar, piggy will ask Master to remove it before taking a shower and return to have it replaced right after. 

If going out with Master, piggy will wear whatever Master wishes it to. piggy may put an outfit together but will change immediately upon Master’s request. Master will decide if the chastity belt stays on or comes off for outings.

piggy accepts that it has no authority over its appearance. It will always style itself as per Master’s preferences for hair and make up, and will submit to Master’s choices for haircuts. 

piggy will ensure that it eats healthily and keeps itself fit through regular exercise. piggy will always ask for permission if it would like to snack. 

piggy will run Master’s household effectively, ensuring Master has 3 home-cooked meals daily and access to a well-stocked pantry. 

Each night, piggy will ensure the coffee machine is prepared for the next morning and that there is a full glass of water on Master’s bedside table. 

Each night, piggy is allowed to cuddle with Master in his bed before being tucked to sleep in the closet. Unless Master permits piggy to spend the night in his bed, piggy must not make any assumptions nor attempt to wheedle its way in. piggy accepts that its sleeping spot is by default in the closet and that it no longer has a place in Master’s bed. 

piggy will hold no property nor finances, according Master full control over its purchase. piggy is allowed to use Master’s credit card for grocery purchases and things pertaining to the household/hygiene needs. Anything else must be approved by Master. 

Cuckqueaning Rules 

piggy submits to being cucked by Master with Ms D for the period of the contract. It acknowledges that it is rescinding its right to influence or terminate Master’s relationship with Ms D. 

piggy accepts that it is only allowed to use its safeword if the following are not adhered to:

  • Master cucks piggy with Ms D for a maximum of one night a week. 
  • Master does not spend the night with Ms D. 
  • Master manages his time well and ends the night by midnight. 
  • Master prepares piggy for each cucking, reminding it of its role, place, and lack of control over being cucked. 
  • Master provides piggy with sufficient tasks to engage in over the course of being cucked. 
  • Master has a debrief call with piggy after each cucking to provide aftercare. 
  • Master wraps up each cucking with a scene in which piggy is again reminded of its role, place and lack of control over being cucked. 

piggy accepts that being cucked is instrumental to its degradation and long-term dehumanization. piggy will seize each cucking experience as an opportunity for self-reflection and growth, and will focus its energy on service, dedication and discipline. 

piggy will raise any concerns it has to Master in a respectful manner, accepting that it is Master’s decision as to whether changes be made. It acknowledges that this is no longer within its control and tantrums will be punished harshly. 

Sexual Rules

piggy will learn and commit to memory the slave positions taught to it by Master. It will execute them well and focus on staying in position no matter the stimuli. 

piggy submits to Master’s pain, and trusts that Master will keep it safe. It accepts that Master does not need a reason to hurt it. piggy will never attempt to shield itself from Master’s blows or strokes. It will always take pain as gracefully as it can muster.

piggy submits to wearing its female chastity belt 24/7, removed only when Master chooses. piggy may request the belt be removed to facilitate exercise or enemas, but the decision is Master’s. 

piggy will check with Master during the day as to whether its ass will be used that night and administer an enema accordingly. 

piggy submits to having its ass trained, stretched and destroyed, as per Master’s will, even if this means that piggy will face difficulty reaching anal orgasm. piggy will contribute to its stretching on Master’s instruction. 

piggy’s mouth and hands are available for Master’s use 24/7. Upon instruction, piggy will use its mouth and hands to pleasure and bring Master to orgasm. piggy accepts that its pleasure is of no importance, and that Master may choose to ignore it throughout its service. piggy will clean Master up after ejaculation and leave as unobtrusively as it can. 

piggy accepts that it should not expect any form of pussy interaction, be it fingering or cunnilingus, by Master. piggy’s pussy will only be used as a lube dispenser and will remain chaste otherwise. If Master inserts his cock in piggy’s pussy for lubrication, piggy will strive not to cum as lube dispensers do not deserve orgasms of any kind. 

piggy accepts that it is no longer allowed to initiate deep kissing with Master. It is instead to make out with Master’s feet upon instruction. If piggy wishes to show affection, it may request to be allowed to worship Master’s feet. 

piggy accepts that it is only allowed clitoral stimulation at Master’s instruction. It will not interact with its clitoris apart from hygiene needs. When allowed to stimulate its clitoris, piggy will refrain from edging, focusing only on teasing it but staying far from release. 

For every 10 times that piggy is cucked, piggy may be allowed to attain some form of clitoral release, but it is Master’s decision as to the how and also whether the orgasm is ruined or not. If Master decides to rescind this reward, piggy will accept Master’s decision and remain orgasmless. 

Punishment Rules 

If piggy infringes any of the rules set out above, it will submit itself to punishment. The form and extent of the punishment shall be at Master’s pleasure, and Master shall make it clear that piggy is being punished.

Sleeping Arrangements

Photo by James Forbes on Unsplash

This seems such a paltry thing, and yet it’s been the most prominent reminder of my place in Master’s home. I have a spent a total of six nights in my piggy bed in Master’s closet thus far, starting just over a week ago. We began with me alternating nights in the closet with nights in Master’s bed, but I’ve since spent the past three nights entirely in the closet.

The floorspace of the closet is 150cm in length and 50cm in depth. I can’t extend my legs fully, but they’re not drawn in too tight either. I sleep on a duvet folded four times on itself so it’s quite padded, but of course I can still feel the base of the closet beneath it. It’s nothing like a proper mattress. I have my pillow and a fleece blanket to keep warm.

I can’t say I sleep very comfortably, but that’s the whole point. Master likes me suffering so I remember that I’m his slave, not his wife. A lot of our protocols and rituals are designed to remove any entitlements I might harbour of being his wife. I guess sleeping in the same bed is quite a big entitlement, thus he has taken it upon himself to kick me out of his bed.

Last night, Master took things up a level but shutting the doors to the closet and locking them from the outside after tucking me to bed. (We’ve checked and there is ample airflow since this is an old closet and the doors don’t align tightly at the sides.) It was quite an experience being locked in the closet last night, I’ll admit. I like being confined in small and tight spaces, but once the lights in the bedroom were turned off, it was pitch black in the closet. I could see nothing, no shadows, no shapes, nothing.

The difference in headspace that this small act put me in was tremendous. Suddenly, I was not just his slave sleeping in a pet bed, I was something inhuman that he stored away when not in use… Akin to a piece of property, kept under lock and key. I remember testing the boundaries of the locked closet space, feeling the lack of give of the doors against my hands. I remember the helplessness of knowing I was stuck inside till Master awoke and let me out. If I needed the toilet, I was fucked. (Reminder to self to make sure not to drink too much water close to bedtime and to empty my bladder beforehand!)

A lot of the things we do are hatched in my perverse brain and picked up and expanded on by Master. This particular one… I can’t really remember who seeded it. It might have been me, it might have been Master. But I was definitely the one who was overenthusiastic and cleared out the closet so I could try spending a night in it. Well, this might be one of my biggest regrets because Master loves it so much it looks like I’ll only be allowed to sleep in his bed very occasionally. He says he sleeps much better now, and I guess I can’t argue with that.

Today, I asked him where I would sleep in our new place. We haven’t bought one yet but we intend to get our own place by year end. He replied that he doesn’t know yet, but definitely someplace very demeaning, like perhaps in the laundry room. The cogs of my depraved brain immediately starting turning, imagining a future where I am no longer a resident of Master’s bedroom, where my clothes and personal possessions are stored elsewhere (in the laundry room or store room or wherever), and Master’s room is solely his.

Of course, Master likes the idea so I guess this is the future that awaits me. I found some pictures of loft beds in laundry rooms where the bed is suspended above the washing machine and dryer, but Master replied to say it was too comfortable for me. So I found other pictures of giant dog cages built into furniture and he liked what he saw. We’ll probably still get a proper long bdsm cage for the bedroom, but it’ll be solely for when I’ve been good (and hot cuckqueaning scenes). All other times, I will sleep in my slave quarters, outside of Master’s room.

Can’t wait.

Waxing Lyrical, Yet Again

Photo by Jacqueline Munguía on Unsplash

For 7 weeks now, I have been Master’s slave and I truly have never been happier. I apologize that I keep waxing lyrical about my dynamic, but I really love how it’s fallen into place in such an effortless manner. The knowledge that Master is invested in training me to become the slave he wants thrills me to no end. It’s quiet within me when it comes to serving him. I love the inner peace and serenity it brings me. There is no questioning, second guessing, entertaining of doubts in my mind. It’s like I am finally where I have always wanted to be, on my knees and at his feet.

Yes, I am *stocktaking* again, as I am often wont to do. I like to read and reread the progression in my dynamic from day to day, week to week, month to month, and hopefully year to year. So let’s see… Where shall I begin?

I have been locked in my chastity belt since the 15th of February. It comes off whenever we fuck, and for the first few weeks, Master allowed me a few nights with it off, especially when pressure marks on my hips started appearing. However, we’ve since tightened the belt (I lost a little bit of weight) and with a  better fit, I now no longer require breaks. Master removes the belt prior to us fucking and it goes back on right after. Of course I take the opportunity to give it a good clean, and since we fuck nearly nightly, hygiene hasn’t been an issue. Interestingly, I kept the belt on throughout my menstruation, wearing panties with a sanitary pad over the belt. Yes, it got dirty, but it was nothing a good hot shower couldn’t fix. We are in the market for a stricter belt (I’m eyeing NeoSteel), probably with an anal opening so we have a little bit of variety.

I really love being in chastity. I’ve gotten so used to being belted that it feels weird to have it off. I actually fall asleep easier with the belt on now than without. How strange is that. It’s such a lovely and constant reminder that I belong to Master, so much so that I don’t even have access to my clit and pussy until he wants me to. I love going out with the belt on, knowing I wear this symbol of his ownership that no one else can see. I’m hoping that Master will be able to fuck me through the rear opening of the new belt, rendering it absolutely unnecessary to unlock me at all.

Master has been using my mouth daily. Whenever he surfs porn in his home office and wanks, he calls me in to ‘finish him off’ which I am more than happy to do. I crawl under his desk and suck him till he cums, swallow, clean him up with my mouth, thank him for using me and leave. Depending on the time of day, he usually tells me «get out» or «that’s all piggy, you may go now» after he cums. I really like the space it puts me in – I am just a cum receptacle for him in these moments, and the belt ensures I remain selfless in my endeavors. Master doesn’t even look at me while I suck him, he just continues surfing porn as though I am not there, which is such a turn on. I always get very wet serving him this way.

Master fucks me in the ass almost daily now. Thanks to a follower on FL who pointed me to some resources on healthier enemas, my enemas are now fast and painless. Master lets me know by mid-afternoon if he’ll be using me at night, and I clean myself up if he will. Our sessions are rough and intense with a lot of face slapping, face fucking and anal pounding. My clit is usually ignored, save for Master rubbing his cock against it while lubing himself up with my wetness. We don’t even need lube for anal sex, that’s how wet I get. I get to cum freely from my ass, Master wants my anal orgasms to be the only type of orgasm I enjoy, so that I will crave anal sex, not that I don’t already.

Master has also been giving me a lot of pain. At least once a week, sometimes more, he stripes my ass, thighs and calves with the rattan cane and delrin paddle. We brought other impact toys with us to France, but I’m such a sucker for pain that these are the two I gravitate towards, since they are the harshest. I love it when I have bruises on my ass and down my thighs, even better when they hurt so badly I feel them every time I sit. The pain is such a lovely reminder of my place as his pain pig.

I am still disallowed cunnilingus, finger fucking (or any pussy action really), and making out with Master. When we play/fuck, it really revolves around Master taking pleasure from me or giving me pain. His training has been very effective because I now keep thinking about these little acts which I used to love but not think too much of, and the humiliation of being permanently denied them (except once a year on our wedding anniversary) keeps me exceptionally turned on. Of course, as I’ve mentioned many times in my other posts, knowing that Master engages in these very acts with his cuckcakes reinforces the difference in treatment between them and me.

I’ve been sleeping most nights in the closet, starting about a week ago. For the first few days, we alternated between having me sleep in the closet and in Master’s bed, but it looks like I will be spending most of my nights in the closet moving forward. Master really loves tucking me in like a pet, giving me a kiss on the forehead and then getting to have the whole of his bed to himself. It took me a few nights to get used to sleeping in the closet since I can’t stretch out fully, but the last few nights have been fine. This one is an interesting development because we both really enjoy sleeping together, but I have to admit that sleeping in my piggy bed, as we lovingly call it, puts me in such a good headspace. The rare nights that Master allows me in his bed are special as a result, and I have come to appreciate them a whole lot more than I used to when they were a given.

Another recent development is that I now no longer have jurisdiction to choose and purchase my own clothes. Having been quite a shopaholic in the past, this will take getting used to. However, because of my current priorities, I haven’t been shopping at all on my own. The few shopping trips I’ve taken have been with Master, and he has been the one to send me to the changing room with items he chose. I really like that, so we decided to ‘officialise’ it. I’m not worried about this as Master has impeccable taste. Honestly, for the past few years, I’ve relied on him to ‘ok’ the things I purchase, so this is just us making it an actual rule. It’s perhaps one of the last bits of autonomy I still held on to, so while it is a small decision, it’s a pretty big step in my books.

My life is pretty simple now. My days are spent simply. I have tasks to complete, mostly pertaining to the housework, my French studies and exercise. Occasionally, Master has errands that he wants me to run and he’ll send me out of the house to get some fresh air. I will admit I am a hermit. If I can afford it, I probably would stay home every single day, so Master sends me on these little trips every week or so just to ensure I take a walk around the neighbourhood. I won’t talk about this much because I’ve already covered my daily tasks in detail in earlier writings.

I am aware that my training involves a lot of conditioning. Master has my enthusiastic consent, of course. In fact, a lot of the things we do were seeded by me and he took them on, developed them and ensured my obedience. A lot of the things we do might seem extreme, not because of how hardcore they are (they aren’t) but because they enter the realm of behaviour modification. The only reason why I feel safe enough to engage in these with Master is because he is my husband and life partner. I used to believe that submission was a gift, but that’s bull. I submit because it makes me feel alive, happy, at peace, and there’s really no other way I know how to be.

The Beauty of Subtlety

Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

But here’s the truth. Master makes me feel like I’m rediscovering submission all over again. He makes me feel like all the times I’d done so in the past were flawed, fake or forced. Our play isn’t extreme. We don’t do anything that breaches the surface of the skin. He doesn’t leave me bloody, he doesn’t even leave me (too) badly bruised. And yet, the little things he does to me give me a submissive high that I’ve never experienced before and that I’ve come to crave with my entire being.

I’ve always prided myself on being an experienced submissive. I’ve been “in the scene” for close to two decades, I’ve served many dominants, some for the duration of a scene or more, some for months and some for years. I’ve tried all manner of kinks, from bondage to impact to needles. Heck, I was so “experienced” I even ran workshops, parties and once wore the hat of “community leader”.

Master’s training is subtle. We don’t have a contract, nor do we we have very specific rules (apart from orgasms), rituals nor protocol. And yet, when I think about it, I know instinctively what is expected of me all the time. And it dawned on me that he’s been training me all this while, I just didn’t realize it. He shares his expectations in very small doses and only adds on new ones when the previous have become habits. When I point out that something I’ve been doing feels like a rule, ritual or protocol, he’s happy to “officialise” it, but the truth is, it takes zero effort on my part to keep to it because I’m already trained.

I don’t even know how he does it. How does he have such a macro view over what he wants to mold me into? How does he keep something so big from me, and how does he have the patience to wait months, even years for me to slowly grow into new habits? Half of me is super impressed and half of me thinks he must be a sociopath. 😂 I feel like his life project and I’m both flattered and terrified. How much more does he have in store for me over the coming years and decades?

Today, we went shopping. It was such an innocent activity. Before we left the house, Master’s only instruction was that my collar be visible. I wore a sweater top, skinny jeans, a black padded jacket and my collar. The goal of the trip was to buy a couple of work outfits for Master, him having recently started a client facing high pressure job where image is key. The whole time we were in the mall, Master walked purposefully from shop to shop. He never held my hand and I just did my best to keep up.

Each parcel he purchased, he handed to me before heading to his next destination. At some point, he finally looked at me and said that I was being a good serving piggy, carrying his purchases. His words made me feel immensely proud and also made me a little wet. After that, there was no need for prompting, I immediately took each parcel in hand after payment. At our final stop, while we waited for the items to be rung up, he tugged on the ring on my collar and gave my ear a little kiss, making my sticky situation even stickier. The sales ladies noticed our little conversation and loving gestures and commented that we were “très mignons” (very cute). If they only knew.

It was only after the last stop that Master took a few bags from my hands, telling me jokingly that he didn’t want people to judge him. As we headed back to the car, he commented that he had really enjoyed the shopping trip with his good serving piggy. There was no waiting, no dilly dallying while choosing colors, etc. I laughed and told him he could choose my clothes in future. He replied that he would, and also that he’s actually already been doing so for some time now, I just haven’t noticed. That got me thinking and I realized he was absolutely right. Mind blown, yet again.

And this is how my training has been so far. Master basically lets me do whatever comes naturally, whatever feels right. And then he prompts and refines till it’s exactly what he wants, but it never feels unnatural nor forced. My innate desire to please him fuels me to learn, remember and replicate. My trust in him fuels me to let go. It doesn’t come from a place of fear or even of wanting to be a better submissive/slave, it comes from a place of love.