An Opportunity for Self-reflection

Master threw me in the closet today for close to an hour. There was very little warning. He gave me just five minutes to use the toilet and have a sip of water before gripping the back of my neck and escorting me into the bedroom.

I was being punished for waking him up this morning (Saturday – his only day to really sleep in) rather unceremoniously at the ‘early’ hour of 11am. I was supposed to wait for him to wake naturally.

And I get it. Really, I do. Master pulls long hours at work during the week and needs to recharge over the weekend. I am not sure why I waked him. I think I thought 11 was pretty late and also, I was getting hungry for brunch. 😂

Anyway, I was informed I would be punished, but I thought he was going to punish me tomorrow, Sunday, since that’s when we usually play. Well, I guess I thought wrong because I found myself in my tiny closet with only half the floor area available because clever me had moved stuff from Master’s closet into mine to make way for my pet bed. 😂

Before shutting the door, Master told me to be prepared to be locked in for awhile. Honestly, at that point, I was still grinning on the inside. I mean, I love tight confined spaces! I’m not sure how locking me up is meant to be a punishment, but I guess I can get behind that.

Still, an hour, while not being extremely long, can FEEL like a very long time when you’re mentally unprepared and don’t have anything to entertain yourself with. I tried to sleep, but the tight space meant I had to sit upright with my knees hugged into my chest all the time. With my head leaning against the cupboard wall, I managed to dose off a few times but kept getting jolted awake from the sheer discomfort of my position.

And then of course there’s the chastity belt. Let me tell you it is uncomfortable AF sitting for prolonged periods balled up like I was. The genital shield was digging tight into my pubic region and the metal bar at the back was digging into my lower back. Ouch.

I think my enthusiasm waned about the halfway mark. There was a small part of me that wanted to bang on the closet door to let Master know I was uncomfortable. But then I realized he would probably shut the door on me again and keep me in for even longer, so I scrapped that plan as soon as it formed.

I was way too uncomfortable by the midpoint that I couldn’t dose off anymore, despite sleeping anywhere at anytime being my secret super power. Damn. So, I decided to do what Master probably expected me to do while being locked up – try to wank. Nah, I’m kidding. I decided to self-reflect.

Then it dawned on me. I was being punished for something I’d done. I’m no wife, I’m a slave. Master is showing me that there are repercussions to my actions when I do not live up to what he expects of me. And in truth, this was probably the first punishment that I truly felt was a punishment. I’m such a masochist and so fucked in the head that no matter how hard Master hurts me, I love it.

Then I thought about my life now. Every inch of it. And I realized that I’ve been so well trained I don’t even feel as though I’m living a life much different from before. But that’s not true at all. My life now is nothing like it was before – financial dependence, 24/7 slavehood, weekly cuckings…

Everything single thing I do now is monitored by Master. I need to seek his approval for the most basic of things – buying something for myself, snacking, deciding on a project to pursue, everything. My life now is pretty devoid of decision. And… I like that. It sounds weird, I know. I used to have to make tonnes of decisions, like everyone else. But this feels strangely nice.

And then I realized that I was making good progress in getting where I want to go. I’ve shared with Master that I eventually want to be able to give up all semblance of choice to him. I don’t want a say in when or how he cucks me, or even how frequently these occur.

Of course, I’m not saying I expect him to disregard all the boundaries I’ve communicated as mattering to me. On the contrary, I know he’ll safeguard them, but I don’t want the power to choose whether he sees other women or not. On the surface, I’ve given that up, but the truth is I have a safeword so I could call the stops to everything whenever I want.

And I know safewords are important and I’m not shitting on your playstyle if you use them. I still do! I’m just saying that I fantasize about having them removed. (And look, it’s 2022. If I really want to walk out, I walk, so don’t worry that I haven’t got my head on right.) I don’t want the power to make a single decision, not for cuckqueaning, not for anything (important).

I felt like I needed to add that in parantheses otherwise someone would probably ask me about whether I make decisions in buying groceries, etc. Yes, of course I do. But I also know Master’s preferences and they factor into every simple decision I make for the running of the household.

After Master let me out, he gripped the back of my neck again and told me to cook us a delicious dinner, so I whipped up two cuts of beautifully cooked steak and some creamed spinach. We finished off our meal with some pinot noir and cheeses we’d picked up from the local fromagerie. That was my aftercare right there, and a delightful one it was.

I’ve made my bed…

Quite literally.

Master first planted the idea in my mind a few days ago that I might be disallowed from sleeping in his bed in his absence, i.e. when he’s up in Paris. Of course, that little seed took root and grew into a full fledged naughty idea. Yesterday, I shared with him that I personally find it extremely hot to have to sleep in his closet or on the floor, like an actual pet. And then I teased him saying I didn’t know if he would like that much, since he enjoys cuddling with me while falling asleep. He retorted that we could still cuddle and when he’s ready to sleep, off I go. I didn’t reply but of course I had a silly smile on my face.

So today, I cleared out the bottom of his wardrobe, a large vintage solid wood piece, and made myself a little pet bed inside it. It’s slightly narrower and shorter than a single bed, but still big enough for me to sleep comfortably. I have no clue how often I will use it. Of course, my depraved brain is hoping I’ll be banished from sleeping in his bed permanently unless he so desires my company. It’s got me dripping in my chastity belt, thinking of being locked in (the wardrobe has one of those antique key locks on the outside) on some nights and released in the morning when Master wakes. Of course I also have fantasies of being locked inside while Master plays and fucks someone else in his bed, and we’ve talked about this, about him taking lovers in Lyon but I still need some time to warm up to the idea.

In the past few days, we’ve been talking a little about the setting up of some new protocols and rituals to challenge me and keep me in good headspace. We like to do things slowly, if that hasn’t been obvious. Master has always been about setting me tasks I can achieve. Still, it’s been about a month since we’ve settled into our new apartment and most of the tasks I have are now second nature:

  • Wake up at 9am daily
  • Manage the household chores
  • Cook two healthy meals a day
  • Ensure the kitchen is well-stocked
  • Prepare and pack Master’s luggage before his Paris trips
  • Do 3 yoga classes a week with Master’s choice of accessory work after
  • 1h of French class a day, plus another 30 minutes to an hour of French content consumption
  • Do a full enema once every 2 days
  • Ensure Master has his coffee/water filled regularly while he’s working
  • Prepare the coffee nightly
  • Ensure there’s a glass of water on Master’s nightstand nightly
  • Seek Master’s permission before snacking (this was added recently)
  • Journal regularly

And that’s really about it. I’ll admit I still need to work on a few, like waking up at 9am. I tend to get out of bed at 9.30am; I am not a morning person at all. I also tend to skip workouts on occasion. So these can definitely be done better. But on the whole, I run the house and myself like clockwork now, and I’m ready for more!

I’ve made some suggestions to Master which we will discuss after he’s had time to ruminate on them. Honestly, when we started our D/s dynamic three years back, we agreed that we wouldn’t rely too heavily on protocol. The reason was that my ex-dominant who fucked me up quite badly used to adore protocol. We had so many in that relationship, and while it was all fun and games in the beginning when things were good, I found them stifling towards the end when they essentially became well-rehearsed actions without intent. Thus, we agreed to allow our own dynamic to evolve organically, only putting in place what we both agreed would contribute to it and to us. But now that I’ve finally laid that monster to rest, I feel like I’m ready to take them on again. Not all, and definitely not the same, but tailored to us and our needs.

The first thing I suggested was that I be required to keep my collar on at all times. I know, I know… This is such a basic thing in most dynamics, right? I guess the physical collar just was never that important to us, you know? I’ve never doubted in my mind that Master owns me, so there was never really any need for an outward show of it. I don’t need to finger the D-ring at the front of my collar to remember who’s in charge, but now I also kind of want to just be able to touch it from time to time, to feel the weight of the collar around my neck. I’ll be using my custom leather collar for now, but we plan to purchase an eternity collar as soon as they restock the one we want in my size.

The second suggestion I made was slave positions. This is something I specifically asked Master to avoid in the beginning because my ex was CRAZY about them. I didn’t want to go through the ritual feeling like I was still entrapped to him, so we never put them in place. However, over the years, through our play, there grew certain positions I instinctively knew to adopt. One for waiting, one for receiving impact, a couple of presenting my ass for fucking, etc. I realised that they were all different from the ones my ex used to train me in, and thus, I feel very comfortable ritualising them. There is something very hot about Master calling out a number or a short phrase and me knowing exactly what is required of me, like a well-trained slave.

The last suggestion I made was really more of a request. We have a routine for play. I give myself a full enema once every two days. It has to be a full one because we always practice ass to mouth, and because Master is quite big (for my size) and often likes to go for more than one round. We agreed that doing a full enema daily would have too big an impact on my colon health, thus we have an intense anal session every two days instead. On days that we don’t fuck, Master has his own routine of sorts. He enjoys wanking in the confines of his office, in privacy. I guess it’s just something he’s gotten very used to, not so much that he doesn’t enjoy using my mouth/hands. I can understand because when I used to be able to wank, I also enjoyed my own me-time with my erotica and vibe. Nonetheless, I asked Master to consider how I could serve him more, within his comfort level, whether it be to simply come in at the end and serve as his cum rag, or to be allowed under his desk and lick his feet, balls or ass while he wanks. No idea yet what he will decide, whether he’ll be open to this at all, but I would very much hope so.

All of the above are still in progress, awaiting Master’s input, but one thing we did set up, which I’m pretty excited about, is tying my orgasms to cuckqueaning. Master decided that I be allowed to earn one clitoral orgasm for every 10 times I am cucked. However, if I misbehave like the last time, trying to manipulate him into changing his plans, that time won’t count and I will lose an additional number from my present count. So although I have been cucked twice so far, since I fucked up the second time, the count remains at zero. This is quite exciting because it gives me incentive to want to be cucked, not that there wasn’t before, but this is so much more explicit. Master goes up to Paris every other week so the wait in between orgasms should be about 3-4 months, which is a good duration, seeing as I tend to lose sexual desire after too long a period. Think of it as a reset to keep me horny and sensitive. And now, I’m actually in good spirits about Master heading to Paris next week and cucking me, since I’ll be able to add +1 to my count.

So there you have it. I know my last post was pretty heavy, but it was a necessary step for me to take to move on from it. And it’s worked. The more I read and reread the post, the less power I feel it has over me. It’s strange, but I feel like I’m finally ready to let go of that beast, or that monster, and devote myself to making my current dynamic an exceptional one. Thanks for reading!

Cuckqueaning Milestone Crossed

This is going to be a very challenging entry for me to write because it requires me to be rather vulnerable and admit that I am not perfect in my submission/slavehood, whatever you want to call it.

Master was in Paris again last night for his once weekly trip. He had told me that he would be meeting someone he’d met on an app for a first contact. That placed pretty low on my jealousy meter, so when we didn’t have much of a scene the night before he left, I didn’t think too much of it. He had me worship his feet and give him a back rub to relax and that was it.

Fast forward to yesterday. Some time in the middle of the day, Master contacted me to let me know that his date had cancelled due to her being unwell, and he was going to see the same lady he’d seen the previous week and spend the night at hers again. We had talked about how I didn’t want to have any control over who he saw and what he did while in Paris, so I accepted the news and then spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying very hard to work through the huge ball of jealousy and anxiety that had instantly formed.

I thought I did a pretty decent job. I had written Master a long journal entry, talking myself and him through my feelings. I acknowledged my need to give up control, etc etc. But come nightfall, I was a mess. Like a legit mess. Master still hadn’t given me any real confirmation as to whether he was seeing this lady or not, telling me they would confirm the meeting after their respective dinner events. Anyway, when he called me after his dinner event, I have to admit I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that he was in bed. I took it to mean they weren’t meeting after all.

Alas, no. Master told me he’d be taking a shower and then heading to her place and that’s when I just broke down. I admitted to him that I wasn’t in a good space at all. I was not prepared for this, I was not horny in the least, I felt like throwing up at the thought of him being with someone else when I wasn’t in my little cuckquean space. I guess neither of us really knew just how important the prep work was for me, nor did Master think it made that big a difference who he met while there. To him, it felt like a small change in plans. But to me, it felt pretty much like the end of the world. OK, I exaggerate but you get my point.

I am happy with how we worked through the issue. To me, it was a win. Master basically made me take ownership of the safeword, telling me that I was empowered to use it if I really felt that there was no way for me to work through my feelings. He assured me he would not love me less (my perpetual fear from being with my previous Dom). He gently reminded me of my earlier commitment not to make him cancel plans at the last moment, which is fair because I did give him my word, and it felt like a good decision at the time since it would impact not just him but someone else.

Master then reminded me of all the things I’d written to him in the past few weeks, of where I wanted our dynamic to go. He also reminded me that I knew that things might get tough, but that I needed to dig into my courage if I wanted us to break out of the cycle we were stuck in. It’s true. This is our fourth go at cuckqueaning, and every single time before, I’d chickened out. And yet, I keep going back to this kink, like a curse. It fuels and kills me in equal measure.

In the end, I took a deep breath, we talked, nay, hashed it out, and then I told him to go. I knew that if I stopped him from going, it wouldn’t change the way he felt about me, but it would probably change something in our dynamic. I didn’t want to hate myself in the morning, knowing that I had taken the easy way out. So he went. As for me, I went to sleep after writing him another very long journal entry. Lol. I am glad this man loves reading.

This morning, he contacted me as soon as he was out of her place and gave me a quick rundown of what had taken place. After a good night’s sleep, honestly, it hurt a tonne less. We reconnected over text, both feeling glad that we had stuck to our commitment to each other. He had read my midnight writing and told me he was proud at how I’d managed to work through my feelings, even presenting him with options and alternatives for making this work in the future.

I am aware this might read funny to some of you, some might even cry abuse. But no, I’m not abused. Cuckqueaning is my kink, and we’ve found that I am most fulfilled when I’m kept in a good cuckqueaning space. We are both still learning how to keep me there, how to cope with the ups and downs such an emotionally charged kink inevitably brings. So yes, I am aware that I sent my husband into another woman’s arms last night, even as I was breaking down internally from overwhelming jealousy. But I count it as a win. A small step towards becoming the slave I envision myself being, a small step towards cementing our dynamic as real.

The Steep Learning Curve of Cuckqueaning

I have a pretty curious mind. It’s a pity I’ve never been very curious about academic things. :X Instead, I spend most of my time thinking about kink. In particular, my kinks. While others spend a lot of their time reading up about technology (like Master) or… I don’t know… evolution (like someone else I know), I am pretty much only concerned with honing my kinks to a T. I adore figuring out what works for me and what doesn’t, and having a partner who’s on the same page is such a treat (when he isn’t binging on tech news).

Let’s take orgasm denial, for instance. I can only describe our approach as experimental. Over the years, we’ve set out to answer a couple of burning questions, such as how I respond to denial while honor bound as opposed to while wearing a chastity belt, whether regular edging adds to or detracts from the experience, how long perpetual arousal can be sustained and how the inevitable dip in arousal can be delayed or prevented. It’s fun, almost scientific, wouldn’t you agree?

And then there’s cuckqueaning, and goodness me… This is a tough one. I have to say the learning curve for this particular kink is the steepest I’ve encountered so far. I feel like we are spending so much of our time exploring, calibrating, experimenting, reviewing, over and over again. Why do I even like cuckqueaning? What is it about this kink that enthralls me so? How do I manage my emotions when arousal wanes? What kind of cuckqueaning set up is ideal? How best to optimize the fine balance between what’s hot and what’s not? What’s up with me and jealousy? Why does it turn me on so much?

For the past two years, Master and I have been experimenting with cuckqueaning within a healthy dynamic. We started out light and then slowly ramped up the intensity. I chickened out at one point and we put a stop to all activity for a bit. Then we tried to see if we could make the kink work in a more controlled fashion, where I wasn’t always humiliated but instead, co-dominating alongside Master, who would of course go on to fuck her. We discovered that though this was incredibly fun, particularly with S our female pet, it didn’t give me what I needed, which was to feel small.

So this is perhaps our fourth go at cuckqueaning. We are in a good dynamic at present, something I’ve written extensively about in the weeks prior. We have a good M/s set up where I’m essentially a live-in house slave, I can fully focus on serving Master and occupying a submissive headspace. We weren’t too sure initially how we would go about exploring cuckqueaning within this set up until we learnt that Master would be required to travel to Paris once a week for work. It felt like the perfect opportunity. He would meet women while there, cuck me in my absence and come back home to rub it in my face.

And it happened for the first time this week… Master headed up to Paris for work on Thursday and spent the night with a young lady he had matched up with on a dating app. It was a huge step for us. This was the first time Master spent an entire night with someone else. This was also the first time I was entirely uninvolved. And how did it go? On the surface, it went according to plan. Master met up with her after he was done with work. They went for a nice dinner at a restaurant near her place, then they headed back to hers for a little extra extra. He slept over at her place, went to work the next morning and then found some time to give me a call.

On my end, the earlier half of the night was pretty manageable. Sure, I had my little anxiety spike, as expected, but I was OK after Master took a bit of time to put me in my place via text, and I found myself working on a long private journal entry to him while he was busy with her. I went to bed at a decent time, pulled out my vibrator and started using it over my chastity belt. And I… came. Lol. Yep, you read that right. I came despite the fact that the vibrator was over the belt, never making direct contact with my clit. I guess I was so horny that the muted vibration of the metal shield got me off. I was left in a stupor, going what the actual fuck just happened.

And then came post cum clarity, and that was NOT fun. The deadening of sexual arousal plus the fact that Master was STILL with someone else and I could do basically nothing to change the situation sucked. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Thankfully, the exhaustion from an orgasm after two weeks of denial set in, and I put an end to my emotional Olympics and fell asleep. The next day was when things started getting a little hairy. Some context is necessary. I’d asked Master to be meaner with me. I didn’t want him to give me an easy out, I wanted him to take away my freedom of choice, to remind me that this was my life now.

And so he did, except he was really mean with me. I guess when I asked Master to be meaner with me, I was referring to quantity rather than quality? I like it when he’s cruel in scene, and I wanted more of that, but I didn’t know that I would hate it quite so much outside of scene, nor that he had the capacity to be that much harsher. Anyway, this was new to me too and we ended up having a really long heart to heart discussion Friday night and also today (Saturday) about what I had actually meant. I’ve never been very good at expressing myself, and when I write, I tend to do so under the haze of arousal, so it was a good lesson to me to be a tonne more explicit and also to temper my requests, taking into consideration how I would feel/react when/if I were not horny.

All in all, this was a good lesson to the both of us and I’m glad we were able to tackle the issue maturely. If anything, we’ve grown from this experience. We’re still on track to continue our current exploration, the boundaries and expectations having been clarified properly. We haven’t played yet since he got back. In France, everything closes on Sunday so we had to run our errands today. We will play tomorrow and I’ve requested for a hard session to get me back in the headspace I crave. I’m looking forward! I guess this is part of the fun of kink… Making mistakes, learning and moving forward. What’s important is that we’ve perfected the art of pausing, taking stock, identifying what needs to be changed/improved, and working together as a team to do so.


I’m back in my chastity belt. Master holds the key. This time, there’s no reprieve. No need to be unlocked to work, no need to be unlocked for pole class. The only work I do now is slave work and the yoga I do at home doesn’t require me to be unlocked. It’s been about 32 hours since he shut the padlock and I don’t know when it’s coming off.

Hang on, let me rephrase that last bit. Yes, I know when it’s coming off… It’s coming off when he next fucks my ass, which is in about 2 hours. After that, I get to edge, which will be the closest thing to an orgasm I get to experience for awhile now, so a girl’s gotta take what she can. And right after that, the belt goes back on.

The aim is to get me to the point where I’m thankful just for the chance to edge because it sure beats rubbing a metal shield. Last night, I was so horny I begged Master to allow me to read some porn and use a vibrator over the belt. It felt good in a detached distant kinda way, but edge I could not. Not even close.

I felt a bit of a mental shift halfway through my little endeavor. I felt helpless knowing how much in Master’s control I am with just this metal belt around my waist. I’m entirely reliant on him for pleasure, seeing as my own efforts come to naught. I felt even more helpless knowing that he enjoys denying me said pleasure, and that I probably won’t get to enjoy an orgasm for a very very long time.

I am curious to see how long I can go. I think the longest I’ve gone without cumming has been two months. I got cranky and came up with all sorts of silly excuses to not wear the belt. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t work… But none of that matters now. And that’s frightening. Master could actually just ignore my whining, lock a gag on me till I cease trying. Oh that’s actually pretty hot.

Next week, Master will spend 2 days away from home for work. It’ll be the first time we are sleeping apart. I’ll be locked up. I’ll have a safety key but Master will know if I use it, so I’m not to do so unless absolutely absolutely necessary. The helplessness is tenfold knowing he won’t be around for me to beg to unlock me for something frivolous, not that he ever succumbs but you know what I mean.

And of course, because I’m so freaking horny, my lizard brain is pushing me to ask Master to try and meet someone on tinder while away so he can cuck me. My brain has been a lot of weird places of late and this one keeps repeating. Urgghhhh. Realistically, it’s not going to happen this trip, but Master has to travel for work pretty often so I can see it happening soon. Is it weird I just want to be locked up, at home, vibrating myself through the chastity belt and thinking about Master fucking someone else?

I’m back in that space where I don’t really want to be in the scene. I find I oscillate between wanting to be humiliated in front of the other woman and wanting to be cast aside. The latter always seems to be far more fulfilling, maybe because I’m introverted and don’t really want to deal with awkward social interactions. But maybe this is also cos we haven’t actually had someone play with us who wanted to humiliate me. Most of the time, I’m joining in as an equal or co-domming with Master, so it doesn’t really check my boxes.

Anyway, that’s the end of my horny monologue. If you got this far, well done, you! Know that while writing this post, I was giving myself an enema and then shoving a giant plug up my ass to warm it up for Master. Both are complete and I can go back to my horny fantasies while I wait for Master to finish up whatever it is he is doing and come use me!

What now?

Photo by Cam Bradford on Unsplash

In my previous post, I explained that Master and I would be restarting our D/s dynamic after a few months of inactivity. Considering that we have an entirely new living situation in an entirely new country, it feels like a good opportunity to reassess and restructure our rules and protocol, putting in place what makes sense to us. Master and I haven’t quite sat down to talk about how this will look, but I’d like to pen down my thoughts as a reference point for him and for me. In this post, I am going to describe some of the existing expectations that Master has of me currently, how I think they can be enacted here and now, and also some others that I would like him to control because they will make me a better submissive.

On the household front, now that I am a full-time housewife, we agreed that I am expected to (1) keep the house clean and tidy, (2) do the laundry regularly, and (3) cook three healthy meals a day for the both of us. This means that I have to ensure that we have sufficient household products and groceries at any given point in time. If supplies run low, I either run out and pick up more, or place an order for them to be delivered the next day. On my part, I can also ensure that Master always has available fresh baguettes, pots of his preferred yoghurt and snacks. I can prepare the coffee in the coffee machine the night before so that he can enjoy hot coffee when he wakes up for work, and ensure that he always has a glass of water by his work desk and bedside table.

On the financial front, I have free reign over how much I spend on groceries and household items – Master’s priority is that we eat healthy and that the products we use at home are as chemical free as possible. I don’t, however, have free reign over what I want to buy for myself and neither do I think that I should. Since we got here, I’ve been running my online purchase requests by Master and only buying in store when he accompanies me shopping. Considering that Master will be starting work next week and I’ll probably have time to go out shopping on my own in the afternoons, I think it might be a good idea for Master to give me an allowance that I have to keep to for such purchases. Bigger purchases amounting to more than a certain amount should be made together or run by him first.

On the sexual front, Master has always and will always control my orgasms, so this won’t change. I’m not always on denial, but I definitely don’t have the freedom to masturbate daily. If he thinks I deserve an orgasm, for whatever reason, he allows me to enjoy one with a toy of my choice. On periods of denial, this is obviously not the case. It isn’t up to me when and for how long Master chooses to keep me on denial. It’s usually a good way to remind me of my submission, something I tend to forget quite easily, according to Master when he calls me out for being a brat. We tried long-term denial before, but without somewhat regular orgasms, it seems like my libido just flatlines, not a fun situation for either of us.

Also on the sexual front that I would like… Master loves anal sex so I can ensure my ass is clean and ready for Master’s use as often as is humanly possible. I say this because there are times when I’m not physically up for it because I’m not feeling too good, or he was too rough with me and my ass needs a few days to recover. (C’est la vie.) Master also loves his blow jobs so I can work on improving my deepthroating skills by sucking him off regularly. I have to admit this is one of the things that is first to go whenever we are busy and not in the D/s headspace. It isn’t that Master doesn’t want me to blow him, but he won’t force it on me when I’m not in the mood. I would, however, like to make myself more available for his use and I don’t think that he should hold back on using me.

Finally, on the personal front, there are two main things that I need to focus on for personal growth and productivity which I would like Master to hold me to task for. The first is exercise and the second is French. For the first, I have found that a daily yoga practice keeps me not only physically healthy but also mentally calm. When there is less noise in my mind, it is a lot easier to pay attention to what matters. I am prone to laziness though, but knowing that I have to get myself to the mat for an hour a day will probably help overcome this. For the second, it’s a necessity that I get my French up to speed in order for us to fully enjoy our lives here. We’ll be able to meet more people, go to the movies, etc. Again, having to record and report on my daily efforts should motivate me not to slack off.

Then, there is the question of what happens if I fail, which I am most probably apt to do. This is a topic for another post so I’m going to end off here. Goodnight, dear reader. If you’re also a part of a D/s dynamic, I’d really love to hear about what you have in place. Please leave a comment or drop a link if you keep a blog!

Greetings from France

Photo by David Werbrouck on Unsplash

I am aware that I have been very remiss. The past few months have been a whirlwind for me and Master. Some time back, in last October if I recall correctly, Master made a decision to leave his company in Singapore, where we were based. As a result, we had approximately two months to coordinate a move to France, his home. Having lived in Singapore all my life, you can imagine how difficult it was for me to condense my life into a few suitcases. We didn’t want to engage movers because surging fuel rates had rendered them unaffordable. It was as good a time as any to decide what “sparked joy”, to quote Marie Kondo. So, it was decided that we would move with just six suitcases, no more, no less.

Somehow, we managed. Well, not entirely. We ended up leaving a few cartons with friends, to be picked up at a later date. Thank goodness they had the space to spare. The move was chaotic; not only did we have to manage multiple overweight baggage (which thankfully, AirFrance did not penalise us for), we also had our cat in a carrier who travelled in cabin the entire way. It was quite the journey, one I do not wish to repeat. It was stressful on our cat, being confined to her carrier for the entire 15 hour long flight, and even more stressful on us, having to watch her, on occasion, attempt to scratch her way out. Nonetheless, we made it.

Our last months in Singapore weren’t all frantic. We had more than a few good moments with S, whom I’ve written about before. She turned out to be incredibly submissive and wanted to experience living as a house pet to a couple. Now this may come as a shocker, considering I’ve always written from the perspective of a submissive on here, but I am actually very much a switch. In fact, while in Singapore, I enjoyed a very successful career as a Professional Dominatrix, something I’ve since given up now that we are in France. I opted to be quite secretive about this before as not all of my clients were open-minded enough to accept the fact that a lifestyle submissive could play a dominant role. But now that I am no longer seeing said clients, I have no qualms sharing about that side of me.

Our time with S was well-spent. She lived with us for slightly more than a month. I played the role of a sub in some of our scenes together, and I also played the role of a Domme in others. She was a lovely distraction in the chaos and I do hope we will see her again despite the fact that we no longer live in the same place. I am hopeful as she is quite the traveler. I’ve journalled about a few of our scenes together, I’ll share them at a later date.

On the personal front, this move has been much needed for a few reasons. The first is as mentioned earlier – it’s forced us to size down our possessions to what really matters. I found that I had stocked up so much in the way of unnecessary things that my attention was greatly impeded. There were always too many things, clothes, even kink toys to choose from. Decluttering physical possessions is the best way to declutter the mind. The second is that this move presents me the opportunity to focus on what really matters – our marriage and our D/s dynamic.

Our present situation allows me the freedom to choose not to work. I count myself lucky; I am aware that not many have this option even if they so desire. For now, my priorities are to learn French, get comfortable with my new environment, take care of the house (meals and chores), take care of Master, and to be a more present submissive. When I worked as a Pro Domme, it was difficult to oscillate between being in a dominant mindset and submitting. In the last few months, we decided to allow our D/s dynamic to take the backstage while we focused on building our finances as best as we could to cushion the move. I’m glad to say we did it.

But now that that’s done, it’s time to refocus on us. I know I’ve said this before and I swear I mean it every time that I do, but I fully intend to start blogging regularly. In the past, I’d only focused on chronicling sexy cuckqueaning scenes, but I’d like to write more about my relationship and my submission. Not all of it will be sexy, but I’m writing for me. This is my journal, something I can come back to when the going gets tough and remind myself of what’s important. I might also share funny stories from my time as a Pro Domme, if the inspiration strikes. All this to say, if you’ve read this far and you’d like to stick around, you’re extremely welcome. 🙂

No Cucks Given

I’m not sure what happened this week. I started off being very excited about the two cucking sessions that’d been planned. Both took place as scheduled, no surprises there. But what was surprising was my reaction towards both scenes. Let me elaborate.

The first was with Ms S earlier in the week. I couldn’t get into the headspace while caged. I mean, she was hot, the whole setup was hot. But I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to enjoy it. Master and I had a debrief after the session and we reckoned it was probably a combination of it having been a weekday (thus we didn’t have time to prep me before the scene) and me being on my cycle (thus hormonal). The day after, I actually felt tonnes better and I kept getting wet when I thought back on the scene, thus I figured all was well.

Prior to Master’s play date with Ms N yesterday (Saturday), we did some prep work. I proposed to Master some light and relatively comfortable bondage options to put me in while caged, so that I would feel more immersed in the scene. We did a trial run on Friday evening where I spent 90 minutes caged while cuffed in mitts with a vibrating butt plug up my ass. It was delicious. I was so in the headspace and so excited about Ms N coming over.

Fast forward to earlier today. Master did a bit of pre-scene warm up with me, spanking me and ensuring I was in a good space before cuffing and caging me. Just before Ms N arrived, he turned on the butt plug, checked all was good and left the playroom. And everything was good… For about the first 30 minutes. Shortly after, I started getting in my own head and making movies about Master leaving me if I told him I wanted to stop being cucked.

I’m not sure how or why I started spiraling, but spiral I did. I didn’t want to share my husband/Master with anyone anymore, I didn’t want Ms N to drink our good wine (yes, I seriously thought of this and it was making me very upset lol), etc. I got so upset and restless with the entire situation quickly. But I decided to wait it out, let Ms N leave, and then tackle it with Master. I was still worried sick he would blow up at me.

When Master came to release me, he found me sitting in the cage without my collar and cuffs. I’d managed to work them off me (he had attached them loosely on purpose as a safety measure). When he asked if I was alright, I was shaking and asked him to let me out. He did and we then had a good talk. He was super supportive, patient and kind. I felt so stupid for even worrying he would overreact.

The verdict… We’ve decided to take a break from cuckqueaning. Master thinks that cuckqueaning as a kink is extremely difficult for me to process because of how emotionally masochistic it is. I keep getting drawn back to it, but perhaps we need only have such scenes once every few months, rather than every few weeks. Everything else in our dynamic remains constant – the long-term orgasm denial, being anal-only, etc.

I am extremely monogamous, I don’t like sharing Master at all… And it was precisely this that made the kink so deliciously humiliating to me. However, perhaps it is an itch I need scratched only once in a while. So I’m sorry, followers… Particularly to those of you who love my cuckqueaning adventures. Those will be on the backburner for a little while.

Master’s on a date.

I’m locked up in the cage in the playroom right now. It sounds a lot harsher than it actually is. In reality, I have a soft fluffy blanket covering me, air-conditioning in the room, and my cat has decided that the best place to curl up for a nap is in the cage right beside me. Right now, she’s curled up in the nook between my bent legs, her warm ass against my own. Earlier, she was in my arms, her tail beside my face on my small pillow. We’re quite comfortable, really. 

I like the cage. It’s a safe space for me. In it, I feel like I don’t have to make many difficult decisions. All I have to concern myself with are my basic desires – hunger and thirst, the need to relieve myself, entertainment for the bored mind. But the truth is, whenever I’m in the cage, my mind is never bored. It’s usually rushing ahead at 100kmh (or whatever speed a busy mind goes at), thinking of everything and nothing. I also find I write the most when I’m caged. 😉

At this very moment, Master is out with another lady. She’s a potential new play partner and she requested for their first meeting to be a vanilla one outdoors. Entirely reasonable, of course. They’re meeting at a wine restaurant nearby. Master left the house while I was still finishing up a work appointment with a client. My instructions for after work were to clean myself up, have my dinner, and then at no earlier than 9.30pm, lock myself in the cage. And here I am now. 

It’s approximately 10pm now so I expect Master should be home in less than an hour. My cat is fast asleep with her head resting on my ankle. I kinda like this… I feel like a house pet that’s caged itself while its owner is out having fun… Which is entirely what this is, isn’t it. It’s peaceful, I feel at peace. There are no little balls of anxiety swimming in my stomach. I’m just a pet waiting for its Master to get home to tell it about its date. 

Before Master left, he told me that he’d be buying his date dinner using the money I’d earnt. That got me quite excited, thinking about them enjoying dinner and a nice bottle of wine at my expense. Because of the pandemic and the fact that I am quite a decent cook, Master and I don’t go out on such dates that often. I whip up a nice French meal, we buy a very nice bottle of French wine, and we have a very good meal at a fraction of the cost. As a result, I can’t help but feel a little jealous that Master’s having a nice dinner and wine date in a restaurant with someone else. 

I’ve come to realize that cuckqueaning (at least for me) is best enjoyed through the small details. I don’t need a full-on scene where I’m humiliated in front of the other woman, made to serve her, made to watch her fornicate with Master. I quite enjoy being stored away in a cage while Master’s lover comes over, privy only to their laughs and moans. I enjoy the slow rise of jealousy at the mental image of Master having a good time with someone else, the ache of knowing he’s amping up the charm and exuding the particular je ne sais quoi attitude I fell in love with. 

Dealing With A Needy Piggy

It hasn’t been an easy week. I wasn’t particularly busy with work, but I had a few packed days which drained me both mentally and physically. I wasn’t in a good space to serve as a result, and even snapped at Master a handful of times when he asked me to do things for him. I reckon it was a culmination of a few things – my exhaustion from work, but also the fact that it has been a while since our last good play session. Since our little scene following Ms N’s visit 3 weekends ago, we haven’t had the opportunity to play. A few social engagements and some unforeseen inconveniences over the last 2 weekends delayed our plans for play. We still fucked (anally) plenty, and Master gave me regular maintenance spankings/canings to top up my pain tank, but what I really needed was a good play session with a lot of use/abuse/humiliation.

The past week has been, in a way, a good learning opportunity for both me and Master. We learnt that after I am cucked, I need a good long play session to help me process the cucking and put me back in my submissive headspace. Although we had some playtime after Ms N left, as I documented in my writing “Playing Second Fiddle”, it wasn’t quite enough. I will admit I was hoping for more the next day (Sunday), but Master was quite tired out from fucking Ms N so many times during their session AND he had to conduct 8 hours of training on Monday that he spent the whole of Sunday relaxing and playing video games. I can’t blame him as it’s not like we didn’t play after Ms N left; we just didn’t know that I would need a lot more than what I received.

We also learnt that I’m a little bit of a slowcooker. I’m very patient and can wait upwards of a week to 2 weeks before I basically implode. And that’s kinda what happened. By the middle of this week, I was a bit of a needy mess. I was upset with myself, with Master, and with the world for making it impossible for us to have our playtime. Thankfully, Master was excessively patient with me. We had long conversations about my state of mind and what I thought would help rectify it. He even asked me to submit my wishlist for our upcoming playdate, so I told him that I really wanted to be tightly restrained, given a heck of a lot of pain, and also to be teased relentlessly and denied.

I woke up this morning with very clear instructions from Master. I was to put on my piggy hood and keep it on for 4 hours, being the amount of time I owed Master from being unlocked from my chastity belt over the last week. How it works is that I have to wear the hood every Saturday/Sunday morning for 30 minutes for each event I am unlocked for, be it work or a dance class, for example. Last weekend, I wore the hood for 2.5 hours. This week, I owed Master 4 hours. After breakfast, I was to douche my ass in preparation for anal play. And then, at 3.30pm, I was to present myself to Master to be caged. We were to play today, but Master wanted me caged for an undetermined period of time prior to our play session in order for me to reflect on the week and get into the headspace to serve.

Well, it didn’t quite work out smoothly. For starters, the hood started giving me a mild headache an hour in, so I negotiated with Master to let me repay him the time I owed him over the course of the following week. And then, we discovered that the continuous wear of the chastity belt had caused me to contract an yeast infection. I’d wash after peeing, but I wasn’t able to wipe myself dry, and the constant moist and warm environment probably gave rise to a candida breakout. Yikes. I’ve been unlocked and probably won’t be back in my belt until it clears up. I’m a little saddened that I had been only able to wear the belt full-time for slightly less than 3 weeks. Hopefully, once the infection clears, we can resume me being locked up with perhaps a few adjustments, like making more effort to dry myself after using the toilet (apparently, some women use hairdryers) and being unlocked overnight.

Anyway, I did the necessary and presented myself to Master at 3.30pm as requested. Master put my collar and cuffs on me and then locked me inside the cage with instructions to reflect on the past week, in particular on my behavior and what we can do in future to better manage such situations. I drifted between reflecting and snoozing. I realised, while caged, exactly why I enjoy being confined to it so much. Cage time is almost akin to enforced meditation. Master takes away all my sources of distraction – my mobile phone, tablet, computer – and I am left alone with just me, myself and my thoughts. The only decisions I need to make while caged are very basic ones – am I thirsty, do I need to relieve myself, how much time do I think has passed? Amusingly, Master had left our cat in the playroom with me, and the adorable little thing came into the cage to snuggle with me in my time there. When Master returned, he found me and our cat curled up snugly in the cage. He couldn’t resist an “aww…” before releasing me and allowing me to use the toilet before we started our scene.

Master started by blindfolding me and cuffing my hands behind my back. I was on my knees and he stood in front of me, placing his cock in my open mouth. He was flaccid but slowly started getting hard as I sucked. When he was semi-erect, he used his hand to keep my head still and shoved his cock deep in my mouth, cutting off my breath. “Don’t forget who and what you are, Piggy. I decide everything, even when you breathe,” he growled. He held me in that position for a little longer, enough for me to whimper from the lack of air before pulling out of my mouth and pushing me to the ground. While I was still gasping from being handled in such a forceful manner (I love it), Master pulled me to my feet and started restraining me to our suspension rig.

Master had me stand in the middle of the playroom, centered under our suspension rig. He cuffed my hands to the top corners of the rig, such that they were raised at opposite angles before me. He tied off my collar to the centre point of the rig above my head, so that there was slight pressure on my neck, but not enough for me to black out. Then, he tied two lengths of rope around my waist and attached them to opposite bars of the rig, rendering me unable to move my torso at all because of the opposing tension. My ankle cuffs were attached to each other so I wasn’t able to move my feet much either. Blindfolded, it felt like I was caught in a web of sorts, only able to sway from side to side. I wasn’t uncomfortable, but I wasn’t able to move much at all. The only movement I could make was to lean forward, but that caused the pressure on my neck to increase, causing me to slowly asphyxiate myself.

I could feel my pussy juice already start to snake down the insides of my legs. Of course, Master laughed at me for being such a greedy piggy and spanked me hard on my butt and tits, making me test the limits of my restraints as I jumped in response to his administrations. And then, he began in earnest. “Have you forgotten yourself, Piggy. How dare you make demands of me? Did you really think you were worthy of such expectations?” Slap. “I’m very disappointed in your behavior this week, Piggy.” Spank. “I hope you know that after all your misbehavior this week, I am not going to go easy on you today.” I felt something sharp on the back of my neck, and then pins down my spine – the whartenburg wheel. Master traced it hard down my back, across my ass cheeks, my tits, my thighs. I jumped, futilely, every time the pins touched flesh.

What followed was pretty much a haze of pain and pleasure. I can’t recall the exact sequence, but I know that Master rotated between slapping me on the face, spanking me hard on my ass with the heavy leather paddle, pushing the sharp pins of the whartenburg wheel into my tender flesh, edging me with the vibrator, whipping my clit and nipples with our little flogger comprising plastic falls lined with tiny balls (ouch), and zapping me with the cattle prod. While I jumped the most from the zaps of the cattle prod because these were shocking, the most painful implement was by far the plastic flogger on my sore and sensitive clit. When it looked like I’d been taken down a few notches, Master picked up the cane and started caning my ass. “Start counting, Piggy.” “Yes, Master”. I counted from un (one) to vingt (twenty) before Master decided I had finally had enough and released me from my restraints.

We ended off the session with me sucking and deep-throating Master till he was nice and hard, then he took me roughly in the ass until he came. After he came, he told me to turn over and lie on my back, threw me the vibrator and told me I had 15 seconds to tease myself. No cumming, of course. I didn’t even bother asking. The whole time I used the vibrator on myself, Master stood over me, pushing his foot into my chest, restricting my breathing. I love it when Master chokes me and I love having Master’s feet on me. Within seconds, I managed to get pretty close to the edge and I kept myself there until I heard him count down from 3. It’s been 4 weeks since my last clit orgasm, and honestly, I don’t even really remember what it feels like to go over the edge. I just felt incredibly thankful to be allowed to edge with the vibrator today, having only been allowed to use my fingers for the past month.

We collapsed into each other on the carpet in the playroom in a mixture of cuddles, “I love you”s, and positive feelings. I’m happy now. Yes, I did forget momentarily who and what I was, but I’m glad that I can count on Master to remind me. This week, Master meets a potential new play partner, so this play session was timely. I’m feeling no anxiety, no distress, because I know with certainty that I am Master’s denied little cuckquean piggy – worthless, but also priceless, to Master. I’m going to prepare for bed now and we are to talk about what I reflected on while caged. I know I keep saying this, but I really do thank my lucky stars for Master. He rules me with passion, purpose and the utmost patience. ❤️