Category: Scene Recounts

I am marked, my ass an abstract painting of purple on skin, painful to the touch. My cheeks are slightly swollen with just a hint of bruising. My ass and throat feel sore, a sign of being very well-used. I am on the whole entirely exhausted, I feel like I ran a marathon (I am not a runner), or worse.

But on the inside, my heart is in awe. “Find me a man who can break you down and build you back up again,” it had asked. And now, finally, we’ve found what we had been searching for.

I don’t count myself inexperienced in the least, I’ve had good and bad scenes spanning more than a decade, but last night… Last night was something else. Last night was intense, real, fascinating on a psychological level. At the end, the both of us lay in bed in a tangle of sheets, breathing heavily and reveling in the wake of what we had just done, nay, what we had just accomplished. The only word that we could utter was “wow”.

I will try and put down the experience in words, but I feel like I won’t be able to do it justice. Still, I will try for I too want a record of what passed.

I shared in my previous entry that Master and I had spent a fair bit of time talking, negotiating and realigning ourselves on Saturday. We knew we would play on Sunday, as a way to end the week, but I doubt either of us knew it would be quite so intense.

I presented myself to Master after preparing myself as requested – ass cleaned, hair up in pig tails, makeup done in a trashy manner, skimpy lingerie hugging my curves. Master added to the outfit my leather collar, leather wrist cuffs that he attached together with my hands in front, nipple clamps connected by a single chain, tongue compressor gag in my mouth. Then he swung open the closet door and all but threw me inside with my fleece jacket over my head for warmth. “Smile for the camera”, he said and I, rather unceremoniously, pulled the jacket to the ground, knocking my nipple clamps in the process. And thus, this picture was born.

I remained in the closet for the duration of three songs before Master reappeared, pulled me out and ordered me onto all fours on the bed, ass up face down. Then, the impact started. The buffalo whip came first. It’s a bespoke piece made up of one very long and thick tail of buffalo hide, approximately three feet in length and a third of an inch in thickness. It’s beautiful, in all honesty, and packs a mean punch. He gave me about twenty strokes, if I remember correctly. The most memorable was the stray stroke that landed smack on my clit. I remember squealing into my gag and the sound of Master laughing.

The next implement he used was a flexible silicone strip with raised studs along its length. Very understated, very mean. Again, I have no idea how many strokes I took, but I estimate another thirty. My ass was on fire at this point, and the worst stroke was delivered right across my foot when I crossed my feet to ease the pain. That was probably the point where I started tearing real tears.

Master instructed me to place my feet on the ground for the next implement, but to keep my back arched, head down on the mattress. He started snapping the sadistick against my ass and my thighs mercilessly. The sadistick is a mean motherfucker. It’s essentially a thin flexible metal stick with a rubber tip at the end. You use it by lining the tip up with the intended point of contact, pulling it back with your fingers, and then letting loose… a little like a catapult. And it hurts. It’s the kind of pain that cuts through the haze and brings you crashing back to reality. Again, probably ten strokes of this, maybe more. /shrugs

But Master wasn’t done yet. The next implement was the delrin loop, a rigid loop made of hard plastic. It’s a little like using a cable to strike someone, but worse. Master was a little like a kid in a candy store as he commented on the marks forming on my abused ass. I thought he was already going hard, but he told me to brace myself for the next few strokes. He reached down and grabbed onto the chain connecting my nipple clamps, warning me that if I jumped or moved, my nipples would suffer. Of course I did my best to stay very still, screaming into my gag and tapping my feet against the floor to cope with the pain, kinda like a bull before charging. “Keep your feet flat on the ground or I’ll whip them,” he said. I quickly corrected my stance. I was at this point so far gone I was a mix of flying and crying. The duvet was scrunched up tight in my fists, my entire body rigid from the sheer amount of pain running through it. Twenty strokes, I suppose.

“Now I’m going to cane you, but since this is your preferred implement, I’m not going to give you that many strokes.” It’s true, I do love the cane, but in Master’s hands, it’s more of a love-hate relationship. I whimpered inaudibly before taking three, or was it five, more strokes of the cane. Then came the nipple clamps. They weren’t excessively tight, but after having kept them on for more than half an hour, the sensation of blood rushing back in floored me. I squealed into my gag like a stuck pig, earning me more of Master’s laughter, music to my ears.

Finally, he was done. And honestly, so was I. I lay prone on the bed, shaking and perspiring from the pain and the fear. When Master got on the bed and leaned against the headrest, I instinctively crawled towards him between his legs, expecting that he’d want my mouth on his cock, but he gestured me towards the edge of the bed instead before plonking a foot on my thigh.

“Rub my feet, piggy. Make yourself useful.” And so I did. I rubbed his feet with all the gratitude I could muster for having broken me down and stripped away all the inner turmoil in my heart – my unwarranted fears that his cucking me would lead to feelings for another, that I would be replaced. In that moment, it was clear that he owned me and that he loved me immensely. And so I rubbed, trying to communicate my appreciation and love through my fingers, since through my words I could not. When he was satisfied, he removed my gag and told me to worship his feet. And I did, with the utmost love and adoration.

A funny interjection here. In our negotiation, I’d asked Master to allow me to worship his feet, it being a dormant kink of mine that we’ve never really engaged in before. Through cuckqueaning, he’s withheld certain sexual acts from me over time – cunnilingus and fingering, to be exact. But in the past weeks, he’s also started withholding his kisses. Not the quick peck on the lips that we give each other very often, but the long deep french kisses. The idea is that these acts ought to be reserved for his lovers, them being intimate and pleasure-focused and not what his fuckpig deserves. So I asked to be allowed to make out with his feet instead. Master had no expectations for the act, thinking it would be more symbolic than pleasurable, but to his surprise, he found himself getting extremely aroused from my administrations. All I can say is that in the 6-7 years I have been a professional dominatrix, I have had my feet worshipped so often I know exactly what feels good and what does not. And back to the retelling…

Master’s cock was nice and hard in response to my administrations on his feet, and it wasn’t long before he instructed me to take him in my mouth, which of course I did, happily. And when he was ready, he ordered me to lie on my back, slapped his cock against my clit and rubbed it along the outside of my dripping pussy, affectionately called my lube dispenser, before sliding it into my waiting ass. By this point, we’ve had anal sex hundreds of times before. We’ve fucked so much that we have a routine, almost. Favourite positions, favourite ways of contorting me. I usually know exactly what to expect, but this time… this time was different.

There’s no point going into a blow by blow recount, so let’s just say that he really roughed me up. He slapped me repeatedly and so hard that I started crying from the pain and pleasure. I remember thinking to myself that I might get a big bruise on my face and then feeling thankful that masks were still mandatory. XD And whenever he took a break from fucking my ass, he’d make me lie on my back with my head hanging off the edge of the mattress and fuck my throat instead. He used me like a toy, grabbing my neck to feel his cock slide in and out of my throat, holding his cock in my throat till I gasped and tapped his thigh for air. And even when that happened, he slapped my hand aside, held himself in place for a few more seconds before pulling out. I was a mess, but a happy one.

At some point, he slid himself in my pussy which hasn’t been fucked in months. I started begging to cum almost immediately, only to feel him quickly withdraw. I begged him to fuck my pussy a little bit more, promising that I would not cum, and he did. It was maybe just five to ten strokes, but it felt like heaven. In those moments, I was a swirl of emotions, remembering the reality of our situation, remembering how good he felt in my pussy, remembering that I didn’t deserve it anymore, that it was reserved solely for the other women in his life.

After he came, I moved to cuddle with him for a little, but he almost immediately pushed my head down between his legs again for round two. And so I sucked on his semi-erection, feeling it slowly come to life once again in my mouth. Then, we did the whole dance a second time. This time took longer than the first. My ass was so loose by the end I had to clench tight in order for Master to feel more of me and reach orgasm. After he came the second time, he exclaimed, “And NOW, we are done.”

I don’t know how long we lay together, just basking in the afterglow. I remember asking him, “How does one go back to normal sex after this?” “You don’t,” he replied, and we laughed.

This scene was something else. It pushed my limits like never before. At a few points while Master was giving me impact and when he was slapping me, I’d been close to calling the safeword, but it never got to that point. He kept me at the cusp of the edge for the entire duration, flying within safe boundaries, never once feeling like he was out of control.

I am happy, I am satiated. I enjoyed no orgasms, but for some strange reason, it doesn’t matter. Master is satisfied and that’s all that does. My heart is so full. I can’t explain it, but in moments like these, I know without a doubt that this man I love, he owns me, body and soul. I’ve never loved someone the way I love him, the thought of growing old with him, staying constantly by his side, it fuels me like nothing else has before.

Today I learnt… (1) to be careful what I ask for, and (2) never to challenge Master.

A few days back, I was texting a female submissive friend in Singapore. She’s played with me and Master before, so we know each other quite well. She shared that she was seeing someone new, but that he wasn’t kinky. Open to kink, but she was the one with the perverse mind. I told her it was the same with me and Master. Master’s pretty fixed in his kink preferences so most of our scenes tend to look rather similar – impact followed by a rough anal pounding. I joked that I too felt I was the one with the more perverse mind and that perhaps I should “script” scenes for Master in future.

Whoops! Now, of course I was just joking… I would never dream of topping from the bottom like that. And it isn’t true that Master doesn’t have a perverse mind nor the capacity to come up with creative scenes. When we first started playing with each other, each scene was markedly different from the next. It was definitely more a case of falling into a sort of comfortable pattern… But I won’t deny that I very much enjoy variety in kink.

Anyway, Master read the exchange and wasn’t too amused. We had a pretty serious discussion in which he asked me to share some ideas I’ve had of late. He also explained that he’s been preoccupied with his new job and thus doesn’t always have the time or energy to come up with fresh scenes. I felt pretty bad, but shared that my head’s been very very far out in the gutter of late, especially since I’ve been locked up in my chastity belt for a week now, and have only been allowed to edge once.

I shared my desire to be intensely humiliated, to be used and stored away like an object, to be treated like nothing. I also shared that I would like him to be meaner with me. He told me that he’s feared doing so because he can come across as extremely sharp and distant, and with all the changes that have been taking place in our lives over the past months, he did not want me to feel at all negative about him and our relationship. I told him I understood but that I was ready. I begged to be made to feel small, insignificant, worthless, nothing.

Fast forward to today… We’d scheduled in a little play session in the evening. I asked Master if he’d like me to dress up and he said yes, so I put on some trashy makeup, tied my hair up in pigtails, and donned a really skimpy bikini from WickedWeasel. When I presented myself to Master, I expected the scene to start with some impact and then for him to take my ass roughly, and for the scene to end at around dinner time for me to start cooking. However, the first thing Master did, after putting on my collar, was to drag me under his desk and tell me to make myself useful. I thought that meant giving him a blowjob, but he wanted a footstool instead.

I squeezed myself under his desk in a ball on my hands and knees; I fit in just nicely next to his computer. Master rested his feet on my back and continued reading/watching whatever it is he was doing before we started. I don’t know how long I was kept under the desk – long enough for my toes to hurt from being curled under. I tried uncurling them without moving too much but then I started trembling from the weight of his feet. “Stop moving,” Master said. I tried, and perhaps managed another five minutes before starting to tremble again.

“Get out from under there.” Master pulled me over to the rug by the side of the bed in his mancave. “Kneel.” I did so, but before I could make myself comfortable, he plonked his feet on one of my shoulders and directed me to keep still again. It was much tougher this time, the position was not a comfortable one so I started fidgeting to try to get comfortable. Then came the kicker – “How do you feel knowing that I’m busy chatting with other women while you’re kneeling there?”

So that’s what he was doing… I knew that Master had been on dating apps to find someone in Paris for when he goes up there next week, and it really shouldn’t have been that big a surprise… But I felt quite small knowing that I’d dressed up and prepared myself for play and he was busy talking to other women. I didn’t know how to respond to him so I just let out a little moan. I felt my pussy, still locked up in the chastity belt, gush from me feeling quite worthless. I tried rubbing my cheek against his calve in a show of affection, forgetting that I wasn’t supposed to move.

“What’s wrong with you? Can’t you even be a good footstool?” Master asked before yanking me up by the collar and dragging me into our bedroom. Again, I thought he was going to throw me on the bed and start spanking or fucking me, but instead, he opened my closet door and told me to get in. My closet is a little built in space in the corner of our bedroom, about the width of a normal door. There’s no base to it, just floor. The door to it locks from the outside, and the inside space is probably just one square meter. I pushed my clothes to a side and sat on the floor, cross legged. Master shut the door and locked it. “I don’t want to hear you and you better not fall asleep in there.” Yes, Master.

A few minutes later, the door swung open and Master poked his head in to look at me. “Go and insert your butt plug. Use your lube dispenser. When you’re done, I expect you to get back in the closet and pull the door shut.” The lube dispenser he was referring to was my pussy… Since he no longer fucks it, that’s all he uses it for. I hurried to the washroom and did as told. The plug is a pretty big one, about two inches in diameter, but I managed to insert it pretty easily. I shut the closet door as instructed and waited.

I heard footsteps and then the door opening. Master stood before me, naked from the waist down, his cock already hard. I knew what I was supposed to do – I quickly got on my knees and took him in my mouth. He allowed me a little time to get my mouth and his cock wet with saliva, then pushed himself all the way in till he was balls deep in my mouth. “Your ass and your mouth are the only two holes that matter, the only two holes that are useful. Your pussy is only good for producing lube.” I gushed even more, mouthing Yes Master inaudibly while he was deep in my throat. Then he was gone, the closet door locked once again.

With the plug deep in my ass, pushed in even deeper by the crotch band of my chastity belt, it was not a comfortable wait. Yet, I’ve always loved confinement, and the idea that I was being stored away like a piece of furniture till Master had use for me got me so aroused. It was the same with being used as a footstool, something Master has surprisingly never done before. When I was under his desk, I felt so fulfilled I wished I could do it all the time when he was working.

After more minutes, the door opened again and Master told me to follow him. We headed to the living room and he told me to kneel next to the sofa. He sat on the sofa before me and gestured to me to suck him. Of course I did, as enthusiastically as I could. At some point, my teeth must have grazed his cock and he slapped me hard across the face a few times. “Make yourself useful, make me cum,” he said, so I tried. But I didn’t manage to do so (I suspect he’d already cum once just before) and he stood up and jerked himself off onto my face.

The funny thing is… Master has never cum on my face before. He loves fucking me in the ass so much he ALWAYS finishes there. It was glorious to feel his cum spurt all over my face, on my forehead, nose and upper lip. When he was done, he told me to prepare him something to eat. I had 15 minutes, and I wasn’t to waste any time cleaning myself up. So I did… I cooked him a plate of carbonara with dried cum on my face and my pussy juice snaking down my thigh. I guess this is what they call domestic discipline? Let’s just say I’ve never been so aroused while cooking before.

When I served him his plate of pasta, he told me to plan my schedule for the next two days in my planner. I was to show it to him when I was done, and then he would decide if I got to eat or not. I was a tad confused as I’d only cooked one portion, but I worked on my schedule anyway. Thankfully, he was happy with it and gave me further instructions – I was to bake a quiche while still covered in cum and I would get to have a slice as my dinner. Again, cooking might actually be my new kink. 😉

While the quiche was in the oven, I was given permission to clean up (finally), and then to have my dinner and write this entry. Master told me that he would use my ass before bedtime, which is right about now. Some final words before I go… I loved this scene. It was very extended and put me in exactly the headspace I needed. I feel very much a happy houseslave, worthless yet useful, cast aside yet desired. I haven’t cum in more than a week and I’ve been locked up in my belt for a week now. I don’t see myself cumming for a long long time, nor do I see the belt coming off except for Master to take my ass. I couldn’t be happier.

It seems that I have a pretty fun week coming up. Master’s date earlier this week went very well and Ms S will be coming over to play with Master on Tuesday night. And then, on Saturday, Master will be seeing Ms N again. I haven’t been properly cucked since the last time Ms N came over which was three weekends ago, so I am quite excited. I know that when I was extremely horny, I suggested to Master that he cuck me every week. But the truth is, I don’t think I could manage that kind of frequency. My libido waxes and wanes in accordance with my cycle, and the thought of being cucked when my drive is low is quite unbearable. Once or twice a month is probably all that I can handle. 

So although there was an opportunity last weekend for Master to cuck me, I asked that he not. I wasn’t in the right headspace as we’d not had the opportunity to have a good scene of our own following Ms N’s last visit. But more importantly, I didn’t feel too comfortable with the lady whom Master was supposed to meet, so I vetoed it and asked that he not pursue that liaison. They’ve not met in person at all, but she lives a little too close for comfort (think same block) and she also struck me as being someone who might be a little too eager for my comfort. She had suggested that he go over while I was asleep to fuck. Sorry, not sorry. That’s not OK with me. 

(Side note: Although I am a cuckquean, and I do enjoy being powerless in my dynamic with Master, I am very particular about the women he meets. Master knows that I have huge trust issues because of my past relationship. He does proactively let me read his text messages with his play partners so that I never need worry that anything is going on that might make me genuinely uncomfortable. I don’t do this once I’m comfortable with said female and I know she’s cool. But with new engagements, I do like to do so, so that I can form my opinions as to whether or not I think she might be the type of cuckcake we seek – someone low maintenance, looking for fun, not interested in stealing my man.) 

Anyway, back to today. Master and I had plans to have a heavy scene in the evening to put me in a good space mentally for the coming week. At about 5pm, Master told me to get ready to be caged. I’m not sure how much time I spent in the cage, but I guess it was probably about half an hour. I like this routine we have of Master caging me for some time before we start playing. Without my mobile phone and other distractions, that’s not much to do except get excited about the upcoming play. Well, and snooze, of course. I think I napped for about ten minutes in the cage, which was very nice. Can’t blame me… Fluffy blanket, cool air conditioning and all. 😜

Master started the scene by blindfolding me and putting me in the stocks in a box. This is basically a wooden box with stocks for the wrists and ankles. Once you’re locked in it, you’re in a bent over position and there is absolutely no way to get out. It’s extremely strenuous on the thighs. Master also put our inflatable latex collar on me, pumping it full enough that my breathing was somewhat restricted – not enough for me to pass out, but tight enough for my breathing to be laboured. Once all that was set up, he started spanking me and giving me slight prods to test my balance. I was steady, I didn’t budge at all. 

Satisfied,  Master started flogging me hard with our heavy leather flogger. When my legs threatened to give way, he motivated me to keep my legs straight by using the magic wand on my clit. Oh, it was delicious. I haven’t had a clit (nor pussy) orgasm since the end of May and I rarely get to enjoy the vibrator at all. It didn’t take long before I was dripping pussy juice down my thigh and moaning very loudly from being teased. I believe all of this lasted for about five or ten minutes, at which point I had to beg to lower myself into a squat as my thighs were trembling from the strain. 

I’m pretty pint sized, so I was able to take a short break by squatting and resting my butt (and weight) on the edge of the box. It was still strenuous, but utlised a different set of muscles, thus allowing me to prolong my time in the stocks. I didn’t get a break from the impact though. Master started spanking me hard and using the small plastic flogger on my clit while I remained in a low squat. And when I’d rested enough (in his books), he yanked me back up again. He started fucking my ass with a small dildo to warm me up. It felt delicious and I started cumming almost instantly – half from the sensations, half from the humiliation of the knowledge that I’ve been anal-only for more than a month now. 

After the dildo came more of the flogger, and then more of the vibrator. No cumming from the clit of course… Just endless teasing with the vibrator and Master’s reminders that my clit orgasms are but a distant memory. Master left me squatting in the stocks while he set up the suspension rig for our next scene. My legs were trembling from strain and threatening to give way, but he just laughed at me and told me I’d have to wait till he was done. Those were probably the longest 30 seconds in my life! Finally, he released my hands, leaving my feet still trapped in the box, got me to stand and cuffed my hands overhead. 

Then came even more impact – this time with our thick rattan cane. I was tasked to count, and I did – all the way from un (one) to vingt-et-un (21). I don’t know why the uneven number this time, but I guess Master didn’t want me to assume he would end at 20 like he did the last time he caned me. The whole time Master caned me, he whispered deliciously naughty pieces of information in my ear – about how he’s extremely happy that he fucks me in the ass, since he gets ample pussy elsewhere, how he’s going to thoroughly enjoy pleasuring both Ms S and Ms N when they come over, how I’m going to be where I belong (the cage) while he fucks them. Oh, and the final taunt – how I better put my mouth and ass to good use so he still retains interest in me as his cuck wife. 

Well, of course I sucked like my life depended on it when he let me out of my restraints and knelt me before him. You best believe I brought his dick to life in my wet warm mouth. 😂 Master used my ass really well today, bringing me to anal orgasm after anal orgasm. It’s almost crazy when I think about the fact that he hasn’t penetrated my pussy in more than a month now. It never used to be his favorite hole, but it still got some attention, as compared to none. He used to at least fuck it a little at the start to lube his cock up. But now, I get so wet from the orgasm denial he doesn’t even need to stick his cock in my pussy to lube it up. All he needs to do is rub his cock head against the entrance to my pussy and it’s good to go. 

Let’s talk about anal sex… It’s uncomfortable. I have to prep myself physically prior to anal sex by douching myself thoroughly to ensure I’m clean. We do ass to mouth so I really don’t want any surprises there. The process of douching is time consuming, tiring, and occasionally causes some stomach discomfort. And then the fucking itself… It’s not quite the same as pussy sex. The ass doesn’t automatically open wide to welcome a cock inside; it takes active relaxation and submission on my part to let Master in. And Master is big. He’s a good 8 inches long and has decent girth. If I fight him, I’m going to get hurt. So I have to accommodate. It’s the only way to enjoy the experience. 

I think I cum because of the knowledge that I’m being taken in a way that is so… Biologically unnatural. The anus is a mass of nerve endings so it’s often a mixture of strange pleasure and hair standing discomfort. And my head loves that, despite my body sometimes just wanting to reject the foreign object. I oscillate between wanting it to end and wanting it to continue for a long long time more. And because of all of this, it’s amazing. I never feel quite as used as when I’m fucked anally, with no attention or thought given to my actual biological sources of pleasure. I’m physically reduced to a sex toy, a fuckpig, and that knowledge makes me orgasm over and over again. 

I’d be lying if I said I don’t remember what pussy and clit orgasms feel like. Of course I do. It’s only been slightly more than a month. But what’s true is that I’m starting to associate the discomfort of anal sex with pleasure. Yes, I can cum from anal sex, but it’s more of a pleasure born from a place of discomfort than just straightforward pleasure. I love anal sex, but what I love about it is not that it feels good, but that it doesn’t. I think it also helps that I haven’t been cumming any other way except anally. In the absence of proper enjoyable pleasure, anal orgasms seem a pretty decent alternative. Beggars can’t be choosers, am I right? 

At the end, Master gave me a choice – 10 seconds with the vibrator, or 20 seconds with my fingers. Of course I chose the vibrator… And of course I managed to edge. After more than a month of not cumming and being teased so frequently, I’m easy. I’m in a good space now… I’m feeling mentally and emotionally ready to be cucked twice this week. I’m eager to hear Master bring both play partners to orgasm after orgasm while I am belted and caged, feeling both sorry and incredibly turned on at my situation. I mean, whichever way I look at my life now, there’s no question I’m living my dream of being an extremely treasured and loved, but also denied and humiliated cuckquean slave. 

Last night, while Master was taking me roughly up the ass, no different from all other the other times before, I cried. I am not the type to cry during play. In my entire life, I’ve probably only cried once before in a heavy face-slapping scene with my ex-dom. I’m not too sure what was different this time. I didn’t cry very hard nor very loudly, but I felt tears stream down my face as Master pushed my face into the mattress while thrusting hard into me from behind. He didn’t hurt me physically – my ass is so seasoned from our near nightly anal fuckings that I barely feel any pain these days. If I had to unpack it, which is of course the point of this entry, I’d say I was crying for various reasons.

The first was that I wasn’t really in the mood to be used last night. We’d had a pretty relaxing Sunday and I had spent a few hours playing a video game on my Nintendo Switch. However, Master wanted to use me, and so I prepared the room as expected and presented myself. Normally, I’m a dripping mess within a minute, but I couldn’t get very wet last night. I had to resort to using lube to warm my ass up for his cock. There was a brief moment, while he was plummeting in and out of my ass with nary a care as to whether I was enjoying it or not, that I finally came to the realisation that Master owns my body. Regardless of whether I’m ‘in the mood’ or not, he uses it as and when he pleases. And I, I have no say in that.

The second reason, I think, is that the tears were a release from the pent up frustration I have been feeling from having been kept in chastity for close to a fortnight. My last orgasm was approximately 20 days ago, and for the past 13 days, I haven’t been able to touch myself at all without supervision. It’s a vastly different feeling to be on honour denial, knowing I’m not allowed to cum, but still having the freedom to touch myself even if not in a sexual manner, and having that taken away entirely from me. Feeling Master take his own unbridled pleasure from my body with the knowledge that I would be getting none, even when he was done with me, killed me a little inside. A tiny voice in my head was repeating “This is your life now.” the entire time Master was using my ass as his fuckhole.

The third thing I cried about was the knowledge that the other women Master fucks experience entirely different sensations in their time with Master. Try as I might, I could not remember what it felt like to have Master fuck me hard in the pussy. There were a few occasions over the past two weeks that he’d slip into my pussy by mistake, because of how wet I was. But he’d always stop about an inch in, pull out and reposition himself to enter my ass. I could not remember the sensation of Master’s cock on my g-spot, nor his fingers stimulating my g-spot, coaxing me to squirt. I could not remember the warmth of Master’s tongue on my clit, bringing me to orgasm after orgasm.

I was not crying because I was in pain. I was crying because I was mourning. I was mourning the loss of sensation in my neglected pussy, I was mourning the death of my clitoral orgasms as I knew them, I was mourning the autonomy I used to have over my body. And also, I was mourning the loss of Master as a tender lover, the way I had known him in the past. I suppose the next step of grief is acceptance, which was the headspace I found myself in after the tears were shed. This is my life now – denied, regularly cucked, used in ways that bring me minimal pleasure.

Am I sad? Yes, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, just a little. But judging by the fact that I’m currently dripping past the metal shield keeping my clit and pussy captive while penning my thoughts, I’d say I’m also excited for my rebirth as Master’s denied cuckquean. It’s not easy. It’s far more difficult than I previously envisioned it to be. Yet, I want this. I need this. With every last fibre of my being. I don’t just want to play this role – I want to live it, every minute and every hour of every day. I accept my new life enthusiastically, and I’m ever thankful to have a captain that knows how to steer me the way I was made to be steered.

Oops, it looks like I got too excited with the flurry of activity on FetLife last night that I totally neglected my night-time duties before Master decided to head to bed. Master was not happy when he emerged from his home office and found me still “tap tapping” away on my iPad, the coffee machine, bedroom and me still far from ready. He told me he was going to take a shower and that I should ensure everything was prepared by the time he was done. I tried, really, but there wasn’t enough time. When he exited the shower, I was still in the midst of preparing the coffee machine for our breakfast the next morning. He ended up having to sit in bed and wait for a good five to ten minutes for his procrastinating slave to hurry up and get in bed.

The first thing Master did after removing my chastity belt was to grab me by the back of my neck and march me over to the wall. He placed my hands and face against the wall and told me to stick my ass out. “You don’t deserve a warm up, Piggy,” he said as he struck me hard with the rattan cane. I yelped before collecting myself and thanked him for the stroke. In similar fashion, he delivered four more hard strokes and I remembered to thank him for them all. He gripped the back of my neck and pushed me towards the bed before throwing me rather unceremoniously on it. “Now make yourself useful, Piggy.” I quickly crawled between his legs and started worshipping his cock to get it hard.

When I glanced up at Master from between his legs, he just glared at me coldly before picking up his mobile phone to read something. He’d never done that before, so it made me feel rather insignificant. I picked up the speed a little, but he was taking longer than usual to get hard. Nonetheless, after a few minutes of licking and sucking, he was good to go. “Prepare your ass for fucking,” he said. So I scooped up some of my pussy juice which was freely dripping out of my neglected pussy and lubed up my ass until I managed to get three fingers in. All the time I was doing that, I continued to suck on Master’s cock, pushing it as deep into my throat as it would go, voluntarily gagging on its length the way I knew he liked it.

When he put down his mobile phone and made a move to get up, I lay down on my back, the position in which he likes to take me first. “On your belly, Piggy. I don’t want to look at your face.” Not wanting to make matters worse, I shifted into position without hesitation and used my hands to spread my ass cheeks apart. Master entered my ass quickly, a lot rougher than he usually is. This is the position we usually end with, as it is easier to take him on my belly after my ass has warmed up to his girth and length. There was none of that last night, though. He shoved my face hard into the bed as he pounded my ass, instructing me to take it. Well, there wasn’t much else I could do, was there?

Master was quite tired from a long day’s work, so he would pound me hard for a while, then lie down, indicating he wanted me to use my mouth. I knew the drill, and I didn’t want to disappoint him further so I put every ounce of will into sucking and deepthroating him well. In between having my ass pounded and stretched, I bounced my head over his cock, pushing it all the way down my throat and keeping it there till I gagged. I knew he liked it whenever he felt my throat constrict around his cock, and because I am relatively seasoned at deep-throating him, I forced myself to stay low on his cock till I choked and gagged, over and over again.

Finally, Master was ready to cum and he straddled me while I was facedown on the bed, thrusting hard and fast into my ass. By then, my ass was rather sore from fucking and I was wailing from a mixture of pain and discomfort. But still, I continued to cum repeatedly from being fucked in the ass. My head was in a nice submissive zone, reminding me that this was the only way I would get to cum now and thus, to enjoy it. My pussy clenched at nothing the entire time, feeling empty and ignored. Master finished in my ass with a loud groan, putting his entire weight on me as he came. I have to admit I really enjoy that; it makes me feel like I am nothing but his fuckpig, which I am.

“On your back, piggy.” I complied. “Considering your fuck ups for the night, I wanted to give you just ten seconds to rub yourself. But since you were a hardworking piggy and put a lot of effort in sucking me tonight, you get fifteen seconds. Your time starts now.” Oh, I tried, but try as I might, I couldn’t even get close to an edge in fifteen seconds. “Trois, deux, un. Your time is up, Piggy. Hands off.” I sighed, but remembered to be grateful and thanked Master for being allowed to touch myself at all. What followed was the same as every night – I was sent to wash myself and the belt, and then present myself to be locked right back up again.

Before falling asleep, I told Master cheekily that I’d lost some weight since we fitted the belt. It was now loose enough that I could slide the crotch strap to the side and pull my clit out. “That won’t do. We adjust it tomorrow night,” Master immediately said. “But what if I gain weight again?” I asked. “You better not. The belt only goes tighter, never looser.” “Yes Master,” I whispered before curling up in his arms and falling asleep.

**Edit: Upon Master’s review, he reminded me that he had sent me to wash the belt first, and then myself, as, in his words, “The belt is more important than you.”