Last night

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…

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

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.

Sunday Shenanigans

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. 

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. ❤️

Tears of Acceptance

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.

Piggy’s Punishment

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.”

Playing Second Fiddle

Photo by Ryan Miguel Capili on

Yesterday was quite something. Ms N arrived just after lunch, and as promised, I was nowhere to be seen. I was safely locked up in the steel cage we keep in our spare room along with the drying laundry and other odds and ends. Suffice it to say I felt very much like a piece of property that Master stowed away to make our home more welcoming for his lover. I had some creature comforts, but not much. I had water, two apples (in case I got hungry), my iPad (but without wifi as it was solely for me to write on), diapers and pee pads (very important necessities), and a blanket (in case I got cold). And of course, I was wearing my chastity belt, as I have been 24/7 since it first went on, ensuring there would be no touching or edging or any such fun. I was to stay as silent as possible so that they would not hear me, like furniture.

From the confines of the cage, I couldn’t hear everything that went on. I couldn’t hear the topics of their conversation, for example, but I could hear their laughter. I could tell when they were making out for the talking would cease. I could tell when Ms N was enjoying herself, for she would moan quite loudly in pleasure. I’m not sure if she was doing so for my benefit, but I like to think she was. Or maybe she’s just loud. I could hear Master spanking her, I could hear her laugh as she started to process it, then moan as it became more pleasurable. And oh, I could hear whenever either of them came. Ms N’s moans would increase gradually in volume and frequency, until they reached a nice high pitch, and then an audible sigh of contentment as she reached her orgasm. And Master made her orgasm plenty of times. I could also tell whenever Master came. His thrusts would increase in rhythm and intensity until he would groan and cum. And then they would giggle a little and I’d hear the sounds of kissing, a condom being pulled off and disposed.

Over the span of three hours, Master came five times. I am pretty sure he did that on purpose. The last time Ms N came over, he came four times, the maximum number of times he’s ever cum with me in one session. This time, I think he wanted to make sure that he could rub it in my face that she’d brought him to five orgasms – one more than I have ever been able to do. Well, it worked. I felt quite worthless and replaced, sitting in that small cage listening to him find immense pleasure in the body of another woman.

I wrote Master a letter while I sat in that cage. He had wanted me to write about my headspace – what I was thinking, what I was feeling – throughout my time in the cage. I will share some pertinent observations. This time was very different was the last. The last time Ms N came over, I was not wearing a chastity belt. I had a vibrator with which I was allowed to tease myself, but not edge. I was allowed to use it on the lowest setting and it offered a lot of distraction. This time, however, the idea was to minimise the distraction, thus no touching, just one hundred percent focus on them.

The biggest difference I observed was that the first time, I was motivated by my own arousal. I was almost impatient for Ms N to leave because I knew that once she had, I would get to enjoy an orgasm myself. That was the set-up I had with Master then… I was on long-term orgasm denial, but I was allowed an orgasm whenever I was cucked. It sounded hot, but in reality, the orgasm at the end of the scene pushed me right out of the headspace and into a very emotional zone of self-doubt and insecurity. This time, I was motivated solely by my submission. I knew there was nothing waiting for me after Ms N left… no edging, no orgasm, nothing. I had requested for such scenes to be normalised; I wanted to truly feel like a slave/piece of property. There shouldn’t be a reward waiting for me when being cast aside to make space for another woman was an expectation.

After Ms N left, Master released me and sent me to clean myself up before giving me Ms N’s unfinished glass of wine to drink. That was my reward for the time spent in the cage – her leftovers. Master showed me the mess she had made on the bed, specifically on my side where she’d squirted and left a small stain. He told me she’d lain on my side so that I’d be able to smell her when I slept at night. He told me that he’d had a lot of fun with her, he liked her very much, particularly because of how chill and easy she was as a person. He also really liked her body, which is built very differently from mine. Ms N is a fair bit taller, has very large tits, and is extremely curvy. He told me he would likely start to see her more regularly, because she was easy-going as a partner, respectful of our dynamic, and not in any way imposing on his time/attention. I think she’s the perfect cuckcake.

After that, we ordered in, ate our dinner while watching our favourite sitcom on television. I liked how our lives went back to normalcy, it cemented again the fact that such afternoons were going to happen again and again, and that I should get very used to spending hours in the cage whenever they did. I did not anticipate, however, experiencing a pretty intense sub-drop after dinner. Master had plugged in to his usual computer game, and I’d gone off to my desk to surf social media and do some work. The jealousy started creeping in, and I was surprised to note that it wasn’t because Master had fucked someone else, but because someone else had received so many hours of his undivided attention in play. It’s not that we haven’t been playing. We play plenty, but it is true that we seldom set aside a whole afternoon to indulge. And I guess I started feeling a tad neglected. I might not have handled this very well, insisting that we have a little bit of playtime before bed, but Master was up to it and agreed.

The scene started with him making me stand against the wall with my hands on the wall slightly above head level. He blindfolded me and then started to use a leather paddle on me. He hit me all over with it, on the butt, the backs of my legs, my tummy, my tits, even the sides of my arms. And then he started reprimanding me for making demands of him, and asked me if it was because I was feeling jealous. I admitted that yes, it hurt inside and I needed it to hurt on the outside as well to make it better. He seemed to understand what I needed and continued to give me a hefty amount of pain. And then the kicker – “From now on, Ms N will get all the pleasure and orgasms, while you will only get the pain and punishment.” I felt a surge of emotion – jealousy gave way to sadness, growing into a small ball of anger before turning into resignation. Yes, this is what I had asked for, wasn’t it? Perhaps Master sensed my uncertainty for he followed up by planting a kiss on the back of my head and whispering an “I love you” in my ear. He reminded me that I had a safe word, but I didn’t need to use it. He was right – Ms N could have the orgasms. Me, I wanted the pain. It made me feel so much more alive than orgasms ever did. And hurt me he did.

When I’d taken what he deemed to be enough pain (I can’t tell as I was happily spacing by then and would have happily taken a lot more), he threw me on the bed and pounded my ass. His cock was not as hard as it usually was, and I knew it was because it was probably numb from having already orgasmed five times. It also took him a lot longer to cum, seeing as it was his sixth orgasm of the day. In my depraved mind, I kinda liked that he was performing with slightly less vigour with me after having fucked Ms N. It turned me on to know I was getting her ‘sloppy seconds’, that she’d drained my man so he would only have a tiny drop of cum left for me.

And as we lay in bed after, Master gave me 30 seconds to rub my clit with my fingers. This has always been an exercise in futility, considering that I’d been hooked to vibrators for years. However, and most surprising to the both of us, I managed to edge with just my fingers not once, but twice! That was how aroused the entire scene had made me. I didn’t get to cum, of course. Those aren’t for little cuckquean piggies like me, and Master locked me back up in the chastity belt so I wouldn’t have any fantasies of what I didn’t deserve.

First Few Days Belted

Wearing the FancySteel Slim Fit V2 Female Chastity Belt

As I write this entry, I’ve been locked up in my chastity belt for 2 nights and a full day (yesterday). The belt went on just before midnight on 7 June (I’m remembering this date because it marks the start of my new life), and we were both quite knackered from a long day, so we didn’t play or anything. We just went straight to bed, and I did my best to acclimatise myself to my new permanent accessory.

The first night was extremely restless, as you might imagine. I was so horny just from being locked in the belt that I kept dripping right through the shields. We’d adjusted the belt to be snug, and so that added on to my discomfort, especially since I’m accustomed to sleeping in the nude. It’s not uncomfortable, per se, but it feels like I’m wearing a tight and rigid g-string. In the end, I had to resort to putting on a pair of panties to avoid ruining my sheets.

The whole of yesterday, I was dripping more or less non-stop. I’m not even certain how I managed to produce so much pussy fluid.  The belt kept me in a super submissive headspace for the entire day. I wanted to do nothing more than to please Master. My focus wasn’t even on trying to gain access to my locked up clit. Yes, ok, I did experiment with the vibrator over the shield just to see how much sensation I was able to experience. Not much is the answer, and that turned me on even more.

By nightfall, I was a wet horny mess. I had douched my ass in preparation for an ass fucking, I’d even stretched myself out with a butt plug during the day. I just really really wanted to be dominated by Master, to be reminded why I needed to be locked up. We started with him unlocking the padlock to the belt, and then removing it and setting it aside. He used a finger to brush against my engorged clit and I started trembling immediately.

Master reminded me that though the belt was off, it was about his pleasure and not mine. I nodded and got to work with my mouth and hands. I was an extremely enthusiastic cocksucker, licking, sucking, deep throating, gagging myself on his length over and over again. I don’t quite remember the last time I was so hungry for his cock. Even now, as I write this, I’m nearly salivating at the thought of pleasuring Master again tonight. 

Master instructed me to prepare my ass for his cock, which was pretty easy seeing as my pussy was overflowing with juices. With his cock still in my mouth, I used one hand to lube up my ass with my own juices. Nifty! Who needs lube? When I was ready for him, he gestured and I immediately got into position – ass up head down. I parted my ass cheeks with my hands and relaxed myself to take his cock up my ass. 

We’ve had anal sex countless times, but every single time he penetrates me, I’m always astounded – first by how big and hard he feels, and second by how good it feels for me. Not before long, I’m begging for permission to cum anally, and he grants it with the reminder that this is the only way I’ll be cumming from then on. Of course that only made me cum harder. 

We fucked in multiple positions, with me cleaning and sucking his cock in between. I do love ass-to-mouth. I’m quite a stickler for hygiene so I always make sure I am spotless behind before we have anal sex. For that reason, ass-to-mouth doesn’t scare me. I know I won’t find any surprises there. The headspace though of sucking a cock that’s just been in my ass is quite something. It humiliates me, makes me feel like a real piggy slut. No respectable woman would do such a thing, I think!

Master finished in my ass. He didn’t even stick his cock into my pussy once. He merely rubbed it up and down the entrance to the slit to gather my juices before plunging into my ass. He paid my clit zero attention. I know it’s weird but his blatant disregard for my pleasure really turns me on. He told me to lie on my back, and then he told me that since I’d served him so well, he would allow me to rub my clit with my fingers for 30 seconds. No cumming, of course. 

I have only ever been able to cum with my fingers a grand total of 3 times in my whole life. I have a big clit and I need a strong vibrator. The 30 seconds was not even sufficient to get me anywhere close to an edge. It was so frustrating! I felt real tears in my eyes as he counted down from 5 to 1. I think Master saw my tears and laughed, which of course just made me feel even more submissive. He instructed me to wash up, made sure I understood that I was not allowed to tease myself, and then return to be locked up again. 

As the padlock went back on after he’d used my mouth and ass, totally ignoring my pussy and clit, he said, “This is your life from now on,” and I think I melted a little inside. I love that he made me use my fingers and didn’t even allow me a vibrator. I like that the use of the vibrator is a privilege this piggy doesn’t deserve. In my extremely sexed up state, the idea of only ever cumming from my ass from henceforth really turns me on. 

I like the idea of Master taking all my orgasms and giving them to other women. I know that every time he has cucked me, he’s made the other woman cum multiple times. At those times, I wasn’t on denial nor locked up, so while it was hot to listen to them cum, it wasn’t as humiliating as it ought to have been. I think… after a few weeks/months in the belt, I’ll be crushed every single time he cucks me. And gosh, do I want that with my whole heart. 

All a needy little piggy cuckquean like me deserves is to earn her edges. And I will cherish them as much as I did my orgasms in the past. I wonder if I’ll get to a point where I forget what it feels like to cum from my clit. Maybe Master will reward me with a ruined orgasm when that happens, so I have a little taste of what I’ve given up to the other women he fucks.

The Shy Cuckcake

Photo by Ivan Aleksic on Unsplash

Some months ago, shortly after I’d moved in with Master, he had a playdate with a play partner he had met on fetlife whom I shall call Y. Y was very new to kink, and they’d played once or twice before. She knew about the nature of our relationship, and that I enjoyed the knowledge that he had sex with other women. This was the first playdate that I’d be around for, or at least in the same house. She was very shy and didn’t want to meet me in person. Master agreed that she wouldn’t have to. I’d be in the second bedroom that we used as an entertainment room for the entire duration of her visit. I was tasked to write about whatever happened, as far as I could see and hear, in real time. The following is what I came up with…

Master has gone down to pick up Y whom he will be playing with and fucking tonight in place of me. I am quite excited because although they have played before, this is the first time that I am at home while she is here. I have been confined to the entertainment room and told not to leave it under any circumstances. It is quite unnerving to know that there will be another woman in the house with me, but that we will never see each other. It is humiliating that I have to stay hidden to avoid making her uncomfortable. Master has reminded me that tonight is about Y’s and his pleasure, not mine.

The front door has opened, meaning that Master is back with Y. I know to expect a knock on the door – a signal that she is now well and truly in the house. Not a minute later, I hear it. Shortly after, Master enters the room to give me my first task – I am to fold Y’s clothes neatly. They will judge how well I have done at the end when Master comes into the room I am in to pick up the stack of folded clothes for her. While we are talking, I can hear the sounds of her taking a shower.

Master reenters the mancave with Y’s clothes. The first thing I notice about them is how nice they smell. The scent is not strong enough to be perfume, so it is likely the type of detergent she uses at home. It is floral but not overpowering. As I lay them out to fold them up neatly, I can detect a hint of her. These are clothes she has been in for an entire work day and there is a faint mix of perspiration in her blouse, and a slightly stronger musky scent in her lacy black thong – Calvin Klein… very nice.

Master surprises me by letting me know that Y is feeling playful and has agreed to allow me to take a quick peek at her in the bedroom. He holds my hand and leads me into the bedroom. I am not sure what to expect but my breath catches in my throat when I see her. She is lying on the bed with her head off the edge and her legs pointing towards the door. This is to prevent me from seeing her face. I am inwardly relieved because I don’t want her to see me either. Somehow, that will be even more humiliating. Master has tied both her legs in futomomos and her hands are cuffed together in front of her. He spread her legs so I can see her sex. As he does that, she gives a lovely little gasp. I can’t help biting my lip when I see just how lovely she is in person. Master sends me back to the entertainment room and returns to the bedroom.

The walls are pretty thick, but I soon hear the sound of moaning. It sounds like Y is being pleasured by Master. Shortly after, I think I can hear the sound of Master fucking her, but I can’t be sure. I feel terribly turned on knowing that Master is taking another woman in the next room. I also feel extremely frustrated that I haven’t permission to touch myself and relieve the ache between my thighs. The towel I have been sitting on feels slick with my juices. I can smell my arousal. I keep thinking about Master fucking Y in the pussy in the next room. My pussy feels empty and very needy.

I hear Master cum. I wonder how it feels for him, shooting his load into Y’s pussy while I am just next door. It must be quite the power trip. The door to the mancave opens and Master enters, still panting from having just cum. The condom still hangs from his cock, full of his cum. I don’t need a reminder of what I am to do. I gently slide it off his cock, clean his cock with my mouth, then empty his cum onto my palm and lick it up. It has been a while since I’ve eaten Master’s cum. It tastes really nice. He returns to the bedroom and I hear a fair bit more moaning. He is probably fingering her and making her cum over and over again. This fills me with a pinch of envy. I know my aching clit and pussy will probably not be cumming tonight or any time soon.

I am surprised that I don’t feel any jealousy towards Y, only excitement that Master is enjoying himself with her. Still, I cannot wait for her to leave so that I can cuddle with him and read to him what I have written.

She didn’t overstay her welcome, leaving shortly after they were done. I snuggled in bed with Master and read my writing out loud to him. We debriefed the session in great detail. Master is always very careful to ensure that I am in a good space mentally and emotionally, and I was. I’m penning this almost four months after the event so I can’t quite recall whether we fucked, but knowing me and Master, we probably did. And this, dear reader, is a recount of the very first cuckqueaning scene Master and I had, where all three of us – Master, me and the cuckcake – were together. There have been others, and there will be plenty more, I am sure.