Six Degrees of Domination 02: I enjoy my Sexual Freedom
by Lady Maleficent
My sexual freedom
I’d only ever had sex with three men before I met Edward; those were my first crush, my ex-husband and a brief affair. But including Edward I’ve now slept with nine. I don’t envisage my number rising at that rate in future! My freedom to have sex with Other people was something we both absolutely wanted me to enjoy right from the moment we exchanged our early messages. It was certainly something that made our age gap easier for me to come to terms with. I knew I wasn’t signing up permanently to fidelity to a much older man. On the contrary in fact.
We spent the first evening of our honeymoon in Paris. We had a beautiful outdoors table at a fantastic restaurant. Edward was locked down again (after being released for the flight) and I’d told him he was embarking on a long period of chatity, though not how long.
We’d already had sex plenty of times before we married. But I’d started tipping the balance away from penetration and orgasms to other activities and denial by the time we became actual Wife and husband. I didn’t feel any need to consume our marriage conventionally. Instead, Edward satisfied me in our hotel bedroom with just his tongue. He orally bathed my entire body; my sweety toes after the journey, feet and armpits, my ass and, finally, my horny pussy. Afterwards, down on his knees, he swore to love, honour and obey me and to forsake all others, for the rest of his life. He’d never see, smell, kiss, touch or fuck another pussy. He vowed those words directly into my very moist vagina.
Because we’d had a simple registry office ceremony, we’d made no proper vows earlier. I accepted his solemn promises to me in that bedroom. I asked him if he felt Any differently now that I was actually, legally, his wife. I gracefully accepted his vows to honour and obey and be faithful to me. Then I bluntly made sure he accepted that he was kissing a pussy that was still a hundred percent free to do as ‘it’ liked. Although the papers I’d signed that day, Edward had no rights over me, and above all over my body. It was our own private ceremony we both took very seriously.
We spent some of that evening in the restaurant discussing which waiters and men at other tables I fancied. I teased Edward I might make him approach one of them for me (I didn’t). During those first few months of marriage, I wanted Edward’s input. I made him point out men he considered good looking, who he could imagine in bed with me, who made him feel insecure. I soon flirted openly at vanilla social events and when we were out in public places, like bars or the opera.
Those early days were a delicious cocktail of new love and emotionally cruelty. It kept Both of us on our toes, but especially Edward. He was constantly having to compare himself to ‘better men’ and telling me exactly where he thought he came up short. I even made him practicechatting up another guy and introducing us both to him. Eventually I teased him that I’d already fucked somebody else, when in fact I hadn’t yet. I wanted to test his reaction. It was all mind fucking and pushing boundaries.
Dispite all the above, having sex with another man wasn’t something I was prepared to feel any pressure to actually do. I’m not turned on by cliché cuckolding; the kind portrayed in male-oriented porn, involving casual sex with strangers, black men, bulls, cock fluffing, what-have-you. I wanted ‘freedom’ but never to feel any ‘obligation’. For me, cuckolding has been a journey where I first had to pass through various stations. I had to find a husband first, or at least a long term partner, and form an emotional connection. I had to have sex with my husband first, and actually enjoy having sex with him. I had to value him, want to be with him. Without those foundations and stepping stones, I knew I wouldn’t be interested.
But then, yes, I also knew I’dWant to fuck other men. Provided I had the courage and opportunity. Even in my imagination it was all about emotional sadism and masochism. About my guiltless freedom to do so, not the actual sex. Well, of course I wanted any extramarital sex to be great, but that wasn’t what turned me on in itself. Not at first. I knew I’d want a willing partner to suffer frustration, humiliation and angst too, long before I’d actually met Edward. I even used to dream of doing that to my first husband whilst I was still with him. In the end I had a secret affairs for all the usual reasons, but I’d also fantasized that my ex-husband knew what I was doing, yet had to put up with it.
So being married and still able to flirt, fuck and even go on dinner dates with boyfriends has turned out to be the most liberating and fulfilling experience of my entire romantic life. Bar none. It’s who I am, shameful as that may sound to some. The sex and orgasms are actually enhanced by the illicit thrill of it. Weirdly I still enjoy doing stuff behind Edward’s back, even though I have his full permission to do whatever I like openly. I love the mind-fuckery involved. Guilt-free, clandestine extramarital sex (at least clandestine in the sense that he isn’t aware of it at the time). I don’t enjoy casual hook-ups. I’ve generally formed what I consider proper relationships even if they’ve only lasted a month or two. In fact not every man has even been aware that Edward’s my complicit ‘cuckold’. Two of them thought I was merely having a conventional illicit affairs with them.
The best part is surprising Edward. I had a liaison with a Swedish guy who I used to meet in his central London hotel mid-afternoon. I normally practiced safe sex but this man was in a long term relationship of his own, and I just had a good feeling about him. I ended up taking the risk of going home with a fully loaded pussy. It’s always been reasonably common for me to ride Edward’s face as soon as I get back from the office. So that first time I gave him no warning. I simply straddled his mouth and watched his stunned expression as he discovered the copious evidence of my afternoon’s fun. I still consider that particular moment one of the half-dozen highlights of our time together, because it broke down yet another barrier. I never discussed it with him afterwards. He simply accepted that I’d exercised my right and would be doing so again.
However, after 18 months of ad hoc affairs, I felt prepared for something even more intense. I wanted a guy who was ‘into’ the situation as much as us. I decided to look online and found Dan, my current boyfriend, who I’ve been dating for the past 7 months, over twice as long as any previous ‘affair’. Before Dan, I know I was actively avoiding anything longer term. I didn’t think either I, or Edward, was properly ready for somebody to ‘invade our home’. It’s all too easy to try to run before you can walk. Even though I wish I’d started out on this life ten years earlier, I’m not the kind of person to rush into things. I’m very methodical.
Dan is younger than me, only 39, single and hot. In fact, I have no idea what he’s doing with a woman like me, other than that he’s actually hugely into the cuckolding dynamic too. In my admittedly limited experience, the two men who I told about my dominant relationship with Edward had zero desire to have him present or watching us. But Dan was not only OK with my initial messaging him that I wanted to try Edward watching us once, he wanted him present and properly ‘in attendance’ right from the very start.
The other recent development is that Dan has since become the first guy a few of my close friends have met. Edward and I aren’t remotely party or scene people. Our joint social circle comprises local and recent acquaintances. Neighbours and the like, plus a few longstanding friends we’ve kept in touch with. I mostly see my old girlfriends on my own on weeknights, without Edward. We’ll have a monthly get together. Although my three closest friends were already vaguely aware of the D/s nature of my second marriage, at the time none of them knew anything like the full extent of it.
One drunken evening before last Christmas, I came out with it. I told only three friends, knowing the rumour mill would eventually do the rest. Of course, I gave them nothing approaching the detail in this letter. But I was specific that we didn’t have an ‘open marriage’. That sexual freedom was ‘one-way’ and I was Edward’s ‘Mistress’ (although I didn’t actually refer to him as my ‘slave’). I even showed them naughty pics of my lover Dan on my phone. To me, part of female bonding is being honest about our various experiences. I want my best friends to share in my good fortune, even if such behaviour wouldn’t be for them.
The next day I instructed Edward to come clean to a couple of his oldest friends too about the fact I cuckolded him. I chose which ones they were. I insisted he wasVery, very specific. His friends are married and I’ve met their wives. Naturally they were stunned. It was super-humiliating for him, and actually a bit embarrassing for me too, but as I hoped, by late-January this year we’d pretty much become ‘old news’. A couple of our acquaintances seem to have maybe dropped us and vice versa, but we haven’t lost a single good friend. I wanted selected people to know our basic secret. At our ages, and in 2018, my experience is that people’s sexual tolerance of what’s considered ‘abnormal’ is improving all the time. Nobody at my office knowledge. We never remotely rub our kink in anybody’s face. We’re now simply accepted by most of our small circle as the loving but ‘different’ couple we are!
I’d always hoped I would fall in love with my submissive. First and foremost I wanted a compatible life partner but I was aspiring to more. And fortunately Edward has turned out to be everything I wanted. I doubt this account can properly convey the emotional connection we have, and the occasional sly knowing smile we exchange as our kind of unspoken code, but we do. I think outsiders expect dominant women to despise or at least disrespect their submissive. Especially older people, who seems to distrust online dating, and think women who use hook-up sites must have dubious motives. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. I might pretend. But just Because I dominate, control, punishment and humiliate him doesn’t mean I can’t love and admire him too. He’s a very strong, worthy man who happens to have serious kinks. In fact, submission like his requires a very resilient streak.
I don’t ignore his own emotional and sexual needs. In fact I pay them a great deal of attention. But I use spite and humiliation to satisfy his emotional masochism. He doesn’t want me to show him any affection (except during very rare aftercare moments together). He prefers me to be a total bitch. And I greatly enjoy hiding my affection from him. Sexually Idon’t overlook his frustration and genitals. On the contrary I delight in teasing, denying and CBT. Deep down I know he desires this treatment every bit as much as I love dishing it out.
Sex on my terms
So our sex life has been surprisingly active. When I contrast my libido with how I felt back in my 20s and 30s within a vanilla marriage, there’s no comparison. Now I’m horny Almost every day and there’s no problem fitting sex into my life. For years it had become a dream marital chore, last thing at night, squeezed in after a hard day’s work. Messy and too often orgasm-free for me. Whereas now sex is entirely on my terms. Pleasure focused on me, whenever the mood strikes me, and only ever as messy as I want it. Rather than at bedtime, I quite often feel like sex as soon as I get home, about 7 p.m., and I make Edward use his tongue for as long as I like; sometimes a quickie, other evenings extended oral homage. I can do two things at once as well; like watch the TV news, sit in the garden, do private emails, for an hour or so, while his mouth relaxes me and then brings me off. Of course, if I’m tired, distracted or not in the mood for anything, that’s fine too. But knowing that it needs only take a few minutes if I want and I don’t have to worry about anybody else’s orgasm once I’m done, is an aphrodisiac. I dismiss Edward to the kitchen straight afterwards without Thanks or acknowledgement. In the right situation I can be as fond of a good fucking as the next woman but I can survive on a diet of cunnilingus, or my two vibrators, for days on end. Literally the only time I’m ‘off sex’ nowadays is the two or at most three heavy days around my periods.
Early on I bought a stick-on mouth dildo for Edward to wear to ‘fuck’ me before I graduated onto real cocks. I no longer use it much now but it’s still a fun toy. It has leather straps that buckle round his head. I make him knee on all fours and use his neck muscles to fuck the 6 inch rubber cock in andout of me vigorously. I have sat on his face too but that position had a tendency to make him choke on the smaller 3 inch reverse-dildo inside his mouth, so I mainly stuck to him ‘fucking’ me on his knees. We found it impossible for him to actually make me orgasm that way, so I have to use my fingers on myself too. I slap his face and shout at him for his incompetence. I love his red face and wide eyes as he desperately tries to satisfy me. He used to find it hugely frustrating being so close to my scent and taste without even using his tongue. But that was all part of his early training in self control.
In Summer I particularly enjoy outdoor cunnilingus. We have a small but private fenced garden that isn’t overlooked by our neighbors. On evenings when it’s warm enough, I change from my office clothes into a bathrobe and sandals while Edward pours me a glass of chilled wine. I sometimes light a cigarette. Then I spread my thighs and he sets to work on his hands and knees in theEvening sunlight. There’s something about the open air that makes it feel especially wicked. Every week of the year, at 6 p.m., Edward shakes his face, brushes his teeth and rinses with antiseptic mouthwash, in preparation for my return home, just in case I require his tongue. A mouth is reportedly more likely to pass germs into a vagina than vice versa, so his oral hygiene is important.
But I have no absolutely no qualms about being sweaty and salty down there myself after a day’s work and summer commute. Edward is now trained to worship my pussy the same whether it’s freshly shown, recently fucked or nastily rancid. He gets his tongue inside my folds and vacuums whatever’s up there. The only exception to that rule is my menstrual blood. When it’s especially hot I love seeing the slick of perspiration that glistens from my cleavage down my tummy to to my pubic hair and the slurping sound he makes when I’m really wet. I exhale tobacco smoke into his face. I like the contrastst that I still smoke but he no longer can. My orgasms outdoors are some of the best although we have neighbors near enough to hear, even if they can’t see me, so I have to suppress making too much noise.
The purpose of Edward’s chatity is threefold. Firstly, there’s the obvious goal of denial. It’s what he asked for. It’s what I enjoy administratoring. Secondly, it’s about changing his behaviors. I’m no scientist but I’m aware of the neurochemistry; sexual frustration keeps his dopamine and devotion levels high. An orgasm releases prolactin which suppresses dopamine and causes a drop in his desire. I want his ongoing need to serve and please me 24/7 maximumed.
But, thirdly, it’s about changing his mindset. It’s about Edward seeing all other women as people, and not as objects of his lust. Nowadays, if he spies a pretty female bottom or cleavage on the subway escalator, he not only has to suppress any lustful thoughts, our mutual goal is he doesn’t even have those thoughts any longer in the first place. At social events I keep any eye out to check his gaze on other women is neutral. There’s an urban myth that men think about sex every 10 seconds. Proper research seems to suggest it’s more like 20 times a day. Whatever. I want him controlling his thoughts except when he’s alone with me and I authorise him to think about sex.
As weeks pass without a release for Edward it becomes harder and harder for him to keep his mind ‘clean’. But that’s the idea. Every time his brain might once have drifted off to something sexual during the day or night, he now has to control it. So his chatity for us is about controlling him mentally as well as physically. Above all, sex for Edward has become an act of giving, not receiving, pleasure. All women, to him, are ‘people’ Not sex objects. And I want him to forget about his own genitals and focus specifically on mine.
We’ve both spent a great deal of effort training Edward to give the best oral sex. Many evenings of practice. Part of that training was learning to block out his own urges entirely. Or at least as much as possible. It’s impossible for him to focus properly on me if his cock is distracting him. And if his cock is trying too hard to get erect inside his Steelwerks, it’s painful and an inevitable distraction. There’s a time and place that his cock’s allowed to get hard but, whilst giving me head, isn’t it. However, he’s very turned on by giving me outdoor cunnilingus and my uninhibited enjoyment of it. So I’m actually proud of the way we’ve conditioned him to keep his arousal largely under control. I can check his cock after ten minutes and it’s now often still soft inside his steel tube despite what he’s doing to me. It’s proof that he’s one hundred percent focused on me. Practise makes perfect.
The most important aspect for both of us is that sex is non-reciprocal. Meaning that whatever sexual act we enjoy, it’s solely focused on my own pleasure and orgasms, never his. Hispenis usually stays locked and he must do his best to ignore it. Even back in the days we used to have penetrative sex together, I increasingly forbade Edward to lose control and reach orgasm. Quite early in our relationship we began using extra-thick benzocaine ‘numbing condoms’ on him to reduce his sensitivity and help him not to climax. His duty was to fuck me to orgasm(s) but avoid reaching one himself. He was soon able to keep going for half an hour taking all his weight on his knees and elbows.
He also likes me to taunt him about his age. At almost 60 now, he admits his erection isn’t quite as firm as it once was (although he’s never needed Cialis or Viagra). His semen is copious after weeks of chatity but can be quite watery. I tell him he obviously doesn’t need to cum as often as he used to, and certainly not as often or impressively as Dan, who’s twenty years his junior. I make no deals about how often Edward gets release. None of those ‘twenty for me and one for you’ ratio-type bargains. It’s solely at my cruel whim.
So nowadays it’s always non-reciprocal and also CFNM. My orgasms and his never overlap. Our typical week is Monday and Wednesday evenings ‘off’, when we usually behave pretty much like a normal couple, although I sometimes require cunnilingus after work or at bedtime, and I may briefly make him edge himself. But Tuesdays and Thursdays are usually ‘on’ and we’ll often spend a couple of hours in some kind of SM activity, so long as I’m in the mood. It’s on these nights that I apprise his week’s performance, interrogate him, weight him, etc. Under our trust system he admits any and all failures to comply with my rules for him. We discuss suitable punishments, sometimes carrying them out there and then, other times scheduling them for later, or until the weekend. The worst sentences work best when they’re suspended and hang over him for a few days.
He can bathe with his Steelwerks on but, a couple of times a week, I supervise abrisk, ‘unlocked’ shower. I allow him about 30 seconds of hot water to shampoo his hair and soap his body and penis, under his foreskin, then up to 60 seconds of cold water to rinse and stand under, gasping for breath. After he’s drunk himself, he shakes off any stubble from the part of his groin he can only get at when his steel tube is out of the way. I often inspect the results. Then we lock him up again, nice and clean, and unsatisfied.
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