Wonderboy is going to a concert with another woman. No, we haven’t suddenly decided to play with polygamy. He’s just going to a concert with a mate from work. Who happens to be a woman. This would be no big news to a lot of people, but I’m not one of those people. I’m happy he has this new found self-confidence and that he’s going even when I’m not. But I’m also a little jealous and a little worried. I know that it’s completely my problem, if I’m afraid of losing him just because he’s going to a concert with someone else. So talking with him I’m trying to concentrate on how nice it’s he’s going with the Woman and thus has company to spend time with… and I also made it very clear, how I expect him to act. We even talked about how you can reject someone nicely, and he said he already brought me to a conversation just to make sure the Woman understands what’s going down.
So, that’s that. But that’s not all! When we were discussing the issue, I unexpectedly felt this huge sexual force springing in me. It was like making love the first time, or letting myself get drifted away with a experience I shouldn’t have. I was struck with how forceful the feeling of arousal was. And the arousal came straight from picturing my precious Wonderboy having sex with another woman.
A thing I never thought I’d fantasise about. A thing that many submissives have brought to the table, and always made me feel kind of scared and threatened. Am I supposed to desire that? I would never desire something that doesn’t include me or makes me obsolete or feel inadequate and not needed! And here I am. Getting thrilled from the vision of the exact same thing. Cuckolding.
It goes in sync with my kink on uncontrollable male desire. If he couldn’t control himself with another woman. Well, I’d be devastated. But that’s just what makes it so darn appetising. The emotional power of him betraying me for his own selfish gratification is very intense. It’s the same feeling I get, when he uses me as his fuck toy, because sometimes I don’t actually enjoy the moment, but the fact that he is doing exactly what he wants. The desire to be used is stronger than the actual physical preferations I have.
Am I to make a conclusion out of this? Very well, here goes.
The urge to bring fantasy into life sometimes overrides the more physical elements. I have a easy comparation. I actually get turned on from being denied access to Wonderboy’s stuff. He’s learned to toy with me and teases me nowadays to no end with his cock. I’ve come from just sucking his cock, no touching included for my benefit, because there was something truly powerful in fulfilling only his desires. Thumper’s talked about his unfairness button as a turn on, and I guess I really actually share the same kink.
Today we tried acting it out. I confessed that I actually fantasised about him fucking the Woman (or any woman) and pretended to be that woman in my head when we had sex yesterday. It ended, though, with me yealling to him Hit me! Hit me! Anyway, turns out it doesn’t work so well with the two of us. I dropped the fantasy swiftly, when we really started getting close to each other. I was so wet so quickly it was almost funny. But suddenly Wonderboy wasn’t in the mood anymore. Cock flopped like they do, when people start to think too much, and I asked What happened? What’s wrong? What now? Meanwhile I still tried to juice things out, but my efforts fell flat.
Was the fantasy too much?
He nodded. I confessed I’d dropped the fantasy early on after realising it didn’t work like that. I understood completely how he felt.
Would you like me to be your own little honey bunny more?
Love is a more powerful tool than betrayal. Our d/s is based on love. It couldn’t wrap itself around him betraying me. It’s hot in itself, and he’d had this huge boner when we talked about it this morning. But it didn’t translate into a scene between us. That was okay, ’cause I had something I really wanted him to do.
Do you want to own me?
Wonderboy nodded again, and I caressed his face and kissed his cheeks and forehead all the while grinding against his now mushy cock. I’m a little puppy and I want this so bad. I want it.
You know, there’s this thing you could do. You could put a neglace on me, and then you’d own me. I’d be your slave… like I’d have to do whatever you say.
I want a collar, so I know who I belong to. I want to be yours.
Yeah? Does it really work like that?
So I picked up a basic silver necklace and he put it on me as we both smiled a little nerviously. I guess this is what people call being collared. I have to say I am not immune to the business of being collared. I fell into subspace quite effortlessly, and he bounced back from his uncertainty. Suddenly he was all gentle but firm hands. All commands.
He ordered me to put on those black porn pumps we have just for sex. (I can not walk in them no matter what… and I’m beginning to think he likes it that way.) Then he ordered me to kneel on the bed and suck his cock. It was beautiful.
He ordered me to look into his eyes while licking and sucking, first one, then the other, as he ordered. It’s hard to keep my eyes on his. I try to evade, but it’s really powerful to feel the pull of his command. He said I have to. And then I look up again. His face is relaxing with enjoyment. He is looking at me so demandingly.
He commanded me to come on top of him after he made me deepthroat him and smeared his precum all over my face. He moved my body in a certain way atop his and commanded me to follow the movement, keep it going and keep the rhytm. This time I wasn’t punished for making mistakes with the rhythm, and I was happy for it. I came hard and quickly, and then there was only him to fulfill. I loved how he handled my ownership. Eloquently, not making a big deal out of it, very calmly, like the colonialists. Privileged, knowing his rights and just using them like he should.
I almost wished he had made a bigger deal about it. The necklace was so thin, almost unnoticeable. If he would’ve twisted it a bit, choked me with it… Oh well. He did pull me by the hair up from his chest, hard.
The orgasms that followed were kind of incredible, and we fell away from each other laughing and gasping for air. His cock had taken some hit, but it doesn’t matter, because we won’t get to see each other this week. We laughed about that too.
This is the last I get to experience slavery in a little while, because I’m leaving for a one woman road trip tomorrow. Wish me luck in the wilderness of the North. I’ll be back next week and hoping to have new amazing stories to tell. Until then, I’ll imagine the collar’s still on.