It all started with a podcast
- Thread starter Now Alexandra
- Start date
I completely agree with your take on people asking questions. If someone is genuinely interested, it becomes a wonderful opportunity for me to be seen as a person.I'll start with this: I was enjoying where this entry was going, right up until the last sentence. I don't want to speculate as to what was going on in your head at that point; I look forward to the next installment.
Earlier, my thoughts went this way on two points you made. I love the fact of how protective your wife is, and as my wife is the same way, understand the value of that behavior in a partner. My wife is always quick to correct someone who misgenders me, and if you are a jackass who does it because they think it makes them edgy, she will tear them a new one.
When my neurologist's PA just kept referring to me with different male pronouns she went ballistic on her in a very large and busy medical practice. It didn't seem to have any impact on the woman, but my next visit I saw only the neurologist, a different nurse, and the PA was nowhere in sight.
The doctor and nurse were very respectful, simply treating me as a female patient with no errors in gendering (despite the fact that the use of anything other than birth gender on official documents is unlawful in TN). I've since noticed that all of my records in that hospital system now have my female name, and my medication lists lead with estrogen and progesterone.
I know it's the luck of the draw, but having partners like ours makes the whole transition thing so much easier.
The one other comment I wanted to make is about the questions you were asked. There is a meme that floats around in trans social media groups that has answers to a lot of stupid questions we get asked. It's very popular and is regularly reposted. The last line of the meme is "I am not your transgender information guide" or something of that nature.
I think that is an incredibly stupid response to give someone asking you questions about your life. I am often the first or only trans person someone has met and while I might get tired of answering the same questions over and over again, I'd rather those questions were answered by me than some internet-informed idiot with an axe to grind.
And I will apologize now. If we ever meet in real life, it will take me at least 5 minutes to stop ogling your tits. And yes, I have actually used the phrase "Hey, my eyes are up here" in real life
As you mentioned, I might be the first trans chica they’ve ever met in real life. Why would I feel “put upon” if someone has thoughtful questions and wants an honest-to-goodness conversation? Makes no sense.
Alas, some trans people feel that way. I think it’s jaded and hope I never “go there.” I understand if someone is just trying to be a prick or has an agenda. I’m not suggesting that be entertained. But a real conversation? Sign me up.
I would love to be able to talk to you in person. The tantalising glimpses of the beautiful person you have become show a person who is enticing to my male gaze, I would love to see you in your feminine glory, but it’s the journey into deep submission I would want to talk about more. I will never have the chance to experience Hedonism so I am more than a little jealous of the people who you met there for that reason alone, let alone all of the other sexual shenanigans that they experience.
I don’t comment much but I check in regularly to read your journal posts (we still haven’t got to updates, have we?) so thank you for continuing to share your writing with us.
I don’t comment much but I check in regularly to read your journal posts (we still haven’t got to updates, have we?) so thank you for continuing to share your writing with us.
Holy shit yes!! I air dry every morning for 30 minutes and it's the best thing for maintenance!
251.
I didn’t ask to be cuckolded. Before her first time, she told me she was going to do it and then she did it. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had the power to say “no.” Somewhere, there’s an alternate universe where I did.
It’s amazing to think about how my feelings on her being with other people have evolved. I was so scared when she told me it was going to happen. Then it happened and, in addition to fear, I felt so many other emotions: excitement, humiliation, turned on, terrified, subservient, off-balance and unsure. I remember just sitting there, swelling and leaking into the condom over my cage, completely overwhelmed by what I was witnessing. Submission has many forms.
Now, while I still have pangs of insecurity, I don’t live in fear of losing her. She always comes “home” to me. She told me at the time that it “was about us” and, overall, she has made good on those words.
And I’ve come to largely agree it fits our dynamic. I will come back to this realization in a moment.
We are planners in life and she is definitely a “planning Dominant,” meaning she knows what direction she wants our lifestyle to go in, while explaining to me on several occasions that just because she charts a course, it doesn’t mean that’s where we’re going to end up. While, according to her, we usually do reach her goals, our dynamic twists and turns along the way. We’re still figuring it all out. We evolve. We change our minds. Our playroom is a good example of this. Initially, she was not interested in impact play or toys. These more “formal” aspects of BDSM came later when she realized what could be accomplished by introducing them. A lot of our dynamic is like this. She’s highly effective, but certainly not a professional, and her experience with submissives is limited to just me.
The point is, she (and we) are “winging” it. She has a five person Domme peer group she meets with weekly over Zoom, my physical, emotional and verbal feedback … and we have the internet. That’s it.
I give this context to circle back to how and why I mostly agree cuckolding fits our dynamic. While we are planners, we didn’t start our FLR with a whole bunch of parameters or boundaries and a lot of back-and-forth around “do this and don’t do that” – we just did.
Overall, I am grateful this happy accident occurred. Because with the caveat that there’s a million ways to do “this” and every relationship is different, when I read some threads here at CM, the amount of negotiating and “would it be OK if I did …” that occurs gives me an ice cream headache. Some of this stuff reads like a legal document, where every spanking session is negotiated for duration, frequency and intensity. While I have great respect for “consensual is sexy” and “boundaries exist for a reason” I would say that for our marriage and us … she is my wife, so consent is inherent and boundaries exist for a reason and that reason is for those boundaries to be pushed. This is just my opinion. I don’t want my wife laying out what’s about to happen and then having some long negotiation about it. I feel like that would stifle growth and remove a lot of excitement. I like that there’s no safety net. I like that there are parts of this I don’t enjoy and she still does them to me or makes me do them for her. As a submissive, it’s not always pleasurable or even fulfilling, but it is the creamy center in a lot of ways. How do I know I’m subservient? Because I do things I wouldn’t choose every single day, but I still do them because those actions are in service to my Domme.
I’m sure some would disagree. I just know “the other way” I often read about brings me back to the following general scenario and the key question it prompts: “I don’t want you to do ‘this’ to me, but instead do ‘that.’” Who’s in charge in that situation?
On the flipside, not having boundaries and winging it, while being married to my wife, my specific person, comes with a heavy price and a shifting floor of how my life is going to be. She wanted to have sex with other people, so she did. It makes me feel sad and inadequate at times. In lighter moments, I can’t believe how open and free she is. In darker moments, I wish I was enough.
I sometimes consider if her becoming a cuckoldress is the biggest change since all of this started. Is it bigger than my transition? Sometimes I think that it might be. It’s at least in the conversation. My wife fucks other people in front of me. That’s a wild sentence to type. She does it because she wants to and she can. As I am typing this, I am having the realization that so much of what has happened in our D/s relationship has occurred in the opposite order from what so many others here at CM have experienced. I plan to unpack that realization in a later entry.
Back to the beach …
There is something incredibly freeing about being naked around other people all day. Everyone is there to have a good time. Everyone, for the most part, is incredibly accepting. While the reasons for vacationing at Hedonism overlap, everyone has their own motivations: relaxation, partying, nudism, reconnecting, meeting new people, seeing new places and no-strings sex.
I would imagine that the level of partying and no-strings sex is dependent on the other people who are at the resort at the same time “you” are. Some weeks must be more outrageous than others. I think our week was pretty wild. My wife made sure of it.
She can fuck other people. Some of the approximately six hundred guests at Hedonism have that same “hall pass.” Public sex is welcome and accepted. There is a playroom and small dungeon just off the nude pool. Alcoholic beverages (and other fun party favors) are in abundance. Add it all up and it is a liberated, sexual playground unlike few others in the world.
I think, even for my wife, it was overwhelming at first. Not the environment. She can hang anywhere. Just more of that “I don’t even know where to begin” uncertainty. Neither of us had been to a place like this. Once we got there, I think it took her some time to acclimate. I know it took me time and I wasn’t the one with the hall pass.
So, we drank – naked. And we talked to people – naked. And we watched other people have sex – naked. And we got our legs underneath us at this sexual playground – naked.
Truly anything goes there. But, where to begin? It turns out, it begins much as it does at home – with me on my knees.
“Alexandra,” my wife said, opening her legs on the chaise she was lounging on. “Come and pray.” She had started using that command for oral a couple of weeks prior. I think she liked it because it put me in my place and had the benefit of being true. Her pussy is the center of my universe. Any sacrilegious undertones only make it more taboo.
We had been at Hedonism for over 24 hours by this point. We had already seen plenty. But I still felt a moment of uncertainty as I positioned my body on her chaise and began to worship her. There were easily over a hundred people around – and in – the pool area. Part of me was waiting for some tap on the shoulder from a security guard of some sort. Needless to say, no tap ever came. The nude pool is an anything goes space. Twenty minutes later she shuddered and moaned as her first, public Hedonism orgasm crashed over her. When I got up from her chaise, I realized a few people were looking – likely to catch a glimpse of my wife’s open pussy – but for most, someone going down on someone else was just another day in paradise.
Regardless, the “Hedonism sex dam” had now broken. We, but I think in her mind – she – had just had sex in public for the first time … and she loved it. Somehow, like many vacation experiences, the same actions at home feel brand new “on the road.” What I had become comfortable with at home – “comfortable” meaning an uncomfortable “comfortability” – I realized I was decidedly uncomfortable with in Jamaica. At home, when she sleeps with other people, there are only three of us involved – her, him and me. It’s contained, and I find excitement in it, even though a small part of me breaks every time she does it. But at Hedonism, even though I didn’t know these people and shouldn’t have cared what they thought, something about it just made me feel completely inadequate. At home, I’m a part of the dynamic. At Hedonism, to about six hundred people, I was laid bare as a spouse whose wife fucks other people and is utterly powerless to stop it.
I didn’t ask to be cuckolded. Before her first time, she told me she was going to do it and then she did it. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had the power to say “no.” Somewhere, there’s an alternate universe where I did.
It’s amazing to think about how my feelings on her being with other people have evolved. I was so scared when she told me it was going to happen. Then it happened and, in addition to fear, I felt so many other emotions: excitement, humiliation, turned on, terrified, subservient, off-balance and unsure. I remember just sitting there, swelling and leaking into the condom over my cage, completely overwhelmed by what I was witnessing. Submission has many forms.
Now, while I still have pangs of insecurity, I don’t live in fear of losing her. She always comes “home” to me. She told me at the time that it “was about us” and, overall, she has made good on those words.
And I’ve come to largely agree it fits our dynamic. I will come back to this realization in a moment.
We are planners in life and she is definitely a “planning Dominant,” meaning she knows what direction she wants our lifestyle to go in, while explaining to me on several occasions that just because she charts a course, it doesn’t mean that’s where we’re going to end up. While, according to her, we usually do reach her goals, our dynamic twists and turns along the way. We’re still figuring it all out. We evolve. We change our minds. Our playroom is a good example of this. Initially, she was not interested in impact play or toys. These more “formal” aspects of BDSM came later when she realized what could be accomplished by introducing them. A lot of our dynamic is like this. She’s highly effective, but certainly not a professional, and her experience with submissives is limited to just me.
The point is, she (and we) are “winging” it. She has a five person Domme peer group she meets with weekly over Zoom, my physical, emotional and verbal feedback … and we have the internet. That’s it.
I give this context to circle back to how and why I mostly agree cuckolding fits our dynamic. While we are planners, we didn’t start our FLR with a whole bunch of parameters or boundaries and a lot of back-and-forth around “do this and don’t do that” – we just did.
Overall, I am grateful this happy accident occurred. Because with the caveat that there’s a million ways to do “this” and every relationship is different, when I read some threads here at CM, the amount of negotiating and “would it be OK if I did …” that occurs gives me an ice cream headache. Some of this stuff reads like a legal document, where every spanking session is negotiated for duration, frequency and intensity. While I have great respect for “consensual is sexy” and “boundaries exist for a reason” I would say that for our marriage and us … she is my wife, so consent is inherent and boundaries exist for a reason and that reason is for those boundaries to be pushed. This is just my opinion. I don’t want my wife laying out what’s about to happen and then having some long negotiation about it. I feel like that would stifle growth and remove a lot of excitement. I like that there’s no safety net. I like that there are parts of this I don’t enjoy and she still does them to me or makes me do them for her. As a submissive, it’s not always pleasurable or even fulfilling, but it is the creamy center in a lot of ways. How do I know I’m subservient? Because I do things I wouldn’t choose every single day, but I still do them because those actions are in service to my Domme.
I’m sure some would disagree. I just know “the other way” I often read about brings me back to the following general scenario and the key question it prompts: “I don’t want you to do ‘this’ to me, but instead do ‘that.’” Who’s in charge in that situation?
On the flipside, not having boundaries and winging it, while being married to my wife, my specific person, comes with a heavy price and a shifting floor of how my life is going to be. She wanted to have sex with other people, so she did. It makes me feel sad and inadequate at times. In lighter moments, I can’t believe how open and free she is. In darker moments, I wish I was enough.
I sometimes consider if her becoming a cuckoldress is the biggest change since all of this started. Is it bigger than my transition? Sometimes I think that it might be. It’s at least in the conversation. My wife fucks other people in front of me. That’s a wild sentence to type. She does it because she wants to and she can. As I am typing this, I am having the realization that so much of what has happened in our D/s relationship has occurred in the opposite order from what so many others here at CM have experienced. I plan to unpack that realization in a later entry.
Back to the beach …
There is something incredibly freeing about being naked around other people all day. Everyone is there to have a good time. Everyone, for the most part, is incredibly accepting. While the reasons for vacationing at Hedonism overlap, everyone has their own motivations: relaxation, partying, nudism, reconnecting, meeting new people, seeing new places and no-strings sex.
I would imagine that the level of partying and no-strings sex is dependent on the other people who are at the resort at the same time “you” are. Some weeks must be more outrageous than others. I think our week was pretty wild. My wife made sure of it.
She can fuck other people. Some of the approximately six hundred guests at Hedonism have that same “hall pass.” Public sex is welcome and accepted. There is a playroom and small dungeon just off the nude pool. Alcoholic beverages (and other fun party favors) are in abundance. Add it all up and it is a liberated, sexual playground unlike few others in the world.
I think, even for my wife, it was overwhelming at first. Not the environment. She can hang anywhere. Just more of that “I don’t even know where to begin” uncertainty. Neither of us had been to a place like this. Once we got there, I think it took her some time to acclimate. I know it took me time and I wasn’t the one with the hall pass.
So, we drank – naked. And we talked to people – naked. And we watched other people have sex – naked. And we got our legs underneath us at this sexual playground – naked.
Truly anything goes there. But, where to begin? It turns out, it begins much as it does at home – with me on my knees.
“Alexandra,” my wife said, opening her legs on the chaise she was lounging on. “Come and pray.” She had started using that command for oral a couple of weeks prior. I think she liked it because it put me in my place and had the benefit of being true. Her pussy is the center of my universe. Any sacrilegious undertones only make it more taboo.
We had been at Hedonism for over 24 hours by this point. We had already seen plenty. But I still felt a moment of uncertainty as I positioned my body on her chaise and began to worship her. There were easily over a hundred people around – and in – the pool area. Part of me was waiting for some tap on the shoulder from a security guard of some sort. Needless to say, no tap ever came. The nude pool is an anything goes space. Twenty minutes later she shuddered and moaned as her first, public Hedonism orgasm crashed over her. When I got up from her chaise, I realized a few people were looking – likely to catch a glimpse of my wife’s open pussy – but for most, someone going down on someone else was just another day in paradise.
Regardless, the “Hedonism sex dam” had now broken. We, but I think in her mind – she – had just had sex in public for the first time … and she loved it. Somehow, like many vacation experiences, the same actions at home feel brand new “on the road.” What I had become comfortable with at home – “comfortable” meaning an uncomfortable “comfortability” – I realized I was decidedly uncomfortable with in Jamaica. At home, when she sleeps with other people, there are only three of us involved – her, him and me. It’s contained, and I find excitement in it, even though a small part of me breaks every time she does it. But at Hedonism, even though I didn’t know these people and shouldn’t have cared what they thought, something about it just made me feel completely inadequate. At home, I’m a part of the dynamic. At Hedonism, to about six hundred people, I was laid bare as a spouse whose wife fucks other people and is utterly powerless to stop it.
"… and we have the internet. That’s it."
I don't know if you understand how impressive that statement makes the relationship between Sarah and yourself.
In the last 20 years I have met dozens if not hundreds of people who have derived their understanding of what BDSM is from the internet.
I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of people, who, without significant guidance in real life, have managed to create an actual BDSM relationship.
In almost every conversation I have with new people who want to understand a BDSM dynamic I find myself saying "It is okay for it to be a sex game for you. But don't confuse a sex game you can put away in the closet, with a lifestyle relationship."
Please give my congratulations to Sarah for clearly understanding how the dynamic works and for making it work with you.
From your writing and from chatting with you it is clear that both of you are having your needs met. And I hope you both realize what an incredibly rare and special thing the relationship you have developed actually is. Not simply that it exists; that it seems to be continuing to grow and allowing you both to expand your limits and horizons.
I don't know if you understand how impressive that statement makes the relationship between Sarah and yourself.
In the last 20 years I have met dozens if not hundreds of people who have derived their understanding of what BDSM is from the internet.
I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of people, who, without significant guidance in real life, have managed to create an actual BDSM relationship.
In almost every conversation I have with new people who want to understand a BDSM dynamic I find myself saying "It is okay for it to be a sex game for you. But don't confuse a sex game you can put away in the closet, with a lifestyle relationship."
Please give my congratulations to Sarah for clearly understanding how the dynamic works and for making it work with you.
From your writing and from chatting with you it is clear that both of you are having your needs met. And I hope you both realize what an incredibly rare and special thing the relationship you have developed actually is. Not simply that it exists; that it seems to be continuing to grow and allowing you both to expand your limits and horizons.
I remember being told this about hand and hips back in high school... at the time I didn't care...
At some point I’ll write about this process. Discussions were already happening at this point in the timeline.
I’ve stayed away from it because we’ve learned it’s an highly volatile experience. We’ve been close(r) to a deal and far away from a deal within hours of one another. As I’ve said before: this is our life, it needs to be treated with the respect it deserves.
Some of the stories do need to be told, mainly because it’s a fascinating process and negotiation and we’ve learned a lot about how the sausage gets made. I hope, whenever the time comes to tell it, I can do it justice.
Thank you for writing and for the wonderful compliments.
I think it’s pretty cool how my journal has evolved. It started as a place to catalog a life change that didn’t have a lick of anything written down. Then I started taking notes to help with it all. A really unexpected change happened once I had prompts and dates and quotes: it allowed me to tangent and capture my emotions and feelings - and also try and help people. When I read the early entries, I’m like “that was so short!”
Maybe people like em shorter and find the more recent entries too deep or long. I just know I like being able to go where my interests take me.
Personally, I enjoy the psychological reflections above all, especially the paradoxes, the doubts, the contradictions, but also the firmly stated certainties, which speak for themself in conviction.
I am glad you give these aspects space and time. The journal would be much less interesting if it was just a sequence of events.
252.
Eight. I hadn’t considered any numbers when we got to Hedonism because I had no idea what to expect. But she slept with eight different people – some of them multiple times - married, engaged, attached or single - in a span of six days. This doesn’t include the endless oral pleasure I gave her or the multitude of dicks she made hard in her hand throughout the week.
It was a high-wattage slut show for her, but it became an increasingly detached, degrading and depressing exercise for me. As I mentioned, I couldn't stop it. That train had left the station long before we got to Jamaica. And I want to point out that I “like” that she’s a cuckoldress. Watching her have sex is usually erotic, exciting and leaves me thinking about it for days afterwards. It often brings us closer.
It’s just that her actions in Jamaica felt blatant and it added a dark element to the entire trip for me. As each new guy added to her number, I felt a part of me subtract, like I was being measured against something I am no longer capable of being. Instead of celebrating and elevating the newer version of me, which I had anticipated with great excitement, my wife clearly wanted me to feel reduced. That was the biggest difference. It wasn’t that she was desired that bothered me – she’s a sexually open, gorgeous woman – I knew she would be “popular” and I certainly figured she was going to have sex with other people the moment she mentioned going to Hedonism several months before. But she really leaned into it with an edge I didn’t see coming. She wore her Dominant openness like a crown. She didn’t look to me for reassurance. If anything, when she did look, it felt like she was only doing so to make sure I understood exactly how powerless I was.
And I did.
There had always been this unspoken connection between us, even in her wildest, most feral moments. A loving look. Something soft. Something that said “it’s just you and me, the rest is temporary.” That felt gone at times. Not all the time, but some of it. And she wasn’t just seemingly ignoring my feelings, it felt like she was positioning herself above them, as if my feminized inadequacy for traditional sex was my fault, rather than a chosen, mutually agreed upon path.
Her whole demeanor seemed to shift. She was colder. More certain and blunt. There wasn’t a hint of permission being asked for. She was a hot, slutty bitch by multiple definitions of the word, and unapologetic for any of it. I applaud that attitude in general, but I felt a lot less necessary to her good time.
Image is one thing. Maybe it can be argued she was crafting an image to the people there. But I don’t think that was it. There’s no “image” between us. I know her inside and out and vice versa. There’s no pretending with us. I think she was doing it so I would absorb it. Absorb that she was now going to take anything she wanted and no longer felt the need to soften it for my comfort.
There was one day where we were sitting at the bar and she was being hit on by a guy she would eventually fuck. At the time, they were still flirting. The conversation turned to “growing” versus “showing” because he was shooting his shot and their flirting had turned to his perceived size and her preference for larger cocks. But his flaccid penis was mid at best. Until he asked her to give it a chance. She brazenly took him in her hand. And it grew. And grew. Not into something massive, but definitely into something impressive. Seven inches maybe. And thick.
She turned to me, smiling at the size and weight of the meaty shaft now in her hand. “Do you see the difference?”
I swallowed, but I didn’t answer fast enough.
“That wasn’t rhetorical,” she said.
“Yes.”
She tilted her head slightly as she continued to slowly stroke his cock in front of me. By now, a few people were starting to notice. And listen. “Yes, what?”
“Yes. I see the difference, Mistress.”
She smirked. “Yes, you see now why our life had to go in the direction that it did?”
It was a brutal implication, something she had skirted many times, but not this overtly. And I didn’t respond to it.
“Aw. Does it make you uncomfortable to hear it?” she taunted. “It’s why it had to be this way.”
Maybe it was the drinks talking. All I know is that it felt out of bounds and I definitely felt a flicker of defiance and anger. I looked down at my body. And then at my cage. I tried to will "it" to work for a moment. It was obviously futile. Hormones had shrunk me down to nothing and erections were (and remain) no longer possible. Even if it did work, what was I going to do? Defiance wasn’t a viable option.
She was still slowly stroking his hard cock as she kept at it. “Every time you kneel and watch and you feel that little drop in your stomach – that’s you understanding our future and your place in it.”
I nodded before I could stop myself. And she noticed. And smiled.
“Say it.”
“I understand,” I managed. I could barely speak.
“Say it properly.”
The words didn’t want to come out, which made them feel more real when they did.
“I understand our future and my place in it.”
“And where is your place?” she asked.
It would be easy to say this was all intended to humiliate and degrade me. She knows I crave it. But it wasn’t that simple. Because underneath the sting of her body count piling up was the idea that she was imposing this on me and I was accepting of it. That she was rewriting the rules again. That she would be larger than life, Dominant and undeniable. And my role was to simply witness it fully and accept everything that it made me.
“Wherever you choose to put me.”
Eight. I hadn’t considered any numbers when we got to Hedonism because I had no idea what to expect. But she slept with eight different people – some of them multiple times - married, engaged, attached or single - in a span of six days. This doesn’t include the endless oral pleasure I gave her or the multitude of dicks she made hard in her hand throughout the week.
It was a high-wattage slut show for her, but it became an increasingly detached, degrading and depressing exercise for me. As I mentioned, I couldn't stop it. That train had left the station long before we got to Jamaica. And I want to point out that I “like” that she’s a cuckoldress. Watching her have sex is usually erotic, exciting and leaves me thinking about it for days afterwards. It often brings us closer.
It’s just that her actions in Jamaica felt blatant and it added a dark element to the entire trip for me. As each new guy added to her number, I felt a part of me subtract, like I was being measured against something I am no longer capable of being. Instead of celebrating and elevating the newer version of me, which I had anticipated with great excitement, my wife clearly wanted me to feel reduced. That was the biggest difference. It wasn’t that she was desired that bothered me – she’s a sexually open, gorgeous woman – I knew she would be “popular” and I certainly figured she was going to have sex with other people the moment she mentioned going to Hedonism several months before. But she really leaned into it with an edge I didn’t see coming. She wore her Dominant openness like a crown. She didn’t look to me for reassurance. If anything, when she did look, it felt like she was only doing so to make sure I understood exactly how powerless I was.
And I did.
There had always been this unspoken connection between us, even in her wildest, most feral moments. A loving look. Something soft. Something that said “it’s just you and me, the rest is temporary.” That felt gone at times. Not all the time, but some of it. And she wasn’t just seemingly ignoring my feelings, it felt like she was positioning herself above them, as if my feminized inadequacy for traditional sex was my fault, rather than a chosen, mutually agreed upon path.
Her whole demeanor seemed to shift. She was colder. More certain and blunt. There wasn’t a hint of permission being asked for. She was a hot, slutty bitch by multiple definitions of the word, and unapologetic for any of it. I applaud that attitude in general, but I felt a lot less necessary to her good time.
Image is one thing. Maybe it can be argued she was crafting an image to the people there. But I don’t think that was it. There’s no “image” between us. I know her inside and out and vice versa. There’s no pretending with us. I think she was doing it so I would absorb it. Absorb that she was now going to take anything she wanted and no longer felt the need to soften it for my comfort.
There was one day where we were sitting at the bar and she was being hit on by a guy she would eventually fuck. At the time, they were still flirting. The conversation turned to “growing” versus “showing” because he was shooting his shot and their flirting had turned to his perceived size and her preference for larger cocks. But his flaccid penis was mid at best. Until he asked her to give it a chance. She brazenly took him in her hand. And it grew. And grew. Not into something massive, but definitely into something impressive. Seven inches maybe. And thick.
She turned to me, smiling at the size and weight of the meaty shaft now in her hand. “Do you see the difference?”
I swallowed, but I didn’t answer fast enough.
“That wasn’t rhetorical,” she said.
“Yes.”
She tilted her head slightly as she continued to slowly stroke his cock in front of me. By now, a few people were starting to notice. And listen. “Yes, what?”
“Yes. I see the difference, Mistress.”
She smirked. “Yes, you see now why our life had to go in the direction that it did?”
It was a brutal implication, something she had skirted many times, but not this overtly. And I didn’t respond to it.
“Aw. Does it make you uncomfortable to hear it?” she taunted. “It’s why it had to be this way.”
Maybe it was the drinks talking. All I know is that it felt out of bounds and I definitely felt a flicker of defiance and anger. I looked down at my body. And then at my cage. I tried to will "it" to work for a moment. It was obviously futile. Hormones had shrunk me down to nothing and erections were (and remain) no longer possible. Even if it did work, what was I going to do? Defiance wasn’t a viable option.
She was still slowly stroking his hard cock as she kept at it. “Every time you kneel and watch and you feel that little drop in your stomach – that’s you understanding our future and your place in it.”
I nodded before I could stop myself. And she noticed. And smiled.
“Say it.”
“I understand,” I managed. I could barely speak.
“Say it properly.”
The words didn’t want to come out, which made them feel more real when they did.
“I understand our future and my place in it.”
“And where is your place?” she asked.
It would be easy to say this was all intended to humiliate and degrade me. She knows I crave it. But it wasn’t that simple. Because underneath the sting of her body count piling up was the idea that she was imposing this on me and I was accepting of it. That she was rewriting the rules again. That she would be larger than life, Dominant and undeniable. And my role was to simply witness it fully and accept everything that it made me.
“Wherever you choose to put me.”
Ouch! Or more! That had to be difficult enough, but having it all go down in public had to make it hurt even more. I hope there is a silver lining coming soon.
I greatly appreciate this feedback. It can be a messy dynamic and with that comes conflicting emotions. So much of it is psychological. Mind-fuck Central.
Ouch indeed. It reminds me of the lyric "Move bitch, get out the way" that my wife will use with me. Playfully, I think???? When you were nude were you nude but caged at Hedonism? Thank you for writing this story.
I have been a long time lerker, and never responded to any posts.
My typing and spellind is really bad. So it makes trying to get involved very difficult.
i love all of your posts, being following from the start.
I understand your position in the dynamic, but I'm concerned that this is getting cruel.
Heres hoping for a happy outcome to all this.
Keep up the amazing work.
My typing and spellind is really bad. So it makes trying to get involved very difficult.
i love all of your posts, being following from the start.
I understand your position in the dynamic, but I'm concerned that this is getting cruel.
Heres hoping for a happy outcome to all this.
Keep up the amazing work.
I wouldn’t say there’s a silver lining. Things changed and I’ve dealt with it. Some good, some not so good.
She has Domme goals she sets for herself. One suspicion I have is that she sets them quite high and as the year begins to come to a close, she pushes to stay on track with what she planned out. There seems to be a pattern that the end of each year is “harder.” Hedonism was in October of 2025 for reference.
We had multiple conversations in late October/early and mid-November that I’ll get to that sums up her feelings on where all of this was headed.
Parts of Hedonism were great. I point that out too in a coming entry.
Thanks for writing.
253.
We were sitting in silence on the beach towards the end of our week at Hedonism. The silence can be calming. Souls connecting. The silence can also be tumultuous, like it was for me at that moment. I was trying to reconcile all that had happened. She. Just. Kept. Fucking. In someone’s room. On a balcony. By the pool. By the hot tub. In the playroom. She didn’t just fuck eight different people (I think when we were sitting on the beach at this moment, the number was seven) she fucked some of them multiple times. So each day was, for the most part, this guy and then that guy ... and sometimes that other guy. It has to be really hard to get a slutty reputation at Hedo, but I think she accomplished it. And each time she’d bang, I’d worship her after. I can still taste the condoms.
Her question came out of nowhere. “How does it make you feel to know I’ve fucked more guys as your wife than I did before we were married?”
It was a provocative question by her in the strictest terms: she asked it to provoke my reaction. And she got one. I remember sitting with that thought for a moment and letting all of the emotions have their moment. There was definitely some humiliation in it. This awareness that my wife – in her wedding ring – lived more freely and boldly and open in our marriage than she ever did before. This is saying something, because my wife has always been a bit of a wild child. She lost her virginity to her first “real” boyfriend at fifteen; if you can call a high school sophomore a real boyfriend. She racked up over a half-dozen more before she graduated and earned a reputation … that laughable double-standard where a guy who sleeps with lots of women is “cool,” but of course, when a woman does it, she’s a “slut.” It’s only worse in high school, where every rumor is magnified and bullying is commonplace. Kids can be cruel. My wife was never ostracized or bullied, she was too popular and pretty for that, but “rival” girls made comments and high school whispers are loud.
College brought experimentation: her first bisexual experience, her first threesome and a string of hookups until she had her first real adult relationship in her third year. Another long-term boyfriend would follow after graduation. Then she had a run of flings after they broke up and before we met. She was, in general, subjective terms, pretty promiscuous before we were married.
Now she had been with more people than she had in all the years before we ever laid eyes on each other. And she wanted a reaction from me about it. There’s something incredibly hot about a partner who teases their sexual freedom when “you” have none. I had watched her grow into it. But her callousness that week at Hedonism lingered. It would be disingenuous to say her being with other people doesn’t create difficult emotions. I feel inadequate. And at times I spiral. In some ways I feel as if she pushed me towards inadequacy. And yet, if I was already inadequate, is that really the case … and what does it matter?
What makes it intoxicating isn’t the number itself. It’s what it says about her self-comfort and happiness. Her confidence. The high school “slut” is now an empowered, sexually free woman who wears that word like a badge. Most of those girls from high school would kill for her level of intelligence, sex appeal, courage and power. Not to mention the peacefulness that comes with a spouse who is completely devoted to her well-being.
In the past, she would ask me provocative questions when she had me in a submissive position. She’d be edging me, knowing I’d provide the answer she wanted. Or she’d have me immobilized and be standing over me. With a potential punishment looming, she knew I’d comply and answer with what she wanted.
But now, with time, she didn’t need any of those persuasions. She had already seen my acceptance, first-hand, time and time again. What I didn’t realize at the time was the flicker of defiance I felt when she was humiliating me at the bar two days prior hadn’t extinguished. It was still just sitting there smoldering. But, at this particular time, she got the answer she anticipated.
“It makes me happy to see you sexually fulfilled,” I said.
As fun as Hedonism was at times, the situation with my wife soured some of the experience. She did whatever she wanted with whomever she wanted. I watched, but I didn’t feel as necessary to her good time. It all felt detached. Degradation without payoff and aftercare will do that. I felt like a third wheel sometimes. And that made me unhappy. And a person can only be unhappy and hide it for so long.
We were sitting in silence on the beach towards the end of our week at Hedonism. The silence can be calming. Souls connecting. The silence can also be tumultuous, like it was for me at that moment. I was trying to reconcile all that had happened. She. Just. Kept. Fucking. In someone’s room. On a balcony. By the pool. By the hot tub. In the playroom. She didn’t just fuck eight different people (I think when we were sitting on the beach at this moment, the number was seven) she fucked some of them multiple times. So each day was, for the most part, this guy and then that guy ... and sometimes that other guy. It has to be really hard to get a slutty reputation at Hedo, but I think she accomplished it. And each time she’d bang, I’d worship her after. I can still taste the condoms.
Her question came out of nowhere. “How does it make you feel to know I’ve fucked more guys as your wife than I did before we were married?”
It was a provocative question by her in the strictest terms: she asked it to provoke my reaction. And she got one. I remember sitting with that thought for a moment and letting all of the emotions have their moment. There was definitely some humiliation in it. This awareness that my wife – in her wedding ring – lived more freely and boldly and open in our marriage than she ever did before. This is saying something, because my wife has always been a bit of a wild child. She lost her virginity to her first “real” boyfriend at fifteen; if you can call a high school sophomore a real boyfriend. She racked up over a half-dozen more before she graduated and earned a reputation … that laughable double-standard where a guy who sleeps with lots of women is “cool,” but of course, when a woman does it, she’s a “slut.” It’s only worse in high school, where every rumor is magnified and bullying is commonplace. Kids can be cruel. My wife was never ostracized or bullied, she was too popular and pretty for that, but “rival” girls made comments and high school whispers are loud.
College brought experimentation: her first bisexual experience, her first threesome and a string of hookups until she had her first real adult relationship in her third year. Another long-term boyfriend would follow after graduation. Then she had a run of flings after they broke up and before we met. She was, in general, subjective terms, pretty promiscuous before we were married.
Now she had been with more people than she had in all the years before we ever laid eyes on each other. And she wanted a reaction from me about it. There’s something incredibly hot about a partner who teases their sexual freedom when “you” have none. I had watched her grow into it. But her callousness that week at Hedonism lingered. It would be disingenuous to say her being with other people doesn’t create difficult emotions. I feel inadequate. And at times I spiral. In some ways I feel as if she pushed me towards inadequacy. And yet, if I was already inadequate, is that really the case … and what does it matter?
What makes it intoxicating isn’t the number itself. It’s what it says about her self-comfort and happiness. Her confidence. The high school “slut” is now an empowered, sexually free woman who wears that word like a badge. Most of those girls from high school would kill for her level of intelligence, sex appeal, courage and power. Not to mention the peacefulness that comes with a spouse who is completely devoted to her well-being.
In the past, she would ask me provocative questions when she had me in a submissive position. She’d be edging me, knowing I’d provide the answer she wanted. Or she’d have me immobilized and be standing over me. With a potential punishment looming, she knew I’d comply and answer with what she wanted.
But now, with time, she didn’t need any of those persuasions. She had already seen my acceptance, first-hand, time and time again. What I didn’t realize at the time was the flicker of defiance I felt when she was humiliating me at the bar two days prior hadn’t extinguished. It was still just sitting there smoldering. But, at this particular time, she got the answer she anticipated.
“It makes me happy to see you sexually fulfilled,” I said.
As fun as Hedonism was at times, the situation with my wife soured some of the experience. She did whatever she wanted with whomever she wanted. I watched, but I didn’t feel as necessary to her good time. It all felt detached. Degradation without payoff and aftercare will do that. I felt like a third wheel sometimes. And that made me unhappy. And a person can only be unhappy and hide it for so long.
Whoa - cliff hanger! But not surprising, you've been building up towards this for the last few entries.
It is difficult for me to understand the way you think because I have never been so submissive as you describe. Sometimes, I think your wife is acting like a child - always pushing boundaries, sometimes deliberately to see how you will respond. Sometimes, I feel sorry for you because it just isn't fair. But that is my view, from my world. You, Alexandra, live in a different world.
Hey Soph. Thanks for writing. Yes, I was naked and caged. Cages are “fine” there and do not violate their mandatory “no clothes beyond this point” policy on the “nude side” of the property. They allow butt plugs as well, although those are not allowed in the pool or hot tub.
Most days we just wore espadrilles or flip flops and the rest was decidedly not left to the imagination. We spent very little time on the clothing optional “prude side.”
Hedonism is definitely a unique place.
Well, I appreciate the support. Sometimes I feel sorry for myself, too. Other times I wouldn’t trade places with anyone.
The key word I read here is “fair,” and I would really like to explore it further. Should a D/s relationship be fair?
"The key word I read here is “fair,” and I would really like to explore it further. Should a D/s relationship be fair?"
I think that the only people who can determine if a relationship is "fair", D/s or vanilla, are the people in it.
I don't think you can have a successful relationship built on "fairness". That's generally not a definition of success.
Are all the parties in the relationship satisfied, is a much more critical matrix. A relationship that was focused on "fairness" would seem to have to be a transactional one. We don't do things in our relationships because "it's the fair thing to do", we do them because either we know the action will make our partner happy or the relationship stronger, or they simply have to be done.
This applies to all relationships; I don't think D/s creates any special internal conditions. To people outside the relationship, perhaps specific actions don't look fair, but the measurement goes back to "does it make your partner happy and does the relationship get stronger".
That's the "in general" part.
This isn't the question you asked, but it is one that comes to my mind every time I see this type of negative comment made about Sarah's behavior.
I have to presume that Sarah understands you very well. The situation that seems to have motivated these concerns from your readers was one that was always going to happen. You both knew it was coming.
Could she have "eased" you into it more? Perhaps, but when you consider it dispassionately, is there any safer place for her to have taken this step? It was behavior completely in character for the location, which means that Sarah didn't have to worry that other people would be focused on how Alexandera felt about the situation.
Alexandra had to deal with it in her own head. Was this fair to her? It was completely within the strictures of her relationship, as it has so far been defined here. Was it easy for her, did it feel good, did it make her happy? Apparently not.
Did that matter?
No.
Fairness isn't even part of the equation. There is a clearly defined relationship dynamic in play and I think that people who have a negative takeaway from this incident are looking for a 1:1 transactional relationship rather than the grasping the whole. Did you both come away from Hedonism with a clearer understanding of your relationship? On the whole, is the relationship continuing to grow and strengthen? These are the questions and results that matter.
Once again, I may be misreading this. I can look at this from the viewpoint of a person in a successful, non-transactional relationship, with a dominant point of view, but Alexandra's mindset, in terms of D/s, is one which I can only work to understand, while Sarah's behavior seems perfectly reasonable to me.
I think that the only people who can determine if a relationship is "fair", D/s or vanilla, are the people in it.
I don't think you can have a successful relationship built on "fairness". That's generally not a definition of success.
Are all the parties in the relationship satisfied, is a much more critical matrix. A relationship that was focused on "fairness" would seem to have to be a transactional one. We don't do things in our relationships because "it's the fair thing to do", we do them because either we know the action will make our partner happy or the relationship stronger, or they simply have to be done.
This applies to all relationships; I don't think D/s creates any special internal conditions. To people outside the relationship, perhaps specific actions don't look fair, but the measurement goes back to "does it make your partner happy and does the relationship get stronger".
That's the "in general" part.
This isn't the question you asked, but it is one that comes to my mind every time I see this type of negative comment made about Sarah's behavior.
I have to presume that Sarah understands you very well. The situation that seems to have motivated these concerns from your readers was one that was always going to happen. You both knew it was coming.
Could she have "eased" you into it more? Perhaps, but when you consider it dispassionately, is there any safer place for her to have taken this step? It was behavior completely in character for the location, which means that Sarah didn't have to worry that other people would be focused on how Alexandera felt about the situation.
Alexandra had to deal with it in her own head. Was this fair to her? It was completely within the strictures of her relationship, as it has so far been defined here. Was it easy for her, did it feel good, did it make her happy? Apparently not.
Did that matter?
No.
Fairness isn't even part of the equation. There is a clearly defined relationship dynamic in play and I think that people who have a negative takeaway from this incident are looking for a 1:1 transactional relationship rather than the grasping the whole. Did you both come away from Hedonism with a clearer understanding of your relationship? On the whole, is the relationship continuing to grow and strengthen? These are the questions and results that matter.
Once again, I may be misreading this. I can look at this from the viewpoint of a person in a successful, non-transactional relationship, with a dominant point of view, but Alexandra's mindset, in terms of D/s, is one which I can only work to understand, while Sarah's behavior seems perfectly reasonable to me.
But what about you Alexandra, did you get any “attention” ?
Hi Kali. Thanks for writing. I didn’t read the comments as negative. I think “cruelty” in this case meant “one-sided.” And it was. It was definitely a learning experience and a glimpse into the future. As I said in a different reply: things changed after Hedonism. Some of those changes were good and some I perceived as not so good. But they were all authentic to who my wife is.
Ever since I started this journal there have been moments where people have been critical - question this or challenging that. Those comments make me think. They are always welcomed assuming they’re respectful. I don’t always do the “right” thing. My wife makes mistakes. That’s life.
You touched on an important point, and one I believe is quite true: marriages really aren’t about fairness. They are about happiness and fulfillment. Any marriage. Am I secure and safe and loved and is my partner doing their best for our relationship? If yes, it’s a strong union.
For me, when I look at, I do feel safe and secure. There were times in the past where I wasn’t entirely sure. Am I happy? Yes. Fulfilled? To a point. I say that because what I have is fulfilling, but I want more of her time, her energy, Dominance and attention. These events took place last fall and now it is spring (in the USA) and our life has had many changes between then and now and some of those have made me feel like we have less time together, just the two of us.
However, when I look at it rationally, I see the incredible amount of time, care and energy she puts into our relationship.
I also want more of it. Both can be true.
I feel this overwhelming sense of devotion. Sometimes I wonder how we got here, because I love her so much it hurts.