Dear Shoeblossom:
I did something that's rare--I was seeing a professional dominatrix, Goddess Octane of Eugene, Oregon, and recently we realized that we had a lot in common. We loved sailing, and opera, and sports, and we began dating.
It helped a bit that I am relatively well off, my grandfather invented something or other that makes cars do whatever, it's not terribly clear, and I finally got Octane to marry me.
But she was clear from the beginning that I was her submissive, and that wouldn't change. I didn't realize how strident this would be until our wedding night.
"So I think we'll start you out with three orgasms a week, and then in 90 days we'll move to three a month, and then in the fall we'll go to three a year and keep it that way, Trip" she told me with a brisk smile.
"Really?" I asked. I had been doing chastity training with various Mistresses around the Eugene and Springfield and Corvallis area for several decades, and felt secure in a belt, but Octane was so beautiful and feminine that I thought we might have a little bit more action after we'd wed.
Most of our sex life in the time between becoming a couple and getting married had been oral from my side, but she had let me penetrate her once or twice, and I really wanted to follow through with more of this now that we were wed, right?
"So when we get to three times a year, it would be perhaps every four months. You can handle that, right, Trip?"
"Maybe with a bonus one on Christmas and my birthday?" I was grasping for straws here.
Octane gave me a contemptuous look from where she was sitting cross legged (She's a Yoga ninja!) on her bed. She had this splendid resemblance to the cartoon warrior chick from the 80's "Heavy Metal" videos...
"No, on your birthday and Christmas we can exchange regular gifts, Trip. Though of course you can give me lingerie. I enjoy that. The denial is good for you, as a husband. It will encourage you to appreciate me. We've seen in the last year and a half how much better your attitude is when I keep you locked for a fortnight or more at a time..."
She paused, smiling slightly at my woebegone face. "I will still give you long teases, and take off the belt regularly to clean and shave your pubes and rub you a bit with my titties...you'll be stimulated and attended to. I'm not one of those dominant wives who just lock up hubby and forget about him." She winked. I knew I'd still get splendid hand jobs with no happy ending...they were so glorious!
I had enough good sense not to argue with Octane about my sexual needs. When I became occasionally truculent, she'd been an enthusiastic and adept wielder of the bullwhip and the canes, but also, Octane had a good relationship with male leather Masters in Portland.
Once, just to give me a taste of hardcore domination with not much arousal, she'd left me with three Portland male Masters, walking out of Master Argenteri's dungeon with a flirty blonde smile, snapping her red nails and waving.
I had been standing there naked, dejected, with three big strong men in leather, grinning around me...
And when I'd returned home 72 hours later,(They dropped me off on my own front porch in a burlap bag) I'd cried in Octane's arms, and she'd stroked my hair and toyed with my caged penis. The bars of my little cock prison were too tight for me to masturbate but wide enough that my skin was exposed for impact from switches, w hips and crops and many, many cigarette burns as Master Argenteri was a chain smoker of American Spirit filter-tips.
Of course it must've aroused me somewhat, Octane noted, since my dick had been bulging through the bars during the three day session, enough so my wang could take various jolts and scorches.
"This is good for you, babe" Octane had said then, kissing the tears from my eyes as I'd recounted all the Masters had done to me, my mouth was exhausted from sucking and my anus way distended from dozens of hard dicks.
Octane had kissed the tears from my eyes as she rubbed a little healing Vaseline on my burned and sore caged cock. " Now you won't be whining or showing attitude when my fuck-buddies come over."
And at our wedding, Octane had been a beautiful, glorious bride in white, so kind to my dazzled parents. Octane had always been quiet about her career as a pro-domme, and had a more public career as a florist...both endeavors had been given up so she could stay at home now...why not?
In Eugene, Oregon society, it was a great thing, she could be a country-club girl, fucking tennis pros and decorating the house I'd bought for her.
But, when the reception was done, and we got into the honeymoon suite at the pricey "Inn at the 5th" (very upscale in Oregon) I wanted to spoil her.
Octane sat back on the bed in her frilly satin body stocking, so gorgeous! She'd insisted I stay chaste for a month before the wedding though she'd teased me mercilessly three or four nights a week with her French nails, getting me all excited about the honeymoon.
