Dealing with some things

I often think about what I don’t get from Anne.

But it’s not just what I don’t get. It’s what I’ll never, ever get. Sometimes it’s weird to think about it. Forever is a long time.

Most men have hope that certain things might happen. A beautiful girl might seduce them one day, their wife or girlfriend might dress up for them, might dance naked for them, might get drunk and decide to surprise them with something. Whatever. Those things might never happen but you never know.

The difference between me and everyone else is that I know. I will never again feel what it’s like to have a woman use her mouth on me.

I will never be woken up with my wife on top of me, kissing my neck because she’s horny and wants to make love to me.

I will never experience Anne, or anyone else, grab me and pull at my clothes because she wants to fuck me. I will never look at her and see that look that says the thought of making me happy is a turn on and she wants to please me.

Unlike other men when I see beautiful, sexily dressed women I know there is no point in even fantasizing about them. Even if they were to turn around and say they wanted to do things with me I wouldn’t be allowed.  

It is all impossible, off limits and decided. And sometimes that’s difficult.

Also, I know that other people will get that. With her ex Anne would (and has) done all those things and more. He has seen a side of her I will never see. In fact, any other man on the planet has more chance of the above than me. I have seen Anne gaze into another a man’s eyes, put her arms around him and kiss him passionately, nuzzle, wrap her legs around his body and draw him to her, sit across him and lean forward to kiss him as he fucks her, smirk as I am sent away by him.

We only get one life and I have to accept this is mine. Every day that passes is another chance gone, another day further away from a normal sex life. Every day I don’t try and turn things back makes it less likely I ever could. It is another brick in the wall. In reality it has been too late to turn back for a long time. I remember when I could still break out of it. I could take control and dominate Anne. I could just kiss her or grab her. I could ask her to go down on me.and she would ignore what we had “decided” and just do it because she wanted to. 

Now, if I tried to kiss her she would get uncomfortable and turn away. If I ask her to go down on me she says no, even though we have “decided” several times that we want things to be more casual. If I tried to dominate her she would let me but I would never do anything she wouldn’t let me do otherwise so it wouldn’t be real.

Every time I beg to eat her ass I make the decision more final. Every time I ask her to go on top and she says no and I end up lying on the bed behind her, asking permission to make my little mess inside her while she reaches back and digs her nails into my nipple, twisting it until I’m crying and screaming. Last week while she let me do that I looked down at her body, grabbed her hips and tried to imagine it was all normal, that I was fucking a beautiful girl who would let me do whatever I wanted. I could almost imagine it. Anne’s gorgeous ass and the feeling of her hot, wet pussy on my little clit. But I knew deep down that she was just using me like a dildo. I will never again experience sex like a real man.

I am so grateful to Anne for being so strong. It has taken a while to get here. She has slowly got into this and there is no way back for me now. It is so difficult. Nobody can possibly understand what it is like if they haven’t experienced it. Sometimes I can hardly believe what has happened, what my reality is now. I feel like I want to panic, that it isn’t fair. But then I remember I wanted this and I always will. Even if Anne gave me everything back I would be disappointed afterwards. It would only ruin things. And then I tell myself just to deal with it, to get over it. Just to accept how things are and be grateful.

Maybe this is more difficult because Anne is so beautiful. Her face, her body. She is perfect. Sexually she is open to almost anything. She swallows (and enjoys it), she likes tied up, loves sex, loves to touch herself, has a clit piercing and a nipple piercing (or did before she was pregnant),  she can cum over and over again, she cums from just penetrative sex. She loves dressing up in sexy underwear and loves having it ripped off her. She is bisexual and has had threesomes (with her ex). She is a fantasy.

She is far more attractive than me. Way out of my league. Me getting together with her is like a fantasy, a 10,000 to 1 shot. But it happened. And now I have given it all up. I am denied almost everything and I know other men would get anything from her, including things like threesomes which I have never experienced.

Sometimes I think about the sex life we could have had, how I have lost the chance of it now and how it was my fault and my decision.

It is so difficult but…this is how it is. I only hope Anne finds someone else that she can enjoy that sex life with and that in the meantime making me suffer and denying me things brings her some pleasure. I would do anything for her. If she ever leaves me I will never be near another woman again. Because she has said that is what she would want. If she met someone special I would encourage their relationship even, and especially, if it was going to eclipse and replace ours.

I constantly feel bad that I don’t do more for her. I know I should make it easier for her to beat me. I think deep down she would love to beat me every day but there is a shyness there from her and maybe a fear from me. Maybe I am not prepared to suffer that much or give everything yet.

I do want more. I want her to tell me I’m only allowed to look at men when I touch myself, that her body is off limits to me in every way permanently, that she’s going to make me pleasure other men, that my life will be miserable and painful Forever. While she and her boyfriend have perfect sex lives and benefit from my suffering. I want to have to do all the things I hate. For her.

Maybe one day I will be less selfish. Maybe then we will have a routine. Each night she will take the skin off my ass and my thighs with the piece of doubled over thin electrical cable she always uses. When she does I will be past my limit, as always, howling and sobbing and babbling and I will look at her and see how content and aroused she is, out of breath with sweat beading on her forehead while I think about what I gave up. How I have to pleasure men for her. How she owns me. How everything we own is in her name, how she has pictures and videos I have made her promise to blackmail me with if I ever try to disobey her. How she is thinking of leaving me for her boyfriend. How she spends the whole time while she is beating me telling me how wonderful he is and how inferior I am to him. How the beatings from him are so much than those from her. 

Maybe we will have that one day. Before she divorces me and takes everything. I hope we do. But maybe it is more likely that things will just stay as they are. In some kind of half-miserable non-intense halfway stage where I have given up everything for nothing. Maybe that is what I really deserve.

In the meantime every day when I see Anne I have to think about all the things I can’t do with her and how she would do them with anyone else. When I see other people and I have to think about all the things they get to do sexually which I will never experience again.

I guess I deserve all this. Because I asked for it.


I really wish Anne would beat me more. I should encourage her more. She likes it and the more she does it the more she will want to do it.
When she does beat me she doesn’t use a riding crop. She uses thin electrical cable doubled over. After around 10 on my ass I am in agony and feel like I can’t take any more. I think her record is 200, delivered in blocks of 50 or so with short breaks in between.

I really wish Anne would beat me more. I should encourage her more. She likes it and the more she does it the more she will want to do it.

When she does beat me she doesn’t use a riding crop. She uses thin electrical cable doubled over. After around 10 on my ass I am in agony and feel like I can’t take any more. I think her record is 200, delivered in blocks of 50 or so with short breaks in between.


remotetremor asked:

what are your favorite ways to make your husband cry? god i love your text posts and captions so much! : )

happycuckoldress answered:

Believe it or not, it’s actually pretty hard to get hubby to a crying place, and it’s definitely gotten harder the longer we’ve been together as play-scenes that may have once sent him into an emotional orgasm of tears often now just sink him deeper into his semi-catatonic subspace as he’s become more accustomed to them.

But there are definitely ways, especially if we know a play-session with Ben is coming up and have time to prepare. For instance, a combination of not letting him cum for more than a few days followed by aggressively edging and then denying him release of any kind, even milking, often leave him feeling very fragile and sensitive, so edging him a lot before we see Ben often not only helps put him in a needy, me-and-Ben-focused mindset, but also one that is very susceptible to how Ben or I might treat him when we are playing. Add to that the adrenaline of a little pain to confuse him and get his head swimmy, via maybe some hard slapping or if Ben gets more physically aggressive as hubby fellates him, and he often turns into a plate balanced on the edge of the counter, needing only some earnest, hurtful talk about what a weak and helpless little boi he is, how mommy doesn’t love him like she used because of how pathetic he’s let himself become, how he doesn’t deserve to father mine or any woman’s children, how I love Ben more than him and always will and there’s nothing he can do about it — just really wonderful mean, cruel stuff like that — combined with Ben and I emphasizing our affection for one another, and he’ll usually open up like niagra.

It takes a while, like I said, but when it happens it’s so beautiful, like hubby’s tears are an art project I’ve worked long and hard on, come finally to glorious fruition. I love seeing men and women feel genuinely debased, hubby more than anyone. It’s his special gift that only I can tease out of him. Plus he says that, afterward, he feels better than at any other time in his life. That’s why I always make him say “thank you” over and over as he is crying, because gratitude is the seat of virtue.

I almost never reblog anything but I think this may be about the greatest thing I’ve ever read on tumblr.

The times when I’ve cried in front of Anne (not just tearing up but really sobbing) have been the most intense experiences ever. The feeling you get when you’re so broken that you can’t hold it together anymore and you can’t even pretend you’re in control. When you just start sobbing and pleading and you see that it has no effect on her at all. Except for maybe making her smile or looking away from you because she’s lost respect for you. That tells you that it’s not a game, she really likes it and it is what she wants. It doesn’t get any better than that.