She calls me her submissive husband. Not as a cute weekend fantasy, but as a role that shapes our marriage. I chose it freely. My wife leads, decides and punishes – and I obey because that imbalance of power is exactly what excites me.
The Mistress sets the rules
We began with clear agreements about desires, hard limits, a safeword and aftercare. Then she wrote her rules: I ask before I climax. I wear the chastity cage when she orders it. I kneel when she produces the black collar. And I accept the consequence when I complete a task carelessly.
On Friday night the collar waits on the bed beside leather cuffs, a cane and the key to my cage. I undress, kneel and lower my eyes. “You belong to me tonight,” she says. “Yes, Mistress.”
Bound and displayed
She leads me into the playroom and secures my wrists above my head. She checks every buckle before pulling the nipple clamps. The first pain is sharp. The cane lands on my thighs and ass in precise strokes. Between blows she makes me wait and orders me to thank her each time.
Chastity and humiliation
She opens the cage only to inspect me. Her hand closes around my cock long enough to drive the arousal higher, then lets go. No orgasm. No relief. She locks me again and orders me to earn her pleasure with my mouth and tongue.
“A slave takes nothing,” she says. “He receives what his Mistress allows.” The words hit harder than the cane, and that is why I love them.
She takes me
Later she bends me over the padded bench and straps on a broad dildo. Cool lubricant runs between my cheeks. She starts slowly, gives my body time, then thrusts harder once I relax. The bench creaks while she takes me deep and rhythmically. I may moan, beg and swear. I may not climax.
The earned orgasm
Only after she makes me kneel again does she take the key. The cage drops to the floor. She edges me twice and stops just before release. The third time she gives permission. The orgasm tears through me while I am still kneeling at her feet.
Afterwards
She removes the collar, checks my skin, brings water and holds me close. We talk about the most intense moments. Our Femdom dynamic does not exist because either of us lacks a choice. It exists because I consciously choose it again and again: I want to be her submissive husband.
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