The inner journey of a cuckolded submissive (reprinted)

The word "cuckold" is probably unacceptable to most men! In reality, no one would imagine that I would be a cuckolded man, or even a cuckolded masochist. In fact, even now, I am not sure whether I am a masochist or not, because I am a relatively strong and even somewhat domineering man in real life, but I cannot deny that I do enjoy the pleasure of being a masochist.

Another undeniable reality is that I have indeed given my wife away to other men, many men in fact, but one thing cannot be denied: I love her very much.

I am such a contradictory being; perhaps the word "contradiction" runs through my entire life journey.

I'm a native of Jinan, though many of you might not know where Jinan is. In fact, this so-called capital of Shandong province is far inferior to its younger brother Qingdao. And in my memory, the only slightly famous figure from Jinan is the Song Dynasty female poet Li Qingzhao—a clear case of female dominance over males! I wonder if this hints at my masochistic tendencies? Anyway, now that I'm in my thirties, I'm quite peaceful, thanks to my parents, and my career is going smoothly too.

My wife is four years younger than me. She's an English teacher at a high school, wears glasses, is about 1.64 meters tall, and has a petite and delicate appearance. We fell in love at first sight, and both our families were very happy with the relationship. So, when I was twenty-eight, we got married, and the following year we had a lovely son.

Actually, my wife is a very traditional woman, born into a family of government officials. Her BDSM tendencies were instilled in her intentionally or unintentionally by me. I originally thought she could be a Dom, but unfortunately, she was too weak, and I eventually led her down the path of M as well. That's why we became a couple of husband-and-wife slaves.

In the beginning, we both doubted whether the other truly loved us. But over the years, we haven't grown apart because of SM. On the contrary, perhaps because of the saying "true love is tested in adversity," our relationship has only grown stronger. Outside of SM, we are an enviable loving couple in the eyes of those around us, and our son is thriving under our care.
As for me, the "culprit," I had a peculiar feeling for women's feet since I was very young, but it was basically just a fantasy. It wasn't until I went to university that I gradually learned about foot fetishism online and came into contact with SM, which led to an uncontrollable obsession. I used to fantasize about finding a female Dom to be my wife, but marriage is always subject to reality. After a long and arduous search, I finally gave up. Later, with guidance from friends in the community, I thought that instead of marrying a female Dom, it would be better to find a wife and train her to become a Dom—there are many paths to Rome! However, I never expected that my wife would be my "same path"—she also became a Dom.

Now I'll talk about my so-called journey of the heart. I dare not say it's absolutely true, because there are some fictional elements, but the main storyline and the vast majority of it are true.

(one)
It all started when we had our child. This adorable little guy wasn't actually that "adorable" in the first place, because my wife and I weren't planning on having a child at the time. It was just that we didn't use proper contraception and my wife got pregnant. We did consider having an abortion, but we were both scolded by our parents, so we decided to keep the baby.

When my wife was more than three months pregnant, our affair caused some signs that looked like a miscarriage, which terrified everyone. So from then on, we never dared to do anything reckless again. This continued until the baby was more than three months pregnant.

Before this, my wife had no idea about my masochistic tendencies. For over a year, I basically satisfied myself through masturbation, pornography, and fantasies. Sex itself held little appeal for me, so this actually fulfilled my needs. At that time, my wife, out of jealousy and fear of me cheating, practically ignored my sexual desires. That year, I wanted it almost every day; I practically exhausted all my sexual desires. Sure enough, when we finally wanted to rekindle our marital intimacy, I could no longer get an erection.

Later, we saw a doctor and took some medication, but it wasn't very effective. We could only rely on medication to have sex, but my wife was worried that too much medication would harm my health, so she didn't push it too hard. We were basically in a "sexless marriage." We both realized the importance of sex in marriage, but we didn't know a good solution. It was around that time that my wife was on maternity leave. In her spare time, she would go online, and she discovered my collection of Japanese adult films on my computer. She only watched them secretly when I was at work, and although she thought she was being discreet, I could see them in her viewing history on Xunlei when I got home. A fellow enthusiast in a group suggested that this was a good opportunity to introduce my wife to the genre and gradually cultivate her interest, so I turned a blind eye, only "checking" her browsing history every night when I got home.

About a month or so passed, and I felt the time was right. One weekend morning, I kissed my sleeping wife's feet. To my surprise, she suddenly woke up and pulled her feet back, which startled me. After that, no matter how much I begged, she always refused me, citing reasons such as being ticklish or too dirty.

A few days later, one night I drank some beer and felt aroused before bed. I held my wife and kissed her affectionately, and slowly her breathing became rapid. I felt the time was right, so I pulled out my belt, knelt down by the bed, and begged my wife to hit me. To my surprise, she stared wide-eyed in astonishment and finally managed to squeeze out a sentence: "You're not a masochist, are you?"

Hearing her use the word "m," it seemed she already knew about SM. I was overjoyed and kept admitting that I hoped she would torture me. Later, I learned that although my wife majored in English, she also knew some Japanese. She understood those Japanese adult films much better than I did, because I could only look at the pictures while she could read the words.

Unexpectedly, she jumped off the bed, squatted down in front of me, and said, "Actually, I realized it a long time ago, but I didn't dare to say it because I was afraid of hurting your self-esteem." Then she paused and said, "I can understand you, but I can't be a sadist because I also fantasize about being abused."

It was a bolt from the blue! What followed was me staring wide-eyed.

That night, neither of us said anything more, and neither of us touched the other. However, neither of us slept soundly.

August arrived in the blink of an eye, and my wife's maternity leave was about to expire. We sent the child to my parents' house because my wife is very busy with work and will need my parents to take care of the child during the day. This way, the child can get used to the situation first, and my wife can also prepare lessons at home.

For over a month, I still left home for work at 7:30 every morning and returned home at 6:30 in the evening. My wife prepared delicious meals for me and took care of everything at home, though she would also secretly watch my movies. Occasionally, I would try to contact my wife, but her phone was off, and no one answered the home phone. It wasn't anything urgent, but when I asked her when I got home in the evening, she said she had gone out to buy groceries or go shopping and forgot her phone. My wife's carelessness was nothing new, and I'm a rather easygoing person myself, so I didn't think much of it.

On the last Friday before the start of the semester, my wife had to go back to school for a meeting. Perhaps because she hadn't worked for a long time, she got up very early, dressed up carefully, and wore a light-colored business suit, sexy pantyhose, and five-centimeter high heels, looking very much like a teacher. I drove her to school and watched her walk into the campus.

I remember it clearly; that day felt like it was about to rain but wouldn't, like a man with prostate problems—unusually hot and humid. It was almost 11 a.m., and since there wasn't much to do at work, I called my wife to offer to take her home, but her phone was off. I assumed she was in a meeting, so I went to the school to pick her up, but the security guard at the gatehouse said the teachers had all left the meeting. He said he'd seen my wife leave the school a while ago, so she should be home by now! So I called her cell phone again, still off. I called home, but no one answered. A sense of foreboding washed over me.

I went straight home, feeling terrible. I hid in my study by myself. It was very hot, but I forgot to turn on the air conditioner.

Around three or four o'clock, I heard the sound of the door opening. I seemed to wake up from my daze and heard my wife changing her shoes while talking on her cell phone. Her voice wasn't very loud, and she kept mumbling "yes." I also heard her say, "Honey will be back soon. I need to prepare dinner. I'll talk to you later."

I quietly went into the living room and saw her nervously holding her phone. I already knew what was going on; all my suspicions had come true. I said, "Are you going to delete the call log?"

"Ah!" My wife suddenly saw me standing there, and her expression became even more tense. She almost dropped her phone. "I..." My wife didn't know what to say.

At that moment, I felt a sense of relief, as if the mystery had been solved. I turned around, sat on the sofa, and calmly said, "Explain it yourself!"

My wife hurried over and knelt down in front of me: "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I've been wanting to tell you this, but..."

"But what?" I emphasized, "You're seeing someone else!"

"Yes, I know I was wrong," the wife pleaded. "Please don't tell the family. I'll never contact him again."

"Alright, tell us yourself, how long have you known each other?"

"It's been over a month."

"How many times have we met?"

This is the third time.

I was furious! I'd already slept with that man twice, and I hadn't even realized it! I snapped, "A third time?"

"Yes, I swear, this is really the third time today." Tears welled up in my wife's eyes as she looked at me. I could tell she wasn't lying, or rather, my wife still couldn't lie to me.

"What does he do for a living, and how old is he?"

"He's a university professor, I think he's around forty," my wife said through gritted teeth, stammering out a few words that shocked me: "He's a sadist."

Huh? I can hardly believe my ears. That man is a sadist, so does that mean my wife is a masochistic submissive like me? I simply can't accept this reality, but I can't be angry right now. Or rather, the "cuckoldry" complex that's been suppressed deep inside me is slowly surfacing. I have to find out the truth, but at this moment, I don't know what to ask anymore.

Looking at my wife kneeling before me, I noticed that the sexy stockings she had worn that morning were gone, so I asked, "Where are your stockings?"

"Stockings?" my wife repeated to herself. I could tell she was having some unspeakable trouble. She bit her lip. "The stockings are on my crotch..."

"Below?" I blurted out, because at the time, I really didn't realize that "below" referred to my wife's vagina.

But my wife probably thought I was asking her that on purpose, so she stood up, spread her legs, and lifted her skirt. I was stunned by what I saw: the two legs of a pair of stockings were inserted into my wife's vagina and anus respectively, with only the soles of her feet sticking out.

To be honest, I don't remember what I said at the time, I just told my wife to go take a shower, to hurry up and take a shower, and to get herself clean. Then, all I heard was the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

At that moment, I was conflicted. On one hand, there was my sense of male pride, and on the other, the temptation of being cuckolded. My mind was extremely complicated. I had to choose between the two, and my time was very limited. I had to make this decision before my wife finished showering.
My wife came out in her bathrobe, still looking nervous, and didn't even know where to put her hands.

By this time I was fully awake and knew what I needed to do: "Where are the socks?"

"Socks?" The wife composed herself. "They're in the trash can in the bathroom."

"Go and get it."

The wife turned and went to the bathroom to take out the pair of filthy socks, which had been soaked until they were almost transparent.

"Shove it into your mouth!" I commanded.

"What?" My wife seemed not to have heard me clearly, or perhaps she didn't expect me to give her such an order.

"Didn't you understand?" I said coldly. "Do you think these things are dirty?"

"Yes." My wife had completely obeyed my command. She slowly opened her mouth, the mouth I had once kissed passionately, and now a stocking soaked with her and other men's filthy secretions was placed inside. The stocking slowly filled her mouth, stretching it so that my wife's mouth could no longer close.

"Come here and kneel down!"

My wife knelt before me. I took off her glasses, and she seemed to understand. She slowly closed her eyes, tilting her head back towards me. Without a word, I began slapping her fair cheeks repeatedly. I was like an enraged bull. My wife only groaned in pain a few times, without flinching. I didn't know if she was atoning for her sins or if she had simply grown accustomed to it.

Seeing my wife's flushed face, with tears streaming down her face, I felt a pang of regret. "Alright, let's call it a day! Go wash your face, get ready, and we'll go to Mom's to see the kids."

My wife vomited up the sock and coughed twice. Perhaps worried I'd tell my family, she quickly asked, "Didn't we agree with Mom to bring the baby back tomorrow to spend the holiday together?"

"No, I have plans for tomorrow."

"Then we..." the wife asked doubtfully.
"I want to see that man!"

"No, please, husband..." the wife pleaded again, her voice trembling with tears, "I promise I won't contact him again."

"Hehe, you're overthinking it, darling," I said coldly. "Hurry up and get ready, or we'll be late for dinner."

That evening, we went to my parents' house for dinner as usual. My wife, however, seemed a bit nervous, like a child who had done something wrong, and awkwardly faced my parents and child. My parents were very happy to see us and didn't realize what had happened between us. After dinner, I played with the child for a while, then said I was a little tired and drove my wife home.

When we got downstairs, I parked the car and said to my wife, "You go upstairs first and call that person. Let's meet him tomorrow!"

"You...you won't do anything impulsive, will you?" His wife still looked suspicious.

"Don't worry, darling, for the sake of our child and our family, I won't do anything out of line."

His wife responded and went upstairs to go home first.

About ten minutes later, I locked my car and went upstairs. My wife was already waiting for me at the door. She whispered, "Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, Yuanyuan Garden at the Sports Center."

"Okay, sure." I said casually, "I'm going to wash up and go to bed now."

"Okay, I'll clean up the room a bit more and wash your clothes."

After taking a shower, I felt a little cooler. Although the doors and windows were closed and the air conditioner was on, I could still feel a stuffy heat. That night, my wife went to bed very late, keeping her distance from me.

At night, after a gust of wind, it finally rained, as if a weight had been lifted from my heart. I don't know when, but I fell asleep…

URL 1:http://localhost:909/htmlBlog/4175.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=4175&aspx=1

Previous Page : The Journey of a Cuckolded M (Reprinted) Part 2

Next Page : A record of a stimulating 3P (2)

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

The inner journey of a cuckolded submissive (reprinted)

comment Open a new window to view comments