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The thing about six months is, it’s plenty of time to do a hell of a lot of things. Time to do them well, and time to fuck up. Time to learn what really, really works. And so here we are now, with a pretty strong sense of who we are and how it works. I couldn’t even try to remember all the rules or expectations I had at the start, but I can tell you what we’re up to now.

Master uses me however he wants. And quite frequently, that means a lot of sex. This isn’t some kind of “it’s BDSM! It TRANSCENDS sex!” relationship. This is physical ownership for sexual pleasure. When he’s really intent on it, he’ll fuck me very hard, very rough, until I’m a senseless puddle of tears and bruises, in the kitchen, in bed, forcing me onto all fours and gripping my neck to hold me in place. The sex that I like to fantasise of as being like rape, the non-con thing that turns me on and sends me right down there mentally. It’s hot; my cunt is dry and tight as his hard cock forces its way inside, and within seconds of it tearing through me, I can feel my cunt juices flowing, and I am ashamed, and embarrassed, and acknowledge my weakness, and give in, and give up.

That being said, I’m not perfect. I generally alternate between sullenness and slave mindset. I don’t disobey, but I’ll argue while I get into position, I’ll point out that I’m still bleeding from last time and that I deserve it gentler this time. I know it makes no difference, but I try anyway. And he seems to love it – taking me by force especially at the times when it’ll be most effective. My protestations make him smirk sometimes, which makes me even madder. He doesn’t take anything I say to heart. He listens and files everything away, and he uses me anyway.

And then, if it was just my cunt that he fucked, I have to clean him after, linking and sucking all our juices and sometimes my blood off his cock. This is something that hasn’t changed over the months. Aching thighs, headrush, dripping cunt – and yet immediately I turn around and seek out his cock to take straight into my mouth. It’s just mechanical by now – not that it isn’t hot, but I don’t waste time thinking, I just get right to it.

Anyway that’s the general gist of the sex life. There are definitely times when he doesn’t use me, when we spoon and snuggle and he restrains himself to just a hand on my throat, resting gently, or his cock wedged between my thighs as if to remind me that nothing is closed to him. There is plenty of romance; we aren’t THAT 24/7. There’s lots of love, and respect, and all that healthy marriage stuff. But when it comes to my ass, my cunt and my mouth, it’s been a steady descent into ownership, as I had hoped.

And can I just admit – yes. I’m not perfect. He isn’t either. We’ve made mistakes, and there have been apologies, in both directions. I submit entirely as much as I can, and sometimes I bounce back like a rubber band and we’re both shocked by the smarting soreness from where the tantrum lands. He pushes me too far, I beg him to stop, he keeps going, and afterwards we talk about more effective ways to end a scene. (Turns out safe words are genuinely needed. Who’d’a thunk it??) New toys are tried, and the discussion of “but I WANT you to feel pain” .. “but this is HORRIBLE” … goes back and forth for a while.

The bottom line is, though, that I am his submissive wife, and sexually I serve him as much as possible, and he owns me as fully as we both can make work.