Becca Bellamy
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The Path to a Female Led Marriage - part 1
🕑 Added 2025-05-14 05:17:34 +0000 UTCYears ago I asked my wife to spank me during a mutual masturbation session. She'd already cum and I was nearing my orgasm. In the heat of the moment I wanted to experiment, to see if there was any pleasure in being spanked while I jerked off.
There wasn't. It wasn't bad, but it didn't provide that spike of arousal that can turn an orgasm from good to great. Mostly it was just kind of painful and didn't do much for me. I had my orgasm and afterwards I felt embarrassed that I'd asked to be spanked. We both agreed that it wasn't a great experience and it was filed away under 'not to be tried' in the sexual archives in both our brains.
I mention this as a way of introducing the notion that I'm kink-minded. I've always been that way. My masturbatory fantasies have trended towards submissive kink since I first started jerking off. I have memories of discovering lesbian strapon sex and finding myself quite keen on the notion of being penetrated by a woman wearing a rubber cock. I like facesitting. I like the idea of orgasm denial. I like cuckolding, or at least the idea of it. There’s more, but you get the idea.
It's important to note that my wife is largely aware of my desires but is not terribly kink-minded. Not in the same way I am.
Or at least I was certain that she wasn't kink-minded. It seems possible, though, that I've underestimated her, that perhaps she's at least a little bit kink-minded. Let me explain.
You know how in most marriages - especially those that are more than a decade old - there are habits that each person has that really bug the other person? For my wife, that habit of mine has to do with the rare times I do laundry. Sometimes I forget to move it from the washer to the drier and the wet clothes sit in the washer for hours.
This happened about a month ago. Erin expressed her frustration at me having made this mistake once more. I apologized. I meant it. Truly. It was a sincere apology. Unfortunately, when you're apologizing for the fiftieth time for the same infraction, the words don't really matter.
Then, to my complete and utter surprise, Erin said, "Maybe I should take a belt to your ass. Maybe then you'd remember to move the clothes to the drier."
To be clear, this was way out of left field. She never talks like that, which is why I really didn't have a response. I just stared straight ahead as my brain processed her words in a far slower manner than would have been ideal.
"Or maybe you'd like it and then because you liked it you'd remember to move the clothes to the dryer," she added.
Honestly, the second part was even more stunning than the first. It was a tacit acknowledgment of my kinky side. We don't talk about it much. The kink stuff, I mean. We never have. Every once in a while it comes up, but for the most part it's this thing that just sits off to the side. I've always assumed it was because she wasn't interested, and because I assumed that I figured it was best not to bring it up as that would only lead to frustration.
"I'm sorry," was all I managed to say in the moment before moving the clothes to the drier.
Neither of us said anything about it that day, the next day, or any day in the week that followed.
I couldn't stop thinking about it, though. Was she just really frustrated with me and that's why she said it? Had Erin thought about being a marriage where domestic discipline was part of it? Would I be interested in our marriage taking on a female led flavor that included me being spanked with a belt when I disobeyed or disappointed her? If we did have that kind of marriage, would that open up other kinks like orgasm denial or even cuckolding? That was a crazy leap, of course, but my mind went there, mostly because I really am kink-driven when it comes to sex and I just can't help myself.
I was the one to bring it up. I did so at the tail end of a massage. I was the one doing the rubbing, as if often the case. I find pleasure in it, I think because it feels like a small act of submission.
Anyway, Erin was naked in our bed. She was on her back and I was rubbing her feet. Her eyes were closed and she looked exquisitely beautiful.
"Hey, so about that thing with the belt and the laundry," I began. And yes, it was just as awkward as you might think.
She lifted her head and smiled at me. "What about it?"
I took a breath. I looked away. I ran my fingers up her calves. "Is that...was that...what was that?"
Her head fell to the bed. "I'm not sure."
She was tentative, and with good reason. She was probably in the same headspace I was in. She didn't want to commit to anything until she knew what I was thinking. At least that's what I assumed.
"If I had said..." I began before taking a deep breath, "If I said that I wanted you to take the belt to my ass...would you have done it?"
Erin sat up on her elbows and I noted how good her breasts looked. She studied my face as I continued to rub her feet. "Yes, I would have. Did you think about asking me to do it?"
I shook my head. "Honestly, I was so surprised when you said the thing about the belt that I didn't really think anything in the moment. I just apologized and put the clothes in the drier."
"But you've obviously thought about it since."
I nodded.
"And do you wish that you'd asked me to...well, to belt your ass?"
"That's the thing, I don't know. I'm not...I'm not the kind of person that finds pleasure in that sort of pain. I wouldn't have liked it in that way." I took a really deep breath as I prepared to share something I was pretty sure I hadn't shared before. "I am, however, the kind of person who would find it pleasurable - or maybe even really hot - if you found it pleasurable to belt my ass."
"I don't think I would have."
I nodded. "Yeah, I figured. I'm also...well, I don't know, but I think maybe I would...this is weird and it's a pretty unformed thought, but I feel like I actually might like being in a marriage where you make the rules and enforce them by...well, by having me take off my belt so you can punish me with it if I disappoint or disobey."
"Interesting."
That was it. She straightened her arms and her head fell to the bed once more. I kept on rubbing her, too, as I wasn't really sure if there was any wisdom in pushing the conversation further.
Eventually, Erin flipped over. "Do my legs and my butt."
I did so happily and I felt a little thrill at being ordered - instead of asked - to do so.
As I rubbed her, Erin would lift her foot and play with my cock a little through my shorts. She never said anything about it and she never did it for long, but she managed to get me hard and keep me there. She did quite a lot of moaning as I rubbed her, especially when I focused on her ass. She likes a nice ass rub. She always has.
After a solid fifteen minutes of rubbing her legs and ass, Erin rolled onto her back, spread her legs, and said, "You can make me cum. Kiss your way up my legs first, though."
There was a hint of domination in there and it was thrilling. I did as she asked, kissing my way up both of her legs before settling between them and giving her an orgasm with my tongue. It happened quickly and she grabbed a handful of my hair while climaxing, which I always love.
Afterwards, I stood at the side of the bed and Erin got on her knees and moved towards me. We embraced and I grabbed her ass while we kissed. Our tongues mingled a little before she said, "Thank you for the rub."
"It was my pleasure, as always."
"I know," she said with a smile.
Then it was over. She got dressed and went back to her day. I did the same.
Three days later, Erin initiated a conversation that begin with a simple-but-surprising question. "Do you think you'd work harder if you were in the kind of marriage you talked about a few days ago? The kind where I made the rules and enforced them with punishments?"
My work ethic has always been an issue. It would be fair to say that I'm the kind of man that does enough work to get by but rarely puts in the effort required to succeed in an outsized way. I could go into much greater detail about it, but I think that's all you really need to know to understand why Erin's mind would go in that direction.
"Yes," I answered without hesitation. "At least I think so."
"Why?" she asked.
There was a hint of frustration in her voice and on her face and I think I understood it. I imagined that she was wondering why I thought I'd suddenly be a different man despite the fact that I'd never in my life managed to be that kind of man.
"It's hard to explain," I said. It was no longer a hint of frustration on her face. It was rather obvious. "Sorry. I know that was a shitty answer. What I mean is that it's hard to explain to you the way that kind of change - the you being in charge of our marriage kind of thing - it's hard to explain how that would make me feel because I'm not sure it would make sense."
"Try and explain."
"Okay, so, it's like I'd be living the kind of life I was meant to live. That sounds really dramatic, but this desire for submissiveness...that's kind of like a core part of my being, or of my sexuality, actually. If I was able to let that part of me come out in full then I'd be more complete."
She seemed skeptical.
"Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned the part about my sexuality, because that makes it seem like I'm going to be horny and trying to like, I don't know, hump your leg all the time."
That got a laugh out of her, which was nice.
"That's not what will happen. I might want to wrap you up in my arms or kiss you more often..."
"I'd like that."
"Right, exactly, and that would probably happen. I mean, the truth is, I don't really know because it's all theoretical. I can think about it. I can fantasize about it."
"You've fantasized about it?"
I nodded. "It's referred to - in the online kink world, I mean - as a female led marriage. That maybe sounds a little scary, but it's a catch all term for a submissive man living with a more dominant wife. She makes a lot of the decisions and he does as she desires. It doesn’t have to be burdensome, though. It's not like you'd have to manage me all the time. I can imagine that would be a pain. I suppose it would be some level of work for you, though."
She tilted her head slightly like she was considering the notion. "True, but the work might be worth it if there was a good outcome."
"Like if my work ethic improved, which would mean that I'd make more money, which would mean that we could go on more vacations and eventually buy a house and all that good stuff."
Erin nodded. "Exactly. All that good stuff."
I fell silent, mostly because I felt a little overwhelmed. Plus, I lacked confidence in my ability to make my desires and feelings at all clear with regards to my need to feel submissive.
"So...what if I told you that you weren't allowed to cum without my permission?" she asked.
It caught me off guard. It was something I wanted. I'd actually voiced that particular desire at some point in the past. The right answer came to me. "I'd say thank you. I'd say that I was grateful to you for being willing to take that level of control."
Erin studied me from across the room. I felt a little uncomfortable, mostly from the overwhelming sense of vulnerability I felt.
"Okay," she said after what felt like forever, though it was probably no more than a handful of seconds. "From now on, you're not allowed to cum without my permission."
"Thank you," I said. "I really am grateful to you for being willing to take that kind of control. In fact, could I offer you a massage as a small way of saying thanks? Like, a full body massage?"
She smiled. "Yeah?"
I nodded.
Her smile faded. "It better be a good massage. You better make a great deal of effort."
It felt like she was testing out what it felt like to be more dominant. It was so fucking sexy. "It will be. It will be the best massage you've ever had."
We went to the bedroom and I rubbed Erin for more than an hour. It was by far the longest massage I'd ever given. To my delight, she let me make her cum about halfway through - she'd gotten turned on - before I resumed rubbing her. There was a fair bit of kissing, too, which I found endlessly rewarding. There was no orgasm for me, of course, and I didn't dare ask.
Now it's time to return to the belt.
Fast forward three days from the discussion and the massage. It was nearing 10 p.m. and I was at my desk in the spare bedroom that acted as my office/our filing room. Erin walked in and I took my headphones off.
"What's up?"
"Show me what you worked on today."
I knew I was in trouble, but let me explain why.
I'm a freelancer. I make a living writing copy for e-commerce websites (for the most part, at least). Think product descriptions, sales copy, that sort of thing. I'm pretty good at it, though there's a growing sense of worry that AI is going to make it very difficult for me to get steady work in the future. I've long talked about branching out from freelance work and starting some kind of email newsletter or embarking on a creative writing endeavor. It's the latter work that Erin wanted to see proof of because I'd said that I would be spending at least an hour a day doing some sort of writing that wasn't for clients. I hadn't done any of it, though. Not even a minute. That's why I knew I was in trouble.
I briefly considered coming up with some sort of convoluted lie, but that's the sort of thing that only delays the inevitable and makes it worse, making it a doubly stupid decision. So I told the truth.
"I haven't done anything outside of the freelance work today, or yesterday, or the day before."
She crossed her arms and for a moment looked quite frustrated with me.
"Follow me," she said.
Erin turned and walked away. I got up and followed her into our bedroom.
"Give me your belt."
I took my belt off and handed it to her. She folded it in half and said, "Put your hands on the bed."
I walked towards the bed, bent over, and rested my hands on it. I looked over my shoulder and saw Erin move behind me with the belt in her hand. I knew what was coming, and yet I couldn't believe it was actually going to happen.
Then it happened. She spanked me with a belt. It was eight blows in total, each more painful than the last. She didn't swing at full strength, though, so it's not like I was in tears when it was over. It did hurt though. It hurt a lot, actually.
When it was over, Erin handed me the belt and kissed me on the cheek.
"Thank you," I said softly.
She looked surprised. "For what?"
"For being willing to do that. For being willing to enforce the rules. I failed to come through on my promise and you punished me for it. I don't know if it was difficult for you, but I'm saying thank you because I'm grateful, as strange as that might sound."
She kissed me on the cheek again. "I appreciate your gratitude."
Then she walked away and started getting ready for bed. I put the belt back on and went to my office. I wrote for an hour. It was mostly nonsense, but it felt good to actually do it.
For what it's worth, the punishment worked. I kept writing. At least an hour a day on non-freelance work. My thoughts cohered a little more as the writing helped clarify what I could do well, what I enjoyed, and what I could see myself working on for the next ten years. Again, none of it was actually worth publishing, but writing bad stuff is necessary to get to the good stuff.
Massages became a part of our daily routine. Me massaging Erin, that is. I offered them. I figured she wouldn't want to have to order me to give a massage every day. After all, doesn't a good submissive anticipate the needs and desires of their dominant partner?
Most often it was a foot massage at the end of the day. We'd sit on the couch with Erin's feet in my lap and watch TV while I gave her a foot and leg rub. I would offer a longer rub sometimes, though, in part because I really like rubbing her naked body and in part because she loves a good massage.
A week after the last full body massage - and nine days after my last orgasm - I was once again rubbing Erin's naked body. I did it all. Full body. Head to toe massage on both sides. Because I was horny, I did try and make it a little more erotic. My hands moved slowly. I lingered in spots I knew would turn her on a little. I rubbed her butt a whole bunch. I let my fingers dance over her inner thighs.
The end result was that she got turned on. She had me make her cum, too, but this time it was a little different.
"Fuck me," she said roughly half an hour into the massage. "No cumming, though. Make me cum."
I was delighted. I hadn't fucked her in a few weeks. I crawled on top of her. We kissed as she guided my cock inside her. I fucked her slowly. I played with her tits. I kissed her neck. We kissed deeply.
She came quickly. No more than a few minutes. I pulled out and sat back on my knees. Erin smiled at me, sat up, and stroked my dick a little while we kissed. Then she moved to her hands and knees and I genuinely thought she was going to fuck me from behind.
"Back to work," she said before falling to her stomach. It was so fucking hot.
I resumed rubbing her. I remained naked and my dick stayed hard for most of it. She would tease my cock with her feet and hands - depending on which side of the bed I was on as I rubbed her - and she seemed to take genuine pleasure in my continued arousal.
After another half hour of rubbing her all over, Erin welcomed me into her pussy once more. This time, though, I was on my back. She climbed on top and rode me. She did so slowly, though it was just a few more minutes until she came.
When she was finished cumming, Erin lifted her hips and slid them forward. My cock fell out of her pussy and rested against my stomach as she sat across my chest.
Erin took her breasts in her hands and squeezed them. Her head rolled back and she moaned. She moved her hips a little, too, rubbing her wet pussy across my chest.
"Can I taste you?" I asked.
She opened her eyes and looked down at me. Erin lifted her hips and crawled forward until her pussy was over my face. She reached down and slipped two fingers into her wetness. Those fingers then made their way into my mouth.
"Do I taste good?" she asked as her fingers pulled free from the grasp of my lips.
"You taste incredible." I took a deep breath. "It's hot to taste you after you've been fucked." Sometimes I can't help but obliquely reference my desire to be cuckolded. Even uttering the words turns me on and she knows it. Most of the time she's just fine with it, though I've always wondered if she's annoyed with that particular desire.
"Would it be hotter if I'd just ridden someone else's cock to an orgasm?" she asked.
My whole body surged with lust. Erin rarely even hinted at cuckolding me. "Yes, that would be really fucking hot."
She rubbed her fingers over her pussy lips and clit, grasped one of her breasts, and closed her eyes.
"You'd like it if I brought another man into our bedroom? If I made you sit by the bed with your hands at your sides? If I made you watch as he fucked me, as he fucked your wife, as he satisfied me while you were forbidden from touching yourself?"
"Yes," I said as my heart raced like it had never raced before.
"And you'd like it if I sat on your face after he fucked me? If I let you taste me after another man had fucked me to multiple orgasms?"
"Yes."
"You can masturbate and cum," Erin said.
I jerked off and she sat on my face. She didn't say another word, but she didn't have to. I came almost instantly. It was incredible. I moaned into her pussy and I came so fucking hard.
She rode my face until she'd claimed a third orgasm and then rolled off of me, grabbed my underwear from the floor, and handed them to me so I could clean the cum off my stomach.
"Thank you," I said. "That was really hot."
"Thank you for the massage and the orgasms," she replied.
We shared a lingering kiss and then Erin got up, got dressed, and headed out of the bedroom. I cleaned up, got dressed, and went back to work.
The massage, the sex, the facesitting, the orgasm...they were all on my mind for the rest of the day, though, and I found myself thinking that I was willing to work incredibly hard to have more experiences like that.
I also marveled at how it felt as though things had changed considerably in the span of just a few weeks. I'd been spanked with a belt, for one. My wife had taken control of my orgasms, for another. I'd had a rare cuckold-fueled orgasm, too.
I'm not sure how things are going to play out as time goes by, but I have high hopes that these changes will be permanent, that our marriage will continue to evolve, that I'll continue to become a better, more productive man and husband, that I might even get to live out that cuckolding dream for real.
Time will tell.
