How Cruel Aisha Chastises Her Husband

When I told the man ? I?ll call him Philip ? who became my partner and, subsequently, my husband what I needed from a relationship it changed my life. Even now, over ten years later, I still think about it, and I recently wrote it as a story on this site (?Cruel Aisha find her perfect partner?)I wrote it from Philip?s point of view, and in the light of how I now know he sees it. It?s basically a true account, except that what I present in the story as having been a single conversation on one night happened, in reality, over the course of several conversations. And of course, I?ve edited it make it more readable than a verbatim account would be.Also, because I wrote it from Philip?s point of view, it doesn?t really give much sense of what it meant for me. So now I?m going to try to explain that by telling what led up to those conversations.As explained in the earlier story, Philip and I met when we were mature students at a university in the north of England. I?d guessed that Philip was falling for me, and that sooner or later he would try to initiate a sexual relationship. I was also falling for him, in that I really enjoyed his company and he was the kind of man I could imagine sharing ordinary, everyday things with ? as, indeed, we had begun to do, albeit as friends.But I knew it had no future as a ?romantic? relationship because of what I already knew about my sexual needs and desires. So I?d already decided that, when he did make his move, I?d try to explain to him exactly what kind of relationship I would want. There was a small part of me that hoped he would want what I wanted, but I didn?t think it was remotely likely.What maybe doesn?t come across in the previous story is how deeply I wanted such a relationship, or how risky it felt telling Philip about it. I was really scared he would be totally appalled, though I had also sensed from some things he had said about his previous relationships that he might not be. In particular, he?d hinted that he hadn?t been able to sexually satisfy his previous girlfriends, and also I?d had the impression that he?d been turned on by the jealousy caused by one of them having cheated on him.Still, that was very different to him wanting what I wanted or, more accurately, needed. To explain that, I need to go back to long before I met Philip, by which time I was twenty-five.From the time I became sexually mature, I was excited by the idea of exerting power over men. When I was at sixth form college, I used to get a huge thrill from flashing a bit of cleavage or a glimpse of my stockings and panties ? yes, I really did wear stockings ? at older men, to see them get all worked up.They were usually friends of my parents, or men I met at the drama group I belonged to, or, on one occasion, a teacher at college. Quite a few times, I egged them on to take their sex hikaye penises out, only to say that they weren?t big enough for me. It was just a game, in a way, but it was also how I really felt.It made me feel good to know that these men would do what I told them, and even better to put them down and send them back to their dreary little wives, frustrated by my refusal to take things further. One of them, a colleague of my dad?s, even went on his knees and literally begged me to wank him off, but I pretended to be disgusted which, in a way, I was. But I did let him lick and kiss my shoes, whilst calling me ?Princess Aisha?.The ?Princess Aisha? thing was part of another aspect of all this, which was the way I knew men got excited by me being mixed-race and, in their eyes, exotic. To me, it was just the way I was, but I learnt early on that it gave me a special mystique, a special power over a lot of men.Then, one time, I did the same teasing thing ? it was with a guy from drama group - and his cock was huge. That was the first time I ever gave a man a blow job, and received a facial. In fact, he came all over my face and my blouse and skirt, and I had to wash them so that my mum wouldn?t find out. I masturbated for months afterwards, just remembering it. I also developed a fantasy about him spanking me for being a naughty little cock tease, though it never happened in reality I?m sorry to say.I didn?t consciously know it at the time ? although, looking back, I must have been aware of it at some level ? but my mother cheated on my father. The story of how I later found that out is another one, which I may write in the future, but the point is that, again from the time I was at college, I began to have fantasies about cheating on an imaginary boyfriend or husband and telling them about it to make them jealous.I don?t suppose I thought in terms of ?cuckolding? then, as I didn?t know the term or, if I did, wasn?t aware of it being a specific kind of sexual fetish.At the same time, I was developing intellectually and, in particular, I was becoming a very committed, and quite radical, feminist. I saw, and still see, traditional marriage as central to patriarchy. It is the means by which female sexuality becomes her husband?s property via a marriage contract. There?s much more that I could say about that, but I don?t suppose anyone is reading this story for a lecture on feminist theory. Even so, feminism is part and parcel of my sexuality.The important point is that my growing sexual desire to humiliate and cuckold men, and my intellectual and political desire for non-patriarchal marriage came together.This also meant that the cuckolding and cuckold humiliation porn that was starting to appear on the internet, and which I read almost obsessively, didn?t entirely appeal to me. There seks hikaye were exceptions, but it almost all seemed to be about satisfying male fantasies, on male terms. I also noticed that very little of this cuckolding porn was written by women.In most of the cuck porn, the cuckolding wife, or ?hotwife?, was really only acting out her husband?s fantasies, whilst usually promising him that he remained her true love. It was as if she was a porn actress, and he was the film director. In short, it was all about his desires, and very little about her sexual agency. And of course most of the stories were obviously, literally, made-up stories rather than things that had actually happened.This also meant that, even if some of the stories were true, what they described was, in important ways, a fake from my perspective. It didn?t usually have an emotional dimension, because it was all about the act of sex and not its meaning. Yet the reason why ?real? cuckolding hurts the man is because he feels jealous and scared, and that he has lost control of his wife. But what most cuckolding porn presents is a picture of the man orchestrating his wife?s infidelity and, in that way, taking away his fear of her infidelity by controlling it.[I plan to write more about this soon, because since I have been on this site lots of men message me to ask about how to get their wives to cuckold them. But, for now, I?ll continue with my story.]Although I continued to read and watch cuckolding porn, because occasionally I came across things that really spoke to me, I came to the conclusion that, in real life, the men who fantasize about it, or even practice it, didn?t really want the kind of thing I wanted. What I wanted was a relationship which, whilst close and loving in some ways, gave me complete power over my husband?s sexual conduct and complete freedom over my own.Alongside all this, I was becoming more and more fascinated by what I would now call chastisement. By that I mean not just teasing and humiliating men, but punishing them physically. Specifically, punishing them for their lechery towards women or, in feminist terms, for their ?objectifying gaze?. I found it a politically pleasing idea, but also a sexually exciting one.To avoid any misunderstanding, what I mean by that is that I got wet thinking about spanking men, and masturbated thinking about spanking men.Yet I was also aware that I was sexually excited by the idea of, myself, being physically chastised by men. I had first been aware of that when, as I?ve mentioned, I fantasized about being spanked for being a cock tease by the man I gave my first blow job to.I struggled to reconcile this with my feminism, but in time came to think that it was part of the expression of my sexuality as a woman, a sexuality with a wide scope, none of which I needed to feel ashamed of.Crucially, I came to see that, if I were to have a husband or partner, then I could not be spanked by him, or even have sexual intercourse with him, without our relationship being patriarchal. But I should also be free to express my sexuality, including its submissive elements, and so would do that outside of my partnership or marriage.All this had begun to take shape in my head by the time I left college, aged eighteen, though it still wasn?t fully developed. But what it meant in practice was another matter. I hadn?t, in any case, had much chance to put anything into practice, other than the cock teasing I?ve described.I had gone out with some boys towards the end of college, and had sex with a couple of them, but it didn?t amount to much and I knew that none of them was what I was looking for. Not that it mattered, because at that age, like most girls, I wasn?t looking to ?settle down?. Still, I sometimes worried about whether I was ever going to have a serious relationship that gave me what I was starting to realize I needed.Rather than go to university, as most of my friends did, I started working in arts journalism and, immediately, had men coming on to me. As most halfway attractive women know, we experience a tidal wave of lechery. Men comment on us in the street, leer at us, and proposition us at work. It just never stops. It literally never stops.I was disgusted by its crudeness and its implicit misogyny, in the sense of a constant assumption that women were available and its total objectification of women. These men weren?t interested in me, in any meaningful way, simply in my body. It was as if women were sex dolls, but with better functionality.Yet I also reveled in the power it gave me. Initially, I was still in the same mode whereby my greatest pleasure was cock teasing. So I deliberately wore skimpy and revealing clothes to work. Nothing too obvious or inappropriate, but I just made sure my bra was visible through my blouse, or that my blouse was unbuttoned to show some cleavage. Sometimes I wore almost indecently short skirts, or longer skirts that were slit to the thigh.I frequently accepted invitations from men to have lunch or dinner with them. They were almost always older than me, and often married. I knew what they really wanted, of course. Sometimes they lost their nerve, but most of them ended up propositioning me. Typically, they would ask me to go to a hotel bedroom and I often accepted.Occasionally, I?d have sex with them, if I liked them and they had a big enough cock, but more often I?d do my old trick of telling them their cock was too small for me, and go off leaving them frustrated.I also had a new trick, which had come from my reading of porn. I?d come across the idea of a ?ruined orgasm?, where the woman wanked the man until the last moment and then took her hand away, leaving his cock twitching in the air and dribbling cum. I really loved doing that, more than almost anything else, and in fact I still do.