Thank you for sharing your journey!  I haven't yet arrived to the point of cleaning up my cum, but I fantasize about it when being intimate with my wife.  I've brought it up and she's responded negatively to the idea.  I notice as I'm nearing orgasm that I feel a great desire to do it, which lessens after orgasm.  I hope one day she will command me to clean her up, perhaps she would be more open if I start cleaning up if I orgasm on her body... Oral is not her favorite... Perhaps if she understands this is about reinforcing my submission to her. 

@subbyhubby I'm right there with you.  My Wife has a negative opinion of it herself.  I don't want to do it for the sake of doing it.  I want to be required to do it ... as a ritual, every time I'm allowed or ordered to ejaculate.  In other words, if she allows me to cum, I must always clean it with my mouth and consume it.  I wouldn't like doing it.  I would love being required to.

My wife and I practice discretion with honesty. We never expose third parties to our sexual preferences or practices without their explicit consent, and we do not invite or recruit others into our private dynamic. In public, what you’ll see is simple courtesy and a clear division of roles: my wife leads, and I support. If you voluntarily choose an occupation that involves you looking into what I intend to keep private inside my own underpants, I believe that your discovery of my private, and perfectly legal, choices boils down to a voluntarily-assumed occupational “hazard.”

On the other hand, we don’t go out of our way to shield third parties from the fact that the core foundation of our our personal relationship is that my wife is in charge and I support her leadership. Most folks just think of me as “pussy-whipped,” or consider that my wife “wears the pants in the family.” Last weekend, our relationship was on display, and it was noticed by a third-party.

If you follow my posts, you know that my wife and I closed on a new home in late April and have been neck‑deep in major renovations ever since. The first round of projects was so big we couldn’t even move into the house for two months. We’ve now been living in our new home, which my wife has named “Lockleigh,” since early July, but the work continues. Right now, one of the projects we are trying to complete is a total renovation of the master bathroom. Our general contractor is excellent and, as it happens, she’s also a woman.

On Saturday, she wrapped up a long day, sent the crew home, and came to us for a progress meeting. When she found us, my wife was finishing a bite in the kitchen and I was emptying the last load of wash in the adjacent laundry room. The contractor suggested we meet in the master bedroom to look at the bathroom work while we talked through punch‑list items. My wife wiped her hands, looked at the clock, and said with that calm tone that signaled the day was about to downshift, “Good timing. I’m ready to start relaxing. Would you like a glass of champagne while we meet?”

Our contractor, who had put in ten hours on a Saturday, smiled and said “Absolutely.”

My wife turned to me and said, “Honey, would you please pour Carmen and me some bubbles?” I replied, loud enough for only my wife to hear, “Of course, Mistress.” I set down the laundry basket, pulled a cold bottle of champagne from the kitchen wine chiller (installed by our contractor), popped the cork, and poured two flutes. The ladies headed upstairs toward the bedroom and I followed with the laundry basket.

We did a walk‑through of the progress in the master bath and returned to the bedroom to talk about next steps. Our contractor took a seat in an armchair and my wife reclined against the pillows on the bed. I picked up the laundry basket, dumped the clothes onto the bed, and proceeded to fold the laundry.

That was when I realized how “different” we must sometimes look to others. I caught the contractor with a quizzical look on her face. My wife was reclining on soft pillows and sipping champagne while I worked my way through a pile of towels and lingerie. No one made a joke. No one apologized. We just carried on.

About halfway through the discussion, my wife tipped back her flute and finished it. She didn’t say a word. She simply extended the empty glass toward me while continuing to talk about her preferences for the trim. I set down the panties I was folding at that moment and took her glass. I turned to the contractor and asked her if she would like a refill, too. There was a half-moment of hesitation before she said, “Yes, of course.” I took their flutes back to the kitchen to refresh them, returned to the ladies, and went back to folding the laundry.

We finished the meeting and the contractor left for the day. It was all so normal that no one even made a comment, either during or after the events.

A while ago, I said in a post that I would report back if I were ever permitted to climax inside my wife during PIV and had the chance to attempt to clean up after myself with my tongue. On Labor Day, it happened.

The morning started, as usual, with service. I made her fresh coffee with a touch of Bailey’s Irish Cream at the coffee station I built in our walk‑in closet. While I was preparing her coffee, she asked for a mimosa. I was ready because I installed a small fridge in the coffee station. When she wants something to make her life extraordinary, I don’t want her to have to wait any longer than necessary.

After serving her, I climbed back in bed with my coffee. Our weekly FLR check‑in followed. This was a serious one. She held me accountable for failing to abide by a house rule she had made: No dogs in the house for family gatherings. My son and his fiance have two dogs. One of them is young. She doesn’t have great manners and is constantly jumping on people. As a convenience to my son and his fiance, my wife had allowed me to give my son special permission to bring his dogs to the Labor Day cookout we hosted the day before; provided that they stay on their leashes and remained outdoors. After the party broke up and all the other guests were gone, my wife went off to bed. This left me with alone with my son, his fiance, and their two dogs.

We hadn’t seen the puppy in a few months and she has become much better behaved during that time. The night was getting unusually cold and my son asked if we all (including the dogs) could go inside to my man cave where it was warm. Because there were no more guests in the house and the puppy was better behaved than expected, I presumed it would be OK to bring the dogs in to my man cave. I didn’t ask my wife because I didn’t want to wake her.

Well, she heard us all come in the house and she was pissed. She didn’t say anything while the kids were still here, but she let me know how unhappy she was when I came to bed. I immediately apologized. I explained why I made the decision I did, but acknowledged that what I thought was immaterial because I had consciously disregarded one of her rules. We both went to sleep, but I knew we would revisit the topic the next morning at our check in.

Long story short, we talked it out. She accepted my apology but assigned a task: I would give her a pedicure that evening. Of course, we discussed many other things during the FLR check in. One high point was when she told me how arousing it is to drive up to our new home and see the new metal sign we installed at the front of the house. The sign bears the name she gave our home, “Lockleigh,” in proud letters and shows a heart‑handled skeleton key with her initial. She said the sight of the sign, with its barely hidden meaning is exhilarating.

The meeting was excellent and I felt truly forgiven for my transgression. I guess my apology was received as sincere because my wife was amorous by the time the meeting was over. She assumed superior position over me and kissed me passionately for at least 15 minutes. Then, instead of directing me to her pleasure, which is her usual course of action, she took me in her hand and began stroking me. She even took me into her mouth for a short while. I couldn’t tell if she was going to tease and deny or allow a release. The I realized what she was doing. She was making me hard because she wanted to mount me.

She made the decision clear by moving on top of me. She slid down and took me inside her. Very quickly she had her first orgasm. She rode through several more. Eventually, she instructed me to come with her. When I was close, I asked for permission to cum (as always). She gave it and we climaxed together. Even though I was spent, she kept going. She told me to continue thrusting and rode me to a couple more orgasms. Finally, she collapsed on my chest with her head on my shoulder. We stayed in that embrace until my penis deflated and slipped from her pussy. That is when I rolled gently to place her on her back.

Without any discussion, I immediately moved between her thighs and began what I would call a combination of cleanup and devotional service with my tongue. I dipped my tongue as deep as it would go to reach as much of my semen as I could. But as she moaned and pushed her pussy into my face, I made sure to pay due attention to her clit. She came very quickly.

Then she said, “I know you love licking me, but right now I want your fingers.” She was thoroughly clean by this point. I stopped my oral worship immediately and moved up beside her. The orgasms that followed from my fingers were so strong she actually told me was grateful for the acreage we have so that no neighbors could hear her screams. I have to tell you, the noises she makes when she cums like that are like applause to me for an excellent performance.

She didn’t mention the clean up and she certainly didn’t stop me. In fact, it is rather obvious that it really turns her on. So, now I have a new rule for myself. Whenever I am allowed to cum inside her, I will be using my tongue to clean up what I leave behind.

Sounds like a fine epiphany, and I hope you really enjoyed it all

Congratulations on such a tremendous milestone, my friend.  Looking back from the beginning of your journey together, wouldn't you say that the two of you live an incredible life?  I'd say you do.  Being owned and in service to the woman you love is something few men can say they have. Happy for you both!

Posted by: subhubphx

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Looking back from the beginning of your journey together, wouldn't you say that the two of you live an incredible life? 

Absolutely! I tell her at least three times a week,“Thank you for allowing me to live my fantasy life.“  our life is so good, I actually feel bad for other couples or missing out on what we’ve been able to build together.

My wife has decided to evolve how we use chastity.  For a long time my wife hesitated to express her dominance through male chastity.  She always said she got a wicked thrill from the idea that she would have literal physical control over my masculinity.   But, she is a compassionate person and she just couldn’t believe that it would be comfortable.  After talking about it for years, she finally said she’d like to experiment.  She has grown to really like it and iy has become the new “normal.”

In the first month, at the start of spring, she had me locked me about 30% of the time.  By the summer, I was locked about 60% of the time.  In the last month, I have been locked between 80% and 90% of the time.

But yesterday, during our regular FLR check in, she confessed to having mixed feelings.  She told me that she loves how chastity extends her control throughout the day when I am busy at work and how she knows it is a constant reminder to me of her dominance.  But, on the other hand, she told me that it interferes with her being able to tease and deny me whenever the whim overtakes her.  

I responded that I can get in and out of the device quickly, and all she has to do is say so and she can have me out or back in any time she wants.  We had a serious and extended conversation about it and in the end she came down on the side that it just interfered too much with her ability to spontaneously tease me to the edge and deny me.

She has decided that I am to put the device on every day when we get out of bed, wear it throughout the day, and remove it when I am back in her presence at the end of the day.  So, that is our new routine.  She wants to try it and see if she feels it strikes a good balance.  

Last night she took full advantage.  Apparently, she woke up about 5 o’clock this morning to use the bathroom.  I remained fast asleep.  But then I was awakened by a hand between my legs.  Without saying a word, she began stroking me.  I misunderstood.  I thought she was waking me up for our morning ritual.  I started to move to put my head between her thighs, but she called me off.  She told me that was to lay still because she wanted to play with her property.  She brought me to the edge twice, then kissed me, rolled over and went back to sleep.  The only thing I could say was to thank you for allowing me to live my fantasy.

Later, she had left for work before I was out of the shower, so I texted her.  “Would you prefer for me to wear the pink cage or the black cage today?”

“I’m feeling whimsical,” she said.  “Wear the pink Cobra.”

“Yes, Mistress.”  I placed myself in the device and finished getting dressed.  I just happened to put on a pink button-down shirt.

A few hours later, we passed each other in a hallway at work.  She stopped to give me a kiss and said with a smile, “I see you are coordinating our shirt and chastity cage today.  You look sharp!”

Love it!

We have reached my wife’s goal for so many aspects of our FLR.  I would say that outside of the bedroom, my role of servant and her role of being indulged, are so perfectly accepted and normalized, they don’t even require requests or acknowledgment.  

For example, it literally goes without saying that I make the bed every morning, do and fold all the laundry, do all the dishes, provide regular pedicures, handle all her “intimate” grooming, make her coffee every morning (serve it to her in bed on every non-work day), she controls the TV remote, she decides what and when we eat and if/where we go out to dinner.  I greet her at the door with a glass of champagne whenever she returns home.  If she makes it home before me, the first thing I do when I arrive and setting down my briefcase, is prepare her desire cocktail.  She may ask for my opinion, but she makes every decision about the renovation and decoration of our new home.  I am responsible for housekeeper and yard guys who keep out home in order on a day-to-day basis.  She leads our weekly FLR “progress meeting.”  I am generally nude from the waist down any time we are at home alone to emphasize my submission and one night per week, we have “no pants” night where she also goes naked below the waist as well to openly flaunt the core of her feminine power that dictates her dominance in our relationship.  She exercises her prerogative to do some of the cooking because she enjoys it so much.  Of course, I am responsible for cleaning what she leaves in her wake.

These things happen as automatically as the rising and setting of the sun.  There are no “pleases,” although there are occasional “thank yous.”  It is just normal.

Likewise, most everything that involves the bedroom similarly normalized.  There no question, nor is there ever any discussion, about the fact that all sex if for her pleasure.  She is entitled to 100% free use and she controls my orgasm.  I have not had an orgasm without her presence and express permission in almost 4 years.  She gets what she wants, when she wants, when she wants it.  She tells me that she has totally forgotten that the concept of reciprocation exists in sexual relationships.  It certainly doesn’t exist in ours.  If I get a release, a tease and denial, a ruined orgasm, or simply her head on my shoulder, it is solely because that is what brings her pleasure at the moment. 

The purpose of our FLR is to give my wife an extraordinary life and to help us each become the best possible versions of ourselves.  A big part of that mission to to help my wife move beyond all of conditioning imposed upon her my mother and her ex-husband that dictated that the woman was never the person with the power.  Not only was this mindset diminishing, it was stupid.  My wife is, by a considerable margin, the smartest, most competent and effective women I have ever known.  In addition, her compassion and empathy are unequalled. 

We are both explicitly committed to destroying this mindset.  But old habits die hard.  By and large, she has conquered the old mindset.   But there is one lingering effect of the conditioning that has proved resistant to change.  My wife feels a near compulsive need to work harder.  There is no doubt that she is so effective because she works so hard, but when the opportunity to work harder conflicts with her desire to claim her right to be indulged, she often feel inhibited to claim her right and succumbs to the old habit to prioritize work.

Ironically, one of the best tools she has to feel powerful in a world where so much is beyond her direct control, is to regularly reaffirm her absolute control over a huge swath of her life that most other women do possess.  Simply starting each day by recentering our relationship, reaffirming her new mindset, and recognizing her role and rights as the dominant in our FLR, arms her to face her day with more confidence and peace.

My wife likes to wake up at 6:00 in the morning on work days.  I generally get up between 7:00 and 7:30.  If left to her old habits, more often than not, she would get up with her alarm and immediately get into work mode.  With me still asleep, I was obviously not able to encourage her to recenter before the “busy-ness” of the day took hold.  As a consequence, we have agreed to add a new “normal” routine in our FLR.  We call it her morning ritual and here is how it works:  I set my alarm to go off at 5:55, five minutes before she wakes up.  I start the coffee machine in the coffee station I build for her in our walk in closet and I return to bed while the coffee brews.  A few seconds before her alarm goes off, I fold her into my warms so that she awakens in my embrace when her alarm goes off.  She may choose to cuddle or kiss for a few minutes, but then she tells me how she would like me to perform my ritual worship for the day;  mostly with my fingers, often with my tongue, occasionally by PIV.  She has as many orgasms as she desires.  She will then assume a dominant posture and embrace me.  Sometimes this progresses to a tease and denial session. By about 6:15, he coffee is ready.  So, I get up and prepare a cup to her likening and bring it back to her in bed.  She sips her coffee and browses the morning news and I go back to sleep for another hour.  The ritual never involves a release for me.  It is always 100% focused on recentering and reaffirming.

My wife reports that her overall stress level, even at the end of the day, has been slashed since we decided that I will take responsibility for initiating the ritual each morning.  Another perk is that this daily orgasm ritual increases my wife’s arousal level rather than reducing it.  It has become much more common for her to have me provide her with an additional oral service later in the day.

There is an important point to make.  This is not about me topping from the bottom.  It is about me accepting accountability for another duty/service she requires of me to support her goals of having a great life and becoming the best person she can be.

I apologize for the sloppiness of my last post.  I wrote it while having to listen to a droning report at a recent bar association meeting and did not have time to edit the post before uploading it.  I think everyone is able to decipher the poor typing and get to the intended message.  Sorry to cause such extra effort. I’ll do better in the future.

@subhubphx just wanted to update you on this journey.  Recently, my wife she's a squirter and recently after she squirted a lot, I jumped down and started cleaning her up.  It was glorious.  I made her cum again and she loved it.  Then a couple weeks later, after a couple of attempts I asked her to demand that I clean her up, that "I clean up the mess I made."  I finally got over the hump as did she.  She started talking to me as I was doing it, "clean up the mess you made."  'Lick it clean."  It was hot.  I think about this almost every time now.  I'm sure we will incorporate it more and what will be hot is to bring her to another orgasm as I do. It's all about her after all.