The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

Kinky and filthy things that have happened to us, all explicitly told

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Free Use 2.0 (Part One)

15 July 2026 / / 1 Comment

I don’t think any of the five women had come down from our weekend of sex, of submission, of our first ownership by our second husbands and of our collective taking of Helen. To be honest, the men hadn’t either. They were rampant all week, they used us way more than usual, and we were all so up for it. And Helen, she’d been fucked so much that week, she’d barely got anything else done. Welcome to the future Helen!

But from this night, the new Free-Use arrangements would be complete. The whole new free-use community were gathered in our lounge. Eight men, seven women. The men were still fully clothed. Ella had her slutty waitress outfit on, in her full tits out, short skirted, pantyless, fishnet stockinged glory, and she was already busy giving drinks out. The rest of the women were in our Roman Togas, our left tits on display, our right covered up. There was no ceremony in removing our coats, revealing our first tit each, although Poppy’s tit was obviously exciting and was the centre of visual attention, but left untouched for the moment. That would change soon enough.

It was the party to celebrate two years of free-use, and now the extension with the new rules. Free-Use 2.0

There wasn’t an unexcited person in the house. The air was full of anticipation, of hype, and of promise. My husband was Master of Ceremonies, and explained that each woman would be strapped into our gyne chair for an intimate examination from the free-use community, male and female. The new women would be examined by every member, male and female, including measurements of their cunts, asses and tits as the four original free-use women had at the beginning of our free-use adventure. The new men would also get to examine the four original free-use women. Each inspection could only be for a few minutes, as there were a lot of inspections to do, but it was the perfect way to start the future, as it was so very revealing and enormously exposing.

We drew lots to work out the order of our examinations, and Ella went first. Probably sensible, as our husbands could set the pace with her examination and the new men could follow at the end.

The rest of the women would have our togas removed by one of the men, Ella (as her tits were both out already) would merely have her tiny skirt flipped up to reveal her cunt. Then all of us would have our tits worked by the same man, our tits would be groped, squeezed, pulled, twisted, stretched and generally manhandled. My husband did a sterling job on Ella’s magnificent tits. The postman did similar with mine. After our tits were sufficiently abused, the examinations would begin.

The examination was invasive, clinical. Inspections, insertions, stretchings, all to prepare us for a measurement. Ruler inserted into the cunt to measure depth, cunt lips measured as they are and then stretched to the point of pain to get further measurements. The diameter of nipples and areolae measured in a natural state, then worked by a monster mains-powered wand to peak arousal for more measuring. Clit diameter and length measured in its natural state, and then the same brutal wand making it as big and hard as possible for more measurements. Inflatable butt plug, inflated until she could take no more, used to measure her asshole. And many more measurements of her tits, cunt and ass.

As part of each measurement, photos are taken and each man will have them on a secret app, an app that syncs all their photos of us to all the men. For pure photo purposes, a speculum with wide outside flaps was used to display her pisshole and a metal sound used to push just inside, and then a different sort of speculum, longer, deeper was used to display her cervix and the same metal sound used to push just inside that too. So invasive, so demeaning.

They have hundreds of pictures of each of us original four, spanked asses, penetrated asses, penetrated cunts, sloppy blow jobs, gagging blow jobs, make-up ruined, you name it. That app holds our shame, those photos are our shame, and these new ones would be added. I’ll be honest, I don’t much like the photos, but the men want them, so they get them.

And when all the measurements were completed, when all the men had inspected her, Ella was masturbated until she came. Clinical. Unfeeling. Unemotional.

Rose and I went next, Helen followed, and then Anna and Tanya. Helen was inspected like Ella, the other four just had the new people inspect and a clinical orgasm.

That left Poppy. In some ways, that was pleasing, and her inspection was also like Ella and Helen, although she was forced to have two clinical orgasms one after the other. I have no idea why.

Despite being such an old friend, Rose had never seen Poppy fuck before, not even seen her cum before. She was probably the one friend Rose had never masturbated with. To be honest, she had little idea about her sex life at all, and yet here she was, offering to fuck Rose’s husband while she was away, and now about to take cock after cock like a fuck weary slut. Sometimes, even old friends surprise each other.

Next, as he had with Helen and her husband, my husband made all the new members verbally consent to free-use now and for the future, a consent given with witnesses. All did so willingly. One could tell from the tenting trousers on the men that they were ready to go.

Men would be chosen at random to fuck, until all eight women had fucked, then they’d start again. The women were already placed in sequence, Ella, Helen, one of the original four, Poppy, and then round again. No man could fuck his wife, or his second wife, so if they were drawn, they’d go back in the pot. I know my husband wanted Poppy, and I know he really wanted her asshole first, as he always does with new women.

I was on the second cycle, and of course, I drew my husband, so he went back and I ended up with the farm hand. I just looked at him and told him to breed me. He had a glint in his eye as he spun me round, bent me over the arm of the settee and masturbated me for a couple of minutes. He was rough, unfeeling, business-like. He then lent in past me, grabbed a hanging tit in each hand and started milking them, squeezing and elongating the nipple whilst squeezing the flesh to get milk out. Of course, there was no milk to get out (much to my sadness), but he milked my flabby hanging tits for all they were worth. Once he felt I’d been milked enough (and by that, I meant he ignored my comments about tender nipples and carried on until he was good and ready), he lined up behind me and just pushed his hard chubby cock in through my cunt lips and then slammed in hard. He was young. He had energy, stamina and power, and he just slammed me like an animal, pulling me into the right position, slapping my ass if I was even a millimetre away from where he wanted me, hauling my body to be in the perfect place for a deep penetration, pounding over and over with hard rhythmic slams. There was no finesse, no love. This was breeding, at its cold, harsh, business-like best. What made it even more electric for me, what made me even more kinky for me was the way he was talking the crowd through the breeding process like I wasn’t capable of understanding, like I was Buttercup a prized cow, the indignity of the discussion, the clinicalness of the breeding and his offhand demeanour just made the breeding so much more intense, so perfectly orgasmic. And of course, I came and he carried on breeding me, explaining how one orgasm was necessary before he planted his seed, before he impregnated me. Oh my god, the language, turning a decent fuck into an amazing fuck. And as soon as he came, he pulled out and explained how the prize cow needs to be left there for his cum to work it’s magic, and so I was left, bent over the sofa arm, legs spread, cunt gaping slightly, my breeding all but complete.

And there I stayed until my husband was drawn again, this time he was drawn last, this time he got Poppy. And as Tanya’s husband had used Poppy’s cunt the first time round, my husband took advantage of that situation to pull out the lube and announce to Poppy that her asshole would be his, would be filled by his hard cock, would be filled by his thick creamy cum. She looked very slightly scared as he bent her over the kitchen work surface and started lubing her asshole, but she knew that if she wanted to replace Rose properly, she’d have to take all their cocks in her asshole, and soon, and she was excited about that overuse prospect, so now was as good a time as ever.

How Quickly Helen Took To Free-Use (Part One)

1 May 2026 / / 2 Comments

Here we were, five free-use couples loaded in a mini-van, for a three hour trip to a remote cottage. As yet, Helen and her husband had not taken part in any free-use. This trip was the start, this trip would change them forever, particularly Helen. Free-use has fundamentally changed all of us women, and the men to some degree. She was next.

Her life had already changed a little. Ever since the day after they agreed to join, Helen’s husband has been giving her Submissive Sodomy, that deep penetrating anal where the woman is not allowed to cum. In fact, on a few days, he’s given it to her twice, one first thing, one mid-afternoon. “Because she needed it.” Whilst she disagreed at the time, she later accepted that he was probably right, and she vowed to take as much Submissive Sodomy as any of the men wanted to give her. She might regret saying that.

She had also lost her panties, her husband distributing them between the free-use men, to get the men hyped up and wanting to fuck her, and to make sure she wasn’t able to wear them again. Like the four existing women, pantyless was expected, was required, was normal. Like the four existing women, her panties would end up being mostly sold.

In the mini-van on the way, the women got all handsy and kissy with the other women, each one of us taking the opportunity to get a first passionate snog with Helen, to grope those magnificent tits and to tease by touching her cunt, aided by her pantyless state. She was enjoying the attention, and she knew, when we got to the cottage, that she’d have all five cocks soon enough.

We all knew this weekend would be hard for her. She would be going from a fuck or two a day from her husband, to a load of cock over and over. As she was the new girl, she’d be centre of attention for everybody, and so whilst the rest of us would get ourselves fucked, she would have by far the most, she would have to endure more sex than she’d ever had over a short period. And she was so up for it. I was first to touch her cunt and it was dripping already. She would so fit right in!

The cottage was wonderful, beautiful both inside and out, remote with no other property in sight, with the nearest road so far away you could barely see the building from it, let alone that there may be naked people fucking outside it, isolated enough we could fuck outside without care or worry, and we would be fucking outside it, we women would be mostly naked when we were there, we would absolutely make the most of the isolation, and as there were five couples and only two double beds, we’d be sharing beds as well as husbands and wives.

When we arrived, we unloaded the van and then took Helen straight onto the patio. We stripped her of her sun dress and had first sight of her wonderful dripping cunt. She was immaculately waxed, freshly done the night before, and after this weekend, my husband would take over waxing duties for her, the lady she has waxing her now is about to leave the area, so the timing was perfect for her.

Her bra was removed, revealing those gorgeous swinging 38H tits, increased in size over the years by having two children, and she was rotated to allow a good view of her ass, she was bent over to accentuate her ass and open her cunt a little between her legs, there for long enough for everyone to take a look. She was then arranged face up on a padded wicker chair, with her legs spread over the arms, bringing her cunt to the fore and even opening it a little for the crowd. She was in this position when my husband formally welcomed them to the free-use lifestyle and asked, for the record, whether they each gave consent for what was about to happen, both now and into the future. They did, eagerly did, and with that, each of the men, including her husband, inspected her cunt, ass and tits, a close precise gentle examination of the new piece of meat they had acquired. All of us women had such an examination, and periodically do again, but the men (including her husband) discussing her cunt, ass and tits as if she wasn’t there, was quite demeaning, and quite exciting for her.

They noted how wet her cunt was already, and it had barely been touched, and her husband said her clit was quite swollen, unusually so.

And with that, without moving Helen from her exposed position, her second husband, Tanya’s husband, got his cock out and fed it into her mouth, where she eagerly put her hands to it, one round his shaft, one squeezing his balls, her mouth being mega slurpy as she eagerly got him hard.

He withdrew when he was hard enough, her mouth briefly staying an empty O shape, but he soon lined up with her cunt (with the aid of a chair cushion or two) and just drove his cock into her slick cunt. She reared up, returning back to position to find another cock by her mouth. She opened wide and eagerly took that, and Anna and I roughly grabbed a tit each and started working it, whilst I looked Helen right in the eyes (when she wasn’t doing eye contact with Rose’s husband, whose cock she was sucking), and with a smile, I just said “Welcome to free-use, you slut”. She sort of smiled, best she could do with a mouth still full of cock.

Rose’s husband eventually removed his hard cock from her mouth, and he came and grabbed me, spun me round and bent me over, opening my legs just enough to put his hard cock between them and into my cunt and started slowly fucking, just as Tanya’s husband was, and one by one, the rest of the men’s cocks were made hard by Helen’s mouth, and then penetrated the cunts of their second wives.

After about twenty minutes of slow penetration, the men, talking to each other to synchronise their efforts, all changed position and accelerated, making sure each of us women were brought to orgasm at roughly the same time, and because they made us wait, because they edged us all, the orgasms were massive each time, a combination of fucking outdoors, the visuals of group fucking and of Helen’s examination, the new couple taking part in the fucking, and the excitement in the air.

And after the women came, and came again, the men came, each one nearly pulling out to deposit their loads of sticky cum just inside their cunts and then each actual wife was fed the cock of their husband, each wife tasting the cunt of the second wife on the cocks in their mouths. (I think we all knew that would be a regular occurrence from now on.) Helen got her first taste of Rose’s cunt. Off her husband’s cock. And it tasted divine, she couldn’t wait to taste it herself.

And Helen knew what cum being so shallow in her cunt meant, that she, like the rest of us, would be having cum sliding out of her cunt all through dinner. The restaurant was booked, Helen just threw her outer clothes on (the rest of us were fucked in our clothes), and smelling of sex, with dripping sloppy cunts, we left for food.

My Tits as a Reward, My Mouth Helps Out

21 March 2026 / / 3 Comments

My phone started ringing, and I picked it up and looked at it. It was my husband, and I answered it with a cheery greeting. He asked what I was up to. “I’m with the postman.” He knew what that meant.

If a normal couple want to give the postman a Christmas box, a thanks for a good year of service, they’d give them some cash, or some beers. Not my husband. He offered my tits, for our postman to look at and grope, to maul for his pleasure. All he needed to say was “I’ve got something for you to sign for”, and I’d let him in. Ideally, my husband wanted me to answer the door to him topless anyway, but if I wasn’t, I was to be very quickly after he came in.

I wasn’t sure he would use my tits in any way, but he bloody did, and my husband gave me specific instructions: I was to stand or sit exactly as he required, with a smile on my face and my hands behind my head unless told otherwise and let him to whatever he wanted to my tits, no questions asked.

There is a certain surreal quality about this man I barely know, who I answered the door to with my tits out, grabbing my tits and working them hard. He wasn’t there for long each time, but I certainly felt his manhandling of my tits long after he left.

So, he got his reward, and I got a bit of non-penetrative free-use. This was shortly after I realised that I didn’t just like submissive things, that I was a proper sub. I think it was my husband proving I was a proper sub, although I’m not sure who he was proving it to, him or me.

I didn’t know he was going to offer my tits, and in fact, neither did my husband. It was very spur of the moment. On the fateful day, I was topless but out of sight and my husband answered the door to the postie. And then, he invited him in!

So, all of a sudden, he could see me, naked 34H tits, which I knew better than to try to hide. I styled it out, not showing anything other than happy acceptance of the situation (which was actually true). I saw my husband’s smile as I carried on a perfectly normal conversation, just with my tits swinging as I moved. I saw the postie’s face too, less smile and more lust and it pleased me very much. I think my husband saw both the postie’s reaction and my joy and excitement, and that’s why he offered him access to my tits.

I put my hands behind my head, which made my tits stick out and he roughly grasped them, one in each hand, and gave them a good squeeze and twist. I moaned, a good moan, an encouraging moan, and he realised, mauling them, groping them, pulling at them, first working the fleshy part of my tits, before focussing on pulling, twisting and tweaking my nipples. He was rough with them. My husband saw and encouraged him, and I, being a good girl, a model sub, just let him do as he wanted with a cheery smile and some verbal encouragement.

And that was the first of many. More delivery days than not, he came in and mauled my tits. As if each time would be the last. On the odd occasions my husband was there, with me, whilst this man owned my tits, he could see how much the postman loved it, which I think is the reason he offered the postie the chance to use his mouth on my tits, again, whichever way he chose.

I can honestly say the hand mauling didn’t reduce in time, he loved that too much, but he added more time to get on his knees and lick and suck on my tits, virtually inhaling the nipples in, the same sloppy or dry choice I offer when giving blow jobs, and as a closing treat, my husband suggested the postie bury his face in between my tits and encouraged me to push them round his face, to squeeze them into his face.

And still, to this day, 4 months after the initial offer, he enjoys my tits at least three times a week, and I enjoy him loving them, I get a kick out of the simple pleasure he gets out of them.

That postie wasn’t the only one my husband got me to service unexpectedly. There was a work colleague, round to work on a project, and they took a break, giving their brains a chance to rest in amidst hard and long thinking. This time, my husband did give me a few hours warning. Before the colleague got to the house, my husband discussed my part in the day. I was to be topless all day, I was to serve them drinks and some lunch, if he touched or groped me, I was to let him (and he knew I’d enjoy it), and the final part, I might be asked to drain this man’s balls. Apparently, they hadn’t been drained for weeks and he was getting chippy at work. My husband connected the two.

But also, my husband realised I needed more cock in my mouth, and whilst the free-use men all used our mouths to warm up, very few times did they stay the distance and actually cum in our mouths, all preferring the lower holes to deposit their load. I wanted more cock in my mouth, I wanted to swallow more cum (good for the protein and vitamins apparently), I wanted more coatings of cum on my face (better than face cream apparently), and yes, he knew I’d even let someone get cum in my eye, up my nose or in my hair. I needed it that much, I needed to slut myself up a bit.

Before I admitted I was truly his sub, he would never have asked me to service anyone like that, but now I’m his to do with as he pleases, he could ask me to do something with someone new, and as I want to please him, I’ll do my best, each and every time. He knows I get a sub thrill from being asked to do this kind of stuff. Servicing random people really wasn’t me, but my sub side understands this is how it is now, and I’m rather enjoying being put on the sexual spot. That and this kind of sub service fills a gap I’m not naturally getting through the free-use.

So, I did the topless hostess thing, which is totally natural to me now, and other than the colleague ogling my swinging tits, nothing happened until lunch. As well as the food, they both ordered drinks, and then my husband added that his colleague needed a nice, long blow job as dessert, that he needed his balls emptying after weeks of them being ignored. I smiled, nodded and said “Of course.”, just grabbing his cock, circling it with my fingers and then pumping it a couple of times, before getting up to get their food.

Now I knew this man a bit, he was nice, so my husband was happy enough to share my mouth with him. And boy, did I go to town. With tits swinging, I gave him the longest, most teasing, tantalising, sloppy blow job I could manage.

At one point near the end, my husband crouched behind me and put his hand up my skirt, masturbating me to keep me going, to encourage me to finish him off, and the sight of me being wanked whilst sucking on his colleague’s cock made the colleague a lot closer to cumming.

Amidst the distracting masturbation, I got his cock so very hard, whilst squeezing and manipulating his balls, and when he did start to cum, I pulled his cock back, so only about half of it was in my mouth, and I almost kneaded his balls, extracting every single drop of his cum that I could get.

Once he was empty, totally drained, I leant back on my heels and sat, open mouthed, with a mouth full of creamy sticky cum, awaiting final instructions. My husband told me to spit about half of it out onto my tits for his colleague to lick off, and to swallow the rest, in one gulp and show my empty mouth afterwards. Once I had swallowed his cum, and he was making progress clearing my tits with his mouth (going back to clear my nipples of cum over and over, even though they hadn’t had any cum on them), my husband told me I was a “Good Girl”, and stroked my hair. I love that, I feel so proud when he says that, every time I go to jelly when he says that and he saw the love in my eyes as he played with my hair. My tits were still being cleared of cum, but I was so pleased. I felt like a proper sub.

When my tits were clear, the colleague grabbed each of my tits in a hand, squeezed them, and said thank you and how much he needed to be drained. I said he was welcome, any time, and I meant it. It is lovely to be appreciated.

As they left to go back upstairs to start work again, I heard my husband tell his colleague that I meant it, that my mouth was available whenever he needed it, and then, as they got further away, I heard him say my other holes are even better, but what I needed from him most was blow jobs. Even so, I had a feeling one day he’d get to try my other holes out.

The Sexualisation of Normal

14 March 2026 / / 4 Comments

I haven’t written that much about our free-use lifestyle, other than the big sessions, the parties. But free-use is my daily reality. Over the course of any given day, I’ll probably have sex with three different men, I’ll orgasm at least four times, at least once from anal, and aside from that, my cunt, ass and tits will be displayed and viewed, I’ll be groped and mauled, I’ll kiss loads, I’ll have cock in my mouth, all on their whim, on their timetable, and the result is that I am kept on a sexual high all day.

On Fridays, because I’m the only one of the four women who is available during the day (and the men are normally on end of week work from home days), I get much more free-use than that. All four men normally fuck me twice each, I’ll cum at least eight times, I’ll probably have anal four times and vaginal four times and then add all the other stuff in too. And that’s before I get to the pub to be fucked into the night by Carla.

Fridays are an ordeal. Fridays are a struggle. Fridays are so tiring, such hard work. Fridays are my favourite day of the week.

To really emphasise the use aspect, the men like us to carry on with what we are doing whilst they use us. Holding a conversation is hard, and quite often, if there are two or more women there, they’ll wait until we are deep in conversation, then someone will start fucking each of us. Two people whose thought patterns are being interrupted hold hilarious conversations, but we have to carry on. It is the epitome of free-use.

And I have to say that the fact that we can’t talk about the sex or anything free-use, while it’s happening or afterwards, is really quite hard. It just has to happen, unspoken, unmentioned.

I’ll quite often be cooking, and they’ll bend me over the kitchen work surface and fuck or masturbate me, whilst expecting me to carry on with the actual cooking. That’s not too hard perversely, just don’t try to follow a recipe. Being fucked whilst reading is hard, and I’ll probably have to go back and re-read those pages. Watching TV is fine, although I’ll miss bits. He’s taken to cradling me and masturbating me all the time I’m watching TV, not trying to make me cum, but if I do, he just ignores it and carries on.

This is one of the big parts of free-use for me: the sexualisation of normal. They fuck me whilst I do normal things, like converse, write, type, cook. I get fucked doing things other people do not get fucked doing.

I think the conversation fucks are the most incredible. Making me feel both important and valued in what is said and a sexual object at the same time, valued and subjugated at the same time. To make one feel both valued and cheap in that moment is quite the gift. That normal people can have a conversation without being fucked, and often I can’t, really keeps me deep down submissive. That I can’t watch the TV without being masturbated really keeps me deep down submissive.

That and almost always being topless, pantyless and wearing a very short skirt at home, so that I am not only available for use, but often visible and displayed, expected to be visible and displayed, proud and yet a constant reminder of what I am, a reminder to all us free-use women what we are.

The no panties thing I did years ago, to give him better access to my cunt at all times. The topless and short skirts at home is more recent, as we free-use women got more submissive. It is our version of a typical slave statue display, and allowing our usually hidden body parts to be displayed, consumed by the free-use men, it is itself part of the free-use. If the people in the room are in on the free-use, us women have to sit, legs wide, skirt up and not in any way hide our tits or cunt. We are to be consumed with their eyes, before being consumed in other ways. It adds to our subservient feelings, and is part of keeping us women on a sexual high.

I’m not allowed to adjust my clothes otherwise. If someone (for example) lifts my skirt up to display my ass, I’m not allowed to pull it down again, unless someone tells me to (or someone or gravity does it for me). If I’m clothed, I’m not allowed to get a tit out, but someone else can. My state of dress (or indeed undress) is totally controlled by others. It’s strangely freeing.

As well as not wearing panties, I haven’t covered my cunt for 8 1/4 years. So, no trousers / leggings / tights. I wear stockings and suspenders and skirts / dresses. (There are two exceptions, swimming (although we go to nudist swimming events as much as possible), and the odd sex act (like panty wetting, but that is as he requires and is for our mutual pleasure)).

Bras are a different matter. I have big tits. UK bra size 34H, US 34K. Until recently, I always insisted on wearing a bra to keep them in check. But I’m a sub now, and I’ve known for the longest time that he’d prefer I didn’t wear one most of the time. I wanted him to take ownership of me, and one of the consequences of that was to deal with bras. I now won’t wear one, unless he wants me to.

It feels a lot more sexual to me, going round without a bra, having them swing around and having my nipples show so much, visible and protruding under a blouse. On the odd occasions I do wear a bra, the bra will be one of the quarter cup ones I’ve had custom-made (as manufacturers don’t make them for my cup size), so even if I’m wearing a bra, my nipples are often visible. And my nipples react very strongly to rubbing on clothes, so they are now constantly enormous, hard and proud. It’s all a part of keeping me sexually aroused.

It’s a big change to not wear a bra at times, a massive change, like my massive tits, and being topless round the home and going out mostly not wearing a bra is new to me. And I very soon realised that attention I’d get with mammoth unleashed tits and nipples the size of bedknobs was plentiful and exciting. My husband has all my old bras locked away, like my remaining panties, and I have extremely large, slightly painful, very noticeable, massive nipples for my trouble. And my husband has been pointing out how magnificent a nipple piercing would look displayed on a massive nipple with a thin layer of fabric stretched over it.

I have done and continue to do exercises to strengthen my back, to allow me to maintain better posture with my tits unsupported for extended periods of time, and I wish I’d done them years ago. I used to believe locking up my tits was the right thing to do, but the free swinging and snapping of my tits, the slight pain in the flesh caused by a day of being unsupported, is wonderful. It sounds perverse, but I love it so much, and of course, I can’t hold on to them, can’t hide them, so gravity does its worst on them all day every day.

Honestly, I am truly happy when I go to bed with throbbing tits, a stinging ass, an aching jaw and a messy cunt where cum is sliding out of it. I am in total heaven when that happens, especially all that with him spooning me with a semi-hard cock residing in my ass crack and a hand firmly gripping a tit.

My friend Shae mentioned (on her blog slaveshae.wordpress.com) that our free-use is not a dom-sub arrangement, more of a free-use kind of polycule. It’s a fairly accurate description. When the penny first dropped about my being a full-time sub, I really struggled, precisely because it doesn’t fit within a standard dom-sub arrangement. I tried to crowbar it in, I went round and round in circles. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is a dom, he is gentle, steady sort of dom, born out of being a natural manager, but nevertheless, he has pulled all these little sub things I used to do into one, and he is very much in control of me, and that is exactly what I want, a warm hugging blanket, built on trust, with a man I would walk to the ends of the earth for, but a man who totally looks after me, a man who has my back, has my best interests at heart and a man totally comfortable with using his property however he wants. It feels pretty perfect right now.

But the rest of the free-use men are different. I liked Shae’s use of the word “culture”. The men have rights to us, to use us, to look, grope, fuck, whatever, one, two, however many at a time. I’m sure they are being a bit dommy when they take us, but I’ve talked to them, and they feel more like they are just taking what is theirs, usage by rule, and we have an expectation to be used that they have to live up to.

It’s the women that have been most affected. All four of us are very subby now, and that’s quite a surprise. We are all fairly strong women otherwise, businesswomen, entrepreneurs, good positive female role models. And yet, with the flick of a switch, we’re back being hugely subby, eager to sexually please. Switching between those roles is a bit of a head fuck to be honest. I have the journey home to switch into the correct mindset, and as soon as I get through the door, I have to switch into the correct clothing arrangement to finish the job.

And the other three women are on the same path, at some point along the journey. Even the one that was resistant to being subby has conceded that’s what she is and is embracing it. We didn’t expect that. That’s why I think this is permanent for all of us now. I really can’t see how any of us can back out of this.

We women are not lower in status because of the free-use. We are still equal partners, still equal friends, still valued, still important, still with the same status we always had. It’s just that certain things we’ve signed over to others. Doesn’t lower our status, just changes our mindset and behaviour.

The sex, the control, the masturbation, the display, the relentlessness, the orgasms, the clothes, the penetrations, the carrying on what we are doing is all a part of the free-use experience. The more we’ve done it, the more things like display and masturbation we’ve added in to something that at the start was mostly about penetration, the more overwhelming and all-encompassing it has become, the more intense our experience is. The men have completely sexualised normal.

And we are about to make our free-use bigger and more intense, more sexual. And every single one of the women can hardly wait.

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