I adjusted the harness but it slipped again, one second after the moment my husband took the silicone dildo into his mouth. He was smiling, as though this was not a soul crushing experience for me, so I pressed the heel of my foot tighter against his balls until the smile turned back into a twist of pain. There, that matched my feelings.

My hands found the buckle of the hot, leather straps and pulled them up again, twisting my body to maintain a good angle while my feet still maintained purchase on my husband’s balls. I believe he tried to say something, but it came out as spit and sobs as my hips lifted the dildo further into the back of his throat. In this position, I could see the bedroom door was slightly ajar. I moved my foot to my husband’s shoulder and roughly kicked him away from my plastic dick. He fell back and began coughing, but I gave him no time to recover. Instead, I kicked his shoulder again and barked for him to go close and lock the door. I threw in “pathetic loser” at the end, because he seemed to like it. It didn’t do much for me, but the lighting-up of his eyes did.

I watched the love of my life crawl on bruised hands and knees over to the door, and jerked off the dildo while I did. It was slick with the juices of his throat. I could feel it sticky on my hand, and wished so badly that I could feel it on my dick. When he returned to my feet, he immediately placed his hands on my thighs and opened his pretty mouth to reattach it to my dildo. I let him, because I am very nice, and he continued to ravish me. The visual built up my orgasm, but the anxiety made me angry. I kicked him away again after a few more moments of head.

“Get the fuck on the bed.” I demanded. Patting the space beside me on the red velvet duvet. My husband obeyed. I grabbed his chastity-caged cock and unlocked it, staring into his eyes.

“Lay on your back.”

“Yes, mommy.”

I flinched at the name that I normally so love, and manhandled my husband into place. He laid on his back, legs to his chest, looking at me through sweat-damp curls of black bangs while I moved off the bed, to stand over him. I slapped his inner thigh and roughly fingered him, preparing him for me, and he came apart as he always does.

The strap-on miraculously stayed in place, which I praised the leatherworking Gods for, and spit on my plastic dick before lining it up and sliding in. It was lubed, of course, I’m not that mean. He was losing his fucking mind below me, but I was lost in mine up here. I growled. I went deeper. I leaned over. I grabbed his dick. I thrusted. I growled. I bit his nipple. I stood up again. I growled. He was noticing.

“What’s my name?” I heard myself sputter, and instantly knew that I had started an avalanche that wouldn’t stop falling until we were both covered.

“M-Maria!?” He whispered, unsure.

“No!” I screamed, animalistic. I thrusted into him again, he screamed.

“Mommy? Mistress?”

“No!” I slapped his cock. “Michael! It’s Michael!”


I slapped his balls.

“MICHAEL!” Good boy. Shift. Thrust. Scream.

“I’m a man. I’m transgender. I’m your wife. I’m mommy. But I’m Michael. I have a cock. This is my cock. I’m a man. I’m a man. I’m a man.” I don’t think that I was hurting my husband in any significant physical way as I continued to fuck the life out of him during my exceptionally timed confessional, but I was certainly doing some mental damage. His face was a Picasso, comprehension fading in and out. His cock was still warm and diamond hard in my palm, though.

“Okay” he said, and leaned up towards me. He reached a hand up to gently cup my cheek. His eyes were misty, he was panting, he smiled. I leaned my face into his hand and closed my eyes.





Venus Cohen (they/them) is an English major, Asian Studies minor at Mount Holyoke
College. They are proud to be a Frances Perkins Scholar.
Venus is an agender & transsexual identified person, and their work examines trans-sexuality
issues using language that is obscene and truthful. Likewise, much of their art explores their
internal and external social identities— race and ethnicity, religious affiliation and unacceptable
attractiveness. Their work, across various mediums, has been featured in SMCC’s
, Boston Fashion Week, Cosplay Realm Magazine, and Cast Aside Productions. They
are currently an assistant editor at Smoke and Mold Literary Journal.
Twitter @hyfemme, www.venuscohen.com