How often does Mr. Quail have you service him to orgasm?
These are always difficult to answer in broad strokes (pun not intended) because it varies so much depending on life, stress, travel, work, hosting friends, etc.
Sometimes heβll have me bring him to orgasm several times in a single day. Other times, especially when life is busy, a few days may pass without anything overtly sexual happening at all. But even during those quieter stretches, thereβs usually still some level of physical ownership and expectation between us.
Whatβs consistent isnβt really the frequency β itβs the understanding that his pleasure, on demand, is a big part of my role in the marriage.
Sometimes itβs oral. Heβll call me over while heβs reading or watching TV, spread his legs slightly, and I already know whatβs expected of me. Sometimes itβs me on my knees before work, lips wrapped around him while he drinks coffee and strokes my hair absently. Other times he uses my mouth and throat much more possessively β hand firm in my hair, guiding the pace and depth while I stay still and take what he wants from me.
But just as often, itβs my pussy or my ass.
He may bend me over the kitchen counter while dinner is simmering and use me quickly before returning to whatever he was doing. Or pull me onto his lap late at night and slowly work me open while he talks to me calmly about my week. Sometimes itβs deeply affectionate and intimate. Other times itβs very one-sided and possessive β him taking his pleasure while I focus entirely on staying obedient, pleasurable, and useful for him.
Anal especially has a very psychological component in our dynamic. Thereβs something about being held open and taken there while remaining denied myself that affects me very deeply emotionally. It makes me feel extraordinarily owned. Especially because heβs very aware of how vulnerable it makes me feel, and how much trust and surrender it requires from me physically.
A lot of the eroticism for me comes from the imbalance between his orgasms and mine.
He orgasms regularly. I donβt.
So over time, his pleasure starts to feel incredibly important to me. I become very focused on it β on earning it, prolonging it, improving how I serve him, noticing the little reactions in his body. I know exactly how his breathing changes when heβs close, exactly how his hands tighten on my hips when he likes the way Iβm taking him, exactly the low sound he makes when I use the exact tongue pressure he likes.
And because Iβm denied so often, his orgasms almost start to feel like mine emotionally. Not in the sense that Iβm stealing pleasure through him, but in the sense that bringing him satisfaction becomes intensely fulfilling in its own right.
Especially because heβs very aware of the contrast.
He knows Iβm usually wet and aching while he uses me. He knows exactly what it does to me psychologically to have him finish while I stay needy and denied. Sometimes afterward heβll hold me down for a moment longer, still inside me, and quietly praise me for how well I took him while fully knowing Iβm going to spend the next several hours throbbing and frustrated.
That imbalance is part of what keeps the dynamic feeling so alive for me. It keeps me attentive. Hungry. Focused on him.
By the time he finally does allow me an orgasm β usually after weeks of denial and repeated use β Iβm so emotionally wound up around pleasing him that permission alone is almost enough to make me cry.
So the answer is: often. More often than me, certainly. And we both genuinely prefer it that way.