Cybelian marriage

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Cybelian marriage

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Founded in , we have members in 98 countries throughout the World. Our aims are to bring about a Global gynocracy facilitating female-led marriages Worldwide, and to foster Femdom harmony, good health and World peace through human toiletry.

There are two forms of Cybele marriage - the 'vanilla' one for those who prefer loving female-led relationships, and the FemDom one in which the wife is uncaring and feels little or nothing for her husband.

Cybelian women can cuckold their husbands with as many other men as they wish. On this website you will find details of all aspects of Cybelianism.

If you're not yet a Cybelian, we hope you'll join us - just enter your details on the form on the right.

Cybelian Marriage is today's answer to centuries of male-dominated unions. In a Cybelian Marriage, it is the woman who is the primary partner; the man's place is secondary from the outset.

Hence it is suitable only for unions in which the female is assertive and the male unassertive. This involves an initial agreement between the two, requiring each to be fully consensual to the marital arrangements, and vowing in the Cybelian Wedding vows to remain true to promises made.

Love can play as big a part in Cybelian marriages as in traditional ones, but it is within the context of a female-led relationship.

However, love is not a requirement - as many Cybelian women feel little or nothing for their husband. In some cases the woman actually loathes the man.

She prefers such a relationship, and the man is content to feel abject and wretched. We were in bed one night, with her completely naked and me completely clothed as usual, except for my shoes, of course.

I was flat on my back worshipping her treasure as she sat on my mouth. As seemed to happen nearly every time we were in that position, she had to run to the bathroom just a couple of minutes later, and had then hurriedly returned as soon as she'd flushed the toilet.

I had barely had time to take a few licks of her delicious vagina, when she lifted up, and in the illumination provided by the nightlight in the hallway, I could see her looking down at me.

She asked, "What are you trying to say? What were you trying to say? There was no way for me to hide anything from her, especially when asked a direct question, so I said sheepishly, "You taste so good.

When you come back from the bathroom, it's even better. Her extremely-exciting question spoke to all the hopes, dreams, and fantasies I'd been having for years, and I almost broke out crying with the overwhelming relief that came from knowing I'd at long last found my soulmate.

She said in a husky whisper, "I saved some for you. Do you want it? I struggled with my frozen throat, then at last was able to gasp out, "Yes! I want it!

She merely moved forward onto my mouth once again, then with a throat that was surely as tight as my own, whispered, "You'd better not make a mess in my bed.

Now open your fucking mouth and drink it! I barely had time to open my lips to their greatest extent before I heard her sigh deeply, and then the hot, bitter flavor of her golden nectar burst across my taste buds.

She stopped her stream, giving me time to swallow her gift, then when she felt my lips part once again, continued with the most-exciting thing that had ever happened to me.

I was so lost in lust that I have no memory of how many mouthfuls she gave me to drink, but at some point she whispered again, "Now lick it clean, toilet.

Her orgasm was surely the best she'd had at any time during our months-long relationship, and it seemed to last an eternity.

At last, though, it came to its inevitable end, and she slumped forward, supported by her outstretched arms.

Even that position was too much for her exhausted body to sustain, and she collapsed on the bed beside me.

She lay there for a long time, struggling to gain control of her breathing. At last she said, "I think it's time for us to talk about getting married.

She continued, "Have you ever heard of the Cybelian lifestyle? I've never heard that word. You need to see something. I pressed the power buttons on her computer and monitor, and soon the room was suffused by the bright glow of the screen.

She then joined me there, completely at ease with her nudity, as always. As soon as the page had begun to load, the only thing I had eyes for was the photograph in the upper-right corner, which showed a woman and her husband engaged in an activity that had been my primary fantasy for as long as I can remember.

The naked woman was sitting on the front edge of a toilet, with her equally-naked husband lying on his back on the floor right in front of her.

She was giving him her hot, bitter, golden nectar, and he was eagerly drinking it, just as I'd done a few minutes before. Sharon gave me a few seconds to gaze in total concentration at the photo, then she told me to click the link that read, "Cybele Marriage.

In the space of just a few minutes, I passed from not even knowing there were such people as Cybelians, to understanding that I had secretly been one for many years, and was at long last discovering my true destiny.

All the things I had dreamed of, and fantasized about, were spelled out on that page as being not only suggested, but required by wives and husbands who were in that type of marriage.

I read of the wife being totally and completely in charge; of the husband being required to remain naked at all times when in the house, with his genitals securely in bondage and a dog collar locked around his neck; of his being subjected to physical punishments at the whim of his wife, including whippings and other types of extreme sexual tortures; of his being constantly cuckolded by his wife, and not only forced to watch, but to actively participate during the time his wife was being penetrated, and most especially immediately afterward when she needed to be licked clean; and last but not least, that his primary function was to serve as his wife's toilet, constantly making himself available for her use and relief.

By the time I finished reading those words, I was literally out of my head with arousal and lust. Everything I had ever fantasized about, almost from the time I'd passed puberty, was not only a part of a Cybelian marriage, but was strictly required.

And that type of marriage seemed to be what Sharon wanted for us. My chest was so tight that I could barely draw breath; my throat was completely locked up, to the point I couldn't even swallow; most of all, though, my little penis was harder than it had ever been, and I knew it was leaking a constant stream of pre-cum.

I had paid women to do those things to me several times in the past, but it was always evident that they did them only because of the money.

When I realized that Sharon wanted to do them because she loved me, it was all I could do to not yell for joy and sweep her into my arms and tell her how very, very much I loved her in return.

I didn't do any of those things, though, but remained frozen in the chair. The silence was broken at last when she leaned over and hugged me, then whispered, "Do you want that as much as I do?

Finally, after clearing my throat several times, I was able to utter a tremulous, "Yes. I thought you would.

I've already made the arrangements for the ceremony to be held on Saturday night. As soon as we're married, we can get started on all those things.

I think we've waited long enough, don't you? Ever since I first saw you, I just knew we were a perfect match. We're going to have the best Cybelian marriage ever, aren't we?

God, I just can't wait to do all those things. It's just that it'll be so much better after the ceremony, when you're really and truly my property.

I've been planning all the things I'm going to do to you, and thinking of them when you're eating my pussy.

You probably didn't know that's why I've been cumming so much, did you? I have some more plans to make. All I could think about was how wonderful it would be to be nothing but my wife's property, hers to do with as she chose.

Again and again I thought of what it would be like to be cuckolded by her, and to be forced to serve her afterwards.

Fantasy after fantasy flashed through my fevered brain as I thought of being whipped by this beautiful woman, then being subjected to more and more extreme sexual tortures.

But most of all, I thought of the endless hours I would be forced to spend beneath her beautiful body, serving her in the most intimate manner any man could imagine.

By the time Saturday evening actually arrived, I was almost out of my head with arousal and lust, and it required every ounce of my remaining concentration to drive us safely to the home where the marriage ceremony would be conducted.

Sharon had told me that the person who presided at the ceremony would be a Priestess of Cybele, fully empowered to join us in marriage.

By then, I simply didn't care who would marry us; I just wanted it to be over and done with, so didn't give any more thought to the subject.

I was concerned with what would come after we were married, much more than the ceremony itself. At Sharon's direction, I parked in the driveway in front of a large house in an exclusive subdivision outside the city where we live.

I'm sure the place cost a lot of money, but again, I was interested in only one thing, and didn't pay much attention to it. We walked to the front door, and to my surprise didn't knock or ring the doorbell, but just went right in.

In answer to my look of surprise, Sharon said, "I've been a member of this church for several years, honey.

I don't need to knock. We stood in the foyer, as if waiting for something to happen, and soon something did: a nearby door opened, and a man walked through and approached us.

He immediately fell to his knees in front of Sharon, then took her hand and kissed it before saying, "Welcome to the house of Cybele, Mistress.

If you will join the Priestess now, I'll prepare your slave for the ceremony. I stood there in silence as the man regained his feet, then trailed after him when he said authoritatively, "Follow me.

As soon as the door had closed behind us, he said curtly, "Strip. It seemed as if I had no power to do that, and instead, began to remove my clothing as ordered.

Soon I stood before him entirely naked, embarrassed by what was happening. My embarrassment turned to humiliation, however, when he looked directly at my crotch, then sneered and said with disdain, "And for that she chose you over me?

Oddly enough, that knowledge made me glow with pride, and, secure in the belief that she preferred me to him, I merely stood there.

He must have realized he had no alternative but to accept Sharon's choice, for he said nothing further about it. Instead, he began to instruct me on my part in the ceremony.

That part was actually very minor, for apparently all I had to do was fall to my knees as soon as I had reached the altar, then remain there for the remainder of the time.

I was told to make replies of acceptance and agreement at the appropriate times, and beyond that, to just follow the orders of Sharon and the Priestess.

That seemed simple enough, and I was sure that, even in my befuddled state of mind, I could play my part with no problems.

I was then led to another closed door, and we stood there in silence for several minutes. At last I heard the strains of "The Wedding March," and as if that were the signal he was waiting for, the man opened the door.

He grunted, "Go," and I did my best to walk in a dignified manner toward the altar at the front of the room. As you can undoubtedly imagine, that was a very difficult thing to do, given the fact that I was naked, while everyone else in the room was fully clothed.

It took my best efforts at concentration to make my stubborn body actually move my feet toward the intended destination, but they must have done so, because my next clear memory is of standing directly before the altar, then, as instructed, dropping to my knees.

At that moment I heard approving sounds and subdued applause from the five pairs of women and men who were seated in the chairs behind me, and turned to see Sharon being escorted down the aisle by the same man who had so shortly before told me what would be required of me during the ceremony.

Her beauty simply stunned me, and I had eyes for nothing or no one else in the room other than my bride-to-be.

She was wearing a pure white wedding gown, and the contrast with her glistening black hair and obsidian eyes, as well as her brown skin, was more than enough to entrance everyone there.

I watched in rapture as she slowly approached me, her arm linked to her escort's. It seemed an eternity before she finally reached my side, and it was only when I turned to face forward once again that I realized another person had entered the room at the same time.

The woman who stood before us was about twice Sharon's age, and those added years seemed to give her even more authority than my beloved.

She stood there in silence until the music ended, then cleared her throat in an imperious manner, as if demanding strict silence.

When she began to speak, her air of command was even more evident, and I knew that this had to be the Priestess Sharon had spoken of. It was obvious that the Priestess had conducted this same ceremony many times, for she spoke with accustomed ease, beginning with somewhat the same words that could be heard at any other wedding, but with key differences.

She said, "We are gathered here, in the presence of Gaia, to join this woman, our sister, Sharon, and her slave, Glenn, in holy matrimony.

Sharon has sworn to me that her slave is here of his own free will, and willingly submits to a life of bondage as the property of his wife. I now formally ask this male if that is true.

How do you respond, slave? Her words were, "Will you use this slave for your own pleasure and relief, forcing him to serve as your personal toilet, as required by the rules of our Order?

My penis could no longer be restrained, and in seconds it was standing at full attention. The Priestess then looked down at me, her scorn at my inability to control myself evident for all to see.

She then began to ask me the same type of questions as those she'd so shortly before directed at Sharon. Her first was, "Will you, slave, exist only to serve your wife in whatever way she requires?

She said, "You may now kiss the bride. My indecision ended when she turned to face me, then slowly lifted the hem of her skirt, until as last her treasure was revealed to my stupefied gaze.

That she was wearing no panties was wondrous enough, but there was something else there that completely froze me in place: her pubic hair had been entirely removed after we had been separated, and I was seeing her beautiful treasure revealed in all its glory for the first time ever.

It took the Priestess' rebuke to awaken me from my stupor, and luckily it was enough to make my body turn toward my bride, and then lean forward to kiss that most-entrancing part of her body.

I held the kiss, hearing the applause and words of approval from the audience in the background, and probably would be there yet if Sharon had not stepped back, then turned to face those seated there.

Following her cue, I shuffled my knees so that I could also turn to face her friends, and we held that position until the applause subsided. When the room was once again silent, the Priestess directed a question to my bride, asking, "Do you plan to cuckold your husband?

Whenever and wherever I can find a real man. The sound of the long zipper being pulled downward was all the confirmation I needed that something I'd fantasized about for many years was at last going to be made real.

As soon as the zipper had reached its lower limit, the Priestess slid the wedding gown off Sharon's shoulders, and I watched mesmerized as it slowly fell to the floor.

Even though I'd seen her lovely body many times in the nude, this was the first time I'd seen her in that condition in public, and even more exciting than that, with no pubic hair.

I knew the others felt the same, for their exclamations of approval could be heard in the background. Sharon looked down at me, with a beatific smile on her face, saying, "Now I'll show you why I chose him for Best Man, honey.

In almost less time than it takes to tell, he was standing there just as naked as we were, and she was caressing his rapidly-hardening penis.

I hadn't noticed that two of the men in the audience were approaching us, carrying something between them, but when their movements drew my attention, I saw they were bring a small, padded table to the front of the church.

They sat it down behind Sharon, and when she placed her backside against one edge of the thing, then leaned backwards, I knew exactly what was about to happen.

As I had hoped, when her back was resting on the tabletop, she drew her legs up, then bent her knees above her body. She placed her hands on her knees, then spread them to their widest extent while drawing them even further toward her head.

The view that was presented to me, as well as to everyone else in the room, was beautiful beyond compare.

I've always believed that the sight of a sexually-aroused woman has no equal, and that's exactly what I saw then.

Her nipples were erect, and I knew from long experience they would be super-sensitive when in that condition. The glistening highlights of her treasure were further evidence of what she was feeling right then, and I knew that if I were only allowed to lick and suck her there, my reward would be a mouthful of her delicious juices.

The Best Man needed no further encouragement, and he quickly positioned himself between my wife's widespread legs.

The Priestess took his rampant manhood in one hand, guiding it expertly to its rightful place. As I watched the engorged head disappear between Sharon's pouting lips, I knew she was feeling a satisfaction that my little pee-pee could never give her.

There was no question that the Best Man had been chosen well. His cock appeared monstrous to my untutored eyes, and I couldn't stop myself from thinking that he was easily twice the size of my puny five inches.

I'm sure that's undoubtedly an exaggeration, but not by much. Even more than the disparity in length, though, was the fact that the distance across his huge cock was more than twice my inadequate one inch.

Sharon confirmed my opinion of her satisfaction by sighing deeply, then saying, "God, I love it when you fuck me. In just a few seconds, her body began to rock back and forth, moving in the rhythms of aroused women since time immemorial.

Judging by my limited experience in pleasuring her, I knew she was just seconds away from reaching her reward, and that was confirmed when her breath began to come in gasps.

She looked down at me, kneeling there beside her, said, "I love you, honey," and then with a hiss I had always loved to hear, said, "Ohhhh! At last, the lovers were able to breathe again, and to the cheers and applause of the assembled onlookers, they kissed deeply.

The Best Man stood straight, then began to slowly withdraw his slightly-softer penis from my wife's vagina. With a soft sucking sound, the head at last fell free, although they were still joined by a rope of semen that seemed to stretch endlessly, before it too broke free of her body.

Sharon looked down at me once again, then said softly, "Honey, I need you now. My knees shuffled quickly, moving me to the position so recently vacated by her lover, and I knelt there transfixed by the sight I'd only dreamed about before.

Her pouting lips were still bright red, almost as if glowing from the heat of their coupling. Her clitoris was still more than a little erect, which signaled her continuing excitement.

Her vagina was still gaping open, almost as if inviting the man to once again invade it.

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Fucking 'A,' and other sounds of agreement were all that was needed to tell me their opinions. I knew they were right, for the evidence was right there in front of all of us, standing out from my crotch and bobbing up and down like a crazed metronome.

If Sharon had asked for my opinion, I would have agreed with her, but she didn't. She'd made her decision, as was her right as my wife, and that was that.

When the room once again was silent, she again looked directly at me and continued, "I've decided that since you're not a real man, anyhow, there's no reason for you to ever cum again.

And since it's my decision alone, then that's the way it'll be. I hope you really enjoyed your last orgasm, whenever you had it, because you're never again going to do that.

Not only would I never be allowed to make love to my wife, but I'd also been sentenced to a lifetime of frustrated arousal.

As strange as it may seem to you, dear reader, that knowledge did nothing but make me even more excited. Everyone in the room but me must have known what was about to happen, because not a word of instruction was given before two of the men stood and left through a door behind the altar.

When they returned, they were pulling a wheeled cart, and sitting on the cart was a large plastic tub that appeared to have water in it. As they approached us, I could see there were dozens of ice cubes floating on the water, but that gave me no clue as to what was about to happen.

I had more than a clue, though, when the other four men approached me. Again with no direction, two of the men took my arms and pulled me over backwards.

The other two gripped my ankles, lifting my feet from the floor. Then, holding my wrists and ankles in their firm grips, those parts of my body were raised higher and higher, until I was held horizontally about four feet above the floor.

My body was rigid, which was not what Sharon wanted, for she said, "Honey, just relax. Let your butt fall. Soon my midsection slumped downward, and my body was in the shape of a "U.

That didn't help much, though, and when my overheated backside met the freezing water, I couldn't stop myself from crying out.

Sharon said severely, "Hush! We don't want to hear your fucking whining. Just shut up and try to act like a man for once.

The men continued to hold my ankles and wrists, dangling my crotch in the tub. Time seemed to crawl as Sharon expectantly watched my penis, but it couldn't have been much more than a couple of minutes before she said, "Okay.

The little thing's all soft now. Get him on the table. With no hesitation, the Priestess pinched the head of my dick between her thumb and forefinger, then stretched it as far above my crotch as she possibly could.

The poor little thing was completely soft, but was easily an inch longer than it had ever been when hard. The sickening part, though, was that its diameter was surely no greater than a drinking straw.

Again I knew that my inadequacy was on display for everyone there to see. I knew then that she had loved me enough to make the cock cage herself, for that's undoubtedly what the thing was.

You see, Sharon is not only an accomplished writer, she's also quite talented in the world of art. Specifically, she creates freeform sculptures using metal rods, mostly those made of brass.

I knew that she had secretly made the cage just for me, knowing it would be required on our wedding night. The cage was actually fabricated in two halves, as she demonstrated by hinging them apart along the vertical axis.

As I knew was about to happen, she placed the two halves around my member, then closed them. A tiny catch was then engaged to hold the two halves together, and it was secured forever by an equally-small padlock.

That left only some way to keep the thing from falling to the floor when I stood, but she had obviously thought of that, also.

As I lay there on the table, my arm and legs held widespread by the four men, Sharon cupped my frozen balls in one hand while holding the cock cage in position with the other.

At that same moment, the other women gathered around me, some kissing me and breathing in my ears, while others caressed my body.

The most exciting part of all, though, came when two of them began to pinch and pull my useless nipples. I've always thought those parts were more sensitive than even the head of my penis, and that fact was demonstrated almost immediately by the thrill I began to feel in my crotch.

I knew then that nothing would be required to fasten the cage to my dick; it would provide that part all by itself as it came erect.

I watched in fascination as the stretched shaft of my little dick began to swell as the blood rushed into it.

The pinching fingers of the Priestess kept the head from following suit, and soon the shaft was almost twice as large as the glans. I felt, as well as saw, my engorging penis come into contact with the cock cage.

Then, an even more exciting view was presented as the flesh continued to grow until it actually began to protrude through the openings in the thing.

In just a few more seconds, my little dick looked more like a waffle than a penis. Seeing that my member was firmly trapped by the cock cage, the Priestess released her grip on the head, and I watched it spring back slightly.

The most exciting part of the whole process began then, as the head, along with the small part of the shaft that was not inside the cage, began to swell to what would have been their normal dimensions when I was hard.

Soon there was what looked to be a red golf ball riding atop the imprisoning thing Sharon had made for me, and everyone knew it would remain that way until she chose to release me.

As my bride stepped back from the table, so did her friends and the Priestess. She said to me, "Get up now, honey.

It's time for us to go home. I just can't wait another minute to do all those things I've been planning for you. The moment I had regained my feet, she took my arm in hers and began to escort me up the aisle, in the opposite direction we'd walked that eternity of time before.

Her friends were applauding us, and shouting words of encouragement to her to, "Give it to him, Sharon," "Teach him what it means to be a man," and, "Remember all the things you promised to do to him.

The room grew quiet once more, and she said, "I've been training him for a couple of months now. You'll never know how proud I am of how quickly he's learning to be a human toilet.

It took me six months to get Jim to drink even one mouthful, and almost a year before he'd swallow everything I had for him. Again Sharon waited until the noise subsided, then said, "You don't understand how very special he is.

I've never known a man to progress as quickly as he did, and that makes me very proud of him. That was the last thing she said to them, and we once again hurried up the aisle, then entered the foyer.

Our clothes were draped across chairs there, and we wasted no time in getting dressed, and hurrying to her car, sure that neither of us could endure the fifteen minutes the drive would require.

The drive home was made mostly in silence, and I'm sure my bride was just as lost in thought as was I. Just as I was thinking of all my fantasies, hoping they'd be made real during the hours to come, so she was undoubtedly reviewing her plans for me.

The only words we exchanged came when she asked if I had liked her friends, and I responded with a wholehearted, "Yes!

Slaves aren't allowed to have sex with other women, and some not even with their wives, like you. Those men were all members of the church who are used for stud service.

We're always on the lookout for men with big cocks, and never lose the opportunity to recruit them. By the way, if you ever come across a man who has a big dick, you must tell me so I can check him out.

We always need new blood in the church. As I pulled into the garage, Sharon was already unbuckling her safety belt before the car had come to a complete stop.

By the time I could press the button to close the overhead door, she was standing outside the vehicle, waiting impatiently for me. She literally dragged me through the door, then brought me to a stop right inside it.

She said sternly, "You're never to pass this point unless you're naked. Take off your clothes now and hang them neatly in the closet. Place your shoes on the floor of the closet, in the exact center.

If I ever see your stuff looking messy, I'll punish you. All I needed to do, though, was to see her flushed face and rigid nipples poking through her blouse to know that kind of treatment was already in store for me, regardless of what I did or didn't do.

As soon as my clothes had been placed neatly in the closet, she once again gripped my hand in hers. We almost ran up the hallway, both eager to get on with what she'd promised to do to me.

The third door from the garage had always been locked during the months I'd lived in Sharon's house, and I'd never had the nerve to ask her what was behind it.

I knew right then that my questions were to be answered, because she brought us to a halt at that point.

After taking a key from her pocket, she unlocked the door, then said, "I want to show you something, honey. We're going to be spending lots of time down here, so you'd better get used to it.

In the glare of the lamp, I saw a stairway leading down, and for the first time ever, realized there was a basement beneath her house.

I'd never before known there was such a thing on the property, and the understanding that she'd been hiding it from me until it was needed did nothing but add to the excitement I was already feeling.

We hurriedly descended the steps, then stopped at the bottom, seemingly in nothing more than a small storage room that was about 12' on each side.

There were shelves along two of the sides, and they were filled with everyday, mundane items. The third side had a large table, and it was covered with boxes that were filled with soil, with what looked to be mushrooms growing in it.

I knew only disappointment then, for in my fevered imagination we had been descending to the torture chamber that she'd prepared for me, and where we'd spend many happy hours.

All I could do was stand there, wondering just what it was she intended, but too timid to ask any questions. She left me in confusion for several seconds, then said, "Do you know what those mushrooms are?

Ever heard of those? That part worried me more than a little, for I definitely didn't want my wife to be involved in anything like that.

I nodded in answer, and then when she glared at my lack of respect for her, said softly, "Yes, Mistress. Once they see these mushrooms, they'll be so distracted by that evidence of law-breaking, they'll stop looking for anything else.

That means they won't find this. It was such an ordinary thing to see in a storage room that I simply couldn't fathom her purpose. However, understanding exploded in my brain when she moved some of the clothes to the side, then did something with her hands that I couldn't see.

I heard the click of a catch releasing, and then part of the wall hinged away from us. I knew then that the small room in which we were standing was not all there was to the basement; the darkened space behind the secret door must hold whatever it was that she intended for me, and the mystery and anticipation made my crotch throb with such a renewed intensity that I thought maybe it would simply explode as more and more blood tried to force its way into my constricted penis.

Sharon reached inside the opening, and must have clicked a light switch, for the hidden area was immediately illuminated.

She made her way through the new doorway, then turned to me while saying, "Get your ass in here, you worthless little wimp! She had to push me aside in order to reach back through the opening to rearrange the clothes so they would conceal the hidden door, and then to close it behind us.

As it clicked into place once again, she stood beside me with one arm over my shoulders, and joined me in looking at all the toys there.

Her impatience would not permit such a delay for long, and she again took my hand and pulled me with her down the six steps between us and the floor level of the torture chamber.

I had never before seen a basement with such a high ceiling, surely at least ten feet from the blood-red carpet to the glaring-white ceiling. The reason for the extra height became obvious when my eyes alighted on something in the center of the room, and its placement told me in no uncertain terms that it was not only the center, but also the focus of the chamber.

What I saw was a short length of wood, probably four inches square and four feet long, dangling horizontally at shoulder height.

There were wide leather cuffs attached to each end of the beam, and an eyebolt had been fastened to its center. Attached to the eyebolt was a steel cable, which ran to a pulley directly above it in the ceiling, and from there over to another pulley close to the wall.

The cable completed its path by then going straight down to an electric winch mounted on the wall. As my brain at last understood what my eyes were telling it, I knew that an important part of my most extreme fantasies was there before me.

Sharon husky voice broke through my reverie, and I turned to look at the most-wonderful person in the whole world: my bride, who would surely, in the space of just a few moments, have me suspended in front of her and be doing to me all those things I'd only dreamed of before.

She was saying, "Isn't it beautiful, honey? Do you like it? I love it, Mistress! The floor drain directly under where I would be hanging gave me a feeling of supremely-exciting dread, as I thought of its purpose.

I had eyes for nothing else in the entire room, and felt nothing but disappointment when she said, "I want to show you everything. I've been planning and building my torture chamber ever since I bought this house five years ago.

I just knew that someday I'd find you, and I wanted to have everything ready so we wouldn't have to wait even a single day.

The panel held nearly every item of bondage, discipline, and torture that I had read about and imagined for more than ten years, and especially during the past six months, while Sharon was riding my tongue.

She lovingly explained the use of each thing there, and I responded when she required it, until she picked up the final item in the display.

She held the thing up for my examination, then said, "This is something I've wanted to use on a man for as long as I can remember, but I never could find one who I was sure wanted it as much as you do.

I guess that part wouldn't really matter, though, would it? Now that you're my property, I'll do whatever I want.

I guess I'd never thought such a thing would be used on me, and now that I knew it would be, I felt more than a little fear. You see, what she had was called a "strap-on dildo," and I'm sure I don't need to explain it's use.

Suffice it to say that when Sharon donned the thing, I would soon feel sensations I'd never before had. To be honest, I have to admit I was feeling just as much excitement as fear right then, although that part was undoubtedly due to the extreme state of arousal I'd been in for hours without end by that time.

When the time came that she actually deflowered me with her strap-on, several weeks later, that level of excitement wasn't present.

Even given that, though, it was still much more pleasant than when she told one of her lovers, a few days after that, to "give him the real thing now.

After allowing me to stare at the thing for several seconds, giving me time to imagine my stretched body secured there, and subjected to all the wonderful things she would then do to me, Sharon said, "There's one more thing for you to see, honey.

The torture device that was sitting on the floor in the corner was such a simple thing, but so very, very exciting to me.

I had looked at pictures of that very device on the Internet many times, always imagining what it would be like if a woman were to introduce me to its use.

I was in such a state of suspended animation right then that it took me several seconds for my fevered brain to understand that Sharon was speaking to me.

She was saying, "Do you know what that is honey? In reality, it was nothing more than a small oak chair, resembling an oversize child's potty chair.

What made it different, though, and so much, much more exciting was the network of leather straps dangling below the opening in the seat, which I knew would be used to secure my head in position.

The two cuffs affixed to each of the front legs would be used to hold my wrists there, preventing any possibility of escape.

Finally I was able to gasp out, "Yes, Mistress! It's a bondage toilet! There was no question that she was just as excited, just as aroused, just as filled with lust as I was as we both imagined me being held there, and her sitting on the throne taking her relief.

Wel come to the Cybelians website, online presence of the Cybelian Organisation. We are a movement promoting gynocracy and female-led relationships.

Founded in , we have members in 98 countries throughout the World. Our aims are to bring about a Global gynocracy facilitating female-led marriages Worldwide, and to foster Femdom harmony, good health and World peace through human toiletry.

There are two forms of Cybele marriage - the 'vanilla' one for those who prefer loving female-led relationships, and the FemDom one in which the wife is uncaring and feels little or nothing for her husband.

Cybelian women can cuckold their husbands with as many other men as they wish. Cybelianism is a 6, years old cult and an NGO promoting world peace and female superiority, we are bringing humanity to the original point at creation..

Her position in creation shows the significance of "woman". The Roman State adopted and developed a particular form of Cybele's cult, and claimed her conscription as a key religious component in their success against Carthage during the Punic Wars.

Roman mythographers reinvented her as a Trojan goddess, and thus an ancestral goddess of the Roman people by way of the Trojan prince Aeneas.

With Rome's eventual hegemony over the Mediterranean world, Romanized forms of Cybele's cults spread throughout the Roman Empire. Like the Christian birth story, Phrygian Cybele gave birth to a son named Attis, later identified by the Greeks as Dionysus.

And like Christ, Attis was born through immaculate conception. In a Cybelian Marriage it is the woman who is the primary partner; the man's place is secondary.

Due to the various aspects of the lifestyle, the full consensuality of both partners is essential from the outset. Cybelian women are free to cuckold their husbands by having sex with as many other men as they desire, letting the men penetrate them bareback if they wish.

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Cybelian Marriage Video

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