Cuckquean Diaries: Crowned, Part I

I’ve never felt humidity like June in NYC. Climbing four flights of stairs to reach an apartment with no A/C seemed like a fate worse than hell – or at least, equivalent. Funny how it ended up being the second hottest memory from our time there…

Master J and I spent most of our days in doors, planning our route, avoiding the intense scolding that greeted us every time we walked out the front door. Between the traffic, prices and temperature, it’s safe to say we will never be residing in the big apple (in fact, we’ve settled for some Georgia peaches).

During one of our more restless evenings, we treated ourselves to our first TNG Event. Although it was nothing like we expected, and we walked out more sexually tense than we did entering, we met, Sasha: a beautiful, Long Island Jew with a contagious laugh and glowing energy. I’d learn later, after hanging out in a more social (non-erotic) setting that her intentions had been set. She thought J and I were “the most beautiful people at the event,” and felt destined to be our friend.

In hindsight, I agree with her.

Our first evening together included a stand-up comedy show, whereby Master J and Sasha gave a brief and wonderful performance. Sasha was accompanied by her friend, Amy, who was just as chill and easy to adore! The four of us went out for drinks and Mexican food, letting the buzz and nightfall whisk us off into a blooming friendship.

When parting ways for subway trains and pull-out couches, we promised to see each other again. Within days, we’d all stuck to our commitment, only Amy wasn’t able to join. Master J and I would learn later that this was no accident. Sasha wanted us to herself, to determine if the electricity she felt was true and requited.

After a long evening of exploring parts of the city I don’t recall, sex shop wandering, and drinking the worst red wine of all time…we were there, sitting together around a small wooden table in the corner of a dark bar, when she asked, “can I kiss you?” It wasn’t directed at one of us, but both. Sensing my timidity, Master J leaned in and gave her what she’d been desiring for days, deepening the connection, and amplifying the current between us. Then…it was my turn. Her mouth was warm, and we kissed slow for a few moments before she burst into giggles from me nearly knocking her glasses off her face.

It had begun…

The door was unlocked, the flood gates opened, our truths spilling out in gallons. We shared experiences, fantasies, limits, laughter. She was a true submissive in the bedroom, wanting to be taken to new places. She was thrilled by my cuckquean dream, and said that should I ever be interested in fulfilling it, she’d make an obedient cuckcake. I was thrilled and terrified. She could sense my refrain, and followed it up by saying there was no pressure, and unless I was feeling enthusiastically consensual, she wouldn’t want to pursue.

Her freedom to communicate and her comforting words made it easy to open myself a little more to her. “Enthusiastic consent” became a common word between the three of us, mostly played in my direction, as I was the deciding factor in this new trinity. It was exciting, but nerve racking. I’d seen Master J with women before, but never like this…

Never with a woman willing to submit fully to my husband, as I sit and watch – no contact, just observation.

Everything that I’d believed up to that point about my sexuality was suddenly put under the microscope. I could feel my desires being absorbed by these deep, penetrating fear of, what ifs!? We’d leave that evening and, like a trillion times before, I’d avoid seeing her in an effort to 1) sabotage the opportunity, 2) deny my sexual desires, and 3) circumvent any decision making.

My defence was up, and I had no rational rhyme or reason for it.

Deep down I understood the only way to overcome this gnawing anxiety was to face it – do the opposite of what it was telling me…So, we made plans to see her again. And…it was lovely!!

All of my doubts fell to the floor. Master J said, “I told you so,” like ten thousand times between sips of beer and perma-grinning. Sasha had no idea that my mind went in dark places – I don’t believe I ever told her. If I’ve learned anything about myself over the years, it’s that I tend to take several steps back before making the leap…that’s been pretty evident in all my life choices, sex being no exception.

Anticipation is my worst enemy. It tends to cloud my judgement, and risk the chance of missing out. It’s a time of avoidance, and mild hibernation.

But this round, I took victory over the false forecast I’d played out in my mind.

Because I was in control, and was reminded of that every moment the three of us were together, my confidence grew. The authenticity of my feelings became apparent again. So did my attraction to her, and the surrealism surrounding the fact that: We. Found. Her.

So, after several days of fighting with my own truth, and only hours spent with her and the love of my life, the enthusiastic “yes” came barreling out of me, in such aggressive exhilaration, I knew it was time Master J tie me up, and bring the room to life right there, in front of me…

With Sasha.

So, want to hear what happened next? Stay tuned!

Until next time,

Fuck well, friends!

RAF: Introducing Reba Rose

There is no proper way to introduce my first guest writer, Reba Rose. She’s a dear friend, a warrior, and a talented wordsmith. When she first asked to write a post for COTQ, I was thrilled! We were both English majors in university (that’s where we met), sharing a deep love for the written word. She used to get behind her computer, and spill her feelings onto the blank, white screen…and I was honoured to be a person she shared those compositions with (I still have them!). I learned both through our late night talks, and her intimate pieces of writing, just how beautiful her soul is. I’ve learned over the years that, sometimes, those who carry the heaviest burdens, are some of the most down to earth, accepting individuals. She is no exception to this. And, just like those evenings, when she’d tap the night away madly on her keyboard, underneath that little black lamp in our tiny dorm room…another masterpiece has found its way to me. It’s heart wrenching, it’s inspiring, it’s universal. This is her truth…


Coming Out Twice Before Thirty is Tiring Work

A triggering Youtube spiral for me is ‘inspiring coming out’ stories. I was raised in a house where I was told that you love who you love. If the topic of one of her children being gay came up, my mother would insist upon her support and love. I would find out in a Walmart parking lot, when I was 18 years old, that this wasn’t true. I told my mom I was struggling, that I thought I was gay; I knew I liked men but I also liked women. She told me my father would be so upset because he had dreams of walking me down the aisle, she told me I was mistaken and confused, she told me I should go to therapy. My father told me he was happy for me, but soon his discomfort became apparent when he would refuse to engage in conversation with me about my identity. The whole incident was swept under the rug and the air around it felt like they assumed it was a ‘cry for attention.’ I turned to my friends at university in a different city, I thought I was ready to finally address these questions I had, to wonder aloud why razor commercials with women rubbing their smooth legs made me feel so confused.

But my little gay wings had been clipped. I was weighed down with shame and uncertainty. I pushed it away again, I left university, I met the coolest guy and we started dating. Eventually my parents and I were all too happy to move on like I hadn’t said anything. I shared my razor commercial feelings to C, my partner of now six years. He was encouraging, supportive and loving. He offered to give me the space to explore, but I heard my parents’ voices that I was wrong. I felt too scared to even try and I continued to push it down for the time being.

Looking the way I do, and having the particular long-term partner that I have had, allows me to dip in and out of my queer identity. Sometimes I have used this as an all too easy excuse to not confront myself, but it’s also put me in a position where I’ve been made to feel like I had to prove my queerness. I went through waves of thinking I could survive with never needing to take a peek at that side of myself; ‘you’re not gay’ I would chant. Then there were the waves of what I call the murky feelings; desperation, fear, regret, fear of pre-regret (that must be a thing). This all-consuming murk of feelings that I would always feel like a fraud. An imposter-queer.

What if I died and I had never allowed myself to find out who I was? This bone chilling panic would find me often, filling me up and spilling out into other parts of my life; it effected my primary romantic relationship, it altered the way I perceived myself, mostly making me feel dirty and demanding. “Why can’t I just want ‘regular’ stuff?” I pleaded with myself. I chose to actively fill my head with thoughts of a baby with my partner, contemplating getting married – knocking off the next milestones, because, what the fuck else were we doing?

Almost ten years later I came out to my parents again, this time with my partner, C, sitting beside me. In a diner I had been excited to try, I told my parents that C and I were polyamorous and before I could even say how wonderful it was going, my mother begins to cry pretty hard. My father, with a stern face, places his arm around his now audibly, sobbing wife. They tell us this is the beginning of the end of our relationship, they tell us this isn’t how things are done, they tell me to go to therapy … again (which is only hilarious because I have been advocating therapy to the rest of my relatives for years to no avail). Only this time their rejection didn’t seem to weigh me down so much anymore. I recognised that their refusal to accept me for who I was had been stopping me from trying to get a good look at myself for my own sake after all of these years. I was allowing their disillusionment colour my views of myself! How is that fair? And although I did make sure to eat at that diner again, that was the last time I saw my parents.

People often ask C and I whose idea it was to start this endeavour, the truth is we have been speaking about it since the beginning. We spoke about never wanting the other one to feel stuck in this relationship, mentioning that if you ever found someone you were interested in, to bring it up. Each time we checked in about this little asterisk in our otherwise monogamous setup, we didn’t feel ready. I could not imagine seeing him with someone else, or the thought of him lying in bed and caressing someone else’s hair, or even seeing him hold another person’s hand. We continued to only see each other, and to grow more codependent by each passing year. When the topic came up again and the once familiar stab of jealousy didn’t take over, I knew this conversation would be different.

Particulars have been sorted, conflicts have arisen and been addressed, tears have been shed, and in tandem, C and I have grown. (There is obviously more to this story, but it is best kept for another post).

That panic that used to fill me doesn’t come to visit anymore, I no longer fear the person I am suppressing inside of me, she is here. About a year ago I started some very new and uncomfortable work with my therapist; it involved accessing my aggression, role playing, and some serious and painful healing. This therapist and I would speak at length about the ‘freak wanting to wave her flag’ inside of me that I was desperate to let out. I look back on that girl, as the woman I am now, and I feel patience and love for her.

As an INFJ, cutting someone out of my life is not really something that is overly difficult for me. I have said goodbye to toxic friendships, but eliminating the people who brought you up in the world has been a very different experience. Society tells you that your family is everything, respecting your parents and what they have done for you is number one. But what happens when that isn’t your reality? What happens when you start to fall in love with your queer self and two people who promised to always love and support you, don’t know how to love the specific person you are? I am still finding answers to those questions, but I have had the support of my created family, my non-bio fam, people and community who are helping me figure it all out. Some of these people are romantic partners, some are queer partners, some are platonic partners. All surround me with love.

In about 6 months I have both lost and gained family. That is a mighty sentence for me to write. I felt shut out by people who swore to always be there to welcome me home. It’s shocking when you realise your childhood house is not your home, but I’ve been slowly building my own, and I will leave my doors open to anyone willing to accept and share in my love. And you know what? I’ve been to therapy since last speaking to my parents and I am still queer and still polyamorous.

– Reba Rose

If anyone has their own coming out fears, stories or advice, please share with the rest of us. You are never alone in this, and family CAN be made.

To get more of Reba Rose, follow her on Instagram @_rebarose!

Until next time… Fuck well, friends, and wave that freak flag high!

I Came Out to My Mom

I was raised by an encouraging father who challenged my limiting beliefs, and tried propelling me forward the best he could. He would hug me and whisper in my ear, “you are kind, strong, compassionate; you are talented and can do anything you set your mind to. I love you.” My mother was unconditional with her love and patience, never looking to change us kids, but rather shine a light on all the wonderful qualities we possessed. On top of their beautiful dichotomy, they were (and still remain) deeply in love with one another. To say I was lucky to have grown up in such a warm environment is an understatement. That didn’t, however, make the most recent conversation with my mom an easy one.

Because this deserved some celebrating…

We were on one of our regular Skype calls. She was in NYC visiting my sister while her boyfriend was away, shooting a film in Nigeria. Mom would tell you that I was the one to bring up the subject of sex – which isn’t unbelievable, considering; however, for once, I swear it was all her.

I can’t remember what lead to it, all I know is she was beating around the bush for some time, before finally saying, “be careful who you bring into your bed.” Here, her use of the term “you” referred to Master J and I: our bed. My response to this is a blur, but I know it opened a door that I couldn’t shut without reaching an understanding.

Days later, when I asked my sister how mom was during this conversation, she laughed, “I’ve never seen her pace so much in my life.” My mom, just knowing a few details about my sex life (that I frequent sex clubs, I’m into BDSM…) had her suspicions about my relationship. She was clever, for I would mention my blog on numerous occasions during most of our conversations – not in detail, just how I enjoy writing about sex – and this time, she used it as her opening.

“What if someone comes up to me and asks if I know what you and your husband do? I’m going to want to protect you.”

You have to understand, we come from a very small town, and this kind of gossip (you know, me being a submissive, pansexual cuckquean) is for the drama queens (and kings) what fine china is to my grandmother. Let’s just say, invaluable. As an added kind of disadvantage (thankfully!) my mother does not read my blog. I specifically told her, my father and my brother to never go there for this exact reason: unnecessary worry.

So, to my mom’s question, I responded:

“There’s no need to protect me. If anyone has the audacity to walk up to you and confront you about my sex life, especially in public, tell them to reach out to me and I’ll answer any questions they have. Of course, depending on the context and the person, you respond the way you see fit. But always, always, remember: I am happy. Like truly happy and in love. Not a single opinion will ever diminish the peace I’ve found in my relationship, within my self, my sexuality, you name it. The truth is simple: if anyone tries to call you out on my choices in life, it’s either because they are struggling with some internal piece of themselves, and perhaps find comfort in my truth; or, they want to stir shit up, make you feel uncomfortable. If they’re a part of the second group, I can guarantee these people aren’t a part of my life, and for obvious reasons; therefore, you shouldn’t waste any of your precious time or headspace on them, because I promise you, I don’t.”

Mom was relieved by this, but of course, had some serious follow up questions. One moment she was telling me she didn’t need to know details, and the other, she asked, point blank, “well, what kind of things are you sharing on your blog about you and J?”


The conversation became very one-sided for a while as I confessed, to my mother, that my husband and I sleep with other people, and that opening the relationship up in this way was my idea; that one of J’s biggest fears is for people to think he forced me into this kind of relationship structure.

I imagine it was about here she began pacing anxiously.

“I hope you took J into consideration. I’ve had friends in my past give into their partner’s desires because they loved them, but it only caused pain because deep down it wasn’t for them.” I could appreciate her standpoint. I reassured her that Master J and I speak about everything; there is no topic of limits, and if one of us, at any point, becomes uncomfortable with anything that’s going on, it all comes to a stop. Our relationship is priority.

This is when my mother, in words I cannot recall, eluded to the fact that I was sleeping with other men, whereby I responded in laughter, “oh no, I’m not sleeping with other men.” I hadn’t meant to, but through this admission, I’d inadvertently made it clear that one, or both of us, were sleeping with women. This is where her fear fully surfaced.

“You know, Mo, one of the concerns I’ve had about you is that since you had and recovered from bulimia, you’ve always sought control over things in your life; specifically relationships. I worry that maybe you’ve allowed J to sleep with other women as a means to protect yourself from something you may believe is inevitable…” Infidelity. Heart break. Grief.

I stopped in my tracks. I could tell this was a difficult thing for her to say, but my god was it beautifully articulated. Interwoven in this statement was her love for me, and her profound understanding of something I’d never really recognized in myself. I took a breath, feeling so loved, and exhaled these words:

“Mom, that is incredibly insightful. I really appreciate your concern, but…we’re sleeping with people together, never apart. The truth is, being with J has only allowed me to be more myself sexually than ever before. I know that it may sound strange because you and dad have your own specific boundaries and relationship [monogamy, monogamy, monogamy], but, sex for J and I, especially with other people…think of it as another way we like to explore each other and life. It’s recreational for us, and the people involved.”

“So you do it together? Never apart?” Turns out that’s all she heard. When I confirmed this, she was relieved. She had imagined J was going out on his own, hooking up with women and then coming back to me when he felt ready. I told her that was so far from what we do; however, even that kind of relationship, so long as both parties are happy, isn’t uncommon in my world. I assured her that nothing goes on in my relationship that I don’t want. She ended with, “Alright. Maybe we won’t tell your dad about this right now.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The conversation concluded with one last encouragement from me: “I may not volunteer information about my relationship and sexuality, but if you or dad, or anyone, ever have questions, I’ll never lie to you. Just don’t ask anything you don’t want to know.”

She snorted, “I’ll try my best!”

To be honest, I was relieved after hanging up with her. Not because the conversation was finished, but because it even happened in the first place. I am close with my parents, and it’s because of their love, honesty and acceptance that I find it so easy to walk in these shoes – wear them proudly. But even if I feel so grateful for the support I have in my life, I can’t imagine the struggle it must be for those out there who aren’t embraced so gracefully. So, please, if anyone reading this requires some form of support or community, reach out to me. Sometimes just connecting to a like minded person, and hearing those words spoken to you – “you’re normal, you’re magic, you’re important, you’re enough” – can be the first stone on the path to self acceptance and healing.

If I was granted one wish, it would be to eliminate shame altogether. I’ve experienced it in many forms, and understand the havoc it can wreak. No one deserves that kind of humiliation, no one deserves that kind of distress. So, again, with all the sincerity I can muster: reach out to me if you need someone to talk to about the trials you face. You are not required to do this alone.

On that note, my friends, I will be taking a short hiatus from COTQ to pursue much larger things, in the hopes of meeting some of you this coming summer and shortly thereafter. As always, you can contact me by email (, or through my social media channels (Facebook, Twitter, Instagram) @callofthequean, and join Curios Cat to ask me questions anonymously. I’m also always encouraging new Clients to reach out to me for Sex Coaching sessions.

And if you are passionate about a more sexually liberated tomorrow, please support our upcoming project, Sex In America. We hope to meet you when we visit your city!

Until next time,

Fuck well, fuck freely, love yourselves and each other!

RAF: The True Evil

It’s Name: Jealousy

So here it is, the truth about the pain I’ve been in recently. It’s a difficult thing to explain because it has been a difficult space to inhabit. I never imagined my relationship with Master J could take such an intense dive. But it did, and I’ve only recently come back up to the surface.

Day One

It commenced on New Year’s Eve. The severity of this jealousy, that is. I went to sleep at ten o’clock, disappointing him. I’d been exhausted. This season, a rollercoaster of intense emotions. Depression being a surprising culprit.

I’d woken up just as the clock struck midnight, for the fireworks and cheering crowds refused to be ignored. He stood there watching from our window, before gently crawling into bed. He hadn’t noticed my break in slumber. After a minute or two, when he settled under the covers, illuminating the screen of his phone, I turned to him to say, “Happy New Year.” That’s when it happened, the very subtle, yet sudden reflex. He turned his phone away from me, and abruptly asked, “you’re awake?” I felt my heart sink, the acid in my stomach make its way into my throat, blood draining from my cheeks. I’d only ever felt this once before in my life, when my ex had finally admitted he’d slept with one of my friends while we’d been separated. I felt the same loss of control, sheer desperation; all of the horrible, terrifying feelings that led me down a path to self-destruction in that previous romance.

I was losing myself. Anxiety was taking over. My breath hitched, my body stiffened, I had to regain some ounce of dignity. And all of this because he turned his screen away. What is he hiding? That was the critical question; the underlying cause to these severe, physiological responses. He’s speaking to her, and he doesn’t want me to know! I was convinced.

I couldn’t hold back the eruption: the tremors, the tears, the inability to articulate. I crumbled, and he threw his arms around me, startled by the sudden outburst. I had to calm myself before words arrived. He waited patiently, although petrified. When I was finally able to form a complete sentence, and push my ego far enough aside to expose my vulnerability, he pressed further into my body. His warmth soothed me, but not as deeply as his words.

Turns out he had not been speaking to her. He told me I could look at the conversations any time I wanted. He turned the phone because he was worried the light is what woke me. He was dumbfounded and hurt by my accusations. He reassured me that betrayal would never be on his agenda, and that jeopardizing our love is not something he’d ever risk. And somewhere within me I knew this, yet I was so profoundly triggered that all practical thinking disintegrated. But we spoke. We spoke for hours. And he held me, and worked his way back into the place where security and longing resides, and all was well. At least for a little while.

One Month Later

With every forward step I take into my Cuck fantasy, the Universe slams me with an obstacle. As you know from Lexi, My Husband’s Sex Friend, Master J has been interacting with this woman for some time now. The truth is, so have I. We have a three way group chat we all speak to each other on. As well, Master J and I send her naughty images during D/s scenes. I’ve been enjoying it, in fact, it’s been quite thrilling. That is until we decided to invite her to visit us for a weekend in May. It was my idea, as Master J and I have a Dungeon B&B we have enjoyed thoroughly on numerous occasions with one another. I thought, how awesome would it be to go there with another woman?

So, I gave him permission to get the ball rolling, and she’s been planning her travels. And as much as the initial idea had been exciting, slowly by slowly it turned into dread. It all came to an emotional head three days ago as I laid in Master J’s old bedroom at his parents house, when I returned to his hometown to renew my visa.

I called him to say goodnight. He asked how I was doing. He knew that the jealousy had been a shadow, following me around for a little while, but I hadn’t quite expressed how dark it was. Whether it was the distance that made me feel less vulnerable, or the fact that I missed him terribly, the monster ripped out of me; I confessed everything.

I admitted that I felt I could be easily replaced. Not necessarily for love, but that our sexual relationship was becoming redundant as sex was becoming more available to him. I worried that maybe I was no longer exceptional.

All of the dread I’d been repressing since New Year’s Eve flooded violently into my consciousness, and I sobbed relentlessly. He wasn’t there to hold me, but just as he’s done a hundred times before, for a variety of reasons, his words saved me.

“You’re the only person I want to fuck. You’re the only person I want to cuddle with. As terrible as this may sound, what turns me on about Lexi – or any woman for that matter – is that they turn you on. Q, if you wanted all of this to end tomorrow, I’d do so happily. Because without you in all of this, it doesn’t make sense to me. Even more, it just doesn’t work. I love you, like, really fucken love you. I wouldn’t have married someone I felt I could just replace. That’s not me. You have to learn to trust us, me, and even more, yourself. You’re irreplaceable.”

Behind the Mask

His words, one at a time, diluted my fear. And that isn’t to say it won’t resurface as I continue to navigate this unfamiliar terrain, but at least for now – with this temporary, yet authentic clarity – I can keep inching forward with him by my side, understanding his love and reasoning.

It’s easy to pretend this is an easy ride for me. Of course, the pros outweigh the cons; each step forward is a battle against my own baggage and the heteronormative-monogamous-patriarchal messaging I’ve received all of my life. I understand there will be pain due to uncertainty, insecurity; however, I have a partner who is willing to hold my hand through it all, ready to wave the white flag at a moments notice, all so I can explore this road that I believe, to my core, will lead me to my authentic sexual self.

Jealousy is a biproduct of the shit script I’ve been handed as, not only a woman, but a human in this society. I’ve been made to believe my sexuality is limited, my capacity to love is limited, and that this potent and devastating response to potential partners (beyond my relationship) is as natural as my eye colour.

I know this world I’ve built for myself doesn’t fit the desires of everyone; I also know that it isn’t always going to be beautiful. But it’s one hell of an adventure, and it’s worth every experience and every misstep. So, there you have it, the sometimes slow torture I experience as a consequence of this pursuit for deeper connection, deeper pleasure.

Until next time,

Fuck well, friends & remember, the ups and downs don’t just happen in the bedroom.

RAF: Breakups & Bad Decisions

Collar Club Members & Loyal Followers:

I read this quote (and fell in love with it):

“My New Year started February 1st. January was a trial period.”

Between Sex Coaching, and preparing for our Campaign, Sex in America, I’ve had little time to just get back to the heart of what I do: Writing!

I – like many of you, I’m sure – made grand plans for 2019. Plans that would commence January 1st and last All. Year. Long. No hiccups. I’d just go from being a natural procrastinator to Wonder Woman over night.

If you haven’t noticed due to the lack of content, it didn’t go as planned. So, as that insightful quote goes, February 1st was the end of my “trial period,” and the beginning of my reality – something I have never accepted about myself, but am now, finally, willing to try. I’m a last minute person, with big time plans. Step by step I will make commitments to myself to plan realistic amounts of tasks (not a laundry list), and crush them. I owe this to myself and to all of you beautiful humans who’ve been with me throughout this journey.

One small step I’ve decided to commit to are my Real As Fuck (RAF) Thursday series! Last year, I had the honour of interviewing some wildly unique, passionate and of course, RAF characters. I aim to keep this ball rolling, only with an added element: RAF Topics, and I’m open to suggestions!

On that encouraging note, let’s get into it!

Content Note: mental illness and suicide is briefly discussed.

We’ve all been there: breakups. Or at least heartbreak of some kind. Be it from unreciprocated love, betrayal of some sort, unavoidable incompatibilities, growing apart…

Some of us are naturals at empowering, post-breakup/heartbreak rituals: find a support group (friends, family); participate in activities that bring you joy; create boundaries between you and your ex; assess the lessons you learned and how to avoid the same mistakes next time…

Then there are those among us that have other tendencies; ones that are less enlightening: stalk our ex on social media; dig for the gossip about our exes current situation (new partner, for example); frequent places you know they’ll be; dwell on all of the beautiful moments you had together, pushing aside the toxic or incompatible elements of the relationship; consume alcohol or other substances, copious amounts of food, have meaningless sex (usually to fill voids); and, perhaps, self-loathe a little.

If I told you to guess which of these two groups I fell into after the crash-and-burn of my last relationship, what would you say? You got it, I was the self-loathing, self-deprecating, anxious bulimic who not only had sex every chance she got, but did it during moments of borderline blackouts in questionable places, with men who were either 1) married or 2) certainly uncaring about my pleasure.

The truth is, this spiral lasted about two months. My ex and I split in April (2014), I had experiences with two men (one pleasant, the other not so much) from May to August, and then came the month of September.

Let’s just say my rock bottom was literally at the bottom of a whiskey bottle (was it whiskey?), and waking up the next morning fully clothed, soaking wet, and with a snapped ligament in my ankle. If you’ve been with COTQ for a while, I’m sure you’ve heard bits and pieces of this fine night. Basically I went to a party with my best friend sober, got smashed (wasn’t uncommon for me during this time) to the point of blackout (I don’t know how I made it to bed), and woke up feeling all the things: shame, guilt, pain, worst-hangover-of-life, even more disgusted with myself, and a fire burning in my left ankle (looked like a baseball had settled beneath my purple skin). I had been going down this rabbit hole slowly, and for the last 5 miles I doubled my speed. It ended with my mother taking me to the hospital, giving me a lecture about my behaviour and how worried she was about me.

I was 23 years old. Old enough to know better. Old enough to not be putting my family (let alone myself) through that kind of bullshit. My snapped ligament was a blessing in disguise. It forced me to move less; I became a little more dependent on my parents, whose subtle manipulation kept me within the confines of their property (thankfully!). From there I had only myself to face; a confrontation I should have acknowledged from the beginning, but was beyond terrified.

I’m sure many of us have similar stories, maybe more or less severe. I tell you all of this because the next month would be the one that changed my life. When I saw my doctor, and he asked me how I was doing (referring mainly to my eating disorder; at this point I’d been in treatment for nearly six months), I told him:

“I’m not saying I’d ever do it…but, I can understand why suicide seems like the only option for some people.”

It was a frightening admission, but the pain was profound. Speaking this truth, although alarming, lifted a piece of the weight I’d been carrying around for months – maybe even years, as I’d been suffering even throughout that previous relationship.

When I shared this statement with my mom, and witnessed the devastation that washed over her face, it was enough. I was done with the pain. I was done with the breakup. I was done with the bad decisions. There was something inside of me that had always whispered, “it will get better. It will get better.” But in that moment I realized that getting better was up to me. It would be a process. “Better” wasn’t a crop top I could order off Etsy and parade around in. “Better” was an inside job, and I was finally ready to put in the work.

So, why did I tell you that long winded story – some of which a lot of you have heard before?

Because, as much as I’d like to believe it, these experiences are not exceptional. They occur far too often to a greater or lesser extent. Heartbreak – especially as a result of a toxic relationship – can have a detrimental impact on the wellbeing. No matter what level you experience heartbreak, grief, depression and potential anxiety may result. These, of course, are situational elements, and won’t necessarily stick around. It’s a cycle we have to let our bodies go through in order to heal properly and fully.

But, there is some other news:

“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” – Buddha

We all take our own amount of time to work through things; however, there are things we can apply to the process that will not numb the pain, but make it more bearable. Once I applied these tips to the process, amazing things started happening…one being la rencontre of my husband. You see, when we focus our efforts on gifting ourselves with the kind of love we wished we’d received from that person, the Universe shows up for us, provides rewards.

So, here we have it. Quean Mo’s formula for not only getting through a breakup, but building a stronger and better version of yourself afterwards:

1. Tell your circles (friends, family, etc.) not to speak to you about your relationship or ex. This should be an “off limit” topic unless YOU bring it up. Because I was from a small town, this was especially important, as my friends could easily provide “updates” about my ex. Hearing about him and his new woman only delayed my process of moving on/getting better.

2.When you start feeling down or dwelling on the “loss” of a relationship, remind yourself of all the things that hadn’t worked between the two of you (or three of you, or four). Make a list of the things you gave up – be it parts of your personality, people, hobbies or things you truly enjoyed doing.

3. Remind yourself of all the experience and wisdom you gained from the relationship. This could be in terms of what you don’t want in future partnerships, deal breakers or incompatibilities. Again, write this down!

4. Start focusing your attention on the positive qualities and traits you possess, and how those things will be appreciated by the person(s) you’re meant to be with. Remind yourself of all the strengths you bring into your relationships! And, yes, you guessed it, write these down, and refer to them EVERY. DAY!

5. Remember the list you wrote in #2 of all the things you gave up during your relationship? Start reimplementing those into your life – at least the ones that are uplifting, empowering and bring you joy.

6. If or when ready, put yourself out there. Meet new people (doesn’t have to be for romantic or sexual reasons)! Be honest about who you are. Get comfortable in your skin, in your truth. If people try to change you or reject you (be it romantically, sexually or as a friend) it means they simply don’t fit into your life, and don’t deserve your presence.

7. Pay attention to your behaviours. Is there anything that you do that results in feelings of shame, guilt, or a “relapse” into dwelling over the ended relationship? If so, alter those behaviours. For me it was drinking, smoking weed, and sex with strangers. Not all of my sexual encounters left me feeling bad; however, there were moments that I “indulged,” when I knew it wasn’t a good situation. Your intuition will tell you when things aren’t right. Trust it.

Take these one step (and one day) at at time. You have to be your own wellbeing advocate. And if all of this isn’t enough for you, remember:

“Self love is the greatest middle finger.” – Anonymous

And you deserve someone who brings the best out in you!

Until next time,

Fuck (yourselves) well, friends!

So, tell me, in the past, what has helped you move on from a breakup? Comment below!

2019: Whole Lotta Shock & Raw

Happy New Year (22 days late!)!

I gotta tell you, it feels so great to be writing again. The last few weeks transitioning web hosts has been…well, not a treat. But none of that matters because the Quean has returned, and she’s come with some amazing updates.

I’ve confided in all of you about my desires and sexuality – some of my most intimate details – yet, there’s something I’ve been keeping to myself:

I want to meet you!

That’s right.

I want to meet you, speak about sex, uncover desires, watch you embrace your place on the spectrum of diverse sexuality, and learn…learn about what is missing in your community or household that could help create a more open, positive and accepting space for this part of your identity; I want to learn about the communities and lifestyles you are a part of; the fantasies and relationships you have! And guess what? I will! Through two grandiose projects I will be undertaking this year!

All I need is a little help from my friends.


If you haven’t already taken a gander at our Campaign: Sex In America, let me get you up to speed.

Master J and I will be launching an Indiegogo campaign on April 22 of this year. We are aiming to raise $35,000 USD in order to spend one year traveling throughout the US and Canada to discover and learn about all things sex!

With all the anti-sex events that took place in 2018 – changes in sex-ed curriculums (reversion), passing of laws restricting sex workers’ access to safe working conditions, to put it mildly (SESTA/FOSTA), and large online platforms banning sexual content (TUMBLR), to name but a few – I wanted to expand my reach in a traditional way: en-route and face-to-face!

This road trip will commence July 1st , 2019 from New York City, and will continue for 365 days with the following goals in mind:

1) Create sexuality meet ups in every city we visit. My plan is to be accompanied by local sex experts, and together we will conduct an open discussion regarding sexuality, and give the floor to all attendees to speak their truth and concerns. Topics and themes will vary!

2) Speak to minority groups and hidden alternative lifestyle communities to bring awareness to the intersectionality of sexuality, gender issues, and give voice to those who feel oppressed, unheard, or, quite frankly, in danger.

3) Attend relevant events, clubs and conferences on a variety of themes and topics.

4) Interview experts and thought leaders in this field on a variety of topics.

5) Interview sex workers, and other people within the sex industry (bloggers, vloggers, sex toy retailers/owners, sex club employees, etc.)

And of course, report everything back to you by way of blog and other upcoming projects (see below!). In addition, my goal is to collect my findings and publish a book in 2020. You can all take this grand adventure with me!

As I’m sure you can all imagine, this trip will require collaboration and a great deal of planning in order for it to be a success. If you are interested in becoming involved, please sign up for our campaign newsletter here, and receive updates on the project, perks for getting involved, and opportunities to influence our road trip – perhaps a one-on-two date with Master J and I?

We are also looking for incredible sponsors to assist in the financial end of this project.

We have a variety of sponsorship opportunities, and would be thrilled to share them with anyone who is interested. Please email me at for more information!

This road trip will not only bring us closer to you, but also further aid in the eradication of stigmas attached to “unconventional” sexuality, and the long prevailing taboo that has surrounded this topic for millennia! We want to uncover the reality of sexual diversity, from A to Z!

To put it simply, this road trip would be a dream come true, and we cannot make it happen without you! Subscribe and follow my social media channels for updates (links at end of post)


If you are a Collar Club Member, you already know that as a preamble to the campaign launch I will be debuting my YouTube channel, Shock & Raw, and my Patreon page, Shock & Raw: Uncensored. Even better, I will be co-hosting Shock & Raw with the one and only, Essential Witch, my younger sister, Bronté.

Having grown up with the same parents, in the same environment, similar rules, attending the same schools, I remain fascinated by our varied sexual nature! Although deeply accepting of others, Bronté remains much more reserved in her personal outpouring of sexual information. Where as I…well, you know.

The premise of Shock & Raw is to reveal seemingly shocking alternative lifestyle content to Bronté (and my brave and wonderful audience), as well as other general sexual information, then go to town discussing what you’ve all been subjected to.

Bronté is never briefed before hand, therefore all reactions are genuine (and at times, quite hilarious). This is not a platform to mock alternative sexual lifestyles, in fact, my goal is to bring awareness to them, as well as confront the stigmas that surround them.

From there, if you haven’t gotten your fill, you can move on over to our Shock & Raw: Uncensored (S&R:U) Patreon page, whereby you can become a Patron and get access to two extended, uncut bonus episodes per month! There are many other perks to enjoy, such as Skype dates with us, voting on topics, calling into the show and having questions answered directly by us, dedications, and more!

Everything raised via Patreon will help us create better and higher quality content, and allow me to continue my sexual research! We encourage you to submit topics and questions (we will answer all of them during episodes of S&R:U)

Keep your eyes on our social media channels (links included below) for the premiere of S&R, S&R:U, or subscribe to COTQ to receive direct updates from me!

The Essential Witch
Instagram: @theessential_witch
TEW – Young Living

Quean Mo
Instagram/Facebook/Twitter: @callofthequaen
Youtube (content coming soon): Shock & Raw
Patreon (content coming soon): Shock & Raw: Uncensored

So, tell me, what sex or relationship topics would you like to hear us discuss on the show?

Until next time,

Fuck-well, friends!

Holiday Special: Top 10 of 2018

2018 marks my life as the most monumental year of sexual discovery. From embracing the cuckquean within, opening myself to new sexual experiences, and, of course, launching this blog…I have propelled forward into the great unknown of my own desires, and have never looked back.

I can see now that Call of the Quean was not just my coming out as a bisexual, submissive cuckquean; it became a place of familiarity and comfort as I navigated through a very new, unfamiliar and, literally, foreign world: France. It was the great departure and a new awakening from my small-town life. In a year I grew beyond expectation; my appreciation for home deepened; and the love I never could find for myself blossomed and flourished…

Since COTQ’s debut, and despite the many moments I felt like giving up, I’ve learned French (although not fluently), I married my Dominant, Master J, and started my own sex coaching business!

2018, to say the least, is a year of beautiful changes and celebrations. As a small tribute to myself, and to the loyal followers I’ve had along the way (especially my Collar Club Members), I’ve summed up the best 10 COTQ moments of 2018. Here we go…

A Stripper Saved My Life, March 5, 2018

I will never forget my Portuguese beauty. If it weren’t for her, the Quean wouldn’t exist. Probably my most personal post, debuting this magical, online sex-palace I’ve created for myself. A Stripper Saved My Life recounts my visit to a small strip joint in Porto, Portugal late 2017. After entering the small boutique, and being confronted by an anxiety that years of body shaming and mental illness produced, I found myself consumed by the slow, sultry moves of a curvy, caramel-skinned dancer. She sparked something in me – quenching the dried up goddess that laid dormant inside of me for years – releasing my sexual potential; releasing the Quean.

Porn Date, April 9, 2018

Confession: Prior to this article, I had never watched porn…at least not for its main purpose: to get off. Of course, when Master J discovered this, there was much discussion over how we could enjoy it together. As someone who had a bad taste in my mouth as a result of previous boyfriends h
iding porn behind my back, to the point that they were watching it more than they were engaging with me, it took some time to come around to the idea. But, as the title suggests, I did! And it was awesome!

Sex Club Prep, May 7, 2018

This topic had been requested a couple of times, and as someone who has a profound appreciation for sex clubs (the combination of exhibitionism and voyeurism all rolled into one experience!), I jumped in the saddle almost immediately. For anyone who has ever considered going to a sex club, but perhaps are feeling a bit afraid or intimidated, this one was for you!

Les Chandelles, May 30, 2018

I attended a dinner date at the most famous sex club in all of Paris – perhaps even France. I was blown away by its food, décor, and ambiance. Even if the club itself didn’t create space (literally) for the sexual experience I was hoping for, Les Chandelles is definitely one of the seven wonders of the sex world.

I Like a Girl, June 20, 2018

This is a brief, yet personal article following my first experience bringing another woman into bed with Master J and I. It was messy, beautiful and reaffirming…

BDSM Travel Basics, June 11, 2018

All of us kinky folk have our “staple” items. In BDSM Basics I covered what Master J and I bring with us, regardless of where we go – friends apartments, families houses, hotels… Since we travel so frequently, we’ve learned to narrow it down to a few essential items. Hope this assists when you have limited space, but still want to get freaky.

Liberated: The New Sexual Revolution, August 6, 2018

A passionate and emotional response to the documentary with the same title. As someone who deeply resents the social construct of gender, this documentary hit more than just a nerve. It delves into subjects such as gender, sexuality, sexual assault, masculinity and femininity, and does so by way of following groups of college students on spring break. There were several moments during this film I had to stop it to catch my breath, and keep the vomit down. It has themes of violence against women, so please, be cautious before reading the post OR watching the film.

I Married My Dom (+Q&A), October 16, 2018

Detailing one of the happiest days of my life, as well as answering questions from the audience, I wore a smile during the entire composition and posting of this article. My relationship with my Dominant is of utmost importance to me, and I was thrilled to be able to share this with everyone!

At Cuck Speed, November 14, 2018

Probably the most requested topic of the year, At Cuck Speed is my personal guide to having a cuck relationship. From trusting your Cuck partner to respecting their pace, I try to consider all potential roadblocks by providing details of my own personal cuckquean journey.

Label Me, pt I, December 4, 2018

Of the three part Label Me series, part one was my favourite. Going into its composition, I really wasn’t sure what I could say about being a submissive. I knew that it had always been a part of my sexual nature, although I hadn’t always been able to act on it. It’s pieces like this that make me the most proud… the moments where you let yourself go in your medium, without expectation of the outcome, and somehow create something that hits people. I had a lot of feedback from this one; many readers thanking me for writing such an honest, emotional and inspiring piece. I hadn’t even meant for it to be that…sometimes just being open, being yourself, can help people find relief.

The Characters of COTQ

Thanks to Call of the Quean I have connected with some of the most beautiful and interesting people. I did not include any of them in the top 10 of 2018, as each of them offer a unique story – one no more important than the other. Their diverse perspectives on sexuality and lifestyle have inspired me and many of my readers to embrace their own erotic calling.

If you missed any of these exclusive interviews at the time of their release, I definitely encourage you to take a moment now, tomorrow or in the days to come, to get acquainted with them, as I’m sure their voices will reemerge in the future.

Date with a Dom: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

Yes, I got up close and personal with my Dominant, Master J, over glasses of wine and multiple dinner dates. This is what we learned…

Button-Dick Brian

He went from shameful to shameless after discovering SPH (small penis humiliation) and submission. He is one of the most open and brave people I have had the opportunity of speaking to! Plus, he worships women…what isn’t to adore about that?

The Lingerie Guy

As a man versed in the art of ladies undergarments, he continues to challenge heteronormativity by proving lace and ribbon aren’t just reserved for women. His lingerie knowledge base will put most women to shame (myself included)! If you’re in need of inspiration or recommendations, he will be your dream come true.

Minx: A Memoir: Part I, Part II, Part III

A childhood friend shares stories about her upbringing in a broken, fatherless home. This strong, yet open soul will bring you to tears, while simultaneously providing hope. From falling in love with her mother’s ex fiancé, to receiving an abortion ultimatum, her life reflects many of the struggles too many women face – both young and old. If nothing else, Minx is a blunt voice of heroinism, and hope.

Interview with Dalma Rosa

Also known as Cuckquean Café, Dalma Rose and I discuss her cuckquean journey – the good, the bad and the ugly. She is an author of the book, My Husband and the Au-pair: A Cuckquean Fantasy, and has recently been coaching others who are looking to step into this lifestyle. She is sexy, genuine and straight forward about living a cuck life.

The Essential Witch

Conducting this interview was one of the funnest experiences I’ve had since starting this blog. It doesn’t hurt that the interviewee was my baby sister. She brings her wit and improv skills to the table, providing a unique promotional experience of her new-found love for Young Living®. If you are or have ever been interested in adding the benefits of essential oils to your life, this is a post for you! The Essential Witch is working her magic (no pun intended) to bring toxic-free, vegan products to the lives of anyone who is interested.

Again, I want to thank everyone who has been with me on this journey, be it through reading my posts, being featured, or being active online via commenting or social media channels.

I can promise that 2019 will be an even BIGGER year for Call of the Quean, with lots of surprises in store! Keep your eyes peeled for what’s to come, you won’t be disappointed.

Until next time,

Happy Holidays

Happy New Year

Fuck well, friends!