sadist

Be Careful What You Wish For

· September 14, 2009 · Thoughts · , , , , , , , , , · 30 Comments

She has mentioned a few things that she’s always wanted to do but hadn’t yet.

I told her I would do them (of course) and one in particular made me wince but at the same time eager to do it. Eager to be the first, eager to give her something nobody else had. I find myself desperate to make her fantasies come true. Even something that scares me.

Maybe a little bit of it is to prove my adoration, but most of it is to please her, to give her something she hasn’t had yet, to know that she can use me for whatever she wants.

Tonight, one of those things happened.

I was…ok bear with me because this sounds like something out of a porno but then again, so much of what she and I have done sounds like it comes out of a porno. A very high budget, well written porno.

I was in her kitchen, naked, doing the dishes and wearing a collar and a brand new ball-stretcher (2.5 inches). After I finished I asked if I could eat and she offered me some leftovers she had delivered.   

“Oh, wait”, she said with a wicked smile, “give me your cock-head”.

I knew what was coming, it was one of those things I had winced about. One of those things she had always wanted to do and now she was going to do it.

She reached among the leftover burger and fries and grabbed a jalapeno pepper, tore out a small chunk of it and slowly slid it inside my urethra so just a small piece was visible.

What happened next was a blur. A very painful blur.

At first I was hard, hard because it felt a little warm but mostly hard because I could see how much it turned her on.

It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and she had a very big smile on her face.

“Do you want it out?”

“Yes!” I stammered

“Then you’ll have to cum it out”.

I had serious doubts if I would be able to or not but the next thing I knew, I was on my knees, jerking this burning piece of flesh between my legs

I was close, I could have came right then but at that moment her best friend came out of the bathroom, she had been dying her hair and came out to see what all the commotion was about.

“God I love coming over to your house!” she exclaimed as she saw me kneeling and jerking off in front of her smiling friend.

“Should I let him come?” my owner asked her best friend

“No”

“Fuck”, I thought. I was so close, I wanted so badly to come, more from the desire to expel that evil evil pepper, than to experience an orgasm.

I stopped and the pain began to increase even more. The burning became unbearable and I started to shake and whimper.

“My poor baby, do you want me to make it stop?” she asked.

“Yes…” deep breath, wince, whimper “please” and she ran off to grab some yogurt from the kitchen, I think she asked me where it was in the fridge but I was in no condition to answer.

Moments later she was rubbing yogurt into my urethra and I could feel it starting to cool but not enough. Her best friend returned with a bowl of milk and I was told to “dip your dick in the milk”.

I did.

I felt like Yosemite Sam dropping his ass into a barrel of water after Bugs had just lit him on fire.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

It wasn’t over though.

She made me hold that position for ten minutes. My muscles aching as though I was in some convoluted yoga position. As I breathed heavily and moaned, she would kiss me and stroke my hair.

Oh and she took photos.

IMG00035-20090914-2231.jpg

That was about an hour ago. She asked me to write about it and so here I am, naked, still a bit numb, laying on the floor next to her couch as she pets my back and occasionally steps on my balls and smiles at me.

Sometimes, when you get what you wish for, it’s better than you imagined.

The Party, Part 2: Tenderized

· August 21, 2008 · Thoughts · , , , , , · 11 Comments

Continued from part one

I had just been tied up, scratched, beaten and drooled on. I was a very happy boy. I was standing around trying to keep a big silly grin from taking over my face.

Troy came up to me and said “Hey how’s it feel to finally play at a play party?”

I wanted to say “good” or “fine thank you” or something that sounded more cool but what came out was probably something that sounded like “awwwwwwweeeessssoooooooooommmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”.

That was when Troy mentioned that the party would be coming to an end soon and then added, “Lets whip you first”.

This was to be the second time Troy had whipped me at a play party. After the first time she mentioned how everyone stopped what they were doing just to watch. I can’t say that I blame them. People probably stop to watch Troy put butter on her toast.

She had me take my shirt off and face her A-frame mounted on the wall. My hands gripped the wood as she started to make rhythmic beats on my back.

This is where things get really foggy for me. When I’m experiencing this kind of pain, everything else goes away. The only thing that exists is me and the other person but there’s no time involved. There will be moments when it feels like it is lasting forever and others when it feels like it just started a nanosecond ago.

I only remember emotions. Sometimes I get angry. Not at the person doing the whipping, but at the pain. Sometimes I get angry that it’s not always there when I need it and sometimes it’s because it just fucking hurts. Maybe anger isn’t the right word. It’s just a release of emotion when I feel that kind of pain. I was a little embarrassed when I realized everyone was looking at us. (Ok maybe more Troy than I, but hey…I was the sidekick to this little show).

For me, bdsm is more about the person than the act (not that it’s not about the act as well..but…well you know what I’m getting at). Troy almost becomes the whip– she’s not using an implement as much as she’s making the whip an extension of herself. The whip isn’t whipping me, she is.

It was raw. It was hot, it was…yummy.

She’d build up the pain so I was on my tiptoes, moaning and conflicted. My natural instinct to move away from the whip was muted by the desire for more and to get closer. My back would arch when she’d repeatedly hit the same spot again and again. Even though I had half of my clothes on I still felt naked and raw.

I have no clue how long it lasted.

Afterwards, I gave Troy a big hug (dropping down to kiss her feet would have been a but much but it was my initial thought) and a few people came up to me and shook my hand.

Shook my hand?

One guy said “that was some show…good job”. I had no clue what to say to that other than “thanks, it’s…what I do”.

I think there’s some chemistry that comes across between Troy and I. I trust her and she knows how far she wants to push me and she knows that I’ll go that far.

Later I walked to the subway, the cool air coming up under my shirt. Rope marks still on my arms and possibly even on my face.

I sat on the subway feeling stronger, more confident, powerful even.

And very turned on.

Treated Like An Animal

· June 19, 2008 · Thoughts · , , , , , , · 11 Comments

I’ve had three people ask me what I’m into over the past week.

There’s never a good answer to this one since it all depends on who I’m with, what the energy is and what she’s into.

While I love bondage, I also adore letting the woman relax and enjoy herself while I do all the work of kissing and tasting every inch of her body.

What’s more important is what she is into. If I check out the profile of a woman on Fetlife and read her list of kinks, chances are I’m into most of them.

Then someone asked me what I’ve been fantasizing about lately. That’s a different question.

It depends on my mood of but lately I’ve thought a lot about one thing in particular. I’ve been thinking about being used.

Being tied up and objectified, tortured, teased, abused, fucked and everything else you can imagine.

To be treated like an animal and I don’t mean puppy or pony play.

I’ve been fantasizing about being tied or chained standing up, whipped, punched, clamped, gagged, bent over and fucked. Torn to shreds until I’m on my knees and then finally allowed to taste her. Maybe being teased the entire time until I’m allowed to fuck her or get fucked by her until she’s satisfied and we’re both drained.

I have so much pent up sexual and non-sexual energy, I just need a release. I need to be pushed..far and hard.

So yeah, that’s what I’ve been thinking about lately.

Over Before It Starts?

· January 3, 2008 · Thoughts · , , · 5 Comments

I told you before that I met someone.

It didn’t end there.

After that initial encounter I didn’t think I’d hear from her again. I had opened up totally and almost cried in front of her when she asked about my frustrations of finding someone like her. For some crazy reason she was interested in getting to know me and very recently we have been spending more time together. I make her laugh and the passion between us is amazing.

But….

Yes there’s a but.

But she’s not sure if she can go down this path. She calls me the “rabbit hole” because she’s worried once she goes to BDSM she won’t want to go back again. A close friend suggested that I explain it as though it were a menu. It’s not that you can’t enjoy the things you enjoyed before, you’ll just have more things to choose from. More options.

She’s enjoyed being dominant with vanilla men but being dominant with them means something very different than being dominant with me. WIth a ‘nilla man the bar is much lower than it is with me. WIth me she has almost endless options.

She’s a sadist, I can tell, I can feel it. I know it and so does she, but it’s a part of her she’s never addressed because she’s never been with someone like me before, someone who needs her to not hold back. She’s said she doesn’t feel comfortable yet and may never feel comfortable with that part of herself. She knows she wants to and daydreams about it, but can’t bring herself to it. She’s not scared of me, she’s scared of herself.

A few nights ago we were walking around and she told me about some of the guys she’s been with. She’s been proposed to by many and said yes to none. As we were talking about it I could almost see how this would end. I put it out of my mind.

I’ve introduced her to many of my closest friends, I’ve never done that before. Last night she met one of my best friends, my dear ‘nilla friend who knows all about me. Seeing them talking and laughing made me adore her even more. I want to introduce her to my Domme friend, so she can see that you can be dominant, sadistic and still “normal”.

Thankfully she’s being honest. She’s told me that she may never be able to go down that rabbit hole. We both agree that we want to be something to one another, but that something will probably be friends.

I know I should just enjoy the time she and I have and not worry about it. Maybe I’ve been hurt so many times that I naturally expect it will end with me back at square one, looking for someone like her.

Feeling her body next to mine makes me wish I didn’t need what I need. I tried to tell her that it’s OK if she never goes down the rabbit hole, but she knows that I need it, she can read me like a book.

On the way home from work tonight I had my IPhone on shuffle and this song popped up:

And So It Goes

Damn you Billy Joel.

How do you explain to someone that it’s OK for them to let themselves go when they know they want to but just can’t seem to bring themselves to it?

How do you help someone who’s scared what she might become if she goes down the rabbit hole?

Am I A Masochist?

· December 31, 2007 · Thoughts · , , , , , , · 18 Comments

A vanilla friend of mine recently said “Hey if you want to get beaten up by women, just walk into a lesbian bar dressed as Rush Limbaugh.”

I’ve been with a few people who thought they were sadists, but when it came time to play they would just barely tap and maybe tap once or twice then look at me saying “Can you take that? Is that enough? Is it too much for you?”

Yes, I’ve faked it once. But the other times I’ve usually just said “more please”. There’s sometimes a look of sadness and disbelief when they realize I can take more pain than most.

Ok…that sounded like bragging.

I will say this, there’s tons of pain I’m not sure I could take at all. I’ve never been whipped for example, nor have I experienced CBT or a heavy flogging or..wow lots of stuff.

Here’s the other thing. I may not actually be a masochist at all.

Some define a masochist as someone who can take a lot of pain, others say its someone who can have an orgasm from it.

I’ll say, from my limited experience with caning, that I’m more of the former. But then again, I’ve never been caned by someone I was really into.

One of the hottest experiences in my life was when I was out on a date with someone, we were making out and she dug her fingernails deep into my side (so deep I had marks in my side for months and months afterwards). I was in heaven. She whispered in my ear “I love that you’re a pain-slut”. It wad one of the sexiest things anyone has ever said to me. Sadly that was as far as it went with her.

I do know that, when it comes to caning, I can usually take a lot of pain. I friggin’ love it. I love taking it for that person, feeling their power and….ok I guess I am getting turned on by it.

I also love the emotional release. I’ve only had one really really good beating and I ended up crying because of it (and because while in deep subspace I thought heard the voice of the woman I was desperate for at the time).

I will tell you one form of torture I can’t handle: Musical theater.

I’ve come up with a few possible craigslist headlines that may attract a sadist:

-Please beat the shit out of me

Nah too graphic

-Please make me hurt

Nope…she could just stand me up and do the trick

-Want to work out your frustrations?

No, sounds like every Casual Encounters post

-Is that a whip and flogger in your hand or are you just happy to see me?

Too cliche

-Beat me and you could win a free toaster!

Bingo that’s it! It appeals to every sadist and…who wouldn’t like a free toaster?

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