A Gentleman that guides and instructs, assisting those needing the strength of a man to help them release their desires and fantasies. A Love for women's sexy feet, nylons and pretty toes! Canadian, 50’s
An hour at her foot. Worshipping her heel and pantyhose clad foot. If she was satisfied with my work, she would reward me by allowing me anything I wanted for the evening.
Or
Mount her pantyhose clad thigh. Grind myself against her, regardless of how embarrassed or weak it made me feel. Until I either ran out of energy, or was rewarded by own actions, mindlessly orgasming by using her thigh.
The act of making the choice itself nearly broke me.
So she chose for me.
I would start at her feet. Worshipping both heels, both feet, until she was satisfied. My reward, in my already addled state, would be to mount her thigh. To pleasure myself until I orgasmed.
There would be no stopping.
Hours later, after having lost my self in her worship, after she'd pulled me onto her pantyhose clad thigh, after she'd made me bring myself to multiple orgasms until I could not think, until moaning was all I was capable of, my body simply moving against her on its own while she whispered encouraging words in my ear, I finally collapsed against her, sheer exhaustion taking its toll.
As I lay against her, she ran her fingers through my hair and whispered the two words I'd longed to hear.
"Good boy."
I shivered uncontrollably against her, the words implanting themselves in me in my aroused, mindlessly weakened state.
It had been one week, since my last orgasm. It was the last time I had seen her. I had been told not to come again until she allowed. I was permitted to edge if I was thinking about her in the shower. So that’s all I had done for the last seven days. My balls were full. I was a needy mess.
She told me she was busy, but that she could see me for five minutes in the car. She told me where to park and I waited for her.
It was a snowy day, and I patiently waited with the car on keeping it warm. When she pulled up next to me, she got out of her car and I could see that she was wearing short skirt, tights, and boots. She looked amazing.
She got into my car and looked at her watch. “I only have five minutes to torment you,” she said.
She put her boot up by the steering wheel and told me to worship it. I did as I was told. I also tried to sneak a look up her skirt. She caught me.
“Did you just try to look up my skirt?”
I Admitted that I did. She took her boot away from me. “You should know better. Keep your eyes where I tell you.”
Yes, mistress, I replied.
She put her hand on my thigh. She had a beautiful new manicure. It felt wonderful to be touched.
“Keep your eyes on my eyes, “she said.
I looked into her eyes. Completely transfixed.
“Have you been a good boy? Did you edge for me this morning in the shower?“
I nodded.
She moved her hand from my thigh to my balls. Her fingernails tracing circles.
“Are you wearing panties today?“
I nodded. She told me I was a good boy.
She looked at her watch again and said, “three minutes.“
“I bet you would like to have an orgasm. I bet you would like me to suck your cock in the car.”
I nodded. She smiled and shook her head, “not a chance.”
“I bet you would like me to hop in your lap and ride your cock.” I nodded.
“I bet you wish your wife wanted to make you come. I bet you wish you had a wife who wanted to fuck you and make you happy the way I do.” I nodded.
“I bet you would like me to make you kneel in front of my husband and make you suck his cock while I stroke you. You would like to come while sucking cock, wouldn’t you?“ I nodded.
Her hand was now stroking my cock through my pants.
“I bet you would like to go down on me and give me an orgasm and be satisfied, even if I didn’t let you come, wouldn’t you?“ I nodded.
“I bet you would like to come hands-free while I am pegging you, wouldn’t you?“ I nodded.
“I bet you would like me to warm you up and not let you come until you had a real cock inside you.“ I nodded as I squirmed and her hand started putting more pressure on my hard cock.
“Don’t you dare come in your pants,” she said. I told her I was trying not to.
“Would you like me to take your cock out and put my mouth on it?“ I nodded and said, yes please, mistress.
She smiled again, and said, “I don’t have time for that nonsense.“
“We are down to one minute.“ I looked down at her fingers pressing against my cock. She grabbed my chin with her other hand and forced me to look back in her eyes.
“You’re such a good boy,” she said. She rubbed my cock harder. “Don’t come,” she said again.
I’m trying not to, I said, but it was really getting difficult.
“I’ll stop in 30 seconds,” she said.
But I couldn’t control myself. She pressed harder, rubbed faster and told me again “don’t you dare come.“
But the feeling started to build in my balls, and I thrust my hips out against her hand, and I couldn’t stop the inevitable. She kept rubbing and it was impossible to not let it go.
Thankfully, she smiled and said that I wasn’t in trouble. But she unbuttoned my pants and reached into my panties. Covering her fingers with my mess. She brought them to my lips and made me clean them.
“Good boy. Next time I might fuck you.“
She got out of the car and I watched her beautiful ass open the door to her car. As she got in, she flashed me an up skirt shot and smiled. I was sitting there in the car with my pants undone and a wet mess of a softening cock in my panties. The taste of my own juice on my lips. But I was happy. She loved me. She knew what I needed and took care of me.
"Oh my god, it's actually happening," she thought to herself with disbelief. Her best friend, and chastity mentor, had told her there would come a day when the cumulative effects would become so overwhelming to him he would literally crumble and break right before her eyes.
And that would be the day there would be no going back for either of them. The day he would become totally, completely hers.
She wasn't buying it though. Not Rick. Not her husband. He was too strong willed. Too determined. Too proud. He would never break, and certainly not in front of her. Not in front of the woman he loved and adored.
But there he was, nearly stumbling into their bedroom. Looking lost. Helpless. Defeated. Like he couldn't go on.
It was Day 67 and he was seeking her out. Desperately. Like a drowning man reaching for a life raft that was slipping away from him.
She looked at him with loving concern as he collapsed into her arms. Onto her lap. His breathing labored. His body trembling like she'd never felt before.
"Baby?.... hey, hey, hey... what is it, sweetheart? Are you okay??," she asked with concern.
She felt him nod his head.
"What is it? What's wrong?? Tell me, what is it, honey?"
She was almost certain she knew but she needed for him to say it. To confess. To admit that he had found himself at the point that he could take no more.
Or so he thought.
It took a few minutes for her to gently coax the words from him, but once they began to flow it was like a pent-up waterfall being released.
"I can't... I can't do this anymore... it's too much... I need it too bad. Baby, I ache so much... I'm so desperate... I need to cum so bad... please... baby please... please let me cum, I'm begging you... I can't make it one more day..."
Seeing her husband like this sent her emotions spiraling. It was heart wrenching seeing him like this. Broken. Lost. So helpless and vulnerable.
Yet at the same time?
Fuck.
It was so fucking hot. Insanely hot. Ridiculously hot. This strong, proud, confident man was broken and on his knees solely from how desperately he wanted her??
Every sexual endorphin in her body kicked in at full force. Breasts heaving. Pussy quivering. Clit pulsing. All systems go.
But even as she was listening to her husband's shameless plea the words of her mentor were playing through her mind as well.
"When you see him like this every instinct will make you want to give him the most explosive orgasm of his life. Don't. His words will imply he's hoping that this is the end, but what he needs most is for you to help him understand that it's only the beginning. That his 'need' to cum exists only in his head. It's not real. It's just a feeling, that's all. There's no longer any connection between how badly he wants to cum and whether he can have an orgasm. Not for him. That connection is gone now. Forever. His orgasms now are solely a function of what you want. Letting him cum on the day that he breaks will only confuse him. It will only feed the false hope that he can somehow influence when his next orgasm might occur. Don't do that to him. That day isn't the day to let him cum. It's the day to take him way deeper than you ever have before. Keep it clear and simple for him. Gently remind him that there's no limit to how much he can take. That it's totally up to you. Redirect his energy. Remind that when he gets all wrapped up thinking about his own pleasure, his own release, he should really be thinking about yours."
So for nearly a half hour she held him to her lovingly. Cradling him to her. Soothing him. Comforting him. Cooing sweet assurances to him.
Even as her fingers would repeatedly find the outline of his confined, caged cock. Teasing along the shape. Rubbing it gently. Making any hope for the uncomfortable straining against his cage to diminish. Prolonging his sweet, pitiful whimpers of desperation.
Finally, she purred, "It's gonna be okay, honey. I promise. Let me help you. Lay back for me. Let's get you more comfortable and then I'll let you out of your cage. Would you like that baby?"
"So much," he practically sobbed.
"Mmm, me too sweetheart," she murmured with a chuckle.
He put up no resistance as she stripped away his clothes, spread his limbs, and secured him to the comfortable restraints that were now permanently attached at each corner of their bed.
She smiled at his moan, the tensing of his muscles, simply from watching her settle in near her waist, drizzling oil down the length of his now freed, helplessly engorged cock.
"Just relax honey, enjoy it. You know I would never hurt you. All I ever want to do is make you feel good," she purred.
Laughing softly at his moan of pleasure and quivering of his hips the instant he felt the silky softness of her hand, she added, "Yeah, just like that baby.... that feels good, doesn't it?... it's so nice when you're able to be all hard and excited for me, huh?"
An hour later his body was glistening with sweat. Muscles exhausted from straining. Saliva drooling from his mouth. His mindless, incoherent sounds of frustration like an erotic symphony to her ears.
His cock was feverishly hot. Impossibly swollen. Sobbing an endless stream of precum. It was an erotic, majestic work of art. A symbol of her mastery over his cock.
A tribute to her exquisite skills. Her ability not only to tease, tantalize and pleasure, but also to torment, control, and deny.
By now she had perfected her craft so that she could maximize both his pleasure and his frustration. Overheating his senses with pleasure while also ensuring no hope of release. Making his balls a cauldron of simmering, bubbling, pent-up cum that she cultivated lovingly.
Day after day after day....
And with each wicked denial, each time her hand pulled away or firmly grasped the base to thwart his release of cum, her voice sweetly offered him reminders of his fate.
"See baby? I know it might not feel that way to you, but you can take more... so much more... I know it aches... soo much... but you're fine sweetheart, just fine... I know you wanna cum really, really bad and I get that... but you'll be fine if you don't..."
After another hour she was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt she had taken him far, far deeper than she ever had before. His ability to beg was now gone. His ability to strain against his bonds was now gone.
There was nothing left of this man now other than what felt to him like an other worldly need to cum, and the incessant, inescapable throbbing and weeping of his cock that was a defenseless prisoner to her soft, wickedly skilled hands.
It was now time to bring him back to her. Redirect him. Refocus him.
So, moving up his body she settled down gently above him. Knees on either side of his head. Her hot, creamy thighs now his prison.
Ever so slowly, sinuously, erotically, her hips began to roll. Undulate. Writhe. A tantalizing, seductive dance that held him at bay while driving him mad with desire.
Her heat overwhelmed his senses, her arousal so intense strands of creamy nectar dangled tauntingly above him from silky folds. Yet still it was out of reach. So cruelly out of reach.
She chuckled throatily at his reaction. The intoxicating, erotic power of her pussy acting like smelling salts to an unconscious man.
He emitted a groan of longing as his muscles strained mightily against his restraints, his head futilely straining upward toward her silky softness that was just out of his reach.
"Well hello there, sweetie. Are you back with me again?... see something that you want?... hmm?," she teased with a soft laugh, moving erotically above him.
Taunting him with the nearness of her pussy yet denying him the privilege of tasting her.
"Yesss! Please??...."
"Yeah?," she teased innocently. "Is it my pussy? Is that what you want?"
"Yesss...."
"Yeah?," she cooed. "It is?... you want this soft, sweet pussy?..."
She laughed at the desperation in his response and the way he tried so valiantly to strain up toward her. "Head down baby," she instructed. "You have to leave your head on the pillow. I can't let you have it if you're being all fussy and squirmy, now can I?"
She seductively purred, "Very good," at his whimper of frustration and the way he immediately complied with her instructions.
"That's a good boy," she murmured approvingly. "Now, keep your mouth closed unless I say you can open it."
Smirking at his whimper from below her, she playfully teased, "... you want it baby?... you want more?... hmm?... do you?..."
She then allowed her hips to lower ever so slightly, just enough so that with each seductive move he would feel the sensation of her pussy ever so lightly teasing across his face.
Sweet, exquisite torment.
Torment that was so tortuous to this man that for him it should be banned under the Geneva Convention.
She smiled at his muffled groan and the fact he was keeping his mouth closed, even as she let it brush back and forth across his clenched lips.
"....you wanna taste it?... you wanna lick it?... want me to let you make me cum?"
She chuckled at his the desperation in his muffled groan.
"... yeah?... you like that, don't you?... when I let you feel me cum?... when your face gets all hot and flushed and wet and creamy?... do you like that baby?... when I let your face get drenched in my warm, sweet juices?"
Smiling at his groan of agreement, she purred, "Even when you don't get to cum?... even when you stay all achy and frustrated?... you still love it when I cum, don't you baby?"
Knowing she now had him firmly ensnared when he moaned his agreement, she murmured, "Ok honey, I'll let you have it... I'll let you make me cum. All you have to do is tell me that you want me to make you wait one more day before I consider letting you cum."
Before he could respond, she added, "Wait, make that, 'at least' one more day. You can open your mouth now baby so you can tell me. And honey? If you say it? I'll let you make me cum a lot today. I promise."
A moment later she was smirking triumphantly above him, cupping her breasts, listening to him plead, "Please? Pease make me wait at least one more day? Please, let me make you cum?? Please??"
With a throaty chuckle, she purred, "Yes baby, if that's what you want so bad I'll let you make me cum."
Mercifully, she finally lowered herself to his eager, hungry mouth. And when his mouth began to pleasure and worship, she teasingly added, "...and I promise I won't let you cum for another day. For at least one more day baby."
"When I need it, I have a hairbrush - just for spanking. It’s particularly hard and heavy and the 'business' potion is about the size of my hand. Much more effective than my hand - particularly when used vigorously - and extensively - on a soft, bare, misbehaving bottom.”
"If that's what you need you'll come to know it well - and I expect that just the sight of it will fill you with anxiety and trepidation."
...and excitement, I thought.
"Though if you've earned it, you'll probably already have a great deal of trepidation," she said, echoing the word. "Not so much at just the sight of it. Say, sitting on the bathroom counter, where I keep it on display."
I nodded.
"In any case, when I have it in my hand, you may also feel a bit of contrition - before I ever even use it. Depending on if you agree you deserve it..."
I nodded again. I almost always agree that I 'deserve' it.
"I'm likely to say to say, 'Now it’s a spanking for you - one that you won’t forget in a hurry, I’m going to make sure of that."
I felt my knees weaken. How long before I actually feel it?
"Then, I'll sit in a spanking chair - you know the type, of course - set somewhere with nothing to obstruct my movement. This will be in the bedroom if I'm going to use my hairbrush, since I don't carry it with me.
"If I've had to drag you up there - or drag you home, heaven forbid - I'll expect you to approach my side immediately, removing what you need to - except perhaps your undies."
"Oh?" I ask, speaking at last.
"Yes. Oh, you'll be spanked on the bare - always on the bare. But I can handle that final step when I'm ready."
I imagined myself, already on the verge of tears, standing obediently as she lowered them.
"If you ever fail to cooperate, you'll learn not to fail to cooperate," she said with a grin.
"No, Ma'am," I mumbled.
"Even the most difficult spanking can always be made worse," she warned. "So you'll want to avoid that."
She paused for a beat, then went on. "You'll put yourself across my lap - bottom up, of course." Another smile at this. "We'll get you arranged and make sure you're in a position you can maintain, and the way I'll hold you I'll be able to keep you in place from start to finish.
"That will allow a spanking that will do you the most good."
"Yes, Ma'am," I peeped. I felt like I could hardly breathe.
"Any questions?"
"Ummm... when will I be feeling this?"
"Well," she sort of chuckled, "You haven't done anything wrong - yet."
The voice is a silken command in the dark, inches from your face. The scent of her perfume—something expensive and floral, with a sharp, metallic edge—fills your nostrils. You can’t see her. The blindfold is a strip of black silk, tied tight enough to press against your eyelids, sealing you in a private void. You’re sitting on something plush, maybe the edge of her absurdly large bed in her absurdly large penthouse. Your hands are at your sides, palms flat on cool, slick satin sheets.
You obey. Your jaw unhinges, a dry click in your throat.
Something warm and wet traces the seam of your lips. Not a kiss. A slow, deliberate lick. The tip of her tongue, tasting you.
“Good boy.” Wonyoung’s giggle is a light, musical thing that doesn’t match the predatory stillness in the room. “So obedient for me already. You have no idea what I’m going to do to you tonight, do you?”
You shake your head, a tiny motion. Your heart is a frantic bird trapped in the cage of your ribs.
“I’ve been planning this,” she whispers. Her breath ghosts over your damp lips. “Every detail. For weeks. Watching you. Learning what makes you twitch. What makes you hard. What makes you mine.”
A cool, smooth pressure lands on your thigh. Not her hand. Something lighter, more articulate. The ball of her foot. She’s barefoot. She presses down, the arch of her foot rubbing along the muscle of your inner thigh, moving with agonizing slowness towards the growing tightness in your boxers.
This is where it starts. Or rather, where it has finally, irrevocably, arrived.
It didn’t start here, in this sensory-deprived hell of her design. It started three months ago, on a stupid bet you never knew was being placed.
You met at a rooftop charity gala you’d crashed, a nobody in a rented tux among old money and surgically enhanced beauty. She was a vision in ice-blue silk, hair like spun obsidian, laughing with a circle of heirs and heiresses who looked at the world like it was a toy they’d already broken. You were getting air, leaning against the glass barrier, feeling like an imposter.
“You look miserable,” she’d said, materializing at your elbow. No hello. Just an observation, delivered with a clinical curiosity.
You’d shrugged. “Not really my scene.”
“What is your scene?” she asked, her eyes—large, dark, and unnervingly focused—scanning your face.
“Cheap beer. Video games. Not being here.”
Her smile then was different. Not the polished, empty one she used on her friends. This was smaller, sharper. Intrigued. “Honest. Refreshing.” She plucked a champagne flute from a passing tray and handed it to you. “I’m Wonyoung. I’m here because my father donated a wing. You’re here because…?”
“The canapés looked good online.”
She’d laughed, a real sound that seemed to surprise even her. That was the hook. The dare, you learned weeks later, was from her bored friend Seulgi: “I bet you can’t date a normal boy for a month. One who doesn’t know what a trust fund is.” You were the normal boy. A novelty. A project.
The first month was a whirlwind. Extravagant dates you couldn’t afford, gifts that felt like artifacts from another life. She was charming, relentless, a force of nature who decided you were interesting and proceeded to consume your attention. You were flattered. Who wouldn’t be? Wonyoung was genius, beautiful, and for some reason, glued to your side.
The shift was subtle. A question about who you were texting. A pout when you mentioned meeting friends for pizza. A kiss that lasted a little too long, her fingers digging into your jaw not in passion, but in possession. “Mine,” she’d murmur against your lips, and you’d laugh it off, thinking it was a cute, intense quirk.
Then came the “coincidences.” You’d be at a coffee shop three miles from your apartment, and she’d slide into the booth opposite you. “Fancy meeting you here.” You’d mention offhand you were thinking of seeing a specific exhibit at the museum, and she’d have tickets for that exact time slot the next day. Her explanations were airy, plausible. “I just had a feeling!” or “Great minds, right?”
The isolation came next. Your friend Mark called you a ghost. Your roommate said you were never home. Wonyoung’s excuses became demands. “I need you tonight.” “Cancel it. I made better plans.” “Your friends don’t understand us. They’ll try to take you from me.” She’d frame it as devotion. “We just have something so special, don’t we? Why dilute it with people who don’t get it?” And you, overwhelmed and intoxicated by her focused, burning attention, agreed. One by one, the other people in your life faded into static.
You even met her friends less and less. “They’re jealous,” she’d sigh, tracing patterns on your chest. “They see how I look at you. They know you’re my real obsession. Not the bags or the cars. You.”
The word ‘obsession’ should have been a klaxon. It sounded like a confession, but it felt like a warning. Her love wasn’t warm; it was a closed fist, holding you so tight you couldn’t breathe. Her texts weren’t “good morning” but “what are you doing right this second” followed by a picture of her view—a view that was often of your street, your building, the cafe window you were sitting at.
And now, this. The culmination. She’d shown up at your door two hours ago, her eyes glittering with a manic energy. “We’re doing something tonight. Something I’ve wanted. No arguments. Come.” The command in her voice brooked no refusal. You came.
*
Her foot slides higher, the delicate bones and tendons of her sole pressing against the growing bulge in your boxers. You flinch.
“Shhh,” she soothes, her voice a mockery of comfort. The foot rubs up and down, a slow, maddening stroke over the fabric. You can feel the heat of her skin through the cotton. “Just feel it. I’ve watched you for so long. I know exactly how you like to be touched. Here…”
Her toes curl, trapping your cock through the material, and apply a gentle, squeezing pressure. A shuddering breath escapes you.
“Yes,” she coos. “Just like that. You get hard so easily for me. Like your body knows who owns it.”
The other foot joins, planting on your other thigh. She’s kneeling or crouching before you, you realize, her feet bracketing your hips. She uses both now, the soles rubbing you from base to tip in a slow, synchronized, torturous rhythm. The friction is dry at first, then dampens as your pre-cum seeps through the boxers, creating a slick, shameful spot. The shhhk, shhhk of cotton on cotton is loud in the quiet room.
“You’re leaking already,” she observes, delight in her tone. One foot lifts, and you feel the press of her toes against your lips. “Taste it. Taste how much you want this.”
The command is so perverse, so degrading, your mind blanks. But your body, wired to her voice, obeys. Your tongue flicks out, tasting salt and skin and the faint, clean scent of her lotion. You make a soft, choked sound.
“Good. So good for me.” The foot returns to its work, now slick with your saliva. The slide is smoother, more intimate. She works you with a practiced, cruel slowness, her feet manipulating your shaft, rolling your balls beneath an arch, never giving enough pressure to tip you over, just enough to keep you teetering on that knife-edge of need.
“Do you know what tonight is?” she asks conversationally, as if she’s not masturbating you with her feet. “It’s the night I erase every other thought from your head. The night your brain rewires itself to only understand pleasure when I give it. When I allow it.”
Her hands touch you then, not on your cock, but on your face. Cool, slender fingers frame your jaw, thumbs stroking your cheekbones. Then they slip behind your head, fingers tangling in your hair. She holds you still.
The wet heat of her mouth closes over yours. But it’s not a kiss. It’s a claiming. Her tongue plunges inside, mapping your teeth, dominating the space. She tastes of mint and something darker, more primal. You can’t move, held by her hands and the blindfold. You can only receive. The dual sensation—the expert, rhythmic massage of her feet on your cock and the invasive, consuming kiss—sends conflicting signals of violation and intense arousal crashing through your system. You’re hard to the point of pain, a throbbing, neglected ache between your legs.
She breaks the kiss with a wet, soft pop. “I want to hear you beg,” she whispers, her lips brushing yours. “But not yet. First, I want to feel every inch of you.”
The feet retreat. You hear the soft rustle of fabric. Her hands leave your face. For a moment, there’s nothing. Just the dark and the frantic beat of your heart and the painful, tented urgency in your boxers. The silence is worse.
Then her weight settles on your lap, straddling you. She’s still clothed—you can feel the fine weave of her dress, the hem brushing your thighs. Her heat, even through the layers, is immense. She grinds down, the firm mound of her sex pressing against your trapped, weeping cock. A low, ragged moan is torn from your throat.
“There it is,” she sighs, grinding in slow, circular motions. The friction is exquisite, muffled torture. “That sound. That’s the sound of my good boy breaking just a little bit.” She leans in, her chest pressing against yours, her lips at your ear. Her voice drops to a husky, venomous purr. “I’m going to take these off now. And I’m going to put you in my mouth. And you are going to stay perfectly still. If you thrust, if you try to take control, I stop. I’ll tie you to this bed and leave you here, hard and aching, for hours. Do you understand?”
You nod, desperately. “Y-yes.”
“Yes, what?”
The correction is instant, icy. Your mind fumbles. “Yes… Wonyoung.”
“No,” she says, and bites your earlobe, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to make you gasp. “Yes, Mistress.”
The word hangs in the air, corrosive and electric. It feels wrong. It feels… inevitable. This is the corruption, you realize dimly. Not a sudden fall, but this slow, granular erosion, each concession a pebble removed from the wall of your self. You swallow, your throat tight.
“Yes, Mistress,” you whisper.
The sound she makes is one of pure, dark satisfaction. A hum that vibrates through your skull. “Good.”
Her hands are at your waist, hooking into the waistband of your boxers. She pulls them down, just enough to free you. The cool air of the room hits your flushed, slick skin, a shocking contrast. You’re fully exposed, jutting up against the soft fabric of her dress.
You feel her shift, her weight leaving your lap. She sinks to her knees on the plush carpet between your legs. Her hands slide up your inner thighs, her nails leaving faint, tingling trails. She grips the base of your cock, her fingers cool and firm. She holds you steady, a presentation.
Then her tongue is on you.
Not her mouth. Just the flat, wet strip of her tongue, licking a long, slow stripe from the very base of your shaft all the way to the swollen, leaking tip. The sensation is electric, a jolt of pure pleasure that makes your hips twitch involuntarily.
“Ah-ah,” she chides, her grip tightening. “Still.”
She does it again. And again. Lapping at you like you’re something delicious to be savored, coating you in her spit. The slurp and lick of her tongue is obscenely loud. She focuses on the head, tracing the rim of your corona, flicking the sensitive frenulum underneath. She swirls around the tip, collecting the beads of pre-cum that well up continuously now, humming as she tastes them.
“Mmm. Salty. All for me.”
Then she takes you into her mouth.
It’s not a deep, taking blowjob. It’s a slow, controlled descent. Her lips stretch around your girth, tight and wet. She lets you feel every millimeter of the slide, the velvety heat of her mouth, the gentle scrape of her teeth, the firm pressure of her tongue flattening against your underside. She goes about halfway, then stops, holding you there. Her throat contracts around the tip in a shallow, practiced swallow. Gulp.
You groan, a deep, ragged sound from your core. Your hands fist in the sheets.
She pulls off with a wet, sucking plop. “Hands on the headboard,” she commands, her voice thick.
You reach back, fumbling until your fingers close around cool, carved wood. You grip it.
“Now,” she says, and her mouth is on you again.
This time, she sets a rhythm. Slow, deliberate, devastating. She sucks the head firmly, her tongue working in circles, then sinks down, taking more of you, her nose pressing into your pubic bone. She holds it, her throat working around you, before drawing back up with a tight, suctioning pull that makes your vision blur behind the blindfold. Slurp. Schlick. Gllrk.
She’s an artist of torment. She reads your body like a map. Every time your breath hitches, every time your thighs tense, she changes the pattern. She’ll go fast and shallow, a rapid, wet pap-pap-pap of her lips on your sensitive head, then slow to long, deep draws that make your toes curl. She palms your balls, rolling the tight sac in her hand, applying gentle pressure that sends fresh sparks up your spine.
“You’re so thick,” she murmurs, her lips vibrating against your shaft. “I love how you feel in my mouth. Like you were made just to fit right here.” She takes you deep again, and you feel her hum, the vibration traveling through your entire body. Mmmph.
You’re panting now, sweat beading on your forehead. The edge is there, a white-hot coil of pressure in your lower belly, tightening with every pass of her tongue, every suck of her cheeks. You’re close. So close.
She senses it. She always does.
She pulls off completely.
The loss of heat and wetness is a physical agony. You buck your hips, a silent plea.
A sharp slap lands on your inner thigh. It stings, a bright burst of pain. “I said still,” she snaps, her voice no longer playful. It’s hard. Commanding. “You don’t come until I say. That’s the rule. The only rule that matters now.”
She stands. You hear her move around the room. The clink of glass. The sound of liquid being poured. Then she’s back, the scent of her perfume mingling with something sharper, alcoholic. She straddles you again, this time her dress is gone. You feel the naked, scorching heat of her thighs on yours, the soft, smooth skin of her stomach against your chest. She’s completely bare.
Her hand wraps around your cock, guiding you. The blunt, wet head of you presses against a different heat, a slick, impossibly soft entrance.
“This is mine too,” she breathes into your ear. Her voice is trembling, not with fear, but with a possessive ecstasy. “Every part of you. And I’m going to take it. Now.”
She sinks down onto you in one slow, excruciating, glorious inch.
The feeling is catastrophic. She’s so tight, so hot, so wet. Her inner muscles clamp around you in a velvet vise, fluttering as she struggles to take your width. She’s not just wet; she’s drenched. Her arousal coats you, drips down your shaft, making a warm, sticky mess between your bodies. The sound is a lewd, wet schllrrp as she impales herself further.
She moans, a long, shuddering sound that seems to come from the soles of her feet. “Fuck… yes… you’re splitting me open…”
She takes her time, sinking down millimeter by millimeter, until you are fully sheathed inside her, your hips pressed flush against the soft curves of her ass. She’s so deep you feel like you’re touching her core. She trembles atop you, her nails digging into your shoulders.
For a moment, she doesn’t move. She just breathes, her chest heaving against yours, her forehead pressed to your shoulder. You can feel her heartbeat thundering through her body, through where you’re joined.
Then she starts to move.
It’s not a frantic ride. It’s a slow, grinding torture. She rolls her hips in deep, circular motions, massaging your cock from the inside. You feel every ridge, every fold of her. The angle is perfect, and with every rotation, the head of your cock drags against a spongy, textured spot deep within her that makes her gasp and her inner walls clench like a fist.
“You feel that?” she pants. “That’s my spot. And you’re hitting it. Every. Single. Time.” She leans back, bracing her hands on your thighs, changing the angle. She begins to lift herself almost all the way off, until just the tip remains inside, then slams back down, taking you in one hard, wet stroke. The impact is a loud, fleshy smack. Her breasts, free and full, bounce with the motion.
The rhythm builds. She finds a pace, a hard, driving rise and fall that has her bouncing in your lap. The sounds are filthy, obscene. The wet slap-slap-slap of flesh meeting flesh. The guttural, choked sounds she makes with each descent. The slick, squelching shlick-shluck of your cock pumping in and out of her soaked cunt. Her juices are everywhere, soaking your pubic hair, dripping down your balls, making the air thick with the musky, sweet scent of her.
The blindfold makes it all more intense. You can’t see her face, her body. You can only feel and hear. The feel of her hot, tight channel milking you. The sound of her pleasure. The slap of skin. It’s overwhelming.
Her hands leave your thighs. One snakes between your bodies, and you hear her frantic, wet circles as she rubs her clit. The other hand comes up to your throat.
Her fingers don’t just rest there. They curl, pressing into the sides of your windpipe. Not enough to cut off air, but enough for you to feel the pressure, the implicit threat of control. She owns this. She owns you.
“Come on,” she grunts, her voice strained with effort and pleasure. Her hips are a frantic piston now, slamming down onto you with a force that shakes the bed. “Come on, fuck me! You’re my fucking toy! My perfect, obedient little fuck-toy! Say it!”
The degradation, the choking, the relentless, perfect friction—it’s too much. The coil in your belly is a supernova ready to detonate. You’re grunting with each of her downward strokes, your own hips meeting her thrusts, driving up into that wet, clenching heat.
“Say it!” she screams, her voice breaking. Her fingers tighten a fraction more.
The words are ripped from you, torn from some deep, surrendering part of your soul. “I’m… I’m your toy! Your fuck-toy!”
“Yes!” she shrieks. Her body goes rigid, her internal muscles clamping down on you in a series of brutal, rhythmic pulses. Clench. Release. Clench. Release. It’s like being milked by a hot, wet fist. Her orgasm triggers yours.
You can’t hold back. You don’t want to. With a raw, animalistic shout, you erupt inside her. It’s not a gentle release; it’s a violent expulsion, jet after hot jet of cum shooting deep into her grasping channel. You can feel it, the pulsing of your cock, the flooding warmth of your release mixing with hers. She keeps riding you, milking every last drop, her cries softening to desperate, satisfied whimpers.
Finally, she collapses forward, a sweaty, boneless weight on your chest. Her hand slips from your throat. Your cock, still half-hard, slips out of her with a wet, messy plorp, followed by a warm gush of your combined fluids onto your stomach.
For long minutes, there is only the sound of ragged breathing and the pounding of two hearts. The smell of sex and sweat and her perfume is overpowering.
Slowly, she pushes herself up. You feel her fingers at the back of your head, working at the knot of the blindfold. The silk falls away.
Light assaults your eyes. You blink, vision swimming. She’s hovering above you, her beautiful face flushed, her lipstick smeared, her hair a dark, damp mess. Her eyes, though. Her eyes are clear, focused, and burning with a terrifying, possessive love. She looks down at the mess on your stomach, then back at your face. A slow, triumphant smile spreads across her lips.
She dips her fingers into the pool of white and clear fluid on your abdomen. She brings them to her mouth, sucking them clean with a deliberate, obscene pop.
“Mine,” she says again, her voice hoarse but utterly certain. She leans down, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that tastes of salt and sex and ownership. “Every drop. And next time,” she whispers, her hand drifting down to your softening cock, giving it a possessive squeeze, “I won’t be so gentle. I’m going to breed you so deep, you’ll feel me for days. You’ll walk around, full of me, and everyone will know you’re mine.”
She rolls off you, stretching like a satisfied cat. The last thing you see before she turns out the light is her smirk, silhouetted against the city lights streaming through the window.
“Don't think we're done yet” she commands. “We'll be doing this all night”
Her laugh is a silver blade in the dark. You can’t see it, but you feel it—the vibration through the mattress, the puff of air against your cheek as she leans close. The blindfold is back, that same strip of black silk, but this time it’s tighter. It feels permanent.
“You were so good for me last time,” Wonyoung purrs. Her fingers trace the line of your jaw. “So obedient. So full of me. But I think we need to make sure you understand the new rules. Permanently.”
You hear the rustle of silk, the soft clink of something metallic. Your heart, which had finally begun to slow its frantic pace, seizes up again. “Wonyoung—”
“Mistress,” she corrects, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. Her hand slaps down on your chest, not hard, but a firm, stinging reminder. “You lost the right to my name when you came inside me without explicit permission. Remember? You just couldn’t help yourself.” She says the last part with a mocking, singsong cadence.
You flinch. You hadn’t. She’d commanded it, hadn’t she? The memory is a fever-dream haze of sensation—her screaming, your release. But in her world, the narrative bends to her will. Your reality is whatever she says it is.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words ash in your mouth.
“You will be,” she promises. Her hands go to your wrists. You feel cool, padded leather encircle one, then the other. A buckle snicks shut. She pulls your arms up, over your head, and you hear the rattle-thunk of clips attaching to something on the headboard. Your arms are stretched, not painfully, but with a firm, inescapable tension. You test the bonds. They don’t give.
“Good,” she murmurs. Her weight leaves the bed. You hear her moving around the room, drawers opening, the low hum of electronics powering on. The air smells of her perfume, sex, and a new, clean, sterile scent. Rubbing alcohol.
The bed dips near your feet. Her hands are on your ankles. More leather, more buckles. She spreads your legs wide, tying each ankle to a post at the foot of the bed. You are spread-eagled, utterly exposed, the cool air of the room washing over your naked skin. Your cock, soft and spent against your thigh, gives a pathetic twitch.
“Comfortable?” she asks, her voice dripping with false concern.
You nod, then remember. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Good boy.” You hear the smile in her voice. “Now, we’re going to play a new game. It’s called ‘How Many Times Can I Make You Scream Before You Break?’ I’m thinking… a lot.”
Her touch returns, but not to your cock. To your inner thighs. Something cold and wet swipes over your skin. An alcohol wipe. The sharp, clinical smell fills your nose. She’s cleaning you. The act is so impersonal, so dehumanizing, it sends a fresh wave of shame through you. You are an object being prepared for use.
“You’re all mine now,” she says conversationally as she wipes your stomach, your hips. “This body. This mind. I’m going to reprogram it. Pleasure will only come from me. Pain will only come from my displeasure. Every thought in your head will be about how to please me. It’s a simpler way to live, don’t you think?”
You don’t answer. You can’t.
The cold touch moves to your cock. She wipes it with brutal efficiency, from root to tip, making you gasp at the startling sensation on the oversensitive flesh. “Look at you,” she giggles. “Even now, after everything, you get a little hard for me. Your body knows its owner.”
It’s true. Despite the fear, the degradation, your blood is beginning to stir. The helplessness, the total surrender, is weaving its own dark thread of arousal through your terror.
You hear a low, buzzing hum. It starts quiet, then grows in intensity. It’s a sleek, modern sound. A vibrator.
“This is my favorite toy,” Wonyoung says. You feel her climb onto the bed, straddling your chest. Her bare thighs frame your head. The heat of her core is inches from your face. The musky, sweet scent of her arousal—your arousal mixed with hers from earlier—is overpowering. “But even my favorite toy needs upgrades.”
The buzzing grows closer. You tense, expecting it on your cock. Instead, you feel the smooth, rounded plastic head press against the underside of your shaft, right where it meets your balls. The vibration is intense, a deep, thrumming resonance that travels straight up into your pelvis. You jolt against the restraints.
“Ah-ah,” she chides. “Hold still. Let it work.”
She holds it there, applying firm pressure. The vibrations aren’t high-pitched and ticklish; they’re low, pervasive, and maddening. They massage your perineum, your tight scrotum. Your cock, which had been half-heartedly filling, now stiffens in earnest, rising to press against your stomach. Precum beads at the slit almost immediately, a clear, sticky pearl.
“There he is,” Wonyoung coos. She moves the vibrator, tracing the thick vein on the underside of your shaft with the buzzing tip. Bzzzzz. It’s an exquisite, torturous stimulation. Too much, and yet not where you truly need it. She avoids the head completely, focusing on the shaft, the base, your balls. Every touch is deliberate, teasing, designed to wind you up without offering release.
“You’re dripping for me already,” she observes. “Such a slut. A desperate, leaking slut. Do you want to come?”
“Y-yes, Mistress,” you gasp. The admission feels like another defeat.
“Of course you do. But that’s not the game.” The vibrator pulls away. The sudden absence of the sensation is a shock. You groan, your hips straining uselessly against the leather.
You feel her shift above you. Her hands cradle your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones. Then they slide back, fingers tangling in your hair. Gripping.
“Now,” she says, her voice dropping to a husky, commanding register. “You’re going to use that pretty mouth. You’re going to eat my pussy until I tell you to stop. And you’re going to do it like your life depends on it. Because right now, your pleasure does.”
She doesn’t lower herself gently. She guides your head, her grip in your hair unyielding. Your face is pulled forward, into the scorching, damp heat between her legs.
The first contact is overwhelming. Soft, slick flesh parts against your nose and mouth. The taste explodes on your tongue—musky, salty, sweet, hers, mixed with the remnants of you. It’s the most intimate, degrading thing you’ve ever experienced. She grinds her hips forward, smearing her wetness across your lips, your chin.
“Lick,” she orders.
You obey. Your tongue flicks out, tasting her more deliberately. You find her swollen outer lips, tracing their shape. She lets out a soft sigh. “Good. Now get in there. Fucking eat me.”
You dive in, your tongue spearing into her entrance. She’s so wet, so open. Your tongue sinks into a hot, velvety channel. The flavor is intense, primal. You lap at her, trying to find a rhythm, but she controls it, rocking her hips against your face, fucking your mouth with her cunt.
“Use your tongue like a little cock,” she pants, her voice tight. “Fuck me with it. Yes. Just like that.”
You flatten your tongue and thrust it in and out of her, mimicking the motion of sex. The sounds are obscenely loud—wet, sloppy schlocks and squishes as you eat her out. Her juices coat your face, dripping down your neck. You can’t breathe through your nose, only getting ragged gulps of air when she pulls her hips back for a second. She’s riding your face in earnest now, her thighs clamping against your ears, the world narrowing to dark, scent, taste, and the sound of her pleasure.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” she moans. One of her hands leaves your hair and you hear the return of the vibrator’s buzz. She presses it back against your cock, right on the frenulum. The dual sensation is catastrophic. The deep, buzzing pleasure on your aching dick and the taste of her on your tongue, the feeling of her grinding against your face—it short-circuits your brain. You’re moaning into her pussy, the vibrations traveling through your jaw into her clit.
She screams, a sharp, high sound. “Yes! Right there! Don’t you fucking stop!”
You don’t. You redouble your efforts, swirling your tongue, fucking her deeply, sucking on her clit when you can find it. She’s a writhing, bucking mess above you. You feel her inner muscles begin to flutter around your tongue. She’s close.
The vibrator on your cock becomes relentless, holding steady on that perfect, maddening spot. Your own orgasm is building again, a tidal wave rising from your balls, fueled by her taste and her sounds and the electric buzz on your shaft. You’re panting, groaning, thrusting your tongue as deep as it will go.
“I’m gonna—” she chokes out.
And then everything stops.
The vibrator pulls away. Her hand in your hair yanks your head back, tearing your mouth from her sopping wet cunt with a wet, ripping sound. You’re left gasping for air, your face drenched, your cock throbbing violently, a hair’s breadth from eruption.
“No,” she says, her voice trembling with the effort of holding back her own climax. “Not yet. You don’t get to come from that. You only come from this.”
She scrambles off your face. You hear her move down your body. Her hands are on your hips, her nails digging in. She guides your aching, weeping cock, the head slick with precum and her juices, to her entrance.
This time, there’s no slow, teasing descent. She’s furious with need, denied her own release. She impales herself on you in one savage, downward stroke.
SMACK. SCHLORP.
You cry out. The feeling of her hot, tight, drenched cunt swallowing you whole is almost too much to bear after the edging. She’s so much tighter than before, her walls clenched in a vice-like spasm from her interrupted orgasm. She sinks all the way down until her ass slaps against your thighs, taking every inch.
“FUCK!” she screams, her head thrown back.
She doesn’t wait. She sets a punishing pace from the first second. She rides you like she’s trying to break you, slamming her hips down again and again, using her legs for brutal leverage. The bedframe creaks and thumps against the wall. The sounds are animalistic—the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh, the squelch of your cock pistoning in and out of her overflowing channel, her ragged, screaming grunts.
“You feel that?!” she snarls, leaning forward, her hands slamming down on your chest for balance. Her breasts sway wildly with each impact. “You feel how fucking tight I am? That’s what you do to me! You make me a fucking animal!”
You can only gasp, your body arching against the restraints as she milks you with her furious pace. The coil in your guts is wound impossibly tight, ready to snap. You’re seeing stars behind the blindfold.
“You’re my thing!” she yells, her voice breaking. “My property! Say it! Say you’re my fucking property!”
“I’m… your property!” you sob, the words torn from you.
“Who do you belong to?!”
“You! I belong to you, Mistress!”
“And what are you going to do?!” She’s slamming down on you so hard your vision whites out.
“Whatever you want!” you scream.
“YES! Now FUCKING CUM! BREED ME! FILL ME UP! GIVE ME EVERY FUCKING DROP!”
Her command is the final trigger. With a roar that scrapes your throat raw, you explode. It’s a volcanic eruption, a searing flood of release that seems to drain your soul through your cock. Jet after hot, thick jet of cum pulses deep into her clutching, convulsing cunt. You can feel it, the splurt-splurt-splurt inside her, the way her walls clamp and milk you for every last bit.
She screams, a long, continuous sound of triumphant ecstasy as her own orgasm finally crashes over her. Her body seizes, her back bowing, her internal muscles rippling around your shaft in violent, endless waves. She collapses forward onto your chest, her body spasming, her hot tears mixing with the sweat on your skin.
For a minute, there is only the sound of shattered breathing and the wet, messy drip of fluids. You feel utterly, completely empty. Drained. Your cock, still semi-hard and buried inside her, twitches with aftershocks.
She pushes herself up, her movements sluggish. You feel her weight leave you, your softening cock slipping out with a wet, final plop. A gush of warm liquid—your cum mixed with hers—floods out after it, pooling on your stomach and thighs.
You hear her pad away, then return. A warm, damp cloth wipes your stomach, cleaning the mess with the same clinical detachment as before. She doesn’t untie you.
The bed dips as she lies down beside you, curling into your side, her head on your shoulder. Her finger traces idle patterns on your chest. Her voice, when she speaks, is soft, dreamy, utterly changed from the screaming harpy of moments ago.
“See?” she whispers. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? You just needed to understand your place.” She kisses your shoulder, a tender, chaste kiss. “You gave me so much. You were so good. My perfect boy.”
The whiplash from violent degradation to tender affection is dizzying. It makes the degradation feel like a nightmare, and this… this feel like a reward. Your confused, broken psyche latches onto the tenderness, craving it after the storm.
“I love you,” she murmurs, her hand drifting down to your spent cock, holding it gently, possessively. “I love you so much it hurts. And now you’re really mine. All of you. I can feel you inside me. I’m going to keep you there. Again and again. Until the thought of anyone else makes you sick.”
She falls silent, just holding you. The darkness behind the blindfold feels absolute. You are tied, claimed, and filled with a terrifying, twisted peace.
You have no idea how much time passes. You drift in a numb haze.
Then, her hand moves. Not to caress. To grip. Her fingers wrap around your cock again. It’s soft, sensitive, overstimulated. She begins to stroke it, slowly, firmly.
Your body betrays you instantly. It swells in her hand.
She giggles, a dark, knowing sound. “Already? But you just came. You poured so much into me.” She leans close, her lips at your ear. “You have more, don’t you? You always have more for me. Because you’re mine. And I’m not done.”
Her strokes become more purposeful. The vibrator hums back to life somewhere near your hip. “Let’s see how many times I can make you fill me up tonight,” she whispers, her voice full of dark promise. “We have all night. And I want to be dripping with you by morning.”
She smiled to herself as even the mere caress of her fingertip tracing along the edge of his shirt was enough to cause this man’s body to shudder in anticipation.
“Are you curious of my plans for you this evening, darling?”, she murmured in a soft, knowing voice.
Swallowing hard, he nodded. “I am.”
Laughing softly, she purred, “You’ll find out soon enough sweetheart, when I’m ready… but until then, why don’t you just let your mind continue to imagine what it might be?”
Smiling at his intake of breath and subtle nod she smirked in delight. She felt a little shudder of delight of her own, a rush of sexual power, from the ease with which she could cause this man to become undone whenever she pleased.
Already her mind was whirring with anticipation of her own. Visions of his naked body spread, bound, and glistening with sweat… his powerful muscles straining helplessly against his bonds… his cock agonizingly swollen, dripping, quivering as she wickedly held it captive at the brink of release… and the sounds of his desperate pleas for mercy playing in her mind as she ponderedy slowly breaking this man to his core.
“Oh honey,” she though to herself, her fingertip continuing to trace along his skin. “If you only knew…”
Why crucifying my slave is My ultimate experience…
by Kristin von Stahlschmerz
“My naked man dropped into full suspension, moans of agony whispering towards me. My strong man. My man who swung the pick axe. My man who lifted heavy rock by hand and shovel. Hard-bodied and rugged and in perfect shape and size. My strong man now struggling for air, struggling to keep his powerful body controlled.
Gravity tortures him, threatening to impale his anal entrance. Compression on his chest and diaphragm make each breath he draws more shallow than the previous one. His heart rate gradually increases in a losing battle to supply oxygen-rich blood to muscles and organs.
A scene of beauty. A scene of tragedy. The naked male form in all its glory. Stretched, arms flared diagonally left and right, chest thrust forward, abdomens caved inward, legs splayed, struggling feet planted to stipes or wall but unable to remain there for more than seconds at a time. As his lungs gradually loose ability to intake sufficient air, his heart races frantically, pumping oxygen-poor blood throughout his body. My man’s phallus filled with blood, but the blood is unable to leave, his involuntary erection adding to his misery. His heroic battle is a losing one, a slow, torturous demise, and I can not hold on to see it, do not bear to look away.
My crucified man. Pitifully you moan, your failing strength unable to mount resistance. Humiliated. Degraded. Crucified. Naked. Defenseless. Mercilessly used.”
borrowed from “Tales of Men on the Cross and Women who put them there - Crucified and Milked” by Jasper Mc Cutcheon
There may be several reasons for that. But here are some that apply to me.
You are largely submissive and for me it is not just a kinky role play. Crucifying my slave is rather extreme in every respect and it is the most powerful evidence of love I can give to you.
Naked BDSM crucifixion is technically and physically demanding but certainly worth the effort. Of course, the association it has with religion and culture also plays a role, as the weird idea that it historically was an extremely cruel method of punishment and some times even execution. But nowadays it can be an extremely exciting proof for those who dare to undergo it. Maybe just because of its intended strong humiliation. It has always been done fully naked, any loin cloth in classical pictures is weird and fully contradictory to the effect that crucifixion is intended to have. Further humiliation before and during the crucifixion will add to the effects, for example being stripped forcefully or being whipped. It is real fun to require the victim to drink one liter of water shortly before crucifixion: this will force him to urinate publicly while hanging at the cross!
Maybe after reading this you will understand why I really love to lie you down naked on a large cross on the floor to be tied to it, erected and displayed for my pleasure.
But first I will give you the rules of the cross.
I prefer your crucifixions to be:
1. Completely naked and barefoot as it is classically intended. It has always been done fully naked, any loin cloth in classical pictures is weird and fully contradictory to the effect that crucifixion is intended to have.
2. With lots of spectators and outside, some people strong enough to erect the cross if you are tied to the cross lying down (which I prefer) but I also love to have you for my own and crucify you in our bedroom.
3. On a classical cross, with the standing pole as high as possible. An elevated T cross is highly exciting but also the X cross, with a wild spread eagle posture but also above ground level. Both postures require effort with very erotic movements of the victim and are very humiliating!
4. Arms and legs tied only at the wrists and ankles: I do not tie upper arms, that will give too much support and restrict movement. I love to see you dancing.
5. I Never use a foot rest on the standing pole, I just tie the bare feet and ankles together to the pole, even when crucifying at the X cross I make sure that the soles are as flat as possible at the poles. On a classical cross I make sure the legs remain slightly flexed, so the victim cannot extend the legs and stand up with locked knees. Feet can be loosely tied, the victim will never try to loosen up these ties, as they do provide support for the body…
6. If possible, the victim to be crucified should be tied to the cross when lying on the ground. The effect of erecting the cross is very strong, for the victim as well as the spectators. At that time, the typical crucifixion effect is suddenly felt and the victim will start to move to find the best position to hang… I use strong men to erect the cross with the victim attached or, when I am alone I use a pulley block.
7. Fully shaved body and genitals, for a better nude look and of course, fully shaved armpits as well as these are typically exposed when you are crucified!
8. Several insertion places for the anal dildo in the pole, depending on height of the victim. Large dildos can be used, the body weight will enable insertion. But I make sure to use lots of lubrication for anal impalement. I place it at the right height, so that your self-impalement is inevitable.
9. I will humiliate you in any way, by gagging, blindfolding, shouting, whipping, touching, jerking off, stimulating orgasm, and the requirement to urinate, hanging in public. I always let the victim drink 1 liter of water shortly before crucifixion. And I always use my fantasy!
10. I will never allow you an orgasm while nailed to the cross (and also not otherwise).
When the day finally arrives, you are extremely scared, but also excited more than you ever have been and in a very special way. You nearly panic at the thought of actually being crucified. During our journey into bondage, you have experienced many different types of pain and humiliation, but everything about your crucifixion is so much worse. The inability to move and learning how to do the dance so that you get a short relief from your discomfort. The obscene display of your naked body dancing for me on the cross. It is not long and you begin to plead in earnest and in most subtle ways to be released.
But that is not to be…
You have such a beautiful body that it would be a shame not to put it on full display. The beauty of the cross. What makes me relish this moments is looking at my beautiful man struggling, his muscles outlining the smooth skin of his lean body. The cross displays your body perfectly.
You are naked. Your arms are extended and firmly tied to the cross beams. Your ankles and bare feet are tied to the poles or (also very good) are fixated in cuffs, on each side of the pole.
You are tied to the cross when lying on the floor. That is exciting enough but it is such a strong effect when the cross is lifted up and erected by some strong men and put in the ground. This is technically demanding and safety is always my primary concern. But it is so extremely exciting when you then suddenly are put on display, preferably rather high with your genitals at face height of the spectators, hanging fully naked with your arms widely stretched out.
But that is only the start…
Few people realize how special that feeling is: looking up to my man hanging at the cross. Your legs cannot be closed but remain widely spread and you really have to struggle to remain comfortable. You have to move, to do a kind of dance, as someone put it: “that only those that have been crucified know the steps to”. And this dance you perform gets more and more intense the longer it lasts. Watching you dance at the cross always reminds me of the Bolero.
You are not simply hanging but it requires a lot of effort from you. The weight on your arms feels strange, even breathing is a bit difficult. Moving your naked body up and down, forward and backward, in a way to feel a bit more comfortable has an incredibly erotic effect, for yourself as well as for spectators. Spectators often get highly excited by the view. But for the crucified slave there is no choice and it’s a very humiliating dance. It is highly arousing too, for that very reason, which is rapidly visible, men will become erect and women will show excessive lubrication dripping down…
This part should take some time, at least 30 or 40 minutes, sometimes even longer. I want to give you the time to concentrate on yourself and to think of what is happening to you. And why.
For me it is a very intense feeling. Whether alone or with a lot of people present and in particular when you are crucified outside, hanging and struggling fully naked with widely stretched arms simply is sensational. Your stimulated genitals, preferably smoothly shaved, are fully exposed…
I know this time is extremely humiliating for you as you are exposed in the most indecent of manner. And reduced to full nakedness. You feel helpless, humiliated and afraid of what’s coming up next.
As time progresses, I come to you to play with your nudity. Your body is slapped, nipples horribly pinched, and fingers inserted into you. I take my time to examine you, running my hands over your naked flesh, enjoying caressing your cock, balls and nipples and intimidating you by struking the tip of the whip across your flesh. No words are spoken, just silent psychological intimidation. Can you stand it, my poor, beloved slave?
Then, I spread your scared ass cheeks apart and smoothly touch the entrance of your anal passage. Your passion overwhelms your awareness of public exhibition. Your phallus erected and displayed vividly and you are panting as you pray to your Goddess to give you strength.
The way your legs are splayed and the way you start dancing on your cross exhibits your now rock hard cock in the most obscene manner possible. You have been treated to a marvelous sight: A strong and beautiful man whipped, crucified, and seemingly flaunting his sexual attributes right in my face.
With your legs drawn up and your ankles bound to the sides of the cross like this, your legs spread apart and your erection is displayed obscenely with no way you could close your thighs to me looking at you.
You turn your head from side to side in agony and shame, knowing you can not escape the gaze of your Goddess. You realize that I want to torture your exposed body and humiliate you, my slave.
But the humiliation hasn’t even started…
Most of your crucifixions include a special additional predicament for the punished person, that is the crotch peg, also called the Cornu… Placement of the Cornu should be done carefully, most BDSM crosses are prepared for this feature. A large protruding penis-shaped dildo, well lubricated, is placed on the vertical pole, pointing upside and a little forward. The height is such that the victim can only escape anal penetration by the peg by lifting his body very high, by pulling the body up by his arms. But the tied arms and legs allow very little upward movement and it is very strenuous to maintain that position.
So, when the dildo is well placed, after some time the victim simply has to succumb and will lower his or her body on the dildo and become impaled.
You, my nude slave, can see the smile flashed up at you as you feel firm hands groping to find the slot fashioned for the peg. It is placed under your private entrance making you look double phallused.
When you are exhausted by your writhings caused by pushing up at the cross in the hopeless attempt to escape you are forced to settle down and impale yourself anally. You try to stay up as long as you can but it is a matter of time before you have to lower yourself onto the Cornu. My poor nude slave, I love you. When you sink down on the Cornu and it penetrates your anus your cock bulges and spits out an ingenue jet of precum and sperm.
But you are not completely emptied now…
You squat over the sedile like some jockey riding the peg in a spectacle of obscenity.
Usually, you cannot reverse the penetration once it has occurred. Since the dildo is placed directly under your anal entrance it will always find its way inside… But even for strictly heterosexual men (as you are), it is a wonderful sensation. You proved it with your first spitting. That is for two reasons: the dildo provides some welcome support in your struggle hanging at the cross and… it is indeed highly stimulating sexually!
So, you will start grinding up and down on the dildo. You try to control yourself, stay calm and not to move but you cannot help it, you are grinding up and down. Many times you try to will yourself not to do the dance and to succumb to silence, but your body will not obey. You are dancing for me. Bolero. You feel a very strong prostate massage in this special position, much different from any other anal penetration. Inevitably, your erection will become stronger and equally inevitably, you’ll yield to the urge to orgasm.
But only to the urge…
You are effectively fucking and milking yourself. Fully open, hanging for all to see, with a rock hard penis in front of you, you’ll have to ejaculate, hanging naked at the cross. I have experienced this several times now and these have been the most forceful forced ejaculations I ever gave to you. Your sperm falls down all the way and is welcomed or even caught by horny spectators. Also for you, to have a fully public ejaculation while being crucified in front of your Goddess is an extremely strong sensation. You feel humiliated, helpless, ashamed but this is the holiest sacrifice that you can offer to your Goddess. Sacrificing your sperm, without having an orgasm, nailed to the cross. I love you so much, my nude slave.
But it is not over yet…
Now you become aware of the pressure in your bladder. Embarrassed, you helplessly try to tightly squeeze your legs together. But each time you pull up to breathe, you can feel the urine dribbling down your legs. My poor slave, I can feel you fear. You fear that I might plug your penis. Again and again you can feel the dribbling. It is nearly impossible for you to hold it anymore. Finally, you spread your legs as much as you can and, staring numbingly across the jeering smiles of your Goddess, release the trapped fluids. You can hear the splatter the golden arc makes as it strucks the bare floor below you. You feel ashamed as you hang on your cross– unable to clean yourself according to the dictates of civilization.
Finally, there’s no descent from the cross. This would apply to spectators friendly enough to release you… No, you are kept hanging at the cross after your ejaculation for more than half an hour, naked, helpless on the dildo, touched and humiliated all the time.
You are fully exhausted afterwards but it is also wonderful…
God, she had a way of working him that drove him absolutely crazy. The rolling of her hips, the way she looked down at him, the way her silky softness made him ache for release but somehow managed to not allow him to get there until she was ready.
This woman had a way of making him feel things no one else ever had. Still, he could only take so much. He felt like he was burning up with need for her, and if he wasn’t able to get his mouth on one of her perfect breasts soon he was certain he would lose his mind.
So, giving in to his desperation he started to raise up toward her. That was all it took. With her sensual curves still rhythmically and erotically undulating above him, without her hips so much as missing a beat, her hands went to his chest, pinning him back down beneath her.
“No baby,… stay down,” she instructed simply. Though he moaned in frustration, he made no attempt to defy her wishes, compliantly lying back down. She purred softly, the power she held over this man and his obvious hunger for her in his eyes fueling her lust.
“Stay right there and don’t move… ,” she purred seductively. Then speaking in a slow, husky voice she instructed, “I want you to watch me cum… not you though… not unless I say… you don’t get anything unless I say… understand?”
God how this woman pushed his buttons. She knew him like no other woman ever had. He groaned softly and nodded, “I understand…”
Still, she wasn’t quite satisfied yet. He wasn’t quite there yet. Yes, he was desperate for her, but not quite enough. At least not enough to suit her. So, she subtly nudged the fabric of her bra to the side, allowing her soft breast and aroused nipple to come in to his view.
Though her gesture couldn’t have been more simple, the effect couldn’t have been more powerful. She was rewarded by the sound of his tormented whimper of need, and the sight of his eyes now gazing up at her as if pleading for mercy.
Now…. he was desperate enough.
Her hips continued their erotic dance above him, her bare breast and luscious nipple now also taunting him, cruelly just out of his reach.
Seeing the desperate need on his face she throatily moaned, “….. yessss….. that’s it baby…. eyes on me… watch me… I bet you wish you could suck on my tit, don’t you?… that you could cum too?… but you can’t…. only me… ”
Although Most Females Are Truly Unaware of It at the Conscious Level, Subconsciously Most Females Understand the Following Fact “Innately” when it’s Rationally Exposed to Them: A Man is Much More Obedient, Kind, Nurturing, Loving & Generous with his Woman, When he is “Yearning” For Orgasm – Rather than After He’s had One. This is Due Primarily to the Unconscious, Involuntary Neurochemistry of His Male Mind.
Neurochemistry is Quite a Fascinating and Intriguing Science, But also quite simple to summarize to get that “Aha!” Feeling About Male Orgasm Mood Change “After” Orgasm/Ejaculation. To understand what is going on, You need to look into the Three Powerful Neurotransmitters - Oxytocin, Prolactin and Dopamine that all interplay while a Male is Visually as well as Sexually Aroused and Stimulated. Feminine Sexual Attention (Teasing & Edging) Serves to Naturally Heighten Male Dopamine Levels - The Powerful Reward Chemical that is at the Very Heart of All Human and Animal Behavior. Along with the Dopamine “Increase” when a Male is Highly (Hyper) Aroused is also Heightened Levels of Oxytocin flooding his bloodstream, often colloquially referred to as the “Cuddle Hormone” that is responsible for “Bonding” not only between couples but between siblings, children etc - and produces that warm wonderful afterglow after sex. Interestingly, (Both Genders Produce Oxytocin), But these levels Fall away Rapidly in Males after they have an Ejaculative Orgasm. Whereas A Woman’s Oxytocin Level Stay Naturally Elevated and Her Dopamine Levels Stay Elevated As Well, Which is Probably One of the Major Reasons Why Women are Naturally Multi-Orgasmic.
So What Is Dopamine You Ask: It’s at the Very Core of ALL our Sexual Drives and Survival Needs, and it Motivates “All Of Us” to Do Just About Everything in Life. This mechanism within the Reward - Pleasure circuitry of the Human Brain has been around for millions of years and has not changed.
In the Male Brain, Dopamine is “Go & Get it!” and Prolactin is “Whoa!” Learn all you can about the Incredibly Addictive Pleasure Drug Dopamine. It’s Incredibly Strong and can Control a Guys Devotion, Veneration & Ultimate Subjugation (Mystically) if Properly Exploited. Think of the Subliminal Programming Possibilities here Ladies, as You Read the Rest of This Excerpt.
Few females Fully Understand or Appreciate the “POWER” in their Hands, in that All Males have an “off switch”, which kicks in - right AFTER they Orgasm. It is Generally NOT Understood that Guys have the Rare, Basically Unknown “Potential” for on-going, Intense Dopamine-Driven Sexual Desire, If their Naturally Occurring Self-Regulating Production of Prolactin is Eliminated and/or Avoided. When The Male Orgasmic Nerves “FIRE”, The Explosive Male “Orgasm” produces a Sudden Massive Increased Wave of Both Chemicals (Dopamine and Oxytocin), But at the Same Time, Applies the Sexual “Brakes” by Producing Increased Prolactin Levels. Prolactin Functions to Effectively Shut Down Their Intense Sexual Desire and Prolactin Remains Enhanced / Elevated in the Male Brain for up to “Two Weeks’, as it takes a while for the levels of Oxytocin and Dopamine to Return to Previous Levels. Therefore Ladies…, Daily Tease, Denial and Firm Sexual Control of a Males Joystick, Means that a ”Trainable“ (Orgasm Managed) Male Will Be Operating Daily, on Heightened Levels of Both Oxytocin and Dopamine without the Undesired, Destructive and Unwanted rush of Prolactin into his bloodstream produced by Male Orgasm. Thus, Keeping in mind that A Man is Much More Obedient, Loving, Nurturing & Generous with his Woman, when he is Desperately “Yearning” For Orgasm (High on Dopamine)- Every Ladies Secret Programming Goal Should Be to Carefully and Meticulously “PREVENT” the Dopamine and Oxytocin Level Plunge from Occurring, and the Natural Easy way to do this is by Prolonging and Preserving his Raging Erection, While Restraining & Preventing him from having an Ejaculation. Precious Dopamine and Oxytocin (Again The Bonding Drug) Can be “Kept” at Peak Levels While You Easily and Secretly Influence his Vulnerable Psyche.
As for Easily and Covertly Influencing his Vulnerable Subconscious), The Best Time to Whisper your (Will), Desires into his (Ear), Subconscious Mind, is when he is Lost, Floating in Subspace, Blissed Out AND Ultra Rock Hard - “Held” Totally Captive & Imprisoned, Deep up Inside the “Paradise” of Your Glorious Heavenly Womanhood. It Is At This Divine Moment, While His Eyes Are Rolled Back Into His Head and you are Skillfully Delaying & Denying Him Orgasm (Edging), that He is Most Naturally & Helplessly under The Intrinsic Power of Your Will/Suggestion. Imagine the Programming Possibilities Here Ladies - His Vulnerable Open Psyche Will Be Naturally Unprotected, Extremely Susceptible to Your Complete & Total Feminine Control !!!
When His Dopamine (Reward) and Oxytocin (Cuddle) Levels are Routinely and Habitually Maximized - Improved, More Affectionate & Loving Male Behavior, Naturally brings about an increased level of Reciprocal Behavior from his Sensual Nurturing Woman - Creating a Virtuous Subliminal Self-Perpetuating Feedback Loop Deep Within Both the Male/Female Mind & Psyche.
{Visualize or imagine the following scenario… A Man and Woman Laying in Bed, Both Watching The Movie 50 Shades of Grey. The Male on his Back , propped up by pillows (completely naked of course), While the female lays her head (resting it) on his lower abdomen, faced towards the TV screen. For the Entire Length of the Move, the Lady holds Captive and Still, in her Gently Nursing Mouth, the first 2 or 3 inches of the Males Raging Hard - Desperate Erection. She Knows That Not Only is he Feeling “Ultra Male” in this Extremely Rock Hard Condition, But that she is also Flooding his Helpless Brain with Steady and Consistent Levels of Dopamine and Oxytocin. As his Joyful Hyper-Sensitive Manhood Pulses with Each Heartbeat, She is Ingeniously Re-enforcing her Natural Feminine Dominion and Authority - Deep Into the Depths of Her Males Defenseless Psyche. By Tenderly & Carefully “Teasing” Him in This Powerful but Nurturing Way, She Can Make Comments and Plant Her Thoughts and Desires (about Certain Key aspects of the Movie) Easily into the Subconscious of Her Entranced Male}.
In Conclusion, A Males Orgasm / Ejaculation / Sexual Energy - Should Be Routinely and Habitually Managed, ”Saved“, Restricted & Preserved (Karezza); Causing Not Only His Healthy Libido / Yearning Desire to Naturally Explode, But His Loving Devotion & Bonding as Well. The whole point of Prolonging & Preventing his orgasm, is to “Accumulate” and Build the Sexual Energy or nervous Energy called “Ojas”, which is Wasted the moment the Nerves Fire During Male Ejaculation. It is not his semen loss that’s the problem, It’s actually the Firing of the Male Nervous System During Sexual Stimulation that Needs to be Avoided and Retained. The more you Conserve this Reservoir of ENERGY, (His Battery “Joystick” Fully Charged) The Stronger the two of you will Bond & His Desire to Pleasure “His Goddess” in Every Aspect of Life Develops Beautifully.
Nurture What’s Natural - Ladies Are Multi Orgasmic - Males Are Not !!!
While A Males Precious Sexual Energy (Ojas) Should Be Routinely And Habitually Conserved, Preserved and ”Saved“ (to Increase Dopamine / Oxytocin – While Minimizing Prolactin) , A Lady on The Other Hand Should ”Fully & Freely” Bask in Feminine Orgasmic Bliss, As Often As She Desires !!!
Nature Intended it Like This Ladies - Don’t Fight Nature, Learn from it, Exploit It and Revel in It !!!
Thus, A Female Led Relationship (FLR)… Keeps “The Passion” Alive in The Relationship, With The Seductive, Tantric “Femdom“ Art of Karezza…
Secretly, Carefully & Strategically…. Take Him to the Dark Side (Femdom) - Show Him What His Male Body, Was Truly Made For (Karezza) !!!
His Entire Function and “Design" as a Male is Ultimately For Your Total Exploitation, Entertainment and Gratification, Not Just Your Sustenance and Sanctuary …
In Review, Routine & Habitual Karezza “Training” of the Male (Mind & Erection), Beautifully and Naturally Increase “HIS” Libido, Passion, Devotion, Desire and Virility as well as his Subjugation and Veneration. Creating Once Again, A Wonderful, Subliminal, Self-Perpetuating (Feedback Loop), Deep Within BOTH The Male & Female Psyche…
With this Powerful Femdom type of “KAREZZA”, The Woman’s Love Life / Sex Life - Naturally Improves Exponentially…
Imagine the Connection, The Prolonged Bliss you Both Will Experience - Him Being Perched Everlastingly Right on the Very “Edge” of Orgasm, And You Perched Right “On Top of Him” Having Quivering Full Body Orgasmic Bliss to your Hearts Content. Take Breaks Frequently - Sexual Fulfillment, Is Most Assuredly Made “Sweeter”, By The Prolonging of Desire… In this Way, You Can Both RIDE The Exquisite “Edge” For as Long, and As Deeply as you Both Breathe Properly.
Although this Might Sound Torturous to Some (a Good Kind of Torture) Trust Me, it’s Pure “Euphoria”. By Harnessing, Channeling and Absorbing His Pulsating Sexual Energy Consciously Into and Through Your Consuming Womanhood; That Divine “Accumulated” Flow of Precious Sexual Energy will spread into Everything That You Do. You will Feel Revitalized, Connected and Tuned into the Rhythms of Life and He Will Absolutely and Utterly Worship You…
Note: Depriving a man of the use of his Erection while he is Utterly Helpless & Completely “CAPTIVE”, (Imprisoned) Balls Deep Inside of the Paradise of Your Heavenly Vagina, is a Most Wonderful Form of Obtaining Complete Sexual Dominance / Control over him, Especially If U Freely Orgasm - While Deftly Preventing Him from Doing So .
Having him sit upright and then wrapping your legs around his back is one of the Best Possible Positions for Prolonged Tantra & Karezza Lovemaking, Especially in the Hyper-Sensitive State He Will Undoubtedly Be in After Your Interminable Edging… The Wise Woman, Skilled in her “Art” Must Retain Control of “ALL” Movements, Thus Beautifully Controlling Herself & Her Subordinate Male… Until Her Stud Has Not Only Attained Complete and Deepest Union With Her, But Has Also Become Acclimated to His Secure Enveloping Captivity.
Then….and Only Then….Slow, Rocking (Karezza) Style Intercourse – Will Lead to a Woman’s Complete Discharge of Her Nervous Surplus, Complete Relief from All of Her Sexual Tension - Due to Intense Orgasmic Ecstasy - And More Prolonged BLISS, Satisfaction and Fulfillment for Him than any 15 Second Ejaculation Could Ever Provide… Due to his elevated Oxytocin Levels…
Remember, The Key to Teaching A Male ”NEW BEHAVIOR” (How Not To Cum) with the Hypnotic Powerful Neurotransmitter Dopamine, Requires Frequent Repetitive Training !!!!! If You Learn To Exploit The Powerful Processes Neurochemistry (Dopamine and Oxytocin) Have on the Psychology of the Vulnerable Male Mind - You’ll Be Able to Easily “Train” Your Male To Respond To You, With Virtually Any “Conditioned” Behavior You Desire…
(Karezza)… Ladies Cum - MALES DON’T (Tease & Denial)
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Of all the things You can “Do” when You Tease, “Edge” & Torture a Man, The One Thing that will Ultimately give you the Greatest Dividend – Will Be - Ruining His Orgasm.
How many Ladies reading this are Familiar, Comfortable and/or Titillated with the Concept?
Ruining Your Males Orgasm is Always Done by Abruptly Abandoning the Stimulation of His Penis (Joystick) Just Prior to the Point of No Return, Thus Minimizing his Pleasure, But at the Same Time Magically Making Him Hornier & Hornier & Hornier; The Purpose Being, Driving his Libido, Dopamine and Desire for your Femininity Up to Absolutely Peak Levels.
Learn to Always Say, “Aww, Did I Ruin that Honey?” Many Ladies find that they get a Real Power Thrill when they See their Studmuffins Imminent Ejaculation, Utterly Stopped in it’s Tracks. Virtually All Women Become Absolutely Delighted In Just How “Horny & Rock Hard" Their Males Stay Immediately Afterwards !!!
Once Again Ladies, Here’s the Paradoxical Secret of Habitually Ruining Your Guys Ejaculative Orgasm; His Libido & Desire for your Femininity Will Multiply Beyond Your Wildest Imagination, Such a Win-Win Situation for Systematically Subjugating Him!!!
Within Every Woman there is a “Domme” - Waiting to be Discovered, Nurtured, Worshiped and Served !!!
It takes Practice to get Really Good at Ruining a Males Orgasm. Probably the Single Most Often Asked Question in a Woman’s Mind, Women who Really Want to Subliminally Dominate, Subjugate, as Well as Perpetually Tease and Deny Their Stud Muffin “Properly”, Want to know How to Ruin a Male Orgasm The Right Way. Here is a Quick and Sadistic Outline of How You can Learn to Habitually Ruin your Guy’s Orgasms & Make him your Totally Subservient, Subordinate, Lusting Sex Slave (As He Should Be). Remember, every Man is Different and You will have to Learn the Signs Your Man Unwittingly Gives when He is Reaching The Point of No Return. That is, the Point at Which He is Going to Erupt & Explode no Matter what You do. You Can Only Learn these Signs and Signals by Watching Him Closely and “Practicing” Daily. Watch his facial expressions, his body, his feet, his movements, which muscles tense and Watch His Breathing .
You Need to Get Him and “Keep” Him Ultra Aroused Obviously, and then You want to Bring him as Close to Orgasm as You possibly Can, Without Allowing Him to Actually Cum while You are touching him. I emphasize this because in order to ruin his orgasm Properly, You must stop All Physical Stimulation “Right Before” The Last Possible Second. Always Remember, It’s Better to Stop Stimulation 15 Seconds Too Early, Than 1 Second Too Late !!!
I recommend that you Stroke or if you Prefer - Nurse on his Erection Very Gently, and with a good amount of lubrication. Although You can do this without lubrication if your sucking on him, Males Last Longer when they are Well Lubricated, And the longer you KEEP Him Rock Hard in the Peaked “Edged” Phase, the Higher his Dopamine Levels Will Ultimately Be. Give him four or five strokes, fast or slow doesn’t matter. Alternate between fast and slow if You like. The Key Is In the Pause Between these “Elongated” Never Ending Sets of strokes. You Must Pause However Long Enough to Allow Him to Relax and Recover Just a Little Bit, Before You give Him His Next “Set” of Blissful Hypnotic Programming Strokes. The Longer You want to Tease Him, and the More Dopamine/ Oxytocin You Want in His Brain (while you whisper your desires into his open ear), the Longer Your Torturous Teasing and “Pauses” Should Last. Remember, His Impressionable Mind is Quite Open in this Condition to Your Hypnotic Suggestions, So Be Sure To Exploit this Vulnerability Ladies …
Watch him Very Closely !!! When You see the signs of his Impending Imminent Orgasm, Remove your hand or mouth and Stop touching him Immediately!!! Wait at Least Ten Seconds Before You Touch his Hyper-Sensitive (Straining) Erection Again; Fifteen to Twenty Seconds Even Better. Any less time, and You may trigger a Full-on Orgasm the Instant You start Up Again. Many men unconsciously try to hold back their ejaculation, especially if You’ve Properly “Trained” them with Karezza Not to Cum without Your permission, or if they feel they might cum while You are not directly touching them. This a good thing, encourage this behavior & Exploit IT… Once You’ve reached that all important point of no return, they will most often trigger their own miniature ruined ejaculation by just trying not to Explode.
Many Men hold out, for as long as, eight seconds before they Finally Succumb to a Helpless Joyless Ruined Orgasm. That is, eight seconds after You stop touching, sucking & stimulating them. That is why I say, The Astute Lady Should Wait at Least Ten to Fifteen Seconds before she begins stroking her Stud Muffins Hypersensitive Joystick Again. The Longer the Breaks are between stroking stimulations, The Better!!!
What You Ultimately Want to See and Trigger Ladies, is your guys “Creaminess” begin to slowly flow out of the tip of their penis head “smoothly”, like a miniature oozing river - AFTER You’ve Stopped All Stimulation. The Cum will NOT Explode Out with Force as you “and they” are typically used to, Thus in this Way, You Ultimately will be Saving, Accumulating and Preserving Your Lovers Precious Sexual Energy from Being Wasted, and this Sexual Energy Once again Beautifully Builds Upon Itself. The sadistically fun part is, that no matter how hard they try, they will be unable to pump their own cum out with any pressure, But They can try. They can flex their “Kegel” muscles that usually make their cum squirt, spurt, or shoot out, but it will not work :)) Most Importantly, They’ll be Hornier and Harder than Ever…
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In Review, Ruined Male Orgasms are Just That, Totally Unsatisfying!!! They involve stroking, sucking, stimulating & masterbating an erect penis, Right UP to the Point of No Return, “ALWAYS” After Interminable Edging. And Rather than Milking the Erection Through the Blissful, Cherished Orgasm, a Couple of Subjugating Femdom Techniques can be Used to Properly Ruin the Male Orgasm & Reinforce To His Unguarded Psyche, Your Ultimate (Feminine) Control. A Quick Summary of the Most Effective, Femdom Techniques are Summarized Below.
Abandonment: Through extensive experience, the Mistress identifies the point of no return (PNR) for the Erection being Subjugated and Totally Ceases Any & All Stimulation, “Just Before” His Ejaculation Spasms Begin. Simply sit back and Delight in Watching the Silly, “Straining”, Pulsating Appendage Struggle to Expend the Unstoppable Pressurized Cream Inside of it, which is Gut Wrenching and Totally Unsatisfying. The Victimized & Totally Stunned Manhood will (Almost Always), Paradoxically Remain Fully Erect and Extremely Rock Hard Following The Ruined Orgasm & Immediately Feel the Oh So Desperate Need to Cum Again.
Keep in Mind Ladies, Your Routine & Habitual Goal is to “Prevent” his Orgasmic Nerves from Firing “Completely“…Thus Retaining Over 95% of His Precious & Priceless Sexual Energy from Being Wasted… A Small River of Cum Slowly “Oozing” Down His Bursting Hard, “Straining”, Vein Filled Cock Shaft is What You Want to See Happening Repeatedly…
Taking This Subliminal Programming & Subjugation A Step Further !!!
Bleeding: An advanced Technique With Extremely Wonderful Libido Building Effects. Rather than bringing the Desperate, Throbbing Erect Penis Up To the Point of No Return (PNR), Stimulation is Abruptly Stopped JUST Prior to This Point, Causing “Your” Play Toy to Leak Out (Ooze) a Small Amount of Precum, but Still Remain, Right on the Verge (Edge) of Orgasm.
Due to The Wonderful Involuntary Neurochemistry of his Mind, A Males Dopamine Levels Will Again “Be Peaked” at This Point. It’s at this Exact Point in Time that His Mind & Psyche is Most Vulnerable to your Comments, Suggestions and Subliminal Programming, So Exploit This Omnipotent Gift….. Firmly “Command Him” Not To Cum, Tell Him He’s Never Allowed to Cum Without Your Permission and Praise Him What a Good Boy He Is for Obeying You.
After a Short Pause, Once “Control” is Again Regained over the Straining, Throbbing, Desperate, Hyper Sensitive Erection, This Procedure can be Repeated Over and Over and Over Again, Drawing Small Oozing amounts of Cum from the Screaming “Joystick” Each Time.
At Some Opportune Point of Your Choosing, His Vulnerable Bursting Hard Joystick Can Then Be Stimulated to a Maddening, Straining, Painful Dry Orgasm He Will Never Forget. If the “Domme” is Feeling Particularly Sadistic, the Dry Orgasm Can Then Also Be Ruined, Most likely Leaving the Possessor of the Tortured Dominated Cock Sobbing and Writhing, But Advantageously Hornier and Harder Than Ever !!!
This is the Perfect Time – After “A Series” of Exquisite Ruined Orgasms (RO) – For The Astute Lady To Mount Her Guys Now Supersized, Traumatized, Totally Subjugated and ”Drained“ - BUT Extremely Horny Stud Muffin, in order to Delight in a Rock Solid “Ultimate” Multi-Orgasmic Ride of Whatever Duration She Chooses !!! – Which Normally He Would Be Unable To Endure For Any Extended Length of Time… The Beauty Of This Viagra Induced (Femdom) Subjugation Is, Even With His Raging Accumulated Sexual Energy Carefully Preserved, He Won’t Be Able to Cum, There Won’t Be ANY Cum Left Inside Him !!!
You Will Now Completely OWN Him, Physically & Psychologically !!!
In Review - Eventually the Males Balls can be Completely “Emptied” in this Most Advantageous “Bleeding” Type of Way, While Retaining & Harnessing All Of His Oh So Precious Sexual Energy. Some Very Smart, Liberated & Skilled Women Use Tease & Denial, Along With “EDGING”, Followed By A Series of Ruined Orgasms, as a Wonderfully Sadistic Method of Totally Draining Their Dominated Husbands / Boyfriends Balls, Before They Mount Their Insanely Horny Bull.
Remember, There is a Major Difference Between Male Ejaculation and Male Orgasm; While usually occurring simultaneously, they are NOT THE SAME THING … Male Orgasm is the Pleasurable Rhythmic Muscle Contractions that are the result of Prolonged Mental & Physical Arousing Stimuli (Thus the “Trainable” Multi Orgasmic Male). Ejaculation However refers to the “Out of Control” Firing of His Male Orgasmic Nerves and the Energy Draining Explosive Expulsion of His Pressurized Ejaculate Which Must Always Be Properly Managed, Controlled, Restricted and Purposely Avoided by the Dominant “Ruling” Female of Course !!!.
Remember Ladies, Practice Makes Perfect…
If he isn’t Totally Emptied/Drained of Semen Every 10-18 Days, Forbidden Accidents May Happen, And this is Definitely a No-No if your Properly Harnessing, Absorbing, Managing and Restricting All of his Sexual Energy and Ejaculated Orgasms As You Should Be !!!
Remember Ladies Your Orgasmic Bliss Will Become “Maximized” …The More Your Dominated / Subjugated Males Orgasms ARE Routinely “Minimized”…
Through a Man’s Passion & Libido, Nature Has “Given” Man INTO Woman’s Hands, and The Woman who Does Not Know How to Make Him Her Subject, Her Slave, Her TOY, and How to Thoroughly Control Him with Her Femininity in the End is Not Wise.
Just imagining being at dinner and meeting your parents for the first time, chatting away, laughing and having a good time, and the whole time I’m secretly rubbing you under the table through your jeans so you’re blushing and struggling to stay still 😌
"Dear god," he thought to himself at the first sensation of her hand landing on his thigh. "Not now??"
Sure enough though... now.
The boldness of this girl was insane, and her desire to tease and arouse him was insatiable. She absolutely drove him wild. Being in a relationship with this girl was like somehow his normal, ordinary life had morphed into the existence he'd always fantasized about.
And now she had him just how she wanted... helpless, vulnerable, and totally at her mercy. So, as her teasing caresses continued beneath the table... making him hotter, harder, more and more aroused... he could do nothing but do his best to endure her maddening torment as discreetly as possible.
With her knowing fingers gently coaxing him closer and closer to cumming he did his best to carry on with the conversation as if he wasn't feeling like he was on the very brink of his most untimely orgasm ever. But, just as he was bracing himself for the inevitable she stopped, leaving his confined cock quivering and dripping in frustration.
The sensation was so maddening he couldn't help but emit a whimper which he quickly disguised with a cough. The sound was utterly delicious to her, but not missing a beat she sympathetically asked, "Oh honey, are you okay? Here, have a sip of your water."
She fought back a smirk as she handed him his glass, his parents smiling at how sweet and attentive his new girlfriend was being to their son. When he finished taking a sip she purred, "All better now?"
Red faced and blushing, he nodded. "Good," she said with a smile. "Now, where were we? You were telling us about what happened at work yesterday, right? Keep going honey, what happened next?"
And with that her fingers resumed lightly teasing along the length of him once more, precum beginning to seep through the denim from her gentle, inescapable teasing....
Teaches and Learns @theshieldandtheshaft - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
