Finally showed master this blog last night. Yes, there are only 2 measly posts, but it felt like absolutely ages having to keep it from him. I wanted his approval so badly, and wanted him to set me tasks to complete on here. His reaction was far from what I expected. He ended up questioning my motives for wanting a master/slave relationship, after reading my first post declaring that I’ve finally found the ‘fix’ to my long-time dark periods and unhappiness.
I was so upset to hear him ask whether any ‘master’ would be enough for me, as long as I had a master to serve. He also asked me whether I felt our love and our relationship could be sustainable without the master/slave aspect, which I thought was so incredibly silly because I just want him, and he was the one who really introduced me to this D/s stuff. It really made me think though; I knew in my head and in my heart that of course we could be happy, happier than I’ll ever be with anyone, without any D/s stuff. If it came down to it, if something happened which would mean we could no longer have sex, nothing would change and I would stay by his side forever. But I found it really hard to put into words why and how exactly I want so so so badly to be master’s slave, and why I want to serve and obey him, forever.
I finally managed to put how I feel into exactly one sentent that sums up how and why he is my master. “I want you to own me because I want to be yours forever, not because i want to be owned.”
If you take all the sex and kink away, and strip it down to my mentality of me wanting to be owned by my master, it’s fundamentally because I want to show master that he is my world, my everything, I worship him, and I am his forever to do with as he wishes. I want him to know that I would never leave him, could never leave him, even if I tried. I want to express that to be with him and to be his is inherently in my nature. I can’t think of a better way to show my commitment to him, not even through marriage. If master trains me to be the best slave I can be for him, I want him to eventually brand me, not with a tattoo or a piercing but with a brand, to mark me as his. What’s a silly piece of paper declaring your legal status as together, compared to a permanent mark on your body sealing his ownership of me forever?
I’ve been reading in a few places lately about people throwing tantrums, in both the vanilla world and in BDSM. In an excellent post on the subject, entitled “That’s Life (Vanilla and BDSM Tantrums)“, Ooooohhhhyesss concludes that “Tantrums are tantrums independent of being Dom/me, sub or vanilla. It is a lack of training in being a social animal. In the vanilla world, you can blame your parents until you are an adult. In BDSM you can point to your play partners; however, your behavior shouts out about YOU and merely reflects on others”.
So what exactly is a tantrum, and how do they apply to WIITWD?
Tantrums are, first and foremost, a sign of complete loss of self-control.
Healthline defines them as “… disruptive or undesirable behaviors or emotional outbursts displayed in response to unmet needs or desires. They may also refer to an inability to control emotions due to frustration or difficulty expressing a particular need or desire”.
Wikipedia describes them more extensively as follows:
” A tantrum is an emotional outburst of ill humor or a fit of bad temper wherein the ‘higher’ cognitive functions are unable to stop the emotional expression of the putative ‘lower’ (emotional and physical) functions. It can be categorized by an irrational fit of crying, screaming, defiance, angry ranting and a resistance to every attempt at pacification in which even physical control is lost… Even when the “goal” of the person is met, he or she is not calmed…
“From a psychological standpoint, there may be several goals to a tantrum, which may or may not be the “reward(s)” that are consciously desired by the person. To many outsiders, these goals may seem irrational, unreasonable, inappropriate, criminal, unethical, immoral, or the work of some spiritual force(s)…
“Since there are chemical correlates to tantrums, some kinds of medication can minimize but not always prevent tantrums…
“A tantrum may be expressed in a tirade, a protracted speech usually marked by intemperate, vituperative or harshly censorious language. A tirade may also take the forms of a prolonged fire of invective or a long-drawn-out harangue.”
In this online day and age, such rages may also be expressed in writing, in email. You can recognize them as different from information being shared, advice given, etc. because they are purely vituperative, and use attacking language, often completely disregard anything actually said to which they are responding, exaggerating wildly, blowing things out of proportion, etc.
Tantrums may also be expressed more “quietly”, by pouting, sulking, stomping around not talking, withdrawing from others, withholding sex from a partner as punishment, cutting off all contact instead of keeping the lines of communications open, etc. Oftentimes, the two appear together, with a raging, screaming fit and personal attacks followed by a sullen, pouty period, the disruption of which may well lead to another full-blown tantrum.
Common in young children as part of the developmental process, in adults they are definitely abnormal, and usually reflect a difficulty in expressing frustration in words, so they act out their stress, anger, and frustration either physically or with inappropriate language and screaming. This is the stuff of which road rage is made, among other things.
There are many potential underlying causes, including stress, tiredness, a tendency towards feeling helpless, inconsideration for others. Goals often include getting attention, getting one’s own way, retaliation when feeling hurt, and to get others to leave them alone. When directed at women by men, they may be a result of anger at women, perhaps a deep-seated misogyny, and in virtually all cases, they reflect extreme emotional immaturity (except for those resulting from injury or brain chemistry aberrations) and inability to control one’s emotions and behavior as a result.
The net effect, regardless of etiology, is that the tantrum thrower gets to control the entire situation, without any respect for their targets or others, who may be trying very hard to pacify them, or even to comply with their demands. However, all such attempts are generally destined to fail.
But this controlling the whole situation – isn’t that what D/s and being a dominant are about?
No, not like this. The sort of control required for healthy D/s is self-control, and a carefully reasoned and executed mutually agreed upon control over one’s partner, backed by real concern for her health and safety that is demonstrated consistently, with reasonable expectations of the submissive – and respect for her and her needs. That’s dominance. It’s about earning the submissive’s trust, not demanding it, not belittling her if she doesn’t live up to your expectations, if something goes wrong, etc.
Tantrums, on the other hand, are the stock in trade of a domineering and controlling person, a bully – and an abuser. Being domineering is very different from being dominant.
Dominants build their subs up and leave them in a better place, making sure they are well taken care of both emotionally and physically. Domineering people tear their partners down and leave them in worse shape than they started in.
Dominants seduce consent, obedience, and submission, and know that this is a process that take time, sometimes even years. Domineering control freaks, on the other hand, demand that submission whether or not they have earned it, and even if they have violated the trust that is so necessary for real submission to ever happen.
Tantrums are not appealing in anyone, clearly, but they are particularly unattractive, IMO, in a dominant, and even dangerous, precisely because they reflect the utter lack of self-control that is really essential to the foundations of WIITWD – and to the sub’s safety, both physical and emotional.
A dominant who throws fits, whether of the loud and screaming variety or the sulking, pouty sort, especially when directed at his submissive, is only giving away his own power. This makes it impossible for her to submit to him, for a couple of reasons. First of all, in giving her his power, she is left with nothing to submit to. Second, it can be outright dangerous for her own health and safety.
A dominant who is prone to playing while angry or frustrated – or becomes angry and frustrated when a scene doesn’t go the way he wants it to – will often injure his submissive, sometimes badly. Both in play and in day-to-day life, emotional damage will also often result from abusive behavior of various sorts, including throwing tantrums. Even if he is able to rein himself in enough physically to not injure her, she will often still feel it coming off of him just by his behavior and attitudes, even if he’s saying nothing. We all know when someone is in a bad mood.
So how do you deal with this? And how is it different from a dominant just giving orders to his submissive and controlling the D/s relationship?
First of all, the most effective way to deal with a temper tantrum is to simply not reward the behavior, to not yield to the person’s demands. I repeat – do not yield to their demands as long as they are in the middle of this fit. As long as it is safe to do so, you have to just walk away, tell them that you are care about them, are interested in what they have to say, and that you will listen when they can discuss it calmly, but that you will not stay there to be yelled at and threatened.
This is not exactly the easiest thing for many people to do, as the tendency is to want to try to explain, retaliate, argue back, etc. It is particularly difficult for the submissive, because the whole relationship structure and her mindset are geared towards keeping her at the dominant’s feet and under his thumb, pretty much no matter what he does. This is all well and good when he’s behaving and respecting her boundaries, but if he goes out of control like this, you must keep your own self safe, both physically and emotionally, no matter what it takes to do that. Even outside of a scene situation, a safeword might work, too. It’s certainly an appropriate tool to use; after all, he’s probably violating some of your limits just by throwing this tantrum.
Many dominants have an iron-clad first rule, and that is that the submissive or slave must “First protect the property” – including protecting her from his own self, if the need should arise. Whether or not your dominant has specifically told you to do this, that’s part of what responsible submissives do. Indeed, it’s the responsibility of all human beings, regardless of relationship structure, to take care of themselves first and foremost.
D/s is about consensual power exchange. There is nothing remotely consensual about an adult throwing a temper tantrum at his partner, hurling invectives, flying into a rage, screaming, stomping around, etc. when he doesn’t get his way, or objects to something she has done. That’s abuse, end of story – definitely not D/s. And all bets are off in a D/s sense when that starts happening.
Regardless of the nature of your dynamic, you must learn how to stand up for yourself and not accept this kind of behavior in anyone, but particularly not in someone who is supposed to be your dominant, who is supposed to be taking care that you remain safe. There’s no way he can safeguard you if he himself is out of control throwing a hissy fit or sulking and pouting. You must walk away, no matter how much he demands otherwise, at least in that moment, and ensure your own safety before you resume talking with or playing with him, if indeed you do resume contact at all. He’s already ceded the control to you in giving you his power; don’t you give up your own.
Yes, he’ll undoubtedly label you as uncooperative, disobedient, unsubmissive, etc. And yes, you will be, in those moments, and maybe in some of the aftermath.
But this is one of those times in which you simply must take care of you own self, and protect yourself from him – which really makes the whole question of submission moot. It would be really foolish to try to surrender yourself and give control over to someone who is so clearly out of control of his own self.
Protecting yourself and your boundaries against someone who is violating them is a very healthy, mature response, even for submissives, perhaps even especially so for us. Demanding that respect is not topping from the bottom, either, no matter what anyone else may tell you. It’s protecting yourself, end of story. Ideally, you can find a way to do this inside your dynamic, but even if you have to drop that to protect yourself and be heard, you ought to do so.
He may even end the relationship (or threaten to) if you try to protect your boundaries and insist on limits being respected and agreements kept if they are violated. That is not a dominant, however; that’s a domineering control freak. An abuser. Someone who is not willing to take responsibility for his own actions and their results.
The very first person a dominant must be able to control is himself. If he cannot do that well, in all areas of life, then he has no business trying to control anyone else.
And doms, this sort of behavior is one of the kinds of things I referred to in a prior post about how a submissive’s behavior reflects on her dominant, and how sometimes what you may consider “bad behavior” may well result from something that you are doing, or have done. If you’re throwing fits or being sulky around your submissive when something doesn’t go your way in some manner, it’s very likely that she’s responding to that, not being inherently not submissive.
After I posted yesterday, I did start to feel better. Last night, Heidi and I suggested to Steve getting together w/ the teen from this past weekend to culminate things. It was great for him, and led to a great scene between us three this morning. Plans for her are being enacted. This morning’s play did get caught short by the socialite’s visit. She and Steve had some anal fun together in the living room, while I napped in the bedroom. All in all a very productive 24. Also- I realized today that I’m still able to listen even without the chemistry. That is exciting. I’ve felt so lonely since May, when they departed.
Jason loved working in construction. Tearing up shit and building new crap was his forte, he always bragged to his friends. What other job did he need? He would spend most of the day outside, enjoying the fresh air while putting his hands and body to good use. He was never cut out to be a white-collar dude; that just wasn’t him. Retail and restaurants never fit with his style unless he was buying something there. So he followed in his father’s footsteps and went into construction.
Too bad he was still getting used to the hours.
Working as a foreman for the past 7 years, Jason still had trouble getting used to the insane morning hours. He was going to work when everyone else was still asleep. The only advantage was he went home when everyone else was still at work. He couldn’t complain about the traffic.
As the red LED lights shined on his face followed by the screeching blare of the alarm, Jason reluctantly got out of bed. He could’ve slept in an extra five minutes if he wanted but he knew no one really does that. Five minutes would turn into fifteen minutes which would turn into an extra hour which would leave Jason jobless. With the current economy, Jason didn’t have time for speculation. He forced himself out of bed and showered. After a quick shave, Jason decided to check the news online for any latest reports.
And also to see if Andrea emailed him back.
There was innocence about Andrea that was more intriguing than having an expert service him. He knew based off her online profile that she had potential. Good girl gone bad, was her tagline. Her profile suggested she was interested in casual encounters and some experimentation. She’s a freak in denial, Jason snickered. He didn’t expect Andrea to take him up on his offer but when she did, the next move was a tricky one. Both haven’t even spoken on the phone to one another and there was no set date on when the first meeting was going to occur.
Soon, Jason hoped. Before Andrea would be convinced not to pursue her newfound passion as a Dom.
Working for as a pre-school teacher for a church required Andrea to have the utmost level of secrecy. Jason fully understood as he had much at stake he was risking. If any of his friends found out he loved to get spankings and humiliated by women, Jason would never hear the end of it.
Hey Pussy! Are you going to lift that wood or do I need to spank you?
Can I kick your ass since you let your old lady do it to you all the time?
Kiss my feet, asshole…oh wait, maybe you should kiss my asshole since you’re an expert on that.
Yeah, Jason had a lot to lose. Dare he thought, even more than Andrea.
Today I’m celebrating my seventh release of the year – Body Shots! I’m giving away a copy to one lucky commenter. And if you’d like to purchase a copy you can at: www.jasminejade.com
Blurb:
Got tequila? Sierra does, and Reed isn’t afraid to use it. He’s determined to do shots on every inch of her skin, but Sierra has insecurities preventing him from exploring intimate areas. Her insecurities won’t stop her from lavishing his body with the heady liquor though.
Ten years ago an accident tore Sierra Allen and Reed Walker apart. Now a chance encounter has them burning for each other. A bottle of liquor and a pool table has this duo ready to quench their thirsts with one night of body shots. But will one night be enough?
Excerpt:
“Reed, it’s been ten years. A lot has changed in that time. I’m not the girl who left. I’m not that person anymore.” I’m not the woman you loved, she wanted to scream. Yet she couldn’t deny she still had feelings for him. Ten years hadn’t erased those feelings. How she wished it had. But the truth was she loved Reed as much as she did the day she walked out of his life—for what she believed was forever.
She moved to the side and started to walk away.
Reed grabbed her arm, twisting her around.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Sierra. I know you. I can see the pain in your eyes. And I can also see the love.”
She shivered, hating his ability to read her. Her pain was from the fact she couldn’t stop loving him. She hoped he’d have moved on by now. Married and settled down. But part of her was relieved to know he hadn’t.
“Reed…”
His hands pulled her face closer. His lips descended, capturing hers. She didn’t resist. She accepted his kiss. When his tongue invaded her mouth, she parted her lips, allowing him access. She knew she should push him away. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, devouring his mouth hungrily.
His arms enveloped her waist lifting her off the ground. She felt his bulge through his pants. It throbbed against her stomach.
She whimpered. It’d been so long since she felt a man inside her. So long since she had sex. Thoughts of having Reed inside her consumed her. Blinded by desire, she lost her grip on reality. Her legs snaked around his waist.
“Fuck me, Reed,” she whispered between kisses.
His mouth froze.
What the fuck? Why was he stopping? Wasn’t this what he wanted?
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said, before sucking his lower lip into her mouth. She nibbled and released it. “One hundred percent positive.”
Holding onto her ass, he carried her over to the bar. He set her down on a stool, picked up his beer and took a long swig.
“Got any tequila?”
“Behind the bar.” She hitched her thumb back. “Second shelf next to the vodka.”
“Don’t move.” He dragged his lips across hers.
She tapped her fingers against the side of the bar stool, wondering why he needed the tequila. She swiveled the chair around to see what he was doing. He found the tequila easily per her instructions, now he was ransacking the bar.
“Can I help you find something?” Her amusement was only going so far. If he didn’t fuck her soon, she might change her mind.
“Lemon?”
“Middle of the bar, in that little cooler type thingy. Salt is down near the cash register.”
Maybe a few shots was exactly what she needed to cool her burning skin. His touch electrified her.
He moved around the bar, collecting all the items he needed. Placing them on the counter one by one he asked, “Have you ever done body shots?”
Flog me, shock me, burn me. Scratch long, teasing lines in red with nails that want more. Make my skin quiver and dance beneath your touch. Lick me, kiss me, surprise me. Find my buttons and push them hard.
Bite me. Bite me hard.
Don’t
stop.
Shove me past my limits, love my strength. See me as i am. Play with me, admire me. Make me cry out in pain. Make me cry out in pleasure. Light my nerves on fire. Make me laugh. Let me refuse You, and then
make. me. pay.
Let me show you how brave I am, and then make me small. Force me down and take it. Tell me how much you want me. Tell me what you will have. Make me perfect. Hit me hard.
Beat me, but respect the fight.
Run your fingers lightly up my arms. Kiss my neck. Hold my wrists and turn them until I cry out. Grab my hair and shove me up against the wall. Slide a thigh between my legs. Grind into me like I’m everything you’ve ever wanted. Make a meal of the way I grind on you. Listen to my moans…my panting, desperate pleading.
Pull out a knife and hold it at my throat. Scare me. Purr into my ear as you draw blood. Adore my fear.
Knock me down and pin me there. Enjoy my struggle. Laugh with gentleness in your eyes. Growl with menace.
Tell me you want me. Make me the center of everything. Let me fill your needs, violently….
and then hold me in your strong, warm embrace and pet my head. Whisper to me lovingly. Rock me gently and say, “Good girl. Beautiful girl. My girl.”
And then, when I am finally calm, let me get up, and start on you…
(((Note: This quiz is not totally comprehensive because of the length such a quiz would be. I kept it sex-based because I felt that psychological profiles and motivations were too complicated and vary too greatly among people that practice BDSM.))) You know what you want but it has nothing to do with your own role in the bedroom. You have the ability to be flexible in that area which can be useful for exploring you sexuality with your partner.
About ten years ago, I hooked up with a guy I met at the gym. We spent a few months together and he was a fantastic lover. But after the first time we had sex, he did something that made me cringe: he said “thank you.”
I know he had good intentions. Or at least, I will give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he had good intentions. But the way it came out, and the context of the conversation, made it clear that he was operating in a mindset that was… well, kinda icky. I think he felt he needed to say thanks because in his world, girls didn’t like having sex; they did it as a favour to their men. Sex was a favour, an indulgence, a prize, something to be grateful for because really, it was a bit of a sacrifice on her part. It was a coveted object, a reward for good behaviour, a special treat when she happens to be feeling generous. It was a very gender-binary, heterosexual and transactional way of approaching sex, and it put me in a box that did not fit and attributed feelings to me that I did not feel.
It grossed me the fuck out.
I told him in no uncertain terms that I did not want to be thanked for sex. That I wanted sex as much as he did, maybe more, and that in no way was I doing him some sort of benevolent favour by getting in the sack with him. His thank-you blunted my agency, assumed I had no desire or interest or libido of my own; and since I am very much an agent of my own pleasure and a desiring, libidinous human being, I felt misunderstood and insulted that he could have misread my experience of our fuck as anything other than pure, genuine pleasure. What kind of actress was he accustomed to bedding? (And why would anyone even need to put on a show for him? The man had talent aplenty!)
We did figure it out. More or less, at least. He’d never dated a queer woman before and as time went on, it became clear that there was a lot about our sex life that was surprising or different for him, so the “thank-you” talk was one of many conversations we had that involved trying to mesh two worldviews that really didn’t fit very well.
That relationship eventually ended when the incompatibilities started to pile up just a bit too high. But that specific experience really stuck with me, and I carried it over into other situations that weren’t nearly the same. For a long time, “thank you” was a trigger point for me – it was an instant flashback to feeling incredibly misunderstood.
I have since had many experiences where “thank you” means something a whole lot different. “Thank you” can be a way to express respect and appreciation in a context of mutuality – not so much “thank you for allowing me to take my pleasure by using your body” as “thank you for enjoying the ride with me.” It can be a way to express the joy and honour of being allowed into someone’s vulnerability. “Thank you” can be a way to express submission and gratitude in a sexual D/s situation, when kindness has been proffered that actually is a favour – I had a conversation with a submissive not long ago who made it clear that he’d been trained by his first mistress to say “thank you” after anything sexual took place, as a way of indicating respect and appreciation for the efforts of the dominant. For that matter, “thank you” can come in handy for dominants too, in recognition of a submissive’s openness and trust. In short it can mean all kinds of things that aren’t the least bit icky at all.
But I’ll admit that sometimes, for me, “thank you” still echoes a bit funny when I hear it. It can create a distance I thought sex had bridged, a formality in situations where I thought intimacy was happening. It can still turn an experience of mutuality into an experience of transaction. That’s not the effect it has all the time; sometimes it’s really okay. But sometimes, with a certain tone and at a certain moment, with a certain look in the eye, “thank you” can still do more harm than good.
What have your experiences been with the words “thank you” after sex? I’d love to hear your stories.
It is not the first time I have met “Chikako” before, in fact, probably the 4th time. She is 39, amazingly but looks about 30. Very tight body and takes care of herself. Intelligent and financially well off, it makes demeaning her and owning her bitch ass even more appealing.
She took me to dinner and, stupidly, tried like she always does to match me drink for drink. She is one of those. Lots of pride, too much to know when to say “I am a woman, I should learn my place.”, but thats just fine with me. I kept putting down the beer’s she was ordering for both of us and by the time we left the okonomiaki place, she was well lit.
We then went to another bar where she went from Sex on the beach to whiskey on the rocks and I watched, loving it, as her eyes glazed over, she had so much to drink I managed to get her to admit that 1. She is in fact, a whore. 2. That White men are genetically superior to Japanese men and 3. Got her to pay the bill, then convinced her she hadn’t, and she should give me the money and I would take care of it.
Then off we went.
In side I sat on the couch and pulled her jeans open and yanked them down to the floor, while she stood there wobbling about, I was pleased to see her wearing such tight, conservative pink panties and with my left hand I began rubbing her already wet pussy through her panties, while with my right I reached under her sweater up and under her bra, and began pulling on her nipples. She moaned loudly, drunkenly and I slipped two fingers under her panties and up all the way to the third knuckle into her sopping wet fuck hole. This caused her to nearly collapse but I supported her weight, less that 48 kilos, with the hand on her tits and the one buried, now nearly to the wrist, in her pussy.
Then I pulled her down to her knees, so she sat in front of me on the tatami floor while I reclined on the sofa, I held her black pony tail, all that shiny black hair nearly down to her ass, and with my free hand I pulled out my swollen and throbbing cock, which she, immediately took fully into her mouth and greedily began sucking on. I roughly pulled on her pony tail lifting her head up and away from my cock and then grabbed her chin and cheeks with my hand, “hands behind your back” I said. She obeyed and then I pushed her head back down onto my throbbing dick. She made snorting noises as she took my full shaft into her mouth and throat and this excited me enough, so that, I began face fucking her in earnest, holding her hair so I could fully feel the head of my cock entering her throat. Her gagging and choking noises were lovely and I had to stop, in order to avoid cumming too soon.
I took her sweater off, and then went into my closet and got out one of my Gag balls. Its a heavy duty leather harness style gag ball, and she was completely neutral and submissive, letting me slip it on her, without saying a single word. I then took that opportunity to synch all the straps down extra tight and I watched, blood rushing harder and harder into my shaft as her facial features contorted slightly due to the pressure of the gag. Her mouth wrapped around the red ball exciting even more.
“Your a fucking whore.” I said. “Fucking bitch.” I said, then turned her around and hurriedly bound her hands with a strand of hemp rope I had pulled from that closet. Nothing artistic, nothing professional, just tying her hands because I wanted, needed to fuck her now. immediately.
I rolled her over on her belly and put a pillow under her hips to prop them up and pulling those lovely panties to the side I jammed all of my length and girth as far as I could into her absolutely dripping wet pussy fuck hole.
Her body went totally rigid and her hands pulled against the bonds and she let out a muffled groan and snort, her ass muscles flexing, and relaxing along with the muscles inside her vagina, and I did not wait but immediately began pounding away, grabbing the strap on the back of her gag ball, pulling it, like reins for a horse as I fucked her harder and harder. Her vagina was amazing and I layed down on her back, still holding the gag, her tied hands pinned beneath my weight and whispered into her ear “You like this fucking bitch whore, you like it cunt? huh?” all she could manage was a weak “un” and a slight head nod, “You like getting fucked by a white man slut? You want white jizz up your jap hole?” This was followed again by a weak grunt and a nodding of her head, this time more insistent.
I decided to give this horny slut bag what she wanted. I felt my orgasm coming initially in my ass someplace and I knew it would be amazing, I would not let this be ruined, not this one, I was going to blast every pearly white drop of my jizz right up her slutty,, fucked out bitch hole and she was going to love it. “Is this what you want cunt? white cum in your pussy? white cum fuck bag?” Now her head nodded yes over and over and she was moaning louder as my cock grew even bigger as my orgasm traveled from my ass,into my balls and then burning up into my shaft and I pulled hard
on the gag strap I was holding,
my other hand holding her right ass cheek and I heard her moan, but only vaguely because at that moment I was someplace else, the best place in the universe, and I felt my juice shoot out once, twice, three and four times. I then pushed into her a few more times hard, to make certain she would get all of it in her hole.
The orgasm gone, I left her laying on the bed still tied and gagged too tight and I went to piss, then have a beer.
39, can you believe it?
Leather Harness Ball gag. Put those bitches in their place.
