“Here, let me show you,” he said, and took a length of twine, deftly wrapping it tightly around his scrotum, then between his testicles, and up, to encircle his already-jutting penis, before handing me the loose ends of rope. I looked from my hand to his face, then down at the prize I’d – he’d – captured.
Captured and handed to me.
I never thought I’d be in that position. Never thought I’d be writing about it here. What does a very-bottomy, very-sexually submissive woman know about CBT – cock and ball torture? What would I want to know? But then I gave the rope a little tug, licked the tip of his engorged, purple head, and looked up into his face – and what I saw there made me rethink this whole “torture” thing. What I saw in his face was a fierce pleasure – almost pain – an aching, anticipating, bated-breath of stillness and raw desire, as he awaited the next sensation. I lowered my head to his cock again, swirling my tongue around the tip and then down the shaft before coming back up to suckle him ever-so-carefully. His cock jumped repeatedly, his breath came in small, juddering gasps, but when I made to tease him more he placed a hand on the back of my head and forced me down to take it all in my mouth. His cock was so hard, so engorged, that my jaw ached as he pushed up into my mouth. I gagged as he pushed hard into my throat, his hand fisted insistently in my hair. Surprising myself, I gave the rope a sharp tug of displeasure. I was in control here, not him. Even more surprisingly, he released my hair, allowing me to come up for air.
I pondered this about-turn as he fell back against the pillows; I was unsure of how to feel. I drew back to admire the slick, wet, swollen power of his cock; his tortured, purple ballsack, taut and exquisitely sensitive to the touch, and then the expression on his face, which fascinated me most. This may have been torment for him, but it was a sweet torment, the kind of torture/pleasure, agony/ecstasy that I knew well, and loved. I had been in that exact situation, ricocheting between sensations as my lover had driven me from one extreme to the other, unable to help myself.
I marveled. With the simple expediency of a length of twine, I was the instrument of that dichotomy of sensation for him.
I felt…power, yes. I had in my hand and mouth the power to give him this pleasure – or not. I could make him ache, make him long for release and then…deny him. Pull that rope taut, tease him to the brink and back again. All that was mine to give —
— or not.
I’m not immune to the allure of that, nor am I a stranger to it. Fellatio (when I’m not being throat- or face-fucked) sometimes gives me that thrill. “This is me, doing this to you…”
This kind of play, of which my Viper is a definite enthusiast, has shown me a breadth of sexual pleasure and expression that I had never explored before. It is exciting, yes, but at times it turns my notions of Top/bottom on its head, and causes me confusion as I try to reconcile play like this with the deep submission I feel to him, and to the over-arcing D/s dynamic that is such an integral part of our relationship. How can I be both submissive and…powerful, sexually dominating…like this? How can he be both my Dominant and want me to be in control? I struggle with it, my emotions in conflict, even as I see his face suffused with pleasure, even as I feel his body twitch in response to my touch, even as I revel in being able to give him this pleasure.
He wants me to tell him I revel in the control just as much. That it’s not simply my need to please him that drives my own pleasure in this. Sometimes, I wish he’d just let it alone, let it be what it is to me, yet another way to submit to him, to give him what he wants, to please him. The ultimate way, perhaps, because it goes so much against my nature. Why is it not enough to have a woman that will do even this for him? But he needs it to be more than that, he wants it to be more than that for me, and that’s where conflict lies: can one be both Dominant (capital-D), and yet also fantasize about being in the power of someone else? Can I see that person as my Dominant?
I have been told I live too much in black and white. That my world is too ardently binary – right and wrong, dominant and submissive, male and female, top and bottom. But I like rules, I like understanding my world and I struggle with fuzzy middle grounds and grey areas. Of course the reality is that my own experience is much deeper, much wider-ranging, than just that, as is the experience of most humans. We are so much more complex than that.
And so here I am, contemplating the grey area, this space where Top and bottom tumble together, where pleasure is as much in fulfillment as in denial.