Dominatrix Erotica
"A secret dirty little act: How a lost football game sparked a life of BDSM," a Licorice Whips Sex Story by Lady Mae
Fragile 11, by Joerg Warda (prints available at ObsessionArt.com, starting at $39.20)
The pushing of our boundaries started as a bet.
We began betting on football games. He lost a bet; I challenged him to do something small: a back rub, a foot rub. I was testing his inhibitions and quickly learned that he was a born service man, with little hesitation. Sometimes he pouted. Fussed a little. He did it for reaction. He wanted to be scolded and sent to his metaphoric room.
Actually, he wanted to be bent over and whipped with a switch until he bled. He wanted to be wrapped up in saran wrap and left helpless and sweating under the bed for hours. He would get what he wanted.
He was such a gorgeous slut.
I fantasized about breaking him down, forcing him into the most vulnerable of physical places and discomforts, all to prove his love and commitment. I wanted to see my knight suffer and squirm for me, and at my hands, and at the whim of my creativity. Constant unpredictability. The joy of living life on the tips of its toes, and exploring the endless contradictions that give us insight into understanding our own souls.
It was the playoffs game.
If his team lost, I told him, he would have to masturbate in front of me. He’d never done that in front of anyone before, and the idea made him nervous. Masturbation was supposed to be private. Secret, even. Destroying this boundary hinged on the luck of a game of pigskin.
His team lost.
I drove him back to his house and stopped the car outside on the street. He moved to open the car door to get out, but I grabbed his wrist.
“No. You lost the bet.”
“Right now?” He was trembling a little. My heart sped up.
“Yes. Now.”
He fiddled a little with the car door and shifted in his seat, gathering courage, and then he just did it. He yanked down his pants and was already hard. He was too shy to look at me. He slowly touched his penis, and it surprised me how gentle he was with it.
I did not say a word as he continued jacking off, quietly. The car slightly wiggled with his motion. My heart sped up as I watched, aware that I was witnessing something that I wasn’t “supposed” to see. Something immensely personal and even shameful. It made him so vulnerable, and it made me so hot. He would never be able to take this back from my memory; he would forever be vulnerable around me. I knew his secret; I knew how he jacked off. Soft and slow, and then, suddenly – faster.
I stopped him.
I took my necklace off: a thick gold chain with different shaped charms. I wrapped it around his cock, tightly, and then replaced his slippery hand.
“Continue.”
He rubbed up and down, dragging the sharp edges of the charms and hard gold chain against his penis. At first, he tried to be careful. But soon, he relaxed into the blend of sensations. He was breathing heavily as the intensity grew.
It didn’t take long for him to come. I think the pressure, anxiety, awkward location, surprise, audience – and that very vulnerability – heated up his blood. And the rough necklace proved to be a new sensation that heightened his excitement.
I watched how he sped up at the end, his hand moving so quickly that even if a car had pulled up behind us he could not have stopped. When he came, it went all over his hand and pants and made a beautiful mess. He finally spoke.
“Do you have something?” He was looking for a napkin or tissue to wipe with.
I did, but I lied.
“Nope.”
I wanted him to sit in it when he went back into his house and had to small talk with his mother. It would be his sticky, sweet reminder of his new unspoken position in our relationship, and a hint of many stories to come.
Originally published April 2011