A Spark Without Kindling

Domination, Femdom Blog, Humiliation, Mistress Wael

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I love it when Mistress Wael and myself accidentally discover things we do similarly in our individual session.  Usually when we  discover  such  a thing we discuss  it at length over a nice bed  of fettucine noodles and ponder away  at what drove us separately do acquire such mannerisms.

For instance,  we had chatted about how we both change how we tend to fuck guys over the years.

I’ve tended to tie my lovers up and sort of  rape them against their will.  What I mean by that is … boys love to fuck  , right?  The english language is saturated with phrases like “I banged her” , “fucked her hard” , “impaled her” , “hit that ass” and “put my wobbly bobbily in her patooty.”

Ok  maybe  not the last phrase,  but you get my jist.

If sex were generalized as  a news headline in the local paper it’d read ..

Phallic Sword Destroys Innocent Hole

So when I say ‘against their will’ I’m referring to my desire to rob men of the feeling they enjoy so much … conquering a pussy.

Instead, and guys find this oh so annoying , I prefer to use their cock as merely a tool with which to reach an orgasm.

If man’s will is attached to their ability to thrust their hips … removing such an action all together is very much like castrating the poor boy.

This is the concept Mistress Wael and I discussed over dinner last night.

We got the conversation down to the “hip thrust” and pontificated over when was the last time we let a guy “thrust” his phallic sword into our innocent little hole?

Three years ago.  For both of us.

But where we differ is in the length of the rape.  In Thai we say “khom khunn” which translates to the act of rape, and it’s how us Mistress’s refer to the act of banging you in a way you don’t actually enjoy.  Similarly to how you say “I banged Mary good last night” we as of late would have it come out in a discussion as  “I raped Joe until he cried this morning”

We used to say “I got fucked.”

You see?  It’s a wholly different perspective.

Where we differ Wael and I , is that I’m like the “is it safe” guy when it comes to sex.

Fortunately my pussy drilling a cock doesn’t make the same sound as a dentist’s drill plumming for a cavity.

But the whimpers are the same , if not the screams.

I like prolonging the rape.

There’s nothing quite as satisfying as bringing to a guys attention his physical inability to thrust the hips while being fucked.

Now I’m not as good at tying a guy to a chair with fancy rope design as Mistress Wael is , but I find such intricate methods of restraint unneccessary.

Simple clamps around the wrists and ankles as well as a nice fat man sized leather belt fastened around the hips does the trick well enough.

From there it’s simply a matter of rubbing my pussy all around his erect cock and laughing at his psychosomatic reaction to twitch the hips.

I could tease a guy like that for hours.

Replacing “is it safe” with “can you cum?” is my modus operandi.

Depending on whether I’m fucking a bewildered Tinder date or a hot guy who stumbled into the session of his life , I’ll get differing answers to my enquiry.

Truly, each and  every Tinder guy has thought me to be first kinky, then perverted and finally insane.   They really don’t know what to think , being raped against their will isn’t something they’d ever expect.

In every single instance  (5 times in 3 years for those who are counting along on their fingers at home) these rape sessions have ended in a fight with the Tinder guys.

Ok not a fight per se, but more like a verbal jousting match.

Robbed of everything else that makes him manly, a guy will resort to verbal sparring in an attempt to maintain his position of dominance over the date.

Strange thing to declare , eh?  Especially me choosing the word dominance there.

But I’ve found that it’s true.

Underneath all the smiles, the flirting, the hugs, the cute sms messages and whatnot … once stripped of all that, and we’re for once looking at the core of the onion … what we have left is the hunter/gatherer genetic personna of the male.

I got this idea once again from George Carlin , as in , let’s  just  strip away all the bullshit shall we?

Once we strip away our petty customs, our crafty language-‘isms , and all the flirtation in between … then what’s left?

What we have is a guy in a chair ,  a Mistress content on letting him suffer with a leaking hard dick , and his utter inability to do anything about it.

I took all that hunter / gatherer dna passed down from generation to generation since the days of an oral-aural society … and I turned it on itself …

… and guys “lose their minds” as the Joker would say.  They get mad.  They don’t like it very much.  They complain.  Hell they even threaten.

Well Tinder guys do at least.

And I’m at odds with what I like more, normal guys’ reactions or my those of my submissive customers who have already had their dna reversed so to speak.  They expect disappointment.  One might even say they crave it.

That’s what I’m trying to get to the bottom of , finding out why you guys are different in your reactions to being castrated of your ability to fuck.

My slaves don’t just endure the tease, they want more of it.

And this is the point that Mistress Wael and I argued about the most last night.

See she recognizes this , she accepts it.   To Mistress Wael , submissive guys have long ago accepted their lot in life to accept what bread crumbs their mistress tosses their way and embrace the frustrations in between.

So when relating this to sex,  she told me that the guy she fucks is just the same car jack one uses to change a flat tire … he’s a tool with which to get leverage.

In this instance,  we’re talking  about leverage for her clit.

Mistress Wael’s moments of sexual intercourse are just that … moments.

If you’ve ever had a girl ride you on top , you already know that it’s the position with which to achieve orgasm the quickest.

I prefer riding a guy on a chair ,  and she prefers the bed.  It’s a matter of cock angles is all.

In her mind, what’s better than after a long week of being served  just so … than to use a guy for 15 seconds as she chokes the life out of him for leverage … so she can have instant relief through a perfectly controlled orgasm.

… and then re-lock the guys dick and return him to his trivial duties of servitude.

Whereas I enjoy very much listening to a man’s reaction to being fucked as I see fit and the verbal jousting that comes with my ways of denial … she gets off on the idea that a man’s sexual worth is simply that of a tool for leveraging her body …  just so … for a swift orgasm.

What we agreed upon however is that be it her way,  or my way, the guy having an orgasm of his own never once crosses our minds.

We laughed over that fact.  So much so that I spat a piece of fettucine out of my nose … much to the disapproval of the couple sitting next to us at the window.

On the way home I was reminiscing about our topic of conversation and I wondered what my own newspaper headline might read like?

Perhaps  …

A Spark Without Kindling, Is a Goal without Hope

🙂

xx