Ball-Kicking and Neurons Make Strange Bedfellows

It’s been scientifically confirmed: My brain is strange.

Last night we went to a party at a friend’s house.  There was someone there who is relatively new to the community.  He’s a neuroscientist, and he had a machine there.  It was some form of EEG, though I don’t think it’s the standard EEG used in hospitals.  He’s involved in research, and this seemed like a more elaborate one that would be used more for that application.

Throughout the night, he put a sort of helmet with electrodes on bottoms’ heads and measured their responses while they were playing, either with him or with someone else.  It was fascinating to watch.  At one point, a friend of mine mentioned being curious how my neural functions would look while getting kicked in the balls.  So of course, I ended up trying that.  For science!

A friend who I’d only played with once before (in our anniversary scene a few weeks ago) topped me in this scene.  We started off with some ball-kicking, then moved on to impact, biting, scratching, etc.  The neuroscientist quietly gave commentary to the people watching while it was happening as he’d been doing for every scene that night.  According to him, my brain initially reacted to the ball-kicking with an “And we’re off!  Here we go!” type of reaction, followed soon after by a sense of familiarity and having done that before.  He was shocked by the lack of fear response he saw on the computer and mentioned that any man he knows would be trembling at the thought of being kicked in the balls even once.  He also reaffirmed what I knew about needing to take 10-15 seconds after a hard hit to recover, and also that I feel sort of an adrenaline rush during some forms of play rather than arousal.  After a few minutes of her kicking me in the balls, he again became surprised by what he saw:  He said that my brain entered a state that he’d only rarely seen before in people who were extremely adept at meditation.

T said on the way home that this is further proof that I’ve earned the title “hardcore legend”- I meditate by being kicked in the balls.

Happy Fucking Anniversary

Last night, T and I celebrated two years together.  But of course, we didn’t do it in the traditional way.  We did get dressed up and went out for sushi, but afterward, the normalcy stopped.

Back at my place, she had me strip, then told me to get some earplugs and meet her in the living room.  I froze a little when she told me that, just because of memories of the other time she had me put in earplugs.  I wondered if it would be something similar, and I got nervous.  In the living room, she had me put the earplugs in, then she put a hood and my collar on me before having me get in the cage.  (No, I don’t have a dog, but I have a dog cage in my living room.  Doesn’t everyone?)  After what I can only guess was about 20 minutes, I felt a rush of cold air and knew that she’d opened the front door.  A little bit later, she let me out and led me by the collar upstairs to my bedroom.  When she removed the hood, I looked up and saw her standing there along with a few of our friends.  All women, so I breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of cum-eating that would take place.

The earplugs came out, and one woman started with some rope work; she did a chest harness on me, then tied my wrists together and looped the rope over my head, forcing my hands up above my head.  T then walked in front of me and lifted my chin a little.  She smiled sweetly, then spit in my face.  She’d never done that before, and it was a shock to me.  That was fifty pounds of sexy.  This was immediately followed by a swift kick to the balls.  The women then took turns kicking me in the balls.  A ballbusting bonanza.  One after another, they rotated through, each giving me a few kicks and dropping me to the floor before another woman would take over.

After doing this for a while, they brought me to the foot of the bed and bent me over the footboard.  The ropes around my wrists were each tied to the corners of the footboard.  T put some nipple clamps on me which were then secured to the headboard by a long rope, keeping me bent over.  (The clamps eventually fell off and were replaced with a long rope securing my collar to the headboard, which also kept me bent over.)  They then proceeded to take turns working on my ass with various implements of ass destruction.  Canes, paddles, hands, floggers… I lost track of what was happening, especially since one woman would be working on my ass while another would focus on my upper body, rubbing vampire gloves over me or tormenting my nipples.  Occasionally one of them would lift my face and spit in it, then continue with what she was doing.  They kept switching positions and implements, thoroughly confusing my body.

At one point, T said, “Now it’s time for the next phase.”  I was relieved, but also wondering what “the next phase” entailed.  I felt something cool and slick on my ass, and saw one of our friends come around in front of me wearing a strap-on.  Before I knew it, there was a cock in my ass and one in my mouth.  All I could do was pull against the bondage and let out muffled sounds.  They switched positions after a while, so now T was fucking my mouth and a friend fucking my ass.  At one point, we ended up moving to the floor, where the fuckery continued.  The other friends, lacking strap-ons, used gloved hands to fuck me.  They all took turns.  It made me feel used, in a sexy kind of way.  Especially when being fucked with a strap-on in both ends at the same time.  I’d never experienced double penetration before.  It was incredible.  It tripped that yes/no response in me that I find so hot, and it made me feel conquered.

T had me lay on my back on the bed and strapped a dildo gag to my face.  It has a small, stubby dildo on the inside of the gag as well, so it feels like she’s fucking my mouth when she uses it.  As she straddled the cock protruding from my face, the other woman with the strap-on pulled my legs up and started fucking me.  T faced the other woman, so all I could see was her ass in my face, going up and down, inches away from me.  T was getting off on my face while someone else violated my ass.  That was beyond hot.  Yowza.  T collapsed, flushed and sweating, onto the bed.

Then it was on to the finale.  T had me lay on my stomach, then donned rubber gloves and cleaned off my back.  She pulled out a scalpel.

TwoYearAnn (120)

(If you’re confused by the “hardcore legend” part, check out this post to find out how that came about.)

She wins at anniversarying.  That was an incredible night, and not something I expected at all.

 

Ravish Me, Stud.

Some submissive women frequently talk about how they want to be taken, forced, dominated, brutalized, or any number of similar terms.  It’s a pretty common desire.  These women find it hot to be overpowered, to struggle against the dom.  They want to be conquered.  One woman wrote, “I don’t want to kneel at your feet; I want to be dragged by the hair and forced to the floor.”

So why is it that when a submissive man desires these same things, he’s seen as un-submissive?  If a man wants to be forced, it’s written off as “male fantasy” (as if we’re somehow less entitled to having fantasies than women are) or seen as wank fodder.  Either that or he’s viewed as a less-mature sub who needs more experience.  If a woman wants this?  Great, that’s hot.  If a man wants it?  He’s a wanker.

I can understand it being a problem if it’s like this all the time; if there’s no submission, if everything has to be forced, that would be incredibly annoying and most likely end the relationship.  What I’m talking about here though is that desire to be forced sometimes, not a constant state of being.

While it’s not the same thing, I’ve known enough bratty subs over the years to realize that brats also get different treatment based on their gender as well.  A female sub who’s being bratty will elicit responses of, “Oh, she’s doing that again” and a chuckle.  Then people gather around to watch the ensuing scene.  A male sub engaged in the same behavior gets looks of disgust and disparaging comments about his lack of submission.

Why the discrepancy?  Why is it perfectly acceptable for a submissive woman to want to be dominated but not for a man to want the same?

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