Tapping

I've been encouraged to share a little more about my trip to Florida and the incredible Domme I served there for three days. It would have been longer, but I contracted Covid19 while I was there which was pretty much an ender. I had to spend several extra days in my hotel room with mild to moderate flu-like symptoms....and very bruised and swollen balls. Today's post will tell you about how that came about.

Cock and ball torture is really two separate kinks for me, because there are really two types of pain involved: penis pain and testicle pain. I do pretty well when the focus is on the shaft or head of my dick, however, my balls are extremely sensitive and have much less endurance. My Florida Domme knew that from the git-go and exploited it to my breaking point.

...and CBT is her favorite kink. She won't play with a sub who won't agree to have his balls beaten. I explained to her leading up to our encounter that it wasn't my strong suit, and I think she appreciated my honesty, not that it spared me any pain. She let me know in no uncertain terms that my balls were going to suffer for her, and that if I didn't like that then I shouldn't bother coming.

So the first day I already told you about in my previous post. I was only with her for a little over an hour, so other than what was described in my previous post, not much else happened. One thing she did do was have me put on my pink chastity cage and model it for her. As is usually the case when I'm seen it, smirking and humiliating comments accompanied the presentation. She was interested enough to take out her camera and get several pictures. I brought a lock for it, but she is well versed in mischievous subs who keep a spare key. She has plenty of devices and locks in her collection, and she quickly procured a lock of her own to slap on "pinkie". There would be no unauthorized masturbation in my hotel room that night, and very little sleep as my mind raced think about what she had in store for me.

The following morning I was to call her early before leaving, pick up some breakfast, and deliver it to her. I ate at the hotel because I knew any food that I brought for myself would be defiled in some way like the day before. When I called, I quickly learned that she is not a morning person. She told me she was going back to bed and to call in a couple of hours. When I called the second time, we had about a fifteen second one-sided conversation. “I’m hungry. Get me some breakfast and get your ass over here. Hurry!”

I went to Einstein’s Bagels which is what she wanted, and they were busy. It took me about a half hour to get her order, so I kind of knew I was in trouble when I arrived at her house. I’m not sure I could have done much differently, but I know better than to make excuses with a dominant woman. It just makes things worse.

She made no mention of my tardiness, but as I met her in the doorway, she hastily took the bag of food out of my hands. She looked kind of rough in the morning like maybe she had partied the night before. She was still in her robe; her skin was pale and there were circles under her eyes. Her hair was a mess. It was quite a different appearance from the previous day when she was dressed to the teeth in Dominatrix garb.

I followed her to the eating nook just off the kitchen, and she told me to take off my clothes, put them on one of the guest chairs, and kneel at her feet next to her while she ate. I would glance up at her every once in a while. She seemed to enjoy breakfast and ate quickly, then slowed down to enjoy her coffee and one other stimulant to get her going. She lit a cigarette.

She took a draw from the tobacco, then put her hand under my chin and told me to open my mouth. I looked up in horror as she flicked the ashes directly into my mouth. From the previous day’s experience, I should have known something like this was going to happen. It was then I realized that she got off on subs consuming disgusting things to prove what they are willing to do for her. She’d take a puff, flick the ashes on my tongue, and give the command to swallow. I coughed and nearly threw up, but somehow managed to keep it down. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

When she had smoked it down to a nub, she put her hand on the back of my head and gripped my hair tightly to hold me in place. She had me extend my tongue and with a twisting motion of her opposite hand ground the burning cigarette on my tongue to put it out. When she was finished, I begged her for an ice cube but she frowned and shook her head. This was meant to be punishment.

“Next time you get breakfast you might want to move a little faster”

She told me to follow her into the bedroom and when I got there, I loved the play space. The décor reflected a commitment to Femdom both practically and aesthetically. There was a framed poster of Bettie Page hanging on the far wall, with mounted leather accessories surrounding it. Whips, restraints, floggers, spreaders, paddles, and riding crops. The bed was heavy oak with wooden posts equipped with eye-hooks made for restraining her victims.

She took a riding crop from the wall and told me hold out my hand palm up. She tapped on my palm using a snapping motion just firm enough to know what the instrument was capable of.

“I’ll never strike you harder than that.”

I think I let out a sigh of relief, because after what she did to my tongue I figured I was really in for a beating. “Not so bad,” I thought to myself, “I’ve experienced much worse”.

She attached wrist and ankle cuffs tightly, but she didn’t stop there. She had two long straps that went under the bed, one secured across my stomach and one across my throat to keep me from lurching up. She moved quickly and methodically as though she had done this a hundred times before. Soon I was fully restrained spread-eagle on her bed completely immobilized. She had a nice Bose speaker system in the bedroom and a heavy metal goth playlist ready to go. She told me that the music she selected mixes well with painful screams. She also had her cell phone on a side table, and she periodically took pics that were for her not for me. She promised they wouldn’t wind up on the internet, but in the same breath told me plenty of people were going to see them. She took no selfies of herself, probably because she was still in her bathrobe, but she sure got the goods on me. I hope those pics never see the light of day.

With the strap under my chin, I couldn’t see far enough down to watch her taking off pinkie, but knew I was free when my cock sprung to attention. That was the last time my genitals would feel good. She put pinkie to the side of the bed and grabbed my shaft with one hand pulling on it so my balls were exposed. The first blow landed on my left testicle, and as I had figured earlier, it was only a mild sting. But then five more rapid strikes landed in exactly the same place. I let out a groan which I’m not sure she heard over the music. Those love taps weren’t filled with love anymore. I was hoping she’d move her attention to another part of my body but tap, tap, tap, tap, tap continued to land mercilessly on my left ball. My groans were becoming more pitiful, and I started begging for her to stop. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. They blows were coming in groups of five. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. At the top of my lungs I sang out the safe word and she stopped.

She took a gag off the wall and shoved the ball in my mouth securing it with a buckle behind my head. That was it for the safe word. She lit another cigarette and enjoyed a smoke while I groaned into the ball gag. She told me my left ball wasn’t finished to her satisfaction, and I let out a muffled yell. She picked up the crop, took aim, and…tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Besides the pain, I could feel something happening to that part of my body. The pain wasn’t just on the outside like bruising. It was deep pain inside me.

“You’re swelling very nicely.” She picked up her cell and snapped a pic, then in my agony showed me the image. One of my testicles was normal and healthy looking while the other was bruised and badly swollen. I was delirious with pain.

“I like the left one a lot more. I’m going to make them match.” I started to protest as best I could through the ball gag, but then…tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. She continued torturing my right side and as promised my right testicle eventually matched my left one. She left me there with beaten balls immobilized spread-eagle on the bed, taking several pictures and short video clips as documentation of what she had done to me. She lay down next to me and showed them all to me. She giggled and commented on how much smaller my penis looked next to my freakishly swollen balls.

She took the gag out of my mouth and the sides of my mouth hurt. She untied me from the bed and I made a beeline for the bathroom. As expected, there was some blood in my urine, and it hurt like hell to piss. When I returned from the bathroom, she had removed her robe and sat naked on the side of the bed. Apparently, her sadistic acts had the effect of arousing her, but my tongue still hurt from the cigarette burn. That turned out to be the least of my problems.

She moved up the bed so that she could relax completely prone with her legs spread slightly. When she was comfortable, she told me to stick my face in her pussy and get to work. The tip of my tongue was still in good shape, so the cigarette burn didn’t affect me that badly. I started licking and soaked her clit in saliva flicking the tip of my tongue at it. I was so preoccupied with worshipping her pussy properly, at first I didn’t notice something fairly obviously. There was the smell of sex emanating from her cunt. There was a distinct smell of cock and semen, and it wasn't pleasant. At that point it didn’t matter to me. I had been through so much at that I just wanted her to cum, go back to the hotel, and put my balls on ice.

She came hard and nearly crushed my head between her legs. I could still taste the dude she had the night before on my drive back to the hotel. There would be one more day with her which included a vicious pegging, but not enough interesting stuff to warrant a blog post of this length. Still, it was an amazing three days. Perhaps another trip to Florida is in my future.