I have a special place in my heart for those who enjoy CBT, the very idea of requesting someone toy with or torture your most intimate parts makes most men instinctively curl into the fetal position. So, naturally anyone who requests such things, must really be either deeply masochistic or thoroughly submissive, either way there is a deep layer of trust involved.
The acts are often quite varied and unique – CBT, being after all, just an umbrella term for genitorture – from light tapping, urethral sounds, hot wax and so on, all the way up to ball busting and castration fantasy. Ah yes, quite a leap in degree wouldn’t you say? My favorite CBT session falls under the more intense end of the spectrum…and while I was eating my cucumber breakfast this morning, my mind fell back to those fond memories of past sessions.
Session #1 Slave “B”
He calls for his booking two days in advance with a set fantasy locked in his mind – extreme CBT, but with one twist, he wants ME to surprise him on just what exactly that will entail…hummm… Creativity counts he says, I never like to do the same thing twice. His voice is strong, confident and without hesitation.
I’ve seen Mistress “so and so”, also Domina “fill in the blank” and Lady “x,y,z” and we’ve done it all… (this is where I go partially numb, listening for the better part of 10 minutes while he exhausts EVERY act ever considered possible in the realm of cock torture. Including a woman who hollowed out a pineapple, filled it with salt and made him fuck it). He wants a two hour appointment….and CBT is all he wants.
Now I have to admit, by the end of this call I’m simply giddy with the thought of getting my hands on a true masochist. Such men are uncommon for Portland and while I love to embrace my sensual side, I am a flat out sadist. I think slave b was expecting me to have a bit of hesitation in really “letting him have it”….but by the end of the call, I was already breaking into my liquor cabinet to premix some cocktails (pun intended).
He arrives on time with a little duffel bag of extra toys – in case I needed some inspiration. Oh no, my slave – I’ve already got more than you can handle all ready for you! With all the build up he delivered – I didn’t feel he needed a lengthy pre session discussion. No…not this boy. I took his bag and all but ripped his clothes off. He stood naked for a moment before crawling onto the floor which was covered with a suspicious layer of sheets, towels and plastic wrap. I had some tethers prepared and very quickly had him tightly bound, legs and arms apart – vulnerable, exposed and wide open to my whims.
I began my teasing him, temping him until he was at full attention. My latex gloves providing a bitter sweet sense of eroticism….the smooth feel of the gloves – the occasional drag as dry skin tugged against unlubricated latex. He moaned….
Once he was completly erect, I began to give his little member a nice “Indian burn”….he moaned again with absolute pleasure – giving me all the encouragement I needed to twist, tug and pull the skin until it was nice and sore….then came the brush….a small hairbrush, nothing more, with sharp bristles….it dragged vigorously against his increasingly reddened skin… “more Mistress he cried”…. ah yes, more sweet encouragement…he was already at the point where if I abraded the skin anymore, it would surely bleed…it was finally ready for what I had planned – A nice handful of salt, lightly moistened to form a thick paste. Yes, this little mixture formed a near cast around his throbbing member.
I know by now, most of you cringe at the thought of anyone rubbing course rock salt on your cock, but this slave LOOOOVED it. He was moaning so loudly, I had to gag him with my nylons, ever prodding me to more cruel devious acts. He knew by the layout of unmarked white containers that far more was to come. With ever increasing intensities, I broke out various mixtures – plain vodka, citrus vodka, then finally pepper vodka, each laced with varying additives (citric acid, pepper oil, mint). He writhed on the floor with the application of each devious substance, lifting his hips to receive each painful concoction like a real trooper until finally with the application of what he calls “witch paste” he simply exploded in a crescendo of painful passion.
The endorphins ran wild through him as I personally witnessed one of the longest orgasms I’ve ever heard of.
I removed my nylons from his mouth to be met with moans, sighs and unflinching gratitude. It seemed that even at my most diabolical, there was a slave out there who would not only be able to endure it for me, but enjoy it as much as I did…. I was thrilled when not two weeks later, he called for a second booking. *grins*
