I think it's fair to say that most of us understand that many kinks, desires and fetishes are rooted in our early years.
I know many men whose love of feet and stockings came from innocently rubbing their mother's feet after work or when she was pregnant and struggling with swollen ankles. That early exposure awoke something inside them and imprinted itself in their brains.
For me, I had early and accidental exposure to CBT. I haven't changed that much from who I was at 15/16 years old I was a student who wore Docs or Army boots with black combats to school. And one lunchtime taking a smoke break behind the art studios we favoured, my friend Paul said he really liked my Docs and would I toe him in the dick.
I don't even remember finding it an odd request or something that I found funny. I just kind of shrugged and tilted my head in a 'yeah ok' and took a couple of draws on my cigarette. I asked him to back up against the art block and spread his legs wide then to hold his arms out to the sides palms to the wall. I slowly walked towards him I could see my own reflection in his dark brown eyes. I was so much taller than him powerful, he wasn't small or weak. He played rugby and had a good physique but still , much as I do now with every man I meet -- I dwarfed him.
I pressed my body up against his placing my leg between his spread stature. I pressed my thigh into his crotch and belly . I turned my face completely as to not blow smoke in his face and asked him, 'Are you sure you want this?' And that's when I first felt his cock grow a bit against my thigh. He swallowed and in my adult mind he said 'yes Mistress'. In reality he just kind of giggle laughed and said 'ready'. I pressed myself a bit harder against him and blew the last huge lung full of smoke in his face and then I pushed myself away from him took a few steps back and in one fluid movement, without hesitation I struck his junk like I was taking a conversion. I wasn't sure i made contact. I couldn't feel anything with the sturdy leather and cleated sole of my boot. But the thwack was almost deafening. And so was the noise as he just crumpled to his knees in the dirt. Clutching everything and rolling from side to side.
I remember the slight panic of thinking I'd get expelled or at least a detention. I wanted to ask if he was alright but inside I knew he wasn't alright and he'd gone terribly pale. So I did the only thing I thought would be the next best thing and said to him "Get up and stop being such a baby!" He could barely look at me and I kind of nudged him a bit to get him moving. He stood back up against the wall, my heart was thumping and he looked kinda sickly. And I walked away. He called after me and I didn't turn around. I just kept walking, powerfully away as he shouted "Do it again. Please do it again!"
We spent many lunchtimes together. My toeing his nuts, crushing them with my boot we tried it standing, sitting, kneeling on all fours like a pig. We even went to squeezing, kneeing and punching him. Cock, balls, perineum, all of it.
I never once saw his cock, or played with it. The closest I got to seeing it was when he showed me some bruising in his groin and he had to tell the coach his cup had caused it but he said it was me and he liked that he had a part of me at home in secret.
I remember how loved and appreciated and warm and needed that comment made me feel. I wish I'd have kissed him. I definitely found him very attractive but I was always unsure if he'd reject me.
I often think of him and how his kindness in my meanness and violence made my heart swell.
I often tire of people assuming P/D are just doing it for the money. I am sure some do. But for me and many more, domme headspace and domme behaviours are our identities. Our turn ons. Our likes and kinks and fetishes and just like subs they are often formed in our childhood years playing games at lunchtime behind the art block. |
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I was influenced at around the same age by other lads playing what they called BBC - balls bollocking contest. Not really a contest at all but just two guys attempting and usually succeeding (I assume they wanted the sexual arousal) in hitting each other in the balls. Nothing too heavy but enough to get doubled up with or occasionally dropped to the knees. I was too shy to join in but really wanted to and experience what they were feeling between the legs.
I'd go home and try hitting myself in the balls but could never get the results they seemed to.
Only many years later I found a good way was a tennis ball in a sock and swung round fast and then into the balls.
The Internet later allowed me to meet other guys into ball busting and enjoy the shared pleasure of ball pain. |
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"I was influenced at around the same age by other lads playing what they called BBC - balls bollocking contest. Not really a contest at all but just two guys attempting and usually succeeding (I assume they wanted the sexual arousal) in hitting each other in the balls. Nothing too heavy but enough to get doubled up with or occasionally dropped to the knees. I was too shy to join in but really wanted to and experience what they were feeling between the legs.
I'd go home and try hitting myself in the balls but could never get the results they seemed to.
Only many years later I found a good way was a tennis ball in a sock and swung round fast and then into the balls.
The Internet later allowed me to meet other guys into ball busting and enjoy the shared pleasure of ball pain. "
I'm thrilled you found a way to explore and enjoy it in the end. |
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. I wonder how often he thinks of those memories.