BDSM Blog Part 1. You lick my balls...

BDSM Blog Part 1 You lick my balls and suck my cock.

English/Dutch translation at the bottom of the page.

1978.

I am barely six years young when I am sitting on the floor in the living room playing with my Barbies. On the TV, Top Pop is on. Suddenly, rousing sounds echo through the room, making me automatically look at the screen where the sound is coming from.

To my amazement, I see there how a petite beautiful black-haired woman is overpowered by a feral big sweaty obese man. The contrast between the two. The Beauty & the Beast. The wild tongues passing in a flash, the fierce desire splashing from him, the resistance she offers. As young and innocent as I still am, it fascinates me.

Of course, I had seen people kiss on TV before, which I also found interesting, but this was something else.

'Later I'm going to be that lady,' I decide on the spot, then reenact the passionate scene with my barbies. Only later do I find out that the pushy man's name is Meat Loaf and the title of the song being sung is 'Paradise by the Dashboardlight'.

From then on, I have loved big men with slightly thicker bellies. Because they are heavy and strong and can grab you hard and kiss you nice and wild, my childlike brain reasoned.

This preference has never gone away.

Wrong men

1988.

Meanwhile, I am sixteen years old. By nature, like the lady in the music video at the time, I have black curly hair and am petite in build. Like the singer, I make up my eyes heavily with eyeshadow, black eyeliner and mascara and paint my lips fire-red.

When I go out, I wear short skirts, leather jackets, high boots and belts with all kinds of chains attached. I want a tough strong man, so I make sure I look tough and sexy myself. Besides, I just think it's beautiful, I feel sexy in leather and I enjoy the attention it gets me.

After all these years, I still love watching music videos and one day, when I see Alanah Miles passing by while singing 'Black Velvet' in black leather chaps (leather trousers where the buttocks are cut out), I am determined to find exactly such trousers.

No one has ever heard of the internet and online shops, so I persuade my best friend to join me in the city to search for the coveted garment. In a small western shop in Amsterdam, my wish comes true.

When I step proudly into the local café that night in my jeans with my chaps over them, my girlfriend walks beside me with vicarious shame.

"You also just really wear it..."

The downside of having a preference for dominant men is that with this, I mostly fall for wrong types. Usually, the guys I find interesting as a young girl are criminal or just hot-tempered and aggressive.

As a result, I regularly meet up with the wrong friends and end up getting into a relationship with a ten-year-old guy who regularly shows me all over the room. Despite this, I stay with him and even move in with him. He lets me know that he is crazy about me, never wants to lose me and gets angry even if someone looks at me.

Even though it is obviously a more than unhealthy situation, I do feel hugely flattered. After all, this is what I always wanted. A big strong heavy man who forces himself on me because he is so terribly in love with me. Who forces me to kiss him or even have sex with him because he finds me truly irresistible.

I am confused. If I always wanted a dominant man who could dominate, oppress and even possess me. So why doesn't this sickly jealous, possessive, bossy guy make me happy anyway?

When he has given me a black eye and fat lip for the umpteenth time, I decide enough is enough and go back to my parents, who lovingly accept me back into their cosy terraced house where I can immediately move back into my old familiar girl's room.

Only years later I find out that I do get a kick out of dominance, provided it is done with policy. Not by someone who pounds on it uncontrollably but by someone who knows exactly what he is doing and knows exactly how far he can go.

Someone with muscles and brains. Strong enough to control me physically, smart enough to control me mentally.

Disappointment all round

1995.

After this terribly flawed relationship, I am thoroughly enjoying my freedom. At twenty-six, I work as a secretary in a law firm, have bought my first flat of my own, go out with my girlfriends and meet several nice men. Unfortunately, far from all of them being big, heavy, bellyy and dominant, they are sweet, nice, funny and sociable. We have a good time, but that's all. None of them has the physical and mental superiority over me that I secretly long for.

With some of them I experiment a bit more in terms of BDSM and even role-playing than with others, but none of them really have it in them. They do it out of curiosity or because I like it, but that is not what I am looking for.

I want someone for whom I am so special that he really wants to dominate, intimidate and control me out of sheer lust. That out of ferocious possessiveness he fucks me roughly in my ass and pisses all over me without mercy. In addition, I myself want to be able to put someone on a pedestal so much that I want to serve and worship him in every possible way at any time of the day (and night).

But alas. The only time a pee is done over me is at my own request in the shower where there is some laughter (by him) and, as an experiment, a cock is pushed into my starlet that only goes in up to the glans. Disappointment all round.

In short, in all my relationships I miss that crackling spark I have been hoping to find for so long. Because of boring, predictable sex and the fact that I have quite a feisty character myself and waltz over them with ease, no relationship lasts. I get bored.

What do you want?

1998.

I am almost twenty-six when I meet the love of my life.

Gavin really does have everything I want. Well, almost everything. He is tall, broad, has a huge beer belly, is dominant, intelligent and terribly horny.

When we are watching TV, he not infrequently grabs me by my hair out of nowhere to push my head down for a 'spontaneous' blowjob.

Where many other women would loathe this is precisely one of the things I love about him. He clearly shows that I turn him on and does not hesitate for a moment to command me. I am 'his bitch' and in his eyes it is my job to satisfy him whenever he wants. Delicious.

Besides the fact that he likes to impose his will on me, he also knows how to spoil me like no other. Gavin is the first man to introduce me to my own G.spot and brings me to a screaming climax in no time during every lovemaking session.

Although we never really discussed the subject of BDSM, he does have a natural superiority over me. Not only when it comes to sex, but also in everyday life. In every possible way, I take him into account and adapt to him.

Gavin drinks an awful lot, goes to the pub regularly and is invariably home late for dinner. Sometimes he falls asleep as soon as he gets home, sometimes he wants me to heat up his food and sometimes he wants me to suck him I sleep. I do it all.

Unfortunately, his work doesn't really help either. Gavin is a drummer in a much sought-after band, which means he often performs in pubs, bars, clubs or at festivals and events, wherever there is considerable alcohol. He is also a big fan of drugs. Weed, hash, coke, speed, all kinds of pills, everything goes down a treat. I take the mood swings that come with it for granted.

Still, I am not thinking of leaving him. His personality is too unique and things are going too well between the sheets to want to quit the relationship. In fact, we get married and have two beautiful daughters together.

Despite the fact that the sex is still great even after years and he even slaps me full in the face once in a really horny mood, Gavin ultimately appears to lack the real Dom gene.

One day, when I have bought handcuffs and ask him to tie me up, he is open to this but as soon as he has the metal tool in his hands, he becomes uncomfortable. He makes me turn around so he can tie my hands behind my back but as I find it rather boring, I say to test him that I don't want it anyway.

Of course I hope he grabs me hard-handed now, tells me I have nothing to want and chains me down tightly as yet, but when nothing more happens and I turn to face him he stands there clumsily in the middle of the bedroom, the cuffs dangling awkwardly from his hand.

"Yes... what do you want?"

Pity.

After the cuffing incident, I leave my BDSM fantasies for what they are. I also do not bring up the pee sex I secretly desire. Not because I don't dare, but because Gavin is far from discreet. It won't be the first time he has blabbed in detail about our sex life, and I don't want the whole village and the surrounding area to know that Gavin has a perverted del running around at home. It's fine.

Not long after our tenth wedding anniversary, out of nowhere Gavin develops physical symptoms that persist persistently. After a series of tests at the hospital, it is all wrong and he is admitted immediately.

Three months later, I am a widow.

In the years that follow, I spend all my time raising my children and my work. Promptly, my daughter becomes pregnant at the age of 16 and I have a grandchild just like that. During this period, when my father also falls ill and dies, I take my mother under my wing and all I do is work and take care of others.

Sex, what was that again?

My Dom

2013.

I have not been to bed with anyone for 15 years when I first meet my Dom. Once, I was deflowered at seventeen. So to my mind, I am almost a virgin again....

Stupidly, he comes into my life. My Boss.

Quite simply, through Facebook, we get talking. I don't know him, he doesn't know me. Via via, he comes across my timeline where he says he is immediately impressed by my black hair, eyes and looks and would love nothing more than to meet me live once. My tattoos finish it off, he finds me very exciting.

His direct way of communicating scares me on the one hand but attracts me enormously on the other. Without batting an eyelid, he tells me via his anonymous account that he is married, has four children, does not want a divorce because of the mortgage, possible spousal support and other financial issues, but is looking for someone to spice up his sex life. And he finds me very attractive.

However, he does add that he approached several ladies, but that from the moment he saw me, they all immediately fell flat. The charmer.

Anyway, he has set his sights on me and wants me as his sidechick. No headache, just fun.

Yes, bye, I think at first. But because I am ready for a bit of excitement after all these years and he somehow excites me, I still enter into the conversation with him.

The conversations immediately take a sexual turn that I am uncomfortable with on the one hand but intensely enjoy on the other. With just a few remarks, this man awakens feelings in me that I thought I would never experience again. His words have a stern, imperative and even quite arrogant tone. The fact that he uses a pseudonym and I don't know what he looks like make it extra exciting for me.

"What do you like in bed?" he suddenly asks me straight up.

"That you are the boss..."

"I was hoping you would say that."

When I ask him for a selfie after a few days of chatting and he sends me his picture, I am immediately sold. He has broad shoulders and his eyes betray dominance, intellect and a beastly horniness that I immediately fall for. When he also casually informs me that he has a belly that just won't come off despite working out, I am sold.

From that moment on, I know for sure. I want sex with this man!

There is just one problem...

Because I have neglected myself considerably, I have gained quite a lot of weight over the past decade. I want to lose at least 15 kilos before I dare show myself to this tough bear. He doesn't give me much time to do this because the next thing he asks me is a picture of myself in lingerie. He wants to know what kind of meat he's got.

"But what kind of meat do I have in the tub?" I try to divert the conversation from myself.

Despite finding me quite cheeky, he sends me a dickpic on the spot. He is, in a word, gorgeous. Of all the dicks I have ever seen in my life, this is by far the most beautiful, the biggest, the tastiest and by the looks of it, the cleanest. Flinty hairless balls, apart from some sexy downy hairs an almost smooth pubic area, a fresh glans....

Me. Will. Him.

"Come on. Now you."

In a rush, I click open Google to search for a tattooed photo model with a body similar to mine when I was slim. In my photo editing programme, I cut off her head and voilá.

My potential Dom buys it. He's going to jerk off on this, is his telling response. When I ask him if he also fantasises something delicious about it, his short but forceful response is: "You lick my balls and suck my cock. And I squirt you full in your face!"

Butterflies.

I have never been sprayed in my face by anyone...

Barely five minutes after that, I sign myself up for the gym. Within a month, ten kilos must be lost!

Next time: "Submissive whore of mine!"

BDSM Blog >HOME