It has officially been five months and four days since my last realtime BDSM session. 156 days outside of the dungeon. 3,746 hours (at the time of this writing) since my hand has been invading holes where it shouldn’t be. 224,762 minutes since I’ve made strange people from the internet regret their life choices. And so it goes.
Meanwhile, I’ve been having a great time dominating people from afar. Cyber domination is best suited for humiliation and worship-style activities, in my opinion, so I’ve rearranged my sadistic appetites to whet a more mental sort of domination. I’ve been exploring aspects of my personal style in Femdom that I hadn’t had as much time to focus on when I was previously kept so busy with realtime work.
Online work just hits differently, though (both metaphorically and physically). While I love the capabilities of controlling someone from afar, nothing is quite like walking up to a bitch, grabbing them unawares by the nads, pulling them down to your level, smothering your hands on their little bitch face while they moan and their pupils dilate in intimidation, smelling the scent of fear on their body…
All this time spent by myself has made me, a severe introvert, realize that I do indeed have some near-extroverted qualities that behoove me being around others (does making others cry count as an extroverted quality???). I keep on imagining how consensually PTSD-inducing that very first session will be on the eve of my return. Floodgates devastating the pastoral small town that lays before it, so to speak. Kid in a candy shop, except the kid has already been high on sugar for a full two hours already with some serious immature-prefrontal-cortex sensibilities about self-moderation and all the candy is at reachable child-height and there is no end in sight, so to speak. Pandemic spreading like wildfire amidst a negligent country/society and before you know it, you’ve been in a state of emergency for nearly half a year, so to speak. Sheer and utter chaos. You get the idea.
How I yearn for it. Sigh.
So in full attempts to make me yearn even more for that which I can’t have, I’ve decided to tease and deny myself by ranking one of my first true BDSM loves, corporal punishment. Because why not, right? If I don’t have access to it, why not wax poetic and torture myself some more?????
I typically have a very generous dose of corporal punishment in both my personal and professional life, so this moment of not beating anybody up for nearly half a year has been hard for me. In my non-sessioning hours, I have a whipping boy I’ve been destroying for years for both fun/practice/videos and a cleaning slave that I always discipline with judicial caning. During sessions, I’ve been blessed with a coterie of devoted slaves, subbies, and fetishists who happily indulge in practically all of my sadistic delights. I’m quite lucky, really. What more could a Daddy want?
Of course, everything has changed with coronavirus. So enough talking about what once was – let’s avoid the present and talk about all the ways I can act out my Napoleon complex instead!!!!! (I’m just kidding, of course, the present is great and awesome and meditation is super cool and important.)
Daddy An Li’s Favorite Ways of Walloping Bitches Under the Guise of Consensual “Discipline”
1. Judicial caning.
I never expected this one to rank the highest for me! I came into Femdom thinking that I would be a severe Whipstress, using my singletail in nearly every session – in part because that was one of my first impressions of Female Domination. And then, along came The Stick.
Caning took a while to grow on me. In my more novice years, I admittedly flailed and failed when it came to such – imprecise aim, off-kilter strokes that landed like a toddler’s first drawing, and a complete lack of refined power in the act itself – but after taking Mistress Servalan‘s caning class at DomCon one year, I re-examined my style and began to work on my caning form. (PS: I will never stop singing the praises of Mistress Servalan’s caning form, as well as the rest of her excellent corporal punishment capabilities. The sheer power running through that one arm of hers is incredibly awe-inspiring. You’d have to see it to believe it.)
Caning now feels almost balletic. The feeling of my body aligning together for the perfect stroke is near ecstatic. The THWACK! of a rattan cane tearing up an ass cheek on first stroke is utter satisfaction. The satisfaction of seeing those perfect parallel marks decorating a red and purple derriere. The sheer simplicity of hitting someone with the most OG of weapons, a stick, is almost divine in and of itself. It feels natural, and it feels right.
Judicial caning, for those not in the know, implies a set number of strokes to be carried out with however much severity deemed necessary. I personally do not utilize safe words in my judicial canings – or else, what’s the point? You might as well just carry out a standard caning then.
2. Caning, all other forms.
That’s right! I made caning take up TWO SPOTS on my corporal punishment list because that’s how much I love it. Bet you didn’t see that one coming, did you? Bastinado, hand caning, dick caning, tit caning…the world is truly your oyster when it comes to beating people with a stick! Go forth and beat the populace with sticks, my brethren. You, too, shall experience a world of pain and regret that will have you confusingly coming back for more.
I’m always impressed by people who can take a good tawsing. The Lochgelly tawse is, in my somewhat-humble opinion, one of the more painful implements within the world of corporal punishment. Something about a dense, multilayered split piece of leather strap makes it incredibly ouchie for all those brave enough to bear its bite.
I love playing the game of “which one hurts the most” with my more masochistic clients. It’s a simple game: which one of these toys hurts the most? And you know what? A tawse is almost always up there, despite being so very innocuous looking.
The particular form I use to implement the tawse is also remarkably similar to caning, so for me, it’s a very close runner up to the full-body high I get from a clean cane stroke.
4. Singletail whipping.
We all know what a singletail whip is. In fact, in most of our initial conceptions of what a Dominatrix was, I can almost guarantee that she is carrying a whip. Whipping was automatically built into my personal understanding of Female Domination as a BDSM activity, and so it should be of little surprise that I still feel very fondly for it today.
A whip is the only nonmechanical manmade object capable of creating a sonic boom. (You might need to fact check me on that one, but I’m fairly certain on it.) I want you to think about that. The amount of skill, dexterity, and grace to create a mini-sonic boom from a thin line of leather or nylon, and then to direct that sonic boom into a precise spot on the human body. The artistry of the motions required to successfully bring all these factors together into a precise stroke. The simplistic elegance of such a weapon! Truly divine engineering.
So, of course, use it to make men cry.
Ah, yes, hitting them with even bigger sticks! Logs! The natural evolution of weaponry!
I typically leave paddling for last as, upon the advice of my whipping boy, it tends to leave the most marks and devastation. Whatever bruises and marks had been building up in previous moments of caning/whipping/tawsing/cropping/belting/strapping/whatever become bulldozed by the paddle, thus resulting in an explosive, bloody, brutally bruised ecstasy.
Indeed, wielding a heavy paddle and powering it through the air until it shakes a bottom’s hip bones and rearranges their whole body is highly satisfying. Paddles typically come with a thuddier sensation that resonates more deeply in the body – quite the opposite of the stingy, sharp pangs that I typically reach for first – and therefore they are a perfect complement to all these previous activities! (For me, maybe not so much for the sub…)
My favorite types of paddles are almost always invariably large wood paddles with holes drilled on them for aerodynamic ease. A perfect balance of heavy density and speed. I also enjoy holding oversized objects like fraternity paddles because, well, Napoleon complex.
6. Strapping and belting.
Similar to tawsing, strapping and belting are more delightfully simple pieces of leather that carry with them so much suffering. Hot. While not quite as painful as the tawse, straps and belts are still quite effective modes of discipline.
I think there is something wonderfully classic and realistic about using a strip of leather to punish someone. After all, we all own belts. I’ve personally taken off my belt to beat people in impromptu public play scenarios… because it’s important to always be resourceful when finding modes of making men cry. 😉
And that’s it! This list is obviously not exhaustive. And, I mean, I honestly love all modes of corporal punishment. I’ll frequently pick up a toy that I poo-poo’ed prior, only to realize that I love everything about it – the weight, the new way that I need to adjust myself to flick it just right, the sound, the sensation. Each time I’m at a new dungeon or using my friends’ toys, I’ll spend some time test driving everything I’ve never used before. I’ll have a delightful time getting to understand a new implement and all the many ways I can utilize it for sheer pain and suffering.
After all, few things are more satisfying to me that hitting people. It’s the little things, you know?
With that in mind, go forth, brave kinksters. Hit and be hit. Spread the gospel of corporal punishment! It’s a good’un.
PS: Black and white whipping photo in the beginning by Ryan Bussard.
All this time spent social distancing and isolating from coronavirus has me on edge. I’ve never spent so much time without sessioning since the entire duration of my ProDomme career, and it’s really made my imagination run wild. I didn’t think I could miss Domination so much, but I suppose distance makes the heart fonder…
With that in mind, I’ve been compiling a list of activities I am looking forward to once COVID-19 quarantine restrictions ease up city, county, state, and country-wide.
Public humiliation! In particular, I very much want to bring an eager crossdresser to the strip club, dolled and slutted up in excess while wearing a tight chastity device and a remote control vibrating butt plug. I take my sissy’s wallet and make it rain on some hardworking women using the her cash. I get loads of lap dances in front of the sissy, effectively cuckolding my embarrassed crossdresser. And of course, I’ll occasionally zap her ass, reminding her who’s in charge.
Heavy medical play. I still haven’t broken in my Howie lab coat and I’d love to use it on a heavily invasive medical session. Foley catheters, enema punishments, saline inflations, and of course, lots and lots and lots of needles.
Extended mummification. Layers of vet wrap, saran wrap, duct tape, or ACE bandage. Slow, methodical, sexy mummification perfectly fitted to the body. Straws and breathing tubes to facilitate breathing. Perfectly layered strips running parallel and tight along the body. I want to really take my time and perfect the mummification to create a perfect little alien gimp…
As per usual, PAIN AND SUFFERING. I pity the fool who is the first to see me for a CBT session. It won’t just be cock and ball torture – it will be a cock and ball apocalypse. Corporal punishment? How about a complete flaying of the cutaneous layers? I might not be able to hold back. Who knows how much sadist energy has been pent up in me. (I’m joking, of course. I always work within one’s hard limits. But really…)
Elaborate BDSM. I’m talking about using all the toys, all the techniques, all the everything! I’m such a gearhead and I miss playing with dungeon furniture and all the accouterments that come with BDSM. I’m already a pretty elaborate player to begin with (which is why I often make submissives clean with me after our session – it typically looks like a landmine went off in a BDSM closet), but I think I really might just go to excess once I’m back in the studio again.
In the meantime, my online sessions will suffice. I’ve actually been having a lot of fun dominating people on the phone via call, text, and cam. Virtual play tends to be a little bit more psychological and oftentimes more cerebral (even if the subs you’re playing with insist on being complete nincompoops), so it’s definitely been working a different part of my kinky brain.
I’ll also be on Periscope next Monday with my friends Lucy Sweetkill and Dia Dynasty for La Maison Du Rouge’s interview series. I love playing at LMDR while I’m in NYC, and both Lucy and Dia are pretty incredible women. Their LMDR interviews are fascinating and informative to watch, so be sure to tune in.
Because I’ll be joining in via Periscope rather than meeting with them in person, it’ll just be audio only on my end. Regardless, I’m sure it will be a fun time. Let me know what you think of it once it airs! xx
PS: Cookie Monster on a noose photo by David Zayas Jr.
CBT (cock ball torture, if you’re in the know) is one of my absolute favorite BDSM activities. This has already become Daddy lore, but in case you haven’t spent hours obsessing over my website and stalking me on social media, you may not know that I started my cock and ball tortures at a young age.
A very young age, actually.
My first experiences with CBT were of kicking boys in the balls on the schoolyard, starting in elementary school. I was a bit of a bully, and in particular, I really enjoyed physically dominating boys. I had a couple of go-to’s: kicking them in the shins, pushing them around, punching them in the stomach, putting them in a headlock, spanking their bottoms, and really, any form of degradation I was in the mood for that day (and I was always in the mood).
Kicking ranked the highest out of anything. Everybody knew I was a kicker. I took pleasure in running up to some poor soul and feinting a step backwards to mimic a kick, only to watch them flinch in fear, and then running away, laughing at how much of a wimp the boy was. I learned the power of fear quite early on.
But of course, I didn’t always feint the kick. I more often than not followed through. And when you kick enough, and boys try to run away from you enough, the likelihood of your foot slipping and following through to the balls increases. It increases until the point of it inevitably happening.
I remember the first boy I kicked in the nuts. Let’s call him W. W was annoying. I really didn’t like him, and most of the time, I just wanted him to shut up. I thought he was a whiny little bitch, and I really enjoyed watching him cry. One particularly annoying day, I ran up to him to kick him in the shins for the umpteenth time, when he tried to cross his legs together out of gut reflex. His knees caving inwards caused my foot to slip upwards, sliding all the way up to his balls.
Looking back on it now, it was a relatively light kick, but it was enough to take the wind out of him. His reaction was absolutely comedy gold: he crossed his legs and his eyes went askew in pain, and then he crumpled to the floor like a wet napkin.
I remember feeling shocked and then trying to hold back my delight. I’m sure I didn’t do a very good job concealing my pleasure. His reaction was so immediate and overwhelming that I adored every second of it. I wanted to do it again…and again…and again…and again… and I just stood there in contained glee, watching him struggle on the playground cement, reveling in the power I had over him. I felt alive.
It became apparent to me right then and there that the male genitalia held some kind of mysterious power over men, and I wanted to know all about it. What did it feel like? How much did it hurt? Why did it hurt? How many ways could I make it hurt? How far could I push it?
As I came of age, my questions about cock and ball torture never ended. I was far more interested in the torture of cocks than the pleasure of them. I wanted to bite my partners’ cock and testicles during sex to see what reactions that would evince out of them. I had one partner who wanted me to pull and stretch his balls during sex, and I went about it with utter joy and determination. I watched videos of martial arts practitioners who were repeatedly kicked in the balls with complete fascination. And I really, really, really wanted to grab someone by the nuts and use them as a punching bag.
Imagine my delight when, upon becoming a Dominatrix, I realized that I could torture people’s cock and balls professionally.
Once “Professional Cock and Ball Torturer” was on the table, I set about my ProDomme career making sure that it was an area that I would specialize in. And either way, it was rather hard to avoid. Should it be an option, my hands would inevitably find my way down to the man’s genitals, ready to squeeze, grope, and bust. I almost always included some element of CBT bondage within my sessions. And of course, the mirthful glee on my face was unmistakable whenever given the opportunity to kick a man in the nads.
It’s the little things in life that bring the most joy. And in my particular case, it’s cock and ball torture.
W was extremely scared of me in the years following that fateful kick. I had turned from scathing little girl to ballbusting serious bitch in his eyes in under a second, and I knew it. And even though it was an accident, he and I became extremely aware of the weakness that men had in between their legs. The knowledge of that gave me more power in his eyes, and he knew that I was ready to abuse that power.
In high school, W went through puberty (but was still annoying, by all means). He grew taller and bigger than me, but I still spent those years tormenting him. Despite me staying the same size since sixth grade and the our difference in sizes increasing with each day, I still held the control over him. We shared an understanding. Because he was a man, he would always be weak to me. I knew exactly where his vulnerabilities lay.
This fascination in contrasts – in the weakness of the male sex through their low-hanging fruit – has stuck with me to this day. It was a revelation of sorts. As men grew bigger, their balls remained ever-so-weak. And I, having a Napoleon complex of sorts after having my growth spurt in sixth grade and then never growing again, found gendered vindication through their genitals. There was always a way to bring men down to my level (or lower). In my youthful obsession with CBT, I felt like I had stumbled upon a secret of the sexes: that men were weak.
And it was through exploiting this weakness that I found joy – pure, unfettered joy. Because truly, genitorture is one of the many twisted balancing acts nature has gifted us with. To give a man strength and size, but then to take it away through a cripplingly obvious weak spot. What could be more right in the world?
I don’t usually write New Year’s resolutions. I had gotten lunch with Mistress Blunt on NYE while she was visiting from New York, and she asked me if I had any. I told her, half-jokingingly, “I don’t make New Year’s resolutions because I have problems listening to any sources of authority, including myself.”
It’s true. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ My problems with authority run way too deep, y’all. Why do you think I’m a Dominatrix?
With that in mind, perhaps I shouldn’t have titled this using the word “Resolutions”. Instead, let’s call them “intentions”, “summonings”, or whatever neo-Paganistic-spiritual-self-help-crystal-healing terms you want to apply here.
In whatever case, here are the kinky things I fully plan on manifesting in my life in 2020, the year of your goddamned Daddy.
More heavy corporal punishment sessions. I’ve been itching for a good, classical domination session involving nothing more than the severe physical punishment of a willing and consensually non-consenting party. In particular, I want more JUDICIAL CANING! Some of you might know that I have an excellent caning arm. Being so accurate with a rattan stick is a source of great pride and joy for me. (It’s always the little things in life, isn’t it?) In fact, Mistress Servalan has generously written about my caning skills, and it makes me blush every time I read it. I am blushing right now, in fact. I just love hitting people with sticks so, so, so very much, and it brings a tear to my eye when other people recognize that. :’) In fact, let’s just say more heavy CP sessions in general. I’ve been craving a session consisting entirely and only of paddling (wooden paddles, please). And I always adore a good single tail practice.
Even more women/trans/nonbinary/QTPOC subbies! 2019 was the year I was blessed with the presence of all these delightful queerdos during playtime, and I’m hungry for more! Also, boobies and booties.
Heavy medical play. This was my first fetish, but I really neglected it last year as 2019 seemed to be my year of heavy ballbusting and CBT (not that I have any complaints there). This is the year I want to do more saline inflations (I’m also manifesting IV bags of saline because this saline shortage is really a fiasco), suturing and scalpel play, loads of Foley catheters and speculums, and a gyno chair of my own 💕 (at only €3500, it’s a bargain…)
Serious sissies and crossdressers. I went through a phase where I was turned off from sissies and crossdressers, but I met a couple of really great ones this year and have turned a page on my previous biases. This year, I want to do even more makeovers and put all my makeup artistry skills to work!
More Skype sessions. Because I’m lazy and don’t want to leave the house, and also because I think there is something oh-so-magical about the postmodernity of using the internet to make someone punch their own balls or drink their own piss.
And on the more superficial side…
Everything from Mr. S Leather. I’m on my way there, but you could help with that, too. 😉 Help me build my bondage empire!
More money! 2019 was one of my best years thus far, both personally and financially. While I have very strong feelings about capitalism, it’s also nice to have the money validate all my hard work and passion. :’)
More boots! Y’all got me some pretty excellent boots this year, but a Daddy can never have enough.
More leather! Because, duh.
Work/life balance. While not the sexiest thing to write about, my work has consumed me with a fury for the past six years. I’ve reached a point where I can allow myself to coast for a little bit, but I want to do so in the most pragmatic way possible so that I can both coast and still be a rich bitch. Where is the balance? I’ve yet to find it, but perhaps this will be the year to do so (I think it has something to do with scheduling and batching).
Genuine connections. Some of this purely means that I will be necessarily cutting down on the types of sessions that are not applicable to me, purely because we won’t be able to connect if I’m not into the scene at hand. And while that may hurt in the short run, I value my energy and integrity enough to know that this is the best choice for me in this point in time. Some of you may have noticed that I am become more pointed in my marketing – and this is for good reason. I want to attract those that really mesh well with me.
Videos that are meaningful to me. Now, I’m not saying that porn has to necessarily have depth or a greater cause. I’m just saying that I want to make more stuff that I can personally jerk off to, lol.
2019 was really a wonderful year for me. Post-FOSTA/SESTA, 2018 was the year I scrambled to change my advertising strategy on top of a lot of big personal life changes. I spent a lot of the year wondering if I could be a ProDomme for as long as I wanted to be one, or if I should call it quits and find a job in the vanilla world. I stuck to my plan, hoping that things would work out. 2019 was the year it really paid off.
I’ve met some truly wonderful subbies this year that make me feel damned blessed to be a Mistress, I’ve played with bodies of all shapes and sizes, I’ve made new friends in both Dominance and submission, and I bought a fuckton of bondage gear. The number of ballbusting, CBT, and heavy bondage sessions I’ve done in 2019 has shot through the roof. And I finally feel quite secure in who I am as a Mistress (because imposter syndrome is too real). Domme life has been pretty swell.
So for 2020, I want to do better. I know I can do better. And I’m excited for all the big things to come!
And here’s to all you sick fucks with your perverted resolutions as well. May all your fucked up dreams come true! 💕
PS: Photo of me fresh and new for the New Year by David Zayas Jr.
Last night was Eyes Wide Shut. It’s a Femdom play party I’ve been playing at for four years now, give or take. When I first went independent, one of the first things I did was reach out to the hosts to ask to attend. I had my eyes on the party ever since I started ProDomming and was pretty eager to join it because of the all-star roster. I’ve been going consistently ever since. I think I’ve only missed out on two parties in the past four years.
I’ve loved the event ever since the first time I attended it. Something about the energy of all the women who attend, the familiarity with the regulars, the novices who are down to try so much – it’s always a lot of fun! Each EWS is like a party with old friends and new friends. And social element aside, I really get a lot out of watching Pro-Dommes play. The work that we do can be incredibly isolating, and it’s easy to get stuck in a rut between sessions. When I watch others revel in their Femdom craft, I pick up new tricks or get inspired to try something a little bit differently. Voyeurism for the sake of science can be mentally refreshing. (Voyeurism for the sake of voyeurism is also fun, too…)
Here are a couple of highlights from last night:
I touched Eden Winter’s boobs. They felt as good as they looked. In fact, I’m reliving that experience in my mind as I type this. (Are you pervs jealous yet?)
I met the most INSANE ballbusting bottom ever. This man had some zen-like control over his impulses, because we had a completely normal conversation while I was repeatedly kicking and kneeing him in the balls. He didn’t even pause to groan or take a breather. Just an entirely normal conversation! It was nuts! I really wished I brought my boots because the tops of my feet were getting sore from kicking him so much. You’d almost think that I was the bottom in the scene given how much my feet hurt and how little he reacted each time I kicked him… In any case, I am definitely going to try to shoot with him at some point! Ballbusting videos are my jam.
I ran into one of my former domestic slaves! I don’t have many personal slaves, but most of the ones I have fall under the cleaner/domestic category. This one was a good boy and I had high hopes for him. Things with him did not work out largely due to scheduling constraints, but I had encouraged him to go out and keep on pursuing the D/s lifestyle. I really did believe that something would click for him since he was so eager to please and genuinely submissive. Turns out he recently got collared by one of the attending Mistresses there! What a lucky boy. Dreams do come true. I’m really quite happy for him. I guess I’m a bit of a hopeless romantic when it comes to BDSM. He did fuck up his eye aversions at the very last minute, so I guess some things never change…
I used slave d as a human ashtray outside. I love outdoors play! Bettie Bondage was laughing because each time I spit at him, he dove his eager mouth for it like a frog catching a fly, ha!
Overall, a pretty swell night. Most nights at Eyes Wide Shut usually are.
The Ladies in attendance last night were Eden Winter, Skin Diamond, Jewell Marceau, Porcelain Midnight, Bettie Bondage, Aine Patrick, and Hannah Hunt.
I’ve had this client on Niteflirt lately that I’ve been having a riot chatting with about ballbusting. By chatting, I mostly mean bullying.
“Mattias” has called me multiple times in the past week. He starts off like most subs who call me on Niteflirt. I ask him why he’s calling me and how he thinks he can serve me. He answers that he’s into humiliation. Humiliation, of course, can veer into many sorts of ways, so that’s really not much of a descriptor. I push him a little deeper into the conversation, and eventually it veers into ballbusting.
Now here’s where things got interesting. I told him to punch himself in the balls, and he immediately starts crying. I can imagine him crying when he does so – that sort of ugly, scrunched-up-face crying that you see on babies who have too much gas – and along with it, he does this really whiny, annoying whimper. A very “nyah-nyah-nyah, I’m a big fat baby” sort of whimper. It’s practically begging for abuse!
For those of you who don’t know, I was a bully growing up. I am not particularly proud of this (because non-consent, bullies were typically people who were bullied, yada yada), but it is true, and also it turns out that being a childhood bully is a Major Selling Point™. “She’s authentic!,” potential subs think when they are reading about my past. And to be quite frank, I have never really quite progressed outside of that bully mindset when it comes to my humor. When I try to explain my love for ballbusting to vanilla people, I usually say, “Well, it’s like watching America’s Funniest Home Videos in real time,” because anybody who has seen the show knows that half of the videos on there are Anti-Darwinian people getting their nads smacked around. It’s funny!
The reason I bring this up is because there is something about whimpering, ugly-crying submissive that automatically ticks on the “BULLY” element of my personality. I go from 0-100 in no time at all. It’s almost like I am an animal with a very high prey drive, and something has just whizzed by my vision. I practically have no choice in this! And when it’s on Niteflirt, I get to indulge the bully side of me that would be highly inappropriate and unconsensual in normal life.
So he starts ugly crying and pleading no, but obviously anybody who does that is practically asking for it, so I urge him to punch himself in the balls. “Urge” might be a bit too understated. I aggressively bark at him to punch himself in the balls again. And again. And again. I believe this lasted for 45minutes or so. I was doing errands with the slave boyfriend, so I sat in the parking lot in the car while he ran inside the mall to pick up things, and when he came back, he started laughing because I was still so viciously tearing into this crying bitch.
Of course, someone like that will keep on calling back. Mattias called me back a couple more times the days following. He had mentioned also being interested in golden showers and cum eating, but I was more focused on the ballbusting element of it. It was just too funny to hear him cry! I couldn’t…not…tell him to punch himself in the balls.
On one of the days he called me, I made him punch himself in the balls 100 times consecutively. The catch was that I would make him start over each time he wasn’t punching himself in the balls hard enough. (You guys do know that I can always tell when you wimp out on various bodily tortures over the phone, right?) So I made him start over again…and again…and again. He must’ve punched himself in the balls over three hundred times during that call (and three hundred is a safe estimate).
In the end, he was worried that he would need to go to the hospital (but then he asked if I would make the doctors punch him in the balls for me, lol). Let’s be honest here – bitches like that rarely ever punch themselves in the nads hard enough to warrant a hospital visit. It’s actually quite difficult to punch your own balls that hard unless you have them tied up and restrained in some sort of way! So I didn’t believe him. It was just another bitch whining. In any case, he was doing that ugly crying again, which to me was always a good sign…for me, at least.
The last time he called, he said he didn’t want to do any more ballbusting and then started crying when the first words out of my mouth were, “Punch yourself in the balls, idiot.” I think he genuinely thinks that the only thing we will ever do on the phone is ballbusting. I was planning on letting him cum into a glass and then piss into the glass and drink it…I just wasn’t in the mood for that yet. Also, the more somebody says no to me, the more I will do something just because I can. I guess I’m a sick fuck or something.
So, jackass, if you’re reading this, you should punch yourself in the balls for me. 😉
Warning: Adult and sadomasochistic content ahead
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The viewing, reading and downloading of sexually explicit materials does not violate the standards of my community, town, city, state or country.
I am solely responsible for any false disclosures or legal ramifications of viewing, reading or downloading any material in this site. Furthermore this website nor its affiliates will be held responsible for any legal ramifications arising from fraudulent entry into or use of this website.
I agree that by entering this website, I am subjecting myself to the personal jurisdiction of the State of California should any dispute arise at any time between this website and myself.
This warning page constitutes a legal agreement between this website and you.
All models/ actresses and actors whose images appear on this site are over the age of 18, have consented being photographed and/or filmed, have signed model release, and provided proof of age.
If you've read and fully understand the above agreement, and you affirm and swear that viewing/downloading/receiving sexually explicit materials does not violate the standards of your community, that you won't make any of the materials available to minors in any form, that you are wholly liable for any legal ramifications that may arise for your receiving or viewing of these materials, and that you are over the age of 18, you may continue...
Note: Before continuing to enter this site, you must confirm the information below: "I hereby affirm, under the penalties of perjury pursuant to 28 U.S.C. & 1746, that I am currently 18 years or older." Providing a false declaration under penalties of perjury is a criminal offence. This agreement document constitutes a sworn declaration under federal law.