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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