“Play with yourself for my entertainment” I commanded and sat back to watch the performance.
He had a gentle rhythmic masturbation style that was pleasing on the eye. I could see that his eyes were focussed on my stiletto heeled thigh boots, presumably to fuel his fantasies. I rather liked the idea of a man masturbating to me in my presence. It had never happened to me before.
As he worked away I watched his cock bulge and stiffen. He was now close to coming. So I reminded that I make the rules of this particular game.
“Keep wanking but I forbid you to come.”
He stopped and looked at me.
“Did I say stop? Keep wanking but you are on no account to come.”
He resumed his task with obvious reluctance, his movements now slow and hesitant.
“Mistress I am about to come.”
“I forbid you to come.”
“Wank harder and do NOT come.”
He looked at me pleadingly and I could see fear in his eyes. This spurred me on. I was inside his head and I was going to torment him. When I am in this headspace I am a merciless sadist and his evident weakening sharpened my appetite for the kill.
“Keep wanking “ I said firmly as he slowed again.
He resumed his task. Now on the edge, with the slightest touch likely to bring him to ejaculation, he was in a terrible predicament. He stiffened, he arched his back, spread his legs and writhed and contorted , desperately trying to avoid the forbidden orgasm, and the harsh punishment that he knew would follow any failure to comply with My orders. I laughed. I felt arousal, not at the sight of his wanking but rather that at his desperation, the mental and physical agony I was subjecting him to. I was a sadist in full flow and loving every minute.
And really my sadism doesn’t need to find an outlet in whippings, floggings or physical torture, much as I enjoy those things. Mind games somehow take BDSM play onto a higher plane and the satisfaction of getting into a submissive’s head and messing with it is like no other. It is a challenge to me as a domme too, a test of my own creativity and empathy. If I had just half an hour left in my life for a play scene with a submissive man I would leave my toy bag at home. Forced masturbation and orgasm denial it would have to be. The world would come to an end in a loud bang with me enjoying the intoxicating beauty of domme space while my poor submissive would be denied his orgasm for eternity.
Actually I am not really that evil. At the end of the session I allowed him to masturbate to completion and come all over my boots before licking them clean. He looked up at me, his face covered in come. In his expression I saw humility, gratitude, but above all, deep, deep joy.