My reflections on giving blowjobs

I’ve been told that I have amazing blowjob giving skills. I don’t know if it is true but if it is, I think that it's not really about my technique or physical capabilities. In that realm, there are many things that I could improve. Rather, I believe that it's about my devotion during the act and about my stamina.

Blowjobs are a special sexual activity because they are purely focused on the pleasure of the receiver. In principle, there is no physical satisfaction that I could be getting out of it myself (it so happens that I am sometimes having intense orgasms from giving blowjobs, but I will leave that out of this writing because it's a very special case and it's out of my control). So the purpose of the act is to give pleasure to the other without being pleasured myself.

I think that the reason why blowjobs given by me feel so special is that I'm totally selfless in the act. I do it purely for him and I don't expect anything in return. I don't ask myself whether he will return the favour because I know that he won't. And that's what makes me happy. I don't want the pleasure to be reciprocated. My only purpose is to serve and that's how I want it to be. My reward is being allowed to be around him and to make him happy. And that's all I desire.

The moment that I take his cock into my mouth, the only thing that matters to me is pleasing him. Everything else disappears. Time stops. It's a bit like meditation (maybe it even is one of my natural meditative states). Up, down, up, down, lick the tip, go down and stick out your tongue, repeat. I can go on like that for hours and I completely lose track of the time. My head becomes empty. There is nothing to think about as my purpose at that moment is clear. To suck his cock.

And somehow, even though I've said the opposite, having his cock in my mouth is a pleasure to me in a way. It's such a sensitive and special piece of him that he allows me to cherish. How could I not appreciate that? I feel very special to be allowed to be close to him in this way. To take him into my mouth, to caress him with my tongue and lips. It's a privilege to be allowed to get so close to him, to take care of his happiness. To be a source of relief and relaxation.

I never think if and when it will finish. I don't try to bring him to orgasm. It's not me who is directing the situation and I wouldn't even try to. He'll cum when he feels like it and he'll use me for it in a way that he sees fit, by fucking my throat, choking me on his cock or ordering me to go faster and bring him to orgasm. And then the moment when he pushes himself really deep into my throat and feels it with his sperm makes me so radiant. HE ENJOYED HIMSELF!

It's not like I do it always singing inside and without any effort, though. It is hard work. After a while my knees and calves start to hurt from kneeling, my shoulders and arms ache from keeping my hands behind my back, my back and neck hurt from the up and down movement. My lips become numb and my throat sore from being filled with something too big to actually fit in there. But I ignore it and go on because that's my service to him. My devotion is bigger than my discomfort.

I don't even consider the possibility of stopping. Because how could I stop if he wants me to go on? It is unthinkable of. The only reason that I would stop is if I would drop out of exhaustion. Until I'm physically capable of continuing, I will. And I'm pretty strong, so I don't think that it would happen quickly.

I love blowjobs because of their one-sidedness. During PIV sex I tend to feel kind of guilty if I cum because it shouldn’t be about me, but I am making it as such. Here I don't have this risk. It's clear that I'm not going to get any physical pleasure from it that it is all about him. And that’s why I love it.

Because I don't deserve to be pleased. All I deserve is to be used and discarded afterwards. And what gives a better opportunity for such a treatment than giving someone a blowjob?

My reflections after reading ‘Story of O’

This writing contains spoilers.

It’s way too late for me to read this book only now, but better later than never, I guess. It is such a deep account of a mind of a woman who gives herself entirely to someone else and it stirred up so much in me that I just had to collect my thoughts together after reading.

My dark side is darker than I thought

First of all, reading this book made me realize that I might be even more fucked up than I thought I am. Because no matter how much I don’t want to admit it, there is a part of me that truly envies O. And it’s not naive childish envy without realizing the consequences. I think that by now I can have quite a good feeling of what being in her place would entail. And I still kind of want it. Not just the sex and the pain and the loss of control over your body. I want her brokenness and her despair. I want her transformation and the total loss of dignity. I want the disintegration of her ego in the name of the man who owns her.

And believe me or not, but writing about it is really scary. It’s scary because it reveals my darkest side which existence I don't necessarily want to admit to. In the same way, as dominants are sometimes afraid of the darkness that lies within them and that revealing it to other people will cause losing them, I am also afraid of revealing my darkest desires. At the same time I feel like if I don’t, they will only grow until they really get out of control.

Because I think that as much as it is scary for a submissive to play with someone who has a really dark side that they must keep at bay or otherwise things will go really wrong, it is as scary for a dominant to play with a submissive who has such dark side. In a different way of course. Because the dominant knowing it about me will not be afraid of me hurting him irreversibly. He will be afraid of him doing it to me and me not telling him when to stop. And there is a part of me that will not want to stop.

I realize that being in such an intense dynamic as O would basically fuck up my life. I realize that I would lose my identity. Because it is not possible to be exposed to such extreme situations of mental degradation and humiliation, to be stripped away of any control over what is happening with you and your body and get out of it unscathed. It would break me. And exactly that brokenness is what is luring me. Because I am curious what lies beyond that state. Would I be able to build myself up again?

In my teenage years, I loved reading fantasy books, because they were full of stories of people tortured physically and mentally and subsequently broken and becoming pets of their enemies. I devoured those stories. And not because I am a sadist and enjoyed reading about their misery. On the contrary, I enjoyed putting myself in the position of the victims. Imagining me being in their place and experiencing all the humiliation and tortures and slow breaking of my spirit. Watching myself becoming docile and obedient.

The interesting thing is that as much as I enjoyed reading about the breaking, I also very much enjoyed the rebuild. Because in the end, they were always becoming stronger. In the end, they always managed to get free and were starting the slow journey of rebuilding themselves. And after that was done, they were even fiercer and stronger. Because once you lost everything that you thought holds value and you’re still there, your perspective on who you are and what really is worthy, shifts entirely. And I think that that is one of the things that I am really interested in. Would I be able to repair myself after being so broken? And what kind of person would I become after that?

I started to appreciate much more the possibilities that the physical pain gives

My journey into kink started with humiliation, as this was what my first kinky boyfriend was very much into. After him, I quickly moved into the realms of physical pain though. I had a period of being extremely masochistic and looking mostly for physical pain in play. But then, after a while, something shifted in me and my kinks made a full circle back to humiliation, while I stopped enjoying physical pain so much.

I am not sure whether it is my auto-sadistic brain that decided that I will have more fun if I actually don’t enjoy pain, as it will increase my mental suffering, or whether after the first period of hormonal high, I decided that there is not enough depth for me in the physical pain domain, but the fact is that currently, I am in a period of appreciating mental pain much more than physical. More than that, I basically stopped enjoying physical pain altogether. I think that one of the reasons might be also that the people who give me pain nowadays are often the ones with whom I feel very submissive and from whom I wish only tenderness.

Reading ‘Story of O’ I started to see physical pain in a new light again. Not as a source of potential pleasure, but rather as a way to intensify my misery and as a catalyst for a mental breakdown that otherwise would be very difficult to achieve. And that got my attention.

I realized that being physically tortured really does something to you that possibly nothing else can. It makes you docile and obedient. It trains you to accept your faith and it shows you that you don’t matter. Of course, you can possibly achieve the same results with mental abuse, but something tells me (although I can’t explain why) that the results would not be exactly the same. There is something urgent and inevitable in the physical pain that mental abuse does not have. I don’t think that it is only the speed with which it causes the person to break, I think that it is also the way that it makes you break that is very different and quite interesting.

There is also another aspect of corporal torture, and especially the marks that it leaves that 'Story of O' revealed to me thanks to one sentence.

"Sir Stephen readily admitted that O was infinitely more moving when her body was covered with marks, of whatever kind, if only because these marks made it impossible for her to cheat and immediately proclaimed, the moment they were seen, that anything went as far as she was concerned."

I’ve never looked at it this way, but it makes so much sense that the marks are something to be ashamed of (or that one should be ashamed of) because they show that anything goes with me. They prove that you can treat me as badly as you wish and I will let you do that. I was always covering my marks, but more because I didn’t want uncomfortable questions. I’ve never looked at marks though as a source of shame about my lack of dignity, as a sign that I will let others do anything to my body. Now I can see it, though. And it offers lots of new exciting possibilities.

There is definitely something of a slave in me

There are many aspects of being a slave, like O was, that appeal to me. Above all, the lack of control and disregard with which other people are treating you. As a submissive you still have dignity, you belong to your Dom and it is something that you can be proud of. He is proud that you belong to him. You obey his orders, also because you know that he values you and he wants the best for you. He cares about you. Other people see that and respect you for that as well. But the position of a slave as was shown in the book is different. And in a way much more appealing to me.

The thing with me is that I don’t want to be cared about and respected. At least my dark side that I feed during play doesn’t. I want to be truly disregarded. I want to be used. And that is why the situation of O was so alluring for me. Because sir Stephen was truly disposing of her as if she didn’t matter to him. Or else, she did matter to him as your car would matter to you, but he definitely didn’t consider her feelings. They were completely out of the question. To him, she wasn’t a person. And she loved it.

"Would she ever dare to tell him that no pleasure, no joy, no figment of her imagination could ever compete with the happiness she felt at the way he used her with such utter freedom, at the notion that he could do anything with her, that there was no limit, no restriction in the manner with which, on her body, he might search for pleasure. Her absolute certainty that when he touched her, whether it was to fondle or flog her, when he ordered her to do something it was solely because he wanted to, her certainty that all he cared about was his own desire, so overwhelmed and gratified O that each time she saw new proof of it, and often even when it merely occurred to her in thought, a cape of fire, a burning breastplate extending from the shoulders to the knees, descended upon her."

And that’s definitely something that I identify with very strongly. To belong to someone who really uses me for his own pleasure disregarding my feelings completely is the greatest of joys.

I also loved all the small things that Rene and sir Stephen instilled on O to remind her at all times who she really is. How her lips always had to be slightly open, her legs never crossed and her clothes such that they are always easy to take off and have their way with her. I can only imagine how such small things can have a huge impact on one’s psyche. And that was only the beginning.

She had to expose herself whenever sir Stephen ordered her to, no matter who else was in the room. He would make his servant beat her, and give her away to his friends for use any way they wanted. Finally, in the last scene, he put her naked wearing an owl mask in the middle of a party, where people treated her as some weird animal, touching her and looking at her, but not once saying a word to her. She was just put in the middle of a crowd like some sort of cheap entertainment and after that used by the men who brought her there.

All these things are fantasies of mine. To be stripped away of my dignity, slowly broken into obedience, disgraced publicly, given away to anybody like a thing. To be put in a crowd for entertainment and really be treated as such. To be truly disregarded by a mob, have everyone around me treat me without respect. Isn't that how slaves are treated?

The thing about a slave in a D/s sense that doesn’t suit me though is that it seems to me like it is an awful lot of work for the Dominant/Master. Because having someone’s life in your hands is a huge burden in my opinion. Deciding about each aspect of someone else’s existence requires a lot of effort. They consume a lot of your attention. It requires a certain devotion from the owner. And I often feel that I couldn’t ask for that. Because I feel that I wouldn’t want to take so much space in someone else’s life. I am not sure if it is because of my tendency to be independent and to make my needs as small as possible or because I wouldn't trust my life to anyone to such a degree. But it's a reason why I don’t see myself as someone’s slave.

What I do see myself as is a toy. Their’s to play with whenever they please, in whatever way they please, and independent and self-sufficient whenever they get busy with their lives. Of course, in such circumstances, you won’t reach the level of devotion and depth that’s possible when you belong to the other at all times. But you also don’t become a burden that you might become as a slave. At least that is how I feel about it and being a burden is the last thing that I would wish to be for my Dominant.

___

Reading this book was quite a ride for me. I can't believe that the author managed to describe the process of falling deeper and deeper into submission and the feelings of the submissive so well. And how many times I wished I was in place of O. I don't think that I ever will get to that point. But the repertoire of my fantasies definitely has grown substantially after the read.

Thank you for making everything fall into place

I am not sure if it would be possible for me to live my life this way the entire time. I'm not yet sure if I would want to. There are other parts of me that need catering to which I feel like I was abandoning when I was with you. Yet, being around you, there was a quiet and calmness in me that I’ve never experienced before. Everything seemed to be in the right place. I was in the right place. All that matters had been taken care of and all the rest disappeared. It was a new and powerful experience.

To be so free when no decisions belong to you. To be allowed to just be, just take what is coming. To be so fixated on another person that you completely forget your needs. To be completely selfless. It felt like real freedom. Not being able to choose anything I want, but not having to choose at all. And at the same time feeling seen and appreciated.

To give someone the greatest of gifts that you can give, yourself in its entirety, and to feel that they understand the importance and the weight of it and that they will treat it with care. I thought that I understand it, but I wasn't fully aware of what it means to give yourself to someone fully. Now that I’ve felt it, I know that I've been longing for it for such a long time.

I've been grooming myself for so long to be the most enjoyable toy to entertain yourself with. I was taking care of my body and mind, developing myself so that when the time comes, I will be able to entertain you. So that I will be enjoyable for you to be around and to use. So that you can use me in the ways that you would wish to, without having to worry whether I can take it. I've been building myself strong so that with the right maintenance I can serve you long without breaking.

It's amazing how well you understand me. How well you know what to give me back in return for my service. All I want is to be seen. To be discovered. All I want is for someone to dive deeper and deeper into my psyche and make me more and more open and vulnerable. To peel off my insecurities and worries, one by one. To show me who I really am and what I am capable of.

To meet somebody who is able to handle having so much power over someone and not break under the weight of it is not an everyday encounter. I am sure that giving up all the control is what I yearn for, but I also know that it is not bearable for most of the people. And I won't put it into somebody's hands if I don't feel like they are strong enough to hold it.

You are strong enough to hold it. The reason why I trust you so much is that I feel like you are perfectly aware of what we are toying with and you are completely comfortable with that responsibility. You delight in my mind. You delight in the possibilities that I have to offer. With you, I can go further than I've even gone because I feel like you feel better than I do where my limits are. You trust me that I can take it and then I trust myself that I can take it as well.

You are also so extremely attentive and focused. You don't take me for granted. The worst thing I could experience is when I offer abundance to someone and they don't notice me in it. They are enjoying my gifts, but they don't see the person who is giving them. They get so lost in enjoying the power they've been granted that they forget about the one who is giving it to them.

You love the feeling of power that you have over me. I know you do. I can see it in your eyes. And there is nothing that gives me more happiness than seeing how much pleasure I can give you. But no matter how much of a power rush you experience, you never forget the source of it. No matter how small and unimportant you make me feel, you never forget about me. Being seen by you, even when I am in my most despicable self. Being appreciated for going so low for your pleasure, that's the deepest yearning of my heart fulfilled.

Thank you for making things fall into place. Thank you for making me feel like I am not too much. Thank you for accepting my gift. It means the world to me to finally feel like this part of me that has been hidden and despised for so long is beautiful and special and truly understood. Thank you for taking everything from me. Only after it's all been taken away, I can finally see myself fully.