Dial O for Orgasm

As you might have guessed, my sexual fantasies involve some very dirty things, and phone sex never made that list. I mean, jerking off to a girl's voice? Isn't that for people who are addicted to 900 numbers? Those perverts.

It wasn't until a few years into my exploration of BDSM when tele-eroticism suddenly became interesting, not as a goal but as an effective solution to a tricky set of challenges.

When I first started playing with Morgan, a tall 20-year-old athlete at UCSD, she had no experience as a submissive and no confidence in her ability to delay her orgasm for as long as I might require. Due to the distance and our busy schedules, I had to think of ways to keep her challenged between sessions, especially in the area of orgasm control.

Orgasm control and you

Unlike vanilla sex, where the goal is usually to climax quickly and often, a well-trained submissive is always focused on pleasing her Dom. The amount of pleasure or pain she receives is entirely up to him, and it usually depends on how well she fulfills her sole purpose of giving pleasure rather than receiving it. Since the orgasms she's allowed to experience tend to be quite a bit more intense than the vanilla variety, they can be an extremely effective training tool... but only if they can be fully controlled.

I'll never forget the time I watched a friend's amazingly well-trained dog balance a chunk of red meat on its nose for several minutes, salivating and whimpering, until her master finally signaled her to flip it up and catch it in her mouth. I was awed by this demonstration of perfect obedience and discipline, and I aim for the human equivalent with every sub I play with. For me, this means teaching her to ask for permission, hold her orgasm until I decide she's earned it, beg only when instructed, thank me while she cums, and thank me more formally when she's finished.

Taking the reins

Morgan faced one major roadblock on her path to successful orgasm control: she was incredibly horny. As far as I could tell, her day basically consisted of class, homework, swimming practice, and flicking the bean. Since the goal of masturbation is to climax as soon as possible so you can get back to being productive—exactly the opposite of what I was trying to teach her—this posed a major problem. Even if I saw her once a week, how could the five or six orgasms I made her hold possibly compete with the other forty or fifty times she'd practice the wrong way?

To turn this ship around, my first step was to take full 24/7 control of her orgasm. She'd have to ask for permission to touch herself, ask for permission to cum, and thank me for allowing her to do both via phone, text, or email. When she did have permission, she'd only be allowed to cum after she brought herself right up to the edge and backed off twice.

If she was feeling frisky when I was asleep, or in a meeting, or on a plane, well she'd just have to deal with being horny. After all, the whole point of this exercise was to teach her to place my pleasure and convenience before her own gratification.

Unenforceable yet self-enforcing

Rules like this are impossible to enforce, and a little cheating is inevitable. I was expecting Morgan to sneak one in when she wasn't supposed to, and I wasn't surprised when she fessed up only a couple days later. She told me the guilt was just eating away at her, but I suspected an even stronger motivation.

Both of us wanted this power dynamic—it wasn't just me—and when she broke my rule and got away with it, she effectively dissolved the fantasy she'd been craving for years. Once I had the chance to hoist her up by her ankles with her legs spread and punish the greedy little pussy that got her into so much trouble, she was right back where we both wanted her: under my total control.

Phone time

With these ground rules in place, it was time to take my long-distance training plan to the next level. At exactly the time I specified, I told her I wanted her completely nude, lying on the floor with her knees up and legs spread, playing with her clit, Bluetooth headset charged and ready.

I'd call her ten to fifteen minutes later when I knew she'd be amply turned on and desperate for release. About a minute into the call, she'd ask, "Sir, would you like your slut to cum?" That's when things got interesting.

I'd tell her to keep playing with her clit, not to even think about stopping or slowing down, and then I'd start making her earn that extra-special reward. "How and why do you cum, slut?" I'd ask.

"With your permission and for your amusement, Sir."

"Good girl. And where's your place when you're serving me?"

"Naked and on my knees, Sir." And so the inquisition continued.

If she gave me an incorrect response, I'd have her work her clit even faster and wait even longer. If I thought I could push harder, I'd have her finger-fuck herself while she continued playing with her clit, sometimes while grinding her pussy into her hand, and I'd talk more about how I'd use her in person.

When I felt she was at the end of her rope, I'd tell her she could beg and that it better be convincing. Usually it was. When I sensed she had nothing left, I'd tell her to cum. Then I'd lay back and listen to one very intense and well-earned orgasm.

Finally, I'd hear a breathless and trembling voice say, "Thank you, Sir, for allowing your slut to cum." I'd tell her what a good girl she was while she cleaned her fingers with her mouth and tongue, and then it was on to more pussy stimulation in one of the other positions we'd be using in person.

Practice makes perfect

Beyond the functional benefits of fucking a beautiful girl for as long as I want without her pleasure interfering with mine, this process has some important psychological impacts. First, it taught Morgan to think of her orgasm as I did: not as a means of selfish gratification but as a training aid to make her better able to please me. It also conditioned her to associate sexual pleasure with my permission and the sound of my voice, which reinforced my ownership of her sexuality and made unassisted orgasms more difficult, less enjoyable, and effectively pointless.

This brings me back to what I believe will always make BDSM more intense, intimate, and rewarding than vanilla sex: it's bigger than any one act. It lives in our minds even when all we can do is call or text each other. I can take or leave the dirty phone conversation just as I can do without the casual and forgettable Saturday-night intercourse, but knowing a girl is denying herself for my pleasure is a fantasy I'm happy to relive anytime.

I do think my friend went a little far with that steak-on-the-nose trick though. I mean, torturing a poor little dog like that? That's just plain cruel.

Think Before You Kink

Session planning can be a controversial topic in the BDSM community. Some kinksters believe that planning is the enemy of spontaneity, and that some of the most magical moments come from identifying and capturing unexpected opportunities. For the most part, they're not wrong. On the other hand, it's impossible to achieve any complex long-term goal without some degree of forethought.

As in most cases, the answer is somewhere between the extremes. Do some degree of planning for your scenes simply because that works better, and leave yourself open to whatever enticing paths reveal themselves along the way. On that note, let's jump into how I might plan a session with a semi-hypothetical sub named Jackie this Saturday.

Vision

Just as a contractor would never start building something with no idea what the completed structure will look like, it's important for a Dom to have at least a partial vision of how his well-trained slut will speak, sit, walk, crawl, suck, fuck, and cum.

In a nutshell, my big-picture long-term goals for a sub include teaching her to welcome whatever sensations I choose to inflict, to recognize her sole purpose of serving and pleasing me regardless of her own preferences or comfort, and to derive her greatest pleasure from truly selfless service and unrestricted ownership.

Training Targets

With this vision in mind, the next step is to identify the undesirable characteristic that stands out the most and start chipping away. After only four sessions with Jackie, an eager and adorably sweet blonde, we've made solid progress with verbal protocol, blowjob technique, orgasm control, and some other odds and ends. For our next session, my primary target will be her habit of protecting herself with her hands when she isn't fully restrained, sometimes even pushing mine away when I'm spanking her ass or probing her pussy.

Now, in most cases, when a guy is hitting your ass hard enough to leave marks that last for a week, this is a pretty natural reflex. But in the BDSM context, where Jackie's ass, her pussy, and her hands for that matter are my property, this is the kind of huge no-no that makes a Dom say to himself, "Oh my god, you are in so much trouble when I eventually get around to correcting that." Well, sweet little Jackie, 'eventually' is scheduled for this Saturday.

Execution

Once that goal within a goal has been identified, the next challenge is to figure out how to achieve it. There are probably dozens of ways to provoke Jackie's overactive hands and then punish her for using them, but only a few will incorporate the right mix of incentive and consequence that will help me chip away at this unwanted mass on my human sculpture.

In this case, I'm thinking I'll restrain her in a standing position in the middle of my floor, chaining her collar to the ceiling and her ankle cuffs to the walls on either side. (IMPORTANT SAFETY NOTICE: Don't even think about chaining anyone's neck to the ceiling unless you know damn well what you're doing.) Then I'll lock her wrist cuffs together behind her back, slide my remote-control vibrating egg into her pussy, and make it abundantly clear that I expect her hands to stay positioned right in the small of her back, leaving her ass fully exposed. I think I'll gag her too. The incessant begging I know I'll be in for can be fun, but it won't be very productive. Plus, there's nothing quite like the sight of drool dripping from a sub's chin and dribbling down her chest. Trust me.

By switching on the vibrator and spanking, whipping, and caning her ass at just the right intensity, I should be able to give her the perfect level of stimulation—just enough to turn her on immensely and send her into five-alarm ass-protection mode. When those hands crash the party, I'll turn off the vibrator and do something I know she hates: attach a pair of clothespins to her hyper-sensitive breasts. Then I'll turn the vibrator back on and get back to work on her ass until more unwanted movement invites me to add more clothespins.

By the end of this simple exercise, chances are very good that Jackie will have a chest full of clothespins, significantly improved hand control, and a beautiful stream of drool running all the way down to her dripping wet pussy.

Final Assembly

With two or three little exercises like this on your itinerary, the next step is deciding how one flows into the next. This is where too much planning can start to make a session feel overly scripted, so it's best to focus on general practicality. If some of the items on your agenda require cuffs and chains and others involve some nice restrictive rope work, for example, it's best to group your cuff-dependent activities together so you don't have to keep taking them off and putting them back on again.

It's also important to vary the positions you use. A sub can only kneel on a hard floor or hang from her wrists for so long before too much soreness or numbness will undermine the effectiveness of your training and potentially lead to an injury. Drawing up a quick mental outline will help you eliminate unnecessary work and ensure that your sub feels only the pain you intend to inflict.

Jackie can sometimes be a bit nervous before our sessions, so I like to warm her up with some restrictive bondage and moderate pain to put her in the right headspace. In this case, I'm thinking I'll start her in a standing spread-eagle position for some spanking and cropping. From there, all I'll have to do is lock her wrists behind her back for the little tutorial I described. After that, we'll do some anal training and blowjob practice, both of which require consistent repetition to produce results, and both can be performed in fresh positions that will give tired parts of her body a break.

For the grand finale? That's easy: I'm going to fuck her senseless like I always do. I'm pretty uncreative that way. Sometimes I have a sub hold a position and apply some form of discipline if she moves, but since I will have already done that with the hands thing, I think I'll give her a break and tie her to my soft comfy bed in some completely immobilizing position. By this point, I think she will have earned it. Unless she doesn't…

Fog of War

They say every general has a perfect battle plan until the first shot is fired, and the same is true for a well-prepared Dom until the clothes come off and the collar goes on. You can always count on the unexpected, and the best Doms are able to turn these surprises into even better ways of achieving their training goals.

So, if it's impossible to anticipate every variable, and we know we'll be throwing out a big chunk of our plan each time, why bother? The point of planning is not to carry out that plan to the letter. The real value of this process lies in taking the time to understand where we want to go and how we're going to get there. Asking and answering those questions is what allows us to react to the unexpected in more intelligent and productive ways.

Bottom line: far from spontaneity's enemy, planning may just be its BFF.

Makings of a Dom

I know this will make me sound like a mom who makes you feel guilty for missing dinner by going on and on about how long she slaved over that hot stove, but I'll say it anyway: being a Dom is a lot of work. For starters, there's a ton of shit to buy, and you'll need a lot of practice before you'll be any good at using it. When you finally find a girl who'll let you tie her up and do all kinds of dirty things to her, you'll have to ask all the right questions to really get inside her head, then identify your training goals and prep for your first session.

The session itself takes a lot more energy and focus than, say, the typical Friday-night romp with that hottie you picked up at the Roosevelt. And in the morning, you'll have a giant mess of chains, rope, leather, dildos, whips, and butt plugs on the floor that'll look like West Hollywood after a category-five tornado. To be honest, I still haven't cleaned up from last weekend. So why do we put ourselves through all this? What's in it for us? I can't speak for everyone, but I'll bet retracing the evolution of my kinkiness will reveal what that answer is for me. Let's find out...

Chapter I: Giant Gorillas and Corpulent Aliens

You might say my first sexual influences were a tad unconventional. One of the earliest memories of my life is watching this old version of King Kong on TV with my parents, and I can still remember how strangely fascinated I was by that image of Jane with her wrists tied to those stakes. I was only three or four at the time, but I knew instinctively that this horny oversized ape and I were on the same page.

A few years later, George Lucas released a film that would inspire new generations of future pervs for decades to come: Return of the Jedi. Princess Leia didn't really do much for me at age six, but the image of her collared and chained to Jabba the Hut in that skimpy little bikini is still burned into my brain to this day. Jabba may be a bit on the heavy side, even for a Dom, but you have to admire his style.

By the time my hormones joined the party, I knew there was something very different going on in my head. I certainly wasn't the only kid who had to plan sitting and standing around my ill-timed erections, and I was just as comfortable joking about the indignities of puberty as my friends were, but I learned quickly that the details of my fantasies were best kept to myself. I still thought about normal sex, mostly to reassure myself that I was at least somewhat normal, but at that age I could have jerked off to Kathy Bates.

Chapter II: Drunken Fumblings with Naked Girls and Ethernet Cable

In college, when I finally moved from the chalkboard to the field, I set out to make the most of the four key resources at hand: a deliciously pervy girlfriend who was happy try anything twice, a beer fridge well stocked with Sierra Nevada, one university-issue four-post modular bed, and lots of Ethernet cable. Sorry about that Ethernet cable, Abby, but you know how it is: we just didn't have the Internet resources back then even to learn about the proper equipment, much less buy it online.

Once the beers were uncapped and Abby was unclothed, my first step was to create my own living bondage porn. After that, my plan was to rustle up a makeshift blindfold, then maybe do something fun with the ice cubes in my fridge and the ping-pong paddle I had liberated from downstairs. It only took a few minutes to tie each wrist and ankle to each corner of the bed. As I looked down at this athletically shaped pre-med, so exposed and vulnerable as she tugged helplessly at the high-speed data cables that held her in place, I decided to skip right to Phase II: fuck her and cum on her face. About five minutes later (hey, I was 19!), as I wiped the sweat from my brow and stumbled across the room for another Sierra Nevada, I found myself asking what would become a pretty familiar question for the next few years: "Now what?"

With practice, I eventually developed the Zen-like discipline to resist fucking Abby the instant I finished tying her up, and I started exploring a whole range of exciting ways to amplify and intensify her helplessness and vulnerability. I realized that total physical control meant total sensory control, and by blindfolding, gagging, pinching, biting, spanking, and choking her, I could play those senses like keys on a vastly complex piano. At first, all I could manage was Chopsticks and maybe Jingle Bells, but you know how they say you get to Carnegie Hall: practice, practice, practice.

Chapter III: Graduate Study

Around the time I moved to LA and started exploring the local fetish community, that question popped up again: Now what? That was when I met Courtney, a sweet, wholesomely beautiful brunette with a razor-sharp sense of humor and an insatiable appetite for total power exchange. Suddenly, I had this tidal wave of fresh ideas and a diehard play partner at least as perverted as I was to try them on. It was the perfect storm, and soon I had the next major epiphany in my evolution as a Dom: I could use all these tools and techniques for the bigger-picture, longer-term goal of shaping a sub's behavior and attitude to my exact specifications.

I took 24/7 control of Courtney's orgasms, requiring that she email, text, or call me whenever she wanted permission to cum. I taught her the verbal protocol and eye-contact rules I wanted her to follow, the slave positions I wanted her to hold, and the techniques of sucking and cleaning my cock I wanted her to use. When she was a good girl, I'd give her multiple forced orgasms until she begged me to stop. When she broke a rule, I'd discipline her with a wooden paddle or something else I knew she hated until she begged me for another chance to do it right. With time, she learned to place my pleasure above her own comfort, to obey even the most unexpected and unusual instructions without hesitation, and to revel in her status as my property. When Courtney and I were enjoying these intense moments of intimacy, I felt a stronger sense of sexual fulfillment than I could ever have imagined, and purity of this fulfillment helped me uncover the real foundation of my sexuality.

And Finally…

For the vast majority of straight males, the female form is an object of obsession from puberty until death. For me, BDSM is the ultimate way to fully possess, savor, and connect with that object on a more intimate and intense level than most will ever experience. It is a lot of work, but then again, nothing truly worthwhile is easy. Now to put those damn toys away…

Zero Tolerance

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