I was never really a fan of combining role playing and sex when I was a much younger man but at least in the environment I grew up in, you really couldn’t escape it unless, of course, you were one of those folks who’d hear the word “sex” and go running for the hills. For those of us brave enough – or, if you like, crazy enough – to stay put, well, let the games begin. I’ve mentioned this in past scribblings but the adult in me is often amazed how a lot of the childhood games we played were just an excuse to have sex (again, depending on who you were playing with); games like “Hide and Seek,” “Cowboys and Indians,” and “Army” were perfect situations to get laid because you were out of the sight of the other players or you got captured and “tortured” for information.
One of the games I’d find myself playing – and with a lot of initial reluctance – was “Master and Slave…” and it always seemed to turn out that I’d be the Master, a role that the adult who’s writing this kinda cringes over but the kid I was, well, okay, I thought it was quite crazy but if we agreed that we wanted to do it and you looked at me with that sexual hunger in your eyes and said, “Make me…,” it would be on… and I can admit that the resulting sex was pretty damned good because at the other guy’s request, I’d make him give it up even though I’d have to do some “work” to get to the delightful end result.
Making someone submit to the sex – and when they wanted to do it all along – didn’t make sense to me; I mean, if you wanna do it, let’s just do it. I had an “edge” in that I was quite the accomplished judoka (someone who learns judo) and one of the things we learned to do is how to make someone submit or surrender; what you want to do is to make an opponent stop wanting to fight you and anyone reading this who has been trained in this art knows that you learn some pretty interesting ways to make someone submit or surrender by tapping out or say, “Matei!” – I quit! I learned rather quickly how to apply this mindset with those guys who liked to be made to submit and surrender – and happily so, I might add; the more they resisted, the harder I tried to make them submit, imposing my will, physical prowess and, yep, a few things I learned in judo to make them give up and do my bidding. My “victims” enjoyed it; they’d either get the mouthful of cum they wanted or feel good about having my spunk leaking out of their asshole. Me? Well, okay, I can admit that once I got into my role as Master, I was in it to win it… but it wasn’t that big of a turn-on for me… but I also had to admit that conquering them and, as a result of my, um, dominance, spilling my load into them in some way felt pretty damned good.
Back then, I was learning something important about men and sex… but it was a lesson that actually escaped me for quite a few years and I had thought about those earlier days in more detail. I saw what “Master and Slave” was really all about and, well, it didn’t make me feel all that good and, on top of that, the “slave” behavior confused me because when I wasn’t having sex with these guys, some of them were the kind of dudes you did not ever want to fuck with unless getting your ass kicked was something you truly enjoyed. Yet and still, when they wanted to do it, they always wanted to be the slave, the one to be commanded and made to submit to the demands of the master – me even though I will also admit at this point is I don’t know why these guys would single me out for this, um, honor; I knew that if and when they did it with other guys, “Master and Slave” wasn’t even being played.
I remember this one guy who, when he got horny, would challenge me to a test of skill, his wrestling against my judo and he’d always tell me, “If you win, I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, okay?” Okay, the first time this jumped off, I won – I made him quit and, um, okay, I’m sure you can guess what things I made him do per the conditions of his surrender. But every time after that? I was baffled because, one, he kept coming back with this challenge and two, he never won and it wasn’t because he wasn’t trying to win either – he’d put up great resistance, believe me. After his latest “loss,” I asked him why we always had to do it like that – after a while, you kinda get tired of the scrapes and bruises – and he told me that he just liked it more when I made him do it. Even more baffling was the fact that he wasn’t the only guy who’d said something like that when the game was anything like “Master and Slave.”
One day, a whole lot of years later, I was sitting and thinking about these particular moments and I kinda/sorta understood the role playing thing; it still wasn’t my cup of tea but, yeah, I could play the game just the same. But something hit me: They’d always say, “Make me…” and I’d go about making them do what I wanted… or was I really the “slave” and was really doing what they wanted me to do? Man, didn’t that fuck with my head! I thought about things like me telling my “slave,” “Crawl over here and suck my dick… now!” and how he’d “whimper” and “plead” with me to not make him do this bad thing… even as they crawled over and greedily latched onto my dick. Or how I’d “force” them onto their belly and commanding that they be still and while they “begged and pleaded” for me not to stick in them… even when they were already arching their asses upward to make it easier for me to get into them.
I saw that I would command my slave to let me suck his dick – and with the usual “complaining” going on and, sometimes, with a little physical resistance so that I’d have to hold them down so I could eat their dick – and right along when I would command them to fuck me and, yep, I’d have to “make” them put it in me and, for a little more fun, command and make them cum inside me. The older version of myself looked at this and would shake his head about all of it and the things we’d do as kids to have sex with each other; I also saw that, upon further review of the detail, nah, I wasn’t fond of “Master and Slave” but, yeah, if that was the game being played, I’d play it, I’d do whatever the game called for and, no, the resulting sex never really bothered me but, again, the grown up did seriously wonder who was the master and who was the slave when I was doing exactly what they wanted me to do.
Shit, I still wonder about that at times. I don’t pretend to fully understand the whole “make me” dynamic and that in those moments, I was actually into a BDSM form of role playing; understanding this, well, it troubled me since there’s this “directive” to never make anyone have sex even when doing so wasn’t really a problem. When I was older, I’d play “Master and Slave” with women who got off nicely when I’d do whatever they wanted to get them to submit, some “easily,” some with a degree of, ah, effort that still bothers me to this day because during these, ah, sessions, I was learning that taking the role of “Master” to the more, um, ‘extreme’ levels was pretty damned enjoyable… and very damned scary, like whenever a woman would beg me to slap her and do it like I really meant to slap the shit out of her; once, I damn near knocked this one woman out and it scared the shit out of me (don’t forget, I know how to hit people in some very effective ways); not only did she enjoy the force of the slap, it made her squirt like a fire hose!
It bothered me so much that after we finished fucking, I went into the bathroom and threw up all over the place (none of it made it to the toilet); I was not only sick because of the things I did to her, I was sick because I fucking loved every second of it. Given the way my mind works, I quickly learned that there’s a danger in this and more so since I know some interesting ways to inflict pain and I also knew that being able to control this just wasn’t gonna happen. Sure, I’ll “wrestle” with a woman and hold her down as she “resists” and I’m okay with that but anything more than that? Nope – ain’t no fucking way I’m ever going there again. I’ve run into men who wanna play the grownup version of “Master and Slave” and, yes, I understand that it gets them off like a motherfucker to be made to submit and the harder I put the hammer down on them, the more they like it. I was at the point where I’d tell such men, “Look, if I gotta go through all of this to have sex with you, I’d rather not do it at all…” They’d be disappointed that I didn’t want to play the game with them and I could never really get them to understand why I didn’t want to play it the way they needed it, like the one guy who, once he understood that I’m a judo black belt, wanted me to forcibly take him using those skills… and I asked him, “Are you out of your fucking mind? You do understand that I’m a trained killer, don’t you?”
Apparently, that was a great turn-on for him. I wasn’t going to oblige him – there is a point I will not go beyond – but, yeah, I got played because he took a swing at me and my instincts kicked in and, well, let’s just say that when the sex was over and done with, he needed an arm in a sling for a few. He loved getting his ass kicked; he was nutting all over the place and that was way before I got my dick into him. I felt… disgusted with myself because (a) he used my automatic response to his “attack” to get me to respond and (b), um, that was a rather nice release I had after pounding his ass as hard as I could. He made me feel even worse when he actually thanked me for giving him what he wanted and needed and, once again, even though he was being forced into the role of the “unwilling slave” and being forcibly made to do my bidding, I wondered who was really the slave in all of this because, after all, he did get me to do something I really didn’t want to do, didn’t he?
And then he wanted to see me again and me, like an idiot, went to see him… but I walked out when I saw he had broken out the handcuffs, a couple of nasty looking flails, and some even nastier looking nipple clips. When he asked why I was leaving, I just told him, “There’s a point I will not go beyond – and this is that point. You got me the last time… but that was the last time. Now, if you wanna do this without all that… shit, then fine; if not, I’m just gonna go.” I wound up just going, too, even though I felt I understood his need to be made a slave, to be made to submit and by any means necessary and, yes, I knew I could do it, too, and in the way he preferred…
I also knew that I shouldn’t do it, that the ends, in this case, didn’t justify the means; I also knew that the beast inside of me who actually loved this shit shouldn’t ever be allowed out of its prison because I lacked the mindset to keep it safely under control. Future encounters with men who’d say, “Make me…” were disappointing for them because it just wasn’t worth it to me to make them do something they wanted to do in the first place and, no, it still fucked with my head trying to figure out who was really the “master” in this and simply because I’d slavishly give them exactly what they wanted and in the way they wanted it.
I have a dark side that loves shit like this; I know it, I’ve seen it… and it needs to stay locked away. The last time I ran into a guy who was into this, he was into being choked while trying to suck dick and, yes, I know a few ways to do that… but I also know how fucking dangerous it is, too, so I told him that while I’d be happy for him to suck me off, there was no fucking way in hell that I was going to choke him while he was doing it, emphasizing that even thought I know how to choke someone out, it’s way too easy to accidentally kill them – and no sex is worth running that risk. He verbally abused me pretty good, I have to say, and he was still cursing me lustily as I walked out… and I didn’t care how pissed he was or how cowardly he felt I was by denying him his particular pleasure; what I did care about was never going beyond that point for any reason unless, of course, I’m protecting myself.
I even pissed off the guy I fell in love with; he, too, tricked me into forcibly impose my will upon him, something I never forgave him for even though I understood it; still, whenever he wanted me to make him have sex with me, well, he’d be unhappy because I wasn’t going there and, nope, ya fooled me once, darling one, but don’t kid yourself into thinking you can fool me twice. He’d beg and plead to be made to submit; this wasn’t his “usual” way to have sex but, well, he liked being roughed up and enslaved from time to time. Oh, he’d try his best to fuck with my head, telling me that if I really loved him, I would do this because it would make him happier and that beast would hear this and whisper in my ear, “Come on, unlock this fucking cage and let me at him! It’ll be fun! Don’t worry – nothing’s gonna happen, okay?”
And I wouldn’t do it, not even for the sake of love. Okay, yeah… I’d spank him whenever I’d take him from behind and talk big time shit to him… but to let the beast out so he could be taken the way he really wanted to be taken? Nope – not gonna happen… and I was okay with that and was okay with him being unhappy about it. Sometimes, he’d ask me about the times I played the game of “Master and Slave” and I found it fascinating how excited he’d get as I told him of the things I’d done to other men; shit, he’d get so excited that he’d bust a nut in his pants/underwear! If we were naked and talking about it, damn, imagine the look on my face when I’m talking about how my “slave” wanted me to rough him up – and my lover shot a huge load of sperm into the space between us! I was like, “Did you just…?”
And he’d look at me with those dreamy green eyes and say, “Oh, I sure as hell did! Make me do it again, just like that…”
Today, as I thought about writing all of this, man, it kinda makes me uncomfortable; of course, you can’t see me as I’m typing this but I’ve been shaking my head, rolling my eyes, and making all kinds of faces that you’d probably find pretty funny. Am I ashamed of having been cast into the role of “Master?” Do I feel guilty about some of the shit I did to make a guy willing to have sex with me submit even further… and because that’s what got him off the best? Nah, not really – I got over the shame and guilt of this particular thing a long time ago… but I remember it and I know that even though I can do it, it’s not my idea of fun in the bedroom; I also remember being introduced to the dark side of myself and, well, I don’t really like that side of myself too much; I remember how much that side of me would enjoy it when a guy “defiantly” said, “Make me… come on, make me do it…” Today, I understand the level of control that is mandatory to play the game like this… and I can now easily admit that I lack that kind of control so when someone says to me, “Make me…,” well, I hope you forgive me when I don’t try to make you do something you wanted to do in the first place. The logic of it tends to escape me but, again, at the same time, I kinda/sorta understand it but, yeah, even though I will never profess to fully understanding it, I do understand myself.
There are some things that are best left alone. Way back in the beginning, it was all relatively harmless sexual fun… but it’s really not my idea of fun. Yes, I’ve told y’all that there is something sexual that I will not do and it doesn’t make me feel badly about writing about this; writing this was actually kinda therapeutic because, if nothing else, it keeps me in touch with myself and how far I’m willing to go to please and be pleased and the real bottom line about being bisexual: Always understand who and what you are… and never, ever forget it and that there is a point you should never go beyond for any reason. Yeah, that point varies from person to person but, damned right, it’s something you should always be aware of.
Time to go and check out Linda’s new wallpaper on her tablet and iPad… and I’ll talk to y’all some other time, okay?