He only agreed because he thought he would be able to prove that he’s stronger than me. No, actually, it wasn’t about who’s stronger, it was simply about who’s in control.
I told him I could control him through his cock. He said that whatever that meant, it wouldn’t work, and he found the whole idea funny. So I did a little experiment.
You know those little remote controlled clit vibrators? Well I ordered one of those, and I also got one of those vibrating silicone cock rings that don’t do shit. Basically it’s a silicone ring with a second, smaller ring on it that would hold a small useless vibrating bullet. I simply replaced the bullet with the remote controlled one. It was stretchy enough to fit tightly around the the base of his glans.
The challenge was simple. He would have to wear it while we go out for a few hours with some friends, and I’d make him cum. If I succeed, he loses.
Obviously, that would have been far too easy. I’ve tried that with my previous boyfriend a few times, and the result was always the same. If I keep pressing that button, he will come — whether he wants to or not. There’s nothing new to learn there. Sure, it was fun to go out and have him cream himself while walking in the park, but it got old soon. The thing is, I always knew how it would end, and so did he. And he’d complain that his erection is getting uncomfortable straining agains his trousers, then when I relieved him he complained that he had made a mess of himself and that we have to go home, and I grew tired of that crybaby attitude.
But the point is, this doesn’t mean I control *him*. It only means I control his cock, that’s all. You can make a guy grow hard whenever you want, and you can make him cum all the same, there’s nothing special about that, and that’s not what this next challenge was going to be about.
This was about whether I can control *him*: his decisions, his desires, his actions.
The rules were simple. I get to press the remote all I want, but I would not make him cum unless *he* asks me to. That’s right, he wouldn’t need permission from me, *I* would need permission from *him*. He can’t touch himself either. I win if he asks me to make him cum. It’s that simple.
So anyway, we went out with a couple of friends as planned. Before that, I put the ring on him, making sure it wouldn’t fall off and that it was in the right position. It was small and silent, no one would notice it’s there. Well, except him, of course.
For the first two hours, I didn’t touch the remote at all. I knew that slowly but surely, all he would be able to think about is when I would press it. Soon all he could think about was this.
Then as we were all having dinner, I gave it a buzz, and then a few more. He was expecting it, no surprise there. It was probably enough to get him hard, and I was nice about it too, since no one would see under the table. I didn’t want to disturb others with my boyfriend’s bulging erection, that would just be wrong towards them.
Dinner lasted about an hour or so, during which I made sure to only press the button enough to keep him constantly erect.
I could tell he was uncomfortable, but he kept conversations going and tried to focus. He even managed to smile and chat with his ex girlfriend and her husband — both of whom he despises quite a bit. I’m good friends with them so he has to be nice to them. It’s a long story. They may have thought he was just acting strange, and it was fun to know the real reason.
I knew him well enough to know when to stop each time. It’s quite simple, you just have to know how much time it takes for him to get close, watch his face, and then you stop for a while. You can do this over and over, it’s pretty easy with practice. After all, I promised I would only make him cum if he gave me permission, and I wasn’t going to cheat. I could have just made him cream himself at the literal press of a button while having a conversation with his friends, but that would have been no fun. I was up to something way better.
Next, we went to see a movie. I made sure to give him a break before we had to leave the restaurant, so that his erection would go down, because I’m nice. Then at the cinema of course I continued, for the whole two hours. I couldn’t see him but I could hear his heavy breathing from time to time. I knew he was rock hard and dripping pre-cum the whole time. The film was okay, nothing special.
Again, before we left, I stopped buzzing him for about half an hour to make sure he wasn’t going to get security called on him or whatever. But as we left I noticed that there was still quite a bulge there. He tried to hide it with his sweater. I couldn’t help but smile. He was red in the face and breathing quite heavily, and he sure as hell wasn’t smiling.
After that we went to have some drinks. I couldn’t believe that he was *still* hard, so I didn’t buzz him for a while to let him breathe. After all, I had been torturing him for more than three hours now, and I made sure to keep him at the edge of orgasm for the most of it.
I could tell he was somewhere else, unable to concentrate on what was going on around him. Soon, he hesitantly leaned over to me, and declared his defeat. “You win”, he said. “Could we please just get it over with?”
This didn’t surprise me, I knew I was going to win. But I wasn’t done yet. Maybe this next thing was a bit unfair of me, but I did it to really prove my point. I didn’t do it to fuck with him for no reason. I did it because it proves, without a doubt, that I truly have control over him.
“Okay”, I said. “I will make you cum.”
He was looking into my eyes and begging desperately with his gaze.
“But on one condition.” I told him he’d have to have a little conversation about whatever he wants with his ex girlfriend, who was sitting right across the table from him, and make firm eye contact with her while he ejaculates.
“No way! You’re crazy!” he said. “Okay”, I said. I gave the remote a press, for about 20 seconds or so, then stopped. “Oh come on!! I’ve told you you win!” he grunted, trying to whisper. “Those were the rules, you said you’d do it if I asked you to!”
“I said I wouldn’t do it *unless* you asked me to. I didn’t say I would immediately do it, or that I’d do it on your terms, darling.” – I told him firmly, with a smile.
I pressed the button a few more times, making sure to stop each time he was getting close. After maybe 4-5 of these, he turned to me again, gasping for air, and told me he would do whatever I want, if that’s what it takes. So I repeated what I had said earlier. He could talk to her about anything at all, as long as he doesn’t break eye contact with her the whole time.
I watched as he forced an uncomfortable smile and gathered his words to get her attention. He couldn’t quite concentrate so he came up with something really stupid, and kept stuttering. They started talking for a while, and I watched intently. I wanted to see how long I could drag this on for but I also didn’t want something unplanned to happen, like the girl leaving or whatever, so I decided it was time. He was doing well, keeping the promised eye contact despite his cock being ready to erupt any second. I admit, he did make quite an effort, it was kind of cute.
I pressed the button, and kept it pressed. Ten seconds passed. He was getting red. Twenty seconds passed. The girl was saying something incredibly boring about her husband. How he came third at some golf tournament or whatever. He was trying to pretend to listen. He stuttered something to her. The girl didn’t quite understand, and asked him to repeat. He tried to repeat it, the girl obviously still didn’t understand, so she just smiled and nodded. It was getting awkward as fuck. Then she went on about how her husband is great with dogs and they have two dogs and how cute they are. She just went on and on about it.
It finally happened after about less than a minute. His gaze was locked desperately at her, knowing that his fate depended on her. She was saying the words “… last week Pugsy pooped on the rug…”. That was when his body started rhythmically contracting, his eyes rolled up and he breathed faster and faster, letting out various grunts and groans as he filled his jeans full of warm cum.
Actually I had let go of the remote before it even started, because I wanted to make sure he cums on his own, and not with my help, so that he really feels like it was *him* doing the work. I like it when my boy *owns* his orgasm. Some call these “ruined orgasms” but I think they’re pretty fun, not “ruined” at all. If anything, you guide him towards the orgasm, but he goes through with it alone. You set it into motion with the flick of a finger, a tongue, or a switch, and then it all happens on its own. It’s like a Rube Goldberg machine: you hardly do anything to start it, and then so much happens while you do literally nothing but watch. Or like dominos falling over: yes you set them up, and yes you push one of them over. But the rest falls over on their own, and that’s what makes it so spectacular to watch. If someone went and knocked every single domino over by hand, it wouldn’t be fun at all, would it? There’s something disturbingly satisfying about watching a guy just *ejaculate* all over himself, with no hand, no pussy, no nothing anywhere near his pulsating dick. There isn’t anything else quite like it in life, it’s just so… animal. When his instincts take over and he can’t help but do what nature intended him to do. Oh and as a bonus, they stay hard afterwards. Why would you *ever* want to give them any other kind of orgasm? It’s also a bit of a mindfuck for them, which I quite enjoy. They think you’re going to make them cum… but then you don’t… and they cum anyway on their own. And then they get angry that you let go. But wait – if you didn’t want to cum, why did you? Oh, I *made* you? But I wasn’t even touching you when it happened. And if you’re so mad, why are you still raging hard? So you can only blame yourself, but you don’t want to admit it. I love it. Mind — and load — blown.
Anyway. Unfortunately for him it was quite a long orgasm, and it must have felt much, much longer than that. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on, and made long, awkward pauses during her speech, but continued nonetheless explaining in great detail what happened last week with her pug and that expensive rug.
When he was finally done, he seemed rather exhausted. I didn’t want to be mean, so I told everyone that we had to leave. I noticed a wet spot on his ankle and smiled. “So, how was it?” I asked him. “Fuck you“, he said.
He later told me he had never experienced so much cognitive dissonance, as when he willingly agreed to be made to cum while staring into his bitch ex’s eyes as she literally talked about dog poop. “I told you“ – I said. “I just wanted to prove to you that if I control your cock, I control *you*. Boys never understand this.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/720ht9/if_you_control_his_cock_you_control_him