Swallow

Swallow – Watersports Hypnosis

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A list of things piss is NOT: Honey, nectar, apple juice, lemonade, tea, or a beverage of any kind. It is also not delicious, tasty, yummy, or crave-worthy. 

It IS, however, foul. It’s hot, acrid, choking, and disgusting.

If you’re into watersports, you already know we BDSM practitioners don’t engage in wastersports becasue it’s delicious goodness or anything. We do it because it’s repulsive and difficult to endure.

If you’re inexperienced with watersports, you might be curious about  this. Particularly about why submissives engage in watersports if they’re so gross! Well…

They don’t want it to be enjoyable. They want it to be what it is – vile and difficult to endure. They hate the act, they despise the urine…

Think about it… If someone were PISSING IN YOUR MOUTH, every single instinct you have would set fire to your body. Your skin would crawl, your muscles would tremble. Your mind and body would command you to close your mouth, to shove your Mistress away, to escape this filthy, degrading use…

But… You don’t. And that is the true beauty of watersports. You ignore your own instincts for the sake of submission. You endure by sheer force of will. You embrace and experience submission as it’s meant to be felt – with the soaring, life-changing affirmation that your desire to submit is stronger than every instinct in your body telling you not to endure the use.

The bliss that comes with knowing what you have submitted to this kind of use? That “no matter what” actually applies to YOU and your service to your Mistress? It is the ultimate act of submission with the ultimate reward.

So… This isn’t fake!fantasy watersports where it tastes good and you love it. Nothing against that imaginary version of watersports, it’s just not something I can wrap my head around having actually engaged in watersports in my real life. I can only trance what I know! So this is the real deal where you don’t like the act itself, but you have never felt this beautifully submissive in your whole life. 

Are you worthy? Are you willing?

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Nightcall

Entirely naked except for a blindfold, he slept. I closed the front door silently behind me and slipped out of my shoes. The soft carpet conspired to keep my approach silent. The light from the dining room faded as I tiptoed down the hall, so just the barest hint remained in the bedroom.

Enough lingered so I could see the shape of his pale arm on top of the dark blanket. His vulnerability was intoxicating. I traced my fingers down his shoulder and upper arm, hardened muscle even in the looseness of sleep. Hungry for him, aching to spur him into command-following action, I wrapped my fingers around the back of his arm and squeezed.

So fast I didn’t see it coming, his other arm shot out and he seized me. With a fluid, practiced motion, he locked his hand around my thumb, twisting down and away, so my body was forced to follow. I had guessed this might happen so I didn’t cry out or try to pull away. There wasn’t any pain anyway, he had stopped just short of that. He was coiled but calm.

Silent, frozen, I waited with a smile he couldn’t see melting across my lips. After a single breath, in and out, he said my name. It was a question.

Yes. It’s me. 

He disengaged as soon as he heard my voice and said he was sorry.

Don’t be. It’s… inspiring.

I could see his brow scrunch up beneath the blindfold. “What is?” he asked.

To see training so deeply embedded.

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