Deepthroating – written by Pixie Pele
I can’t stand it. If I read one more piece singing the praises of blowjobs, I’ll be sick.
I hate blowjobs. I find absolutely nothing attractive about a penis. In all fairness, I find little attractive about any genitalia. They’re weird bits of skin and flesh that dangle and wrinkle in distinctly alien ways. And they’re situated on the body just right so they are almost constantly sweaty, and thus usually smell like a gym bag. Even after it’s been recently washed, a penis will still taste a little weird and the precum will be salty at best. A vagina’s smell and taste is actually pleasant if the person attached to it eats well and is hygienic, but that sweet tang quickly turns to rotten fish if not maintained.
Frankly, I don’t believe these girls who talk about how much they love sucking cock. How the fuck could they? Penises are ugly, smelly, and taste bad. The act of the blowjob hurts your jaw, neck, and shoulders, and unless you manage to tilt your head and roll your eyes really hard, you don’t even get to watch the results of your labor. You just get an eyeful of pubic hair. And if he hasn’t trimmed, a noseful too.
No, I thought to myself, it can’t actually be true.
There’s no way in hell those women actually enjoy blowjobs. They’re just saying whatever they think men want to hear. They just want attention, and they’re making themselves seem attractive in whatever way they can. And those stories about women actually getting wet from a blowjob? Absolute rubbish.
Heh.
A bit of background. I’m collared. I pride myself on being able to push myself constantly. I’m not a masochist, but I take pain as a challenge, often using a meditative state to deal with it. While I derive zero pleasure from blowjobs, I do them anyway because the Sir likes them. I also have an extremely easy gag reflex.
But the Sir had expressed interest in deep throating. He’d enjoyed having other women do it to him, so I, wanting to be able to do all the things, went to the internets for research. According to some of my sources, it would be possible, with some effort, to retrain my easy gag reflex and teach myself to deep throat. I brought him the information, despite my misgivings. Deepthroating training. It sounded awful.
And it was.
Acting on someone else’s advice, we stripped naked and got in the tub, the easier to clean up. I was trembling from both cold and fear. I could tell the Sir was relishing both. Bastard. Because of the hard surface, my knees quickly became very painful and I ended up squatting most of the time. In that position, it was impossible to control my bladder when I, inevitably, gagged. I pissed myself and vomited up chicken and rice. Every time I puked, I was allowed a small sip of water to wash the taste out of my mouth, but I could still smell it. I started crying, both from the gagging and from the sheer shame of it all. Crying, snotting, puking, and pissing myself, I felt pitiful and disgusting.
And he was rock hard the whole time.
I wanted to give up, but he calmed and soothed with soft voice, firmly insisting I continue. When I managed to keep him down for a split second, he praised me. When I puked, he didn’t even flinch, just calmly washed it down the drain and came back for another round. Unrelenting, unbending, unyielding, he ignored my sobbing pleas that I couldn’t do it, and made me go on.
By the end of it, I was bleary-eyed and floating in the deepest subspace I’ve ever experienced.
My Sir knows me Well
He knew that if he let me give up halfway through, I’d feel like a failure. When he was done, I was barely able to move, so he propped me up in a corner, washed out the tub, and ran a scalding hot bath for us. He held me in the warm water, pressing me against his chest, cooing sweet nothings in my ear or just letting the silence rest. I had no fine motor control and couldn’t speak for several minutes. When I finally started coming out of the fog, a flood of gratitude washed over me. He’d seen me broken, and had responded by loving me.
I should have known that being completely out of control would push happy buttons in my brain – my core fetish is, after all, power exchange – but I was still thinking about blowjobs and how much I dislike them. If I hadn’t been willing to push myself and try something new, I’d have never discovered this thing that arouses me at a gut level. This felt nothing like bobbing my head ridiculously over a salty bit of flesh. This was being unable to control my very bodily functions, being a complete and utter mess, being broken down to my very core. And being accepted wholeheartedly, even at my most broken, my most shameful, my most disgusting.
We’ve had several sessions since then.
Turns out, I’d hit space so hard those first couple times that I didn’t even realize I was dripping wet when done. These days, I might even get orgasms during aftercare.
I still don’t really believe the girls who say they just like having a cock between their lips, but I’m starting to think maybe I shouldn’t jump to conclusions about other people’s kinks. If I can’t predict my own, how on earth can I talk about other people’s?
I may never enjoy giving head, but at least I can enjoy being throat fucked.
Read More On Deepthroating And More
Pixie Wrote Deepthroating Love – Blowjob Hate, she also wrote Empathy and Consent – What About Catcalling?
Coming soon – How To Deepthroat – Deepthroating 101.
Coming soon – How To Deepthroat – Advances Deepthroating.
Additional Notes About Kink In Michigan:
Information for Michigan fetish enthusiasts: There are many places to enjoy fetish in Michigan, including Michigan fetish and kink parties, fetish classes, and great social activities for people with interest in it at home and simply want to hang out with others who love it. You can even find some deepthroating lovers! Leaning about BDSM in Michigan can be a lot of fun, and there are many great groups. Check out the events page at Opening Gateways for more information. You can also connect at the Opening Gateways Twitter Page.
