Wednesday, February 10, 2016

The Trip of Small Cocks: The Client

This is not one of my old posts, but one by Pervertically Virtuous
In the process of recovering my own old posts via email I discovered some of hers. Like me, her old accounts have been terminated, and she seems to have disappeared from the internet. This is a damn shame since I consider her one of the best sex bloggers I've ever had the chance to read and follow. I'm reposting her old posts as a historical archive, and if she ever returns to blogging I'm happy to hand them back to her. 
To be clear: the copyright on this work is hers, and remains with her - I didn't write it and I make no claim to it. (FYI: some links in this post are dead)


Pervertically Virtuous posted: "For Part 1 and 2 of The Trip of Small Cocks, see The Couchsurfing Host #1. and The Colleague. This story goes something like this. PV walks into a random bar she's never been to before in a city she's never been to before, and two hours later walks out w"

recovered post on Pervertically Virtuous

The Trip of Small Cocks: The Client

by Pervertically Virtuous
domme-vinyl-outfitFor Part 1 and 2 of The Trip of Small Cocks, see The Couchsurfing Host #1. and The Colleague.
This story goes something like this. PV walks into a random bar she's never been to before in a city she's never been to before, and two hours later walks out with $400 dollars in her pocket and a cute, young submissive (who she's never met before) who wants a pro-Domme session (that his buddy pays for). How shit like this happens to me on a regular basis, I don't know. But it does.
After four days of nonstop talks, presentations, and networking, the conference was finally over. I had sent off Small Cock #2 (and my host for the previous night) off to the airport, and, suitcase in hand, I headed to a beach bar where one of my colleagues (and a good friend) who used to go to school in this city was hosting a get-together for all her local friends. Being homeless for the moment, that sounded like a great way to kill the afternoon while waiting for a potential couchsurfing host to call me. If not, I would get on a bus/train in the evening and continue my West Coast trip.
It was a lovely sunny day, a little chilly, but considering the grey, near-30 degree weather on the East Coast, I was grateful for a glimpse of sun, naked skin, and the sounds of the ocean. Unfortunately, the bar my friend had chosen was more of a sports bar on the beach rather than a beach bar: Lots of TVs, beer, and young frat boy/sorority girl-looking people. To make matters worse, it was a Sunday and there was some sort of a game on that many patrons were highly excited about. Not my style, but what else was I gonna do? At least we had good company. My friend's friends kept coming and going, with a constant stream of interesting people joining the table over the course of several hours. Much food was eaten by all and much alcohol was drunk by everyone except me, who, as usual, after a couple of mimosas, switched to the innocuous soda with a splash of cranberry.
A few hours into our afternoon, we noticed a big group of guys and girls on the table next to us. A few of the guys were OK-looking, and by then, our table consisted of mostly women, most of whom single and/or available. They chatted me up over my tattoos (they're such an easy target), and from that point on, we sort of joined our two parties.
They were young, in their early twenties, very frat boy/sorority girl-like, slowly getting progressively more intoxicated. Most of the guys were from Long Island, visiting for the weekend their friend who had just moved out West. They were all long-time surfers, out for a beer after a long surfing session.
Not sure how we got on the topic of sex, although, with me, that topic is never too far away, but very soon we were talking about sex. One of the guys asked what kind of men I was attracted to. I told him tall, handsome, in great shape, 6-pack included.
"How about me?" he wanted to know.
He was tall and had a fuckable face, but was on the chubby side. He was also annoyingly frat boyish. To underscore the importance of the 'in great shape' part, and I asked him to lift up his shirt for me.
"Sorry, " I said, pointing at his soft gut. "No 6-pack, no sex with me."
"Really?" he responded in disbelief almost. "You won't fuck me because I don't have a bit of fat on me?"
"Among other things," though I didn't feel like going into all of them. "If you lost some weight, I might fuck you. As you are now, no way."
His shorter, but cute blond friend from across the table saw his chance.
"How about this?" he asked as he lifted his shirt, revealing a pretty flat stomach.
"Now that's much better. That would qualify you," I smiled. "But you're too short for me."
Soon after, I went back to my table. When I came back, big burly guy had a secret about little blond guy to share with me: Blondie had just admitted to his friends earlier today that he was a submissive and he occasionally went to pro-dommes. That's why he wouldn't/ couldn't really date these vanilla girls that his friends were trying to set him up with; not because he was gay.
The reason why Burly guy felt the need to share this piece of information with me, was in order to find an explanation and a 'cure' for his friend's odd and deviant desires. I had a different 'cure' in mind.
"It's really funny that you're telling me this," I said. "You know, I sometimes pro-Domme. Your friend doesn't need a cure - his needs and desires are perfectly normal. What he needs is a girlfriend who will dominate him and friends who will accept him for who he is."
"You're a pro-domme?" his friend asked in disbelief.
"Sometimes," I responded. "When I feel like it."
"Well, do you feel like it now?" he asked. "I'd pay you to go back to his place and beat his ass."
I did not see that coming. He caught me off guard. A series of thoughts go through my head.
This is not how you arrange sessions.
This can be dangerous. I don't know these people. Or anyone else in this city.
I don't have any props with me. 
I'm not exactly in the right frame of mind right now. It's been a few months since I topped anyone. Will I be able to do it?
This might be super fun. And it sure makes for one hell of a story.
"That's a possibility," the dopamine-junkie in me was clearly winning this one. "Let's discuss."
This entire time, Blondie was sitting quietly on the other side of the table, mortified and blushing in complete embarrassment. I motioned him to come over.
"Your buddy here wants to buy you a pro-session with me today," I explained. "Are you interested?"
He was shy and somewhat uncomfortable about it, but yes, he was interested. Very interested.
We spent the next hour or so getting to know each other, discussing likes and dislikes, planning logistics, and explaining to Burly guy, that, no, he can't watch. No, I won't give him a blowjob while I'm at it. No, I won't sit in the hot tub with him for just 15 minutes either. He finally gave up.
I also found out they were all Republicans. That just made the beating Blondie was about to get all the more pleasurable.
When it was time to leave, I took a photo of Blondie's driver's licence, texted it to my friend, and told her to check in with me if I haven't responded in a couple of hours. With that, I handed my suitcase to Blondie and set out for an adventure.
Our first stop was a sex shop. He didn't have any props in the house, and neither did I. The sex shop right next to his house had no fetish/BDSM gear of any kind, so we drove for 30 min to THE fetish store in town. On the way, Blondie had several changes of heart: He wanted the session; No, he didn't want the session; Yes, he wanted the session; No, he didn't want it. He wanted to stop doing this, he wanted a "normal" life, a "normal" girlfriend. I tried to tell him he wasn't abnormal for wanting what he did, and also offered to not do the session. But he then wanted it. Confusing.
He spent about $300 worth of toys: leather cuffs, rope, a cane, a flogger, a paddle, a Wartenburg wheel, vampire gloves, and a cute little outfit for me.
When we got to his place, I ordered him to undress and wait for me on his knees while I changed into the black, one-piece, vinyl suit in the bathroom. He greeted me on his knees, but when he saw me in the sexy outfit, his small cock stiffened, and he extended his hand to touch me.
"Who let you touch me?" I yelled at him and slapped his hand. "You are not allowed to touch me unless I tell you to. Is that clear?"
He murmured a yes, and the fun started.
I cuffed his hands behind his back and his feet, and spanked him with the various implements, starting gently and slowly increasing the intensity. I slapped his face and made fun of his small cock and his Republicanism. I spit in his face and smeared my saliva all over his cheeks and lips. (All stuff he had expressed interest in previously). I was having a lot of fun; I started getting wet and thinking about ways to get myself off.
About 20 minutes into the session, I turned to one of my all time favorite activities: I put on a vampire glove on my right hand and started caressing him with it while holding him down with my left hand. The sharp metal spikes scratched his skin, but didn't break it. Not yet, I was taking it slow. But Blondie couldn't take it. He screamed in pain and begged me to stop. I slowed down and gave him a minute.
I was going to start again, but he curled into a fetal position and started crying. He didn't want to live this life anymore, he didn't want to be beaten and humiliated, he didn't want to spend all that money on all those toys, he only went along with this because he didn't want to disappoint his friends, and later me. He just wanted to be loved, and cared for, and hugged.
That was way too much instability all at once. I untied him, took his head in my lap, and held him for a few minutes. He eventually calmed down, and asked me to just cuddle with him for a bit. I did.
My couchsurfer host had already texted, saying he'd be home soon, and I can come over whenever. I told Blondie it was time for me to leave, but he begged me to stay a little longer, he didn't want to be alone. I agreed. I was starving so I had him order me some dinner while we hung out in bed and chatted.
He told me how he was poor, not very educated, depressed. He had been arrested a number of times for drunkenly getting in fights with random people. He just got fired from his most recent blue-collar job. I felt sorry for him. Before I left, I gave him $100 of the $400 his friend had paid me to offset the cost of the toys. And I left him all the toys he bought except the outfit.
He drove me to my couchsurfing host's place and, before dropping me off, asked for my number. He would call me when he came to NY, he said. I gave him my anonymous number, grabbed my suitcase from his trunk, and opened the gate to the couchsurfer's place.
It was time for Small Cock #4.
Stay tuned.
Pervertically Virtuous | February 10, 2014 at 4:47 pm | URL: http://wp.me/p3F90k-vY

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