I had a massage from a man today, which I normally hate. He was a short, stocky, strong looking, blonde American.
We talked a little, he made me laugh, his hands were wonderful, he breathed heavily and made small grunting noises as he worked on my body.
And during the massage, with the pain, with the strong hands, with the rubbing, with the touching, with the oil and with him being quietly funny and interesting, I got turned on, inexplicably, not hugely hugely, but enough to make it very pleasant indeed.
At one point, he pressed a very hard part of his body against me (a very muscular thigh I assume, his cock I thought) and then rocked me back and forth so that I rubbed rhythmically against that body part. Delicious.
And later, he hurt me, in the way that good masseuses do, and it made me moan and he smiled and said, “It feels good when I stop doesn’t it?” Fucking delicious.
At the end, I was face up, he stood at my head, he slid his hands under my shoulders and down along my back. He pressed his fingers strongly towards the ceiling, forcing my breasts upwards and he held me there. His mouth close to my ear, he was breathing heavily and grunting slightly as he moved his fingers every so often, pressing into my muscles in different locations. I was breathing deeply into the pain. All I could hear in the room was the heavy breathing and the gentle grunts, his hands holding me in place.
What has this to do with domination? Paying a man to service my body…
“Here boy, you need the money? Then you had better start there, at my feet…”
There’s something about that… something…