Beautiful Disaster

It’s funny to watch him snap to following my order, then shake his head just before he turns his back on me to look out into the night between where his hands rest. I get up slowly then and walk up to his back, in passing shutting the light off. Stopping behind him so that I’m close but not touching him I remain standing in silence, letting my eyes get accustomed to the darkness. A light shiver runs through him but he keeps still otherwise, not a muscle in his broad back twitching.

It takes surprising restraint from me not to let my hands run over the expanse of naked flesh and muscle. Not in a loving gesture, but simply to physically admire and explore, a testament of the fact that he’s wrong if he really thinks that seeing him naked doesn’t have an effect on me.

When I finally do touch him it is a very deliberate gesture, and one without gentleness. I manage not to accidentally stroke his abdomen as I reach around him and wrap my left hand around his cock, immediately squeezing a little to make the gesture appear even more deliberate. He’s completely hard now, and I feel his hips buck forward instinctively before he stops himself, remembering my command.

I pump his c**k once, the fact that my palm is as dry as his c**k making the action not entirely comfortable for him, before I stop and squeeze again, a little harder this time.

"Any doubts now that I’m in control of you?"

He shakes his head without hesitating, and over the reflection I see him open his mouth in an automatic impulse to respond verbally. But there he stops, a hint of a lopsided grin coming to his face as he utters a simple,

"No."

I’m tempted to swat his ass for the deliberate insult, but if I can only establish my dominance with force and threats I’m not worthy of it in the first case. Instead of reprimanding him, I continue with my explanation.

"Both the top and bottom have expectations. The top’s are easy to grasp –

all he’s asking for is to be obeyed. The bottom, on the other hand, comes with a whole slew. He expects that his needs are met, the obvious as the hidden ones alike; he expects that the top knows just what to ask of him, how far he’s willing to go, he wants to be entertained, challenged, rewarded, and all of that without feeling like he was actually demanding anything in the first place. A true prissy princess, if you ask me."

I stress my words with another squeeze of my hand, only letting up when I hear him utter a soft grunt of discomfort. He’s still just as hard as before, so I don’t change my tactic.

"In turn, things are reversed when it comes to responsibility. The bottom only has one responsibility, and that is to communicate, both verbally and using more primitive means to convey how he’s feeling and reacting to something. The top has to ensure the mental and physical safety of them both, has to gauge the bottom’s reaction right so he only demands something that is within the limits of the bottom; he has to put the bottom’s needs above his own, even if that means not getting any real physical satisfaction out of the situation, although that very rarely happens. He’s expected to be in control, and also seem in control the whole time, and he should be able to pull all that off without appearing like he’s indulging the bottom. He can’t fail and he can’t make mistakes because they affect them both and inadvertently damage and abuse the bottom’s trust. He has to know what can go wrong to avoid it, and he has to be flexible enough not to let the bottom feel like he has failed when accidents happen or the bottom needs to use the safeword. You see, it only takes a little willingness to be a bottom, but a lot of work to be a top."

I let go of his c**k then, but before he can get the wrong idea I hold my hand up to his chin.

"Spit."

He hesitates, and again it’s a deliberate thing like with not using any kind of appellation.

"Trust me, you don’t want me to do this with a dry hand," I offer, and I have to fight a grin at how fast he manages to hawk up some saliva. Adding some of my own I grab his c**k again and begin stroking him, keeping my hold firm and my motions slow.

"You see, the bottom is always the selfish, demanding one, even if they act all docile and believe that lie themselves. Everything he does is just for his own good."

He at least has the grace to offer a somewhat chagrin smile, which I pointedly ignore. Bringing my other hand into the game now, too, I squeeze his ass cheek briefly before I rub my fingers down his crack. I stroke his anus a little, but even before he can tense in anticipation or apprehension I move on, instead taking his balls into my hand from behind. It doesn’t take much pressure to put a noticeable strain on them, one he rewards with a groan, and I let go again to instead stroke his perineum, the region between his anus and sac. He definitely enjoys that, and it seems to get harder for him not to move in either direction of my ministrations.

"One thing you should be aware of, as a bottom, whatever you do has consequences. Every reaction – a moan, a flinch, voluntary or not sends a message, whether you want or not. Deliberate disobedience is usually the easiest to react to, as it’s the most obvious you can do. It’s also the one most easily dealt with by the top."

He chuckles, the sound conveying just enough guilt not to seem too insulting.

"What, are you going to punish me now for not calling you ‘Sir’ or something?"

"I should, shouldn’t I?" I respond, then withdraw both of my hands at the same time, remaining motionless behind him, just out of reach. At first he keeps standing as he is, but soon he starts to fidget, until he turns his head in an attempt to look at me.

"Shouldn’t you spank me or something then?"

"Why do you think I should do that?"

"Punishment, as you just said?" he ventures a guess. Indulging his ignorance I swat his ass briefly, hard enough to sting, but not enough to hurt. He lets out a soft moan, the sound quickly cutting off when I speak again. "Now tell me how that was punishment when you so obviously enjoy it."

He’s silent for a while, longer than I expect him to, and when he answers he’s sounding rather sober.

"It’s stopping and ignoring me, right? Letting me stand here, feeling stupid with my c**k still as hard as if you were stroking me without even doing anything, and my own stupidity the only thing keeping me from it. Point taken."

I reward his uncanny insight with a laugh right next to his ear, letting my breath tickle the side of his neck. He jumps, then grows still again, now waiting with a little more patience for me to go on.

When I finally wrap my fingers around his c**k again he eagerly thrusts into my hand, and I quicken my pace to get him more excited fast.

"You see, everything involving BDSM is not a guessing game. Not all the rules and commands are always issued verbally, but they should be obvious to everyone involved. Once established, you stick to them, on both sides. As a top, when your bottom starts to act up you bring them back in line. As a bottom, you either obey or you take whatever your misstep, deliberate or not, brings you. There is no room for wanting more or less without letting the other know, the same as leniency doesn’t really exist.

Both players know their place, and they need to show and prove that to the other.

"So when we play for real and you act like a brat, I will see that as a provocation. Any bottom will always try to see how far they can go and still get away with it, it’s part of human nature, and it’s a top’s responsibility to show his boundaries clearly and also enforce them. I’m blessed with a sub who thinks it’s her responsibility and prerogative to shove me openly or try to manipulate me secretly all the time, which only works because I think she gets off on being put in her place just as much as I do doing that. Don’t take any pointers from her there, and don’t ever let her get away with it if she tries it on you."