This post discusses forced orgasm, which is sometimes a part of consensual non-consent play. I assure you I’d only ever want to do this to a guy who was 100% up for playing this role, but if forced orgasm is not your thing, look away now.
I want to watch a man being milked of his spunk. While he bites his lip and holds back, and screws his eyes tight shut to concentrate on something – anything – else. A guy who is being forced to come, at the same time as he’s been ordered to try not to.
This fantasy probably comes from a few places, but there are two scenes that stick out in my mind when I think of forced orgasm. The first, a short clip someone sent me a long time ago (before I knew that clip sites were bad and you should pay for your porn) of a guy wrapped almost entirely in cling film. He was blindfolded, and his hands were wrapped tight to his sides by layers and layers of film. His body was packed tightly against a rigid board, and he was on his knees. The only thing sticking out of the layers of translucent plastic was his twitching, aching cock.
A woman knelt in front of him with her hands covered in lube, rubbing away at his shining erection. It was at peak stiffness – you know what that looks like, right? When the skin on the head of his dick looks so tight it is almost painful to see, and when the lubed hand sliding up and down meets no resistance or give whatsoever: it’s like his cock is made of granite.
He moaned through the gag while she wanked him off. Faster, slicker, harder. She was working it with vigorous skill – neat, swift strokes with a slight twist as she slid down from tip to base. As she sped up, his moans got louder and she whispered things to him that weren’t audible on the video. I imagined she was telling him: “don’t you dare come yet.”
He came. In thick, straight jets arcing quickly out of his cock. Five or six of them. And here’s the thing: she didn’t miss a beat. She kept going. Firm, twisting, slick strokes up and down his dick, even perhaps speeding up a little as he reached the end of orgasm. His whole body started to tremble and he cried out in what sounded like pain.
“Want me to stop?”
“Y… no. No.”
So she kept on. Firm, vigorous, quick. And his cock that had been like granite before stayed as hard as it ever was – perhaps redder and slicker, but still just as hard.
And within one more minute of her skilful stroking, he let out a moan that was pitched at exactly the midpoint between agony and ecstasy.
And then he squirted again.
Forced orgasms are mesmerising. And I’m not even naturally dominant. The idea of being the one working the dick, while a guy simpers and shudders and begs me “wait aah oh no please don’t stop” sounds like a difficult scene to play. I’d have to get out of my natural submissive headspace and head to a dominant place I’ve not been to much before. Trying on a new character for size, and playing to him like I’m performing. I love the idea of forced orgasm and involuntary milking, but I’m not sure I love the idea of having to pretend to be someone I’m not.
But there’s a solution to this.
Another video – again, sent to me by a friend a long, long time ago – showed me a machine that would do the milking for me.
In it, a man was led to what looked like a wooden wall with a glory hole cut in the middle, and bolts at ankle, waist and wrist height. He was secured tightly to the wall with his stiff cock sticking through the hole. He couldn’t see what was on the other side, but as with the first guy his cock was tight and hard like rock, with a drop of precome shining slickly at the tip.
I can’t remember anything about the person who set this up – the one who led him to the wall and chained him there, and then disappeared around the other side. They could have been anyone. I don’t remember their height, looks, gender or even whether they were fully-clothed or naked. My eyes were locked on this chained, eager-looking man.
The camera panned out and you saw that on the other side of the wall there was a machine. It was a huge, unwieldy thing: a Fleshlight strapped to a fucking machine that was the size of an armchair. The dominant person – whoever they might have been – wheeled the machine forward, lubed up the delightfully rock-solid cock that was poking through the wall, and then turned the machine on.
Alternating between shots of the machine sucking and stroking away at his dick, and the facial expressions of the guy getting his dick stroked, the video documented a journey from his initial relief – the satisfaction of feeling his desperate cock finally entering something warm and soft and pleasurable – through the moaning build up to his climax, and then the inevitable howls as it kept going after he came.
And then? Then back to pleasure again. That’s the forced orgasm moment I’m after – that point when the scales tip and for a tiny second he wants to say ‘no’, then immediately realises it’s much more of a ‘yes’.
More quickly than I’d ever have thought possible, like the first guy, he bit his lip and pushed through to a second orgasm, shuddering violently and rattling the wall restraints as he let out the final dribble of spunk that had been inside him all along.
That’s the forced orgasm fantasy I’m obsessed with at the moment. It’s not dominance, exactly, because I don’t see myself in this scene. I’m the architect – the one who creates and sets up the machine and presses ‘on’, then sits back in an armchair and watches as my willing, blindfolded, granite-hard man gets milked of all the spunk he knew was there inside him… and then a little bit extra that he didn’t even know he had in him.
I’ll let you know how it goes. Subscribe for updates.