Polarity

What is dominance, really? What is submission? Where is the line between the two, and where is the distinction drawn? Some see the roles as defined by actions. The dominant dominates, the submissive submits. This is fine, but in these actions, what is dominating, and what is submitting? Are there certain actions that are "dominant," and certain actions that are "submissive," without question? Surely the act of giving a command is dominant, and the act of following it is submissive, but what about the nature of the command? It is commonly thought that the administering of pain is the domain of the dominant and the receiving of pain is the domain of the submissive, but what if the command is to administer pain? It becomes a submissive act, because it is being carried out by the submissive to please the desires of the dominant.

Let us look at another example, perhaps the benchmark for determining the dominant partner and the submissive partner even in relationships that are not overtly based upon the principles of domination and submission, the giving of oral pleasure. A woman on her knees before a man, his hands in her hair, her lips wrapped around his thick, engorged manhood, pleasuring him with her lips and tongue, the most scandalous of sounds rising from her lips as she gently but insistently sucks his aching shaft to ecstasy. Surely the woman using her mouth for such a thing, perhaps one might even say the man using her mouth for such a thing, is a submissive act, isn't it? It can be.

However, let us look at it another way. The man entrusts to her a part of his body that, to most men, means almost as much as their very life, if not more. With her lips and tongue, she can bring him untold pleasure. Yet, there are her teeth. So close at hand, always just out of reach, yet, if she chose, with them, she could unleash upon him agony nearly beyond measure. She may wildly, wetly, frantically slurp him until he explodes, or ever so slowly tease him until his entire body aches for release. It is her choice, and hers alone. From choice comes power, and from power comes domination. Within the sweet embrace of her mouth, he is entirely hers, his fate is in her hands. Passion or pain, teasing or pleasing, it is all completely up to her.

Such thoughts were always present in the mind of Monique, the Mistress of a wonderful, devoted slave boy. He was tall, tan, muscular, handsome, and well-endowed; the dream of quite a few women, the sort of creature that inspired lust at her very glance. And he was hers. Indeed, Monique was gifted. She knew it, too, and was never one to take her wonderful pet for granted. She would lavish attention upon him, especially in the bedroom, where many a long, hot night was spent in intense lovemaking of every variety.

She loved to go down on him, to pleasure or torment him with her mouth, to reward or punish all with a flick of her lips or her teeth. He, for his part, like any red-blooded male, loved the attention of a woman's sweet mouth on his aching, needy shaft. Hot, fast, and dirty, or sensual and slow, she had as many styles of lovemaking with her mouth as she had moods, every word she could speak translated into a motion of her mouth for him. This time, her style of choice was slow but steady, a gentle slurp as her head bobbed up and down in a steady rhythm, each stroke prompting a soft gasp from her slave, an occasional flick of her tongue prompting a bit louder of a moan.

"Do you enjoy this, my love?" she asked, pulling him out of her hot, tight mouth, stroking him gently with a soft hand while she looked up at his adoring eyes with a fire in hers.

"Oh, yes Mistress..." he gasped back, almost lost in another world of delight from his Mistress's mouth, but he had to remember to be attentive to her, and answer her queries, even in this state.

"Mmm, love, you don't seem to be entirely sure," replied Monique, flicking her tongue over the swollen head, teasing, tormenting. "I would stop, if you weren't sure, after all."

"Oh, no Mistress, I am quite sure," he replied, breathing heavy.

"Are you?" Monique asked, a smirk forming on her lips, her hand sliding down the shaft slowly, each finger slowly pulling away. "I don't think you are. I think you want me to stop, but you are too good of a slave boy to say so. I will not put you through it any more, however."

"No, Mistress," he protested, "please, no. I do not deserve to feel Mistress's wonderful mouth on my cock, but if it pleases her to do so, then it definitely pleases me to receive it. Please Mistress, please don't stop..."

Monique raised an eyebrow. "What did you say, love?"

"I said, please Mistress, please don't stop..." he replied, becoming slightly nervous now, feeling as though he may have said something wrong.

"No, before that," Monique said, gently stroking him, reassuring yet teasing at the same time. "About where my mouth is, what I am doing..."

"I said that I loved to feel Mistress's mouth on my cock, if she..."

Monique interrupted. "On your cock?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Monique smiled devilishly. "Is it really yours, love? To whom do you belong, body and soul? Who possesses you?"

"You do, Mistress."

"Then, is it really yours?" she asked, tilting her head sideways, a playful fire in her eyes.

"No, Mistress..." he started, now definitely worried that he had something very wrong.

Monique grinned positively evilly, showing some teeth. "I have allowed my toy to remain attached to you for convenience, but perhaps that arrangement is not going to work. Do you think it can still work, love?" she said, teasing, yet there was a definite change in her manner, as she now wrapped her mouth around the hard shaft before her with her teeth still exposed, sinking them lightly, but with enough force that she felt her slave shudder and moan softly.

"Yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress, it can still work. I am sorry, Mistress. I meant to say that it is your cock, it is your toy. I am honored to feel the pleasure that you give me when your cock is in your mouth."

Monique pulled away slowly, letting her teeth glide painfully along the entire length before she finally pulled away completely, leaving her slave shuddering, aching, gasping. "Mmm, good boy. Shall I continue to suck my cock, now, love?"

"Please do, Mistress," he replied, his breathing returning to somewhat normal, but still obviously quite excited, given the situation.

"Please do what?" Monique asked, in a teasingly inquisitive tone.

"Please continue to suck your cock, Mistress."

"Should I suck it all the way until it explodes in my mouth? What do you think? Should I suck my hard, aching, thick cock until it explodes hot cream all over my face and mouth?"

"Oh, yes, Mistress. Please suck your cock until it erupts. I would be so honored to experience the pleasure it brings me when your cock fills your mouth and covers your face."

Monique grinned in her usual devilish way and descended once again on her needful slave boy, wrapping her hot, heavenly mouth around him, slurping gently, a thin, glistening veneer of her saliva coating the hard shaft as she started to work on it in earnest, each breathy moan of his quickening her pace, inspiring her to pleasure him all the more intensely, her lips and tongue becoming one with the body that she now claimed as her property, his pleasure also her pleasure, and her pleasure his, joined together.

"Oh, Mistress," he gasped, his hips wanting to shudder, wanting to thrust at her, but he knew that he should not, that his Mistress had to be left to work at her own pace. He restrained himself, as difficult as it was, instead focusing on her luscious lips, her perfect tongue. Her skill down there was amazing, every stroke, every motion of her mouth and lips seemed to be choreographed, calculated, perfectly designed to tease and please.

Her fingers rose to his thighs, her long, sharp fingernails digging in slightly, as the tongue-work never subsided, indeed, it increased in pace and intensity, a wild, lascivious passion that few saw in the normally quietly confident, reserved Monique. Pleasure and pain mixed yet again in the space between her lovely mouth and the razors on the ends of her fingertips, desire leading to pleasure and pleasure leading to the explosive release that was now rapidly building within him.

Monique could sense it as well, an immediacy to it, an aching desire that made her, in her devilish way, want to draw out every moment of his pleasure, to make him wait for the explosion as long as he could possibly stand to. She rapidly slowed her pace, her lips and tongue still moving in perfect rhythm, but the dance much slower now, an evil smirk on her lips, her intent very clear to both of them.

"Oh, Mistress... please, Mistress, let me... ah..." he gasped, barely able to contain his longing, his desire. He felt his entire body growing warm, the need rising not just from one place, now, but from everywhere, practically consuming him. Monique could feel it as well. Every slow, sensual slurp of her soft tongue brought him closer, even though it was an inching advance. Every tender caress of her hot mouth increased the heat, the fire that burned within him.

Even Monique's slow speed could not hold him back for too much longer, given that her mouth was still soft, sweet, and sensual, and his rising heat soon turned into a fiery explosion of ecstasy and passion, surging out of him in the form of hot cream that coated Monique's mouth and painted her face with streaks of white. "Oh, Mistress," he gasped loudly, lost in the throes of delight, unleashing the explosion all over his Mistress's beautiful face.

Monique smiled, watching him explode, watching him lost in his passion, and knowing that she caused it. She licked her lips, tasting him. She had caused that too. She had caused it all. It was her will, her control. Even from here, down on her knees, she was the Mistress, he was hers.