My Sloppy Curse

Occasionally, when my mind is wandering as I think about my relationship with my wife, I wonder if it’s all real. How can I be a masochist? What made me this way? What about my past wired me to get off on pain? How did I get that way? I mean, do I really get off on pain?

The answer to that is undeniably “yes.” And I’ll tell you why.

Men naturally get a bit of precome on their cocks when they get aroused, and I’ve mentioned that I get more than normal when my wife and I play with D/s. But I don’t know if I’ve ever conveyed just what it’s like. My cock literally starts leaking the minute we start playing — often, when we just talk about playing. There’s a slow, steady drip of clear fluid from the minute we start messing around with D/s, and if she starts hurting me, it literally becomes a non-stop torrent.

I can say, with some honesty and a little embarrassment, that when my wife and I start playing, I’m often wetter than she is. My whole crotch gets soaked with precome, my cock so slick it’s nearly frictionless. If she strikes me, it will literally throb and pour out another flood of precome. My balls become slick, and the bed will get an enormous wetspot. (If I’m wearing a gag or a bit, there’s often two wet spots to contend with — one from my drool, and a larger one from my cock.)

I first noticed my extreme arousal reaction to pain the first time my wife hit me in play. I was standing against the wall, my legs spread at shoulder length, my arms up in the air and crossed at the wrist. My wife raised up her hand and smacked me on the ass and I felt my cock jerk, my crotch grow wetter. Each blow brought another tiny pulse of precome out of me. When she began pegging me, it got worse — the pain of the violation and the prostate stimulus combining so that my cock was sloppily slick.

The most extreme incident happened a couple of months ago. My wife had a leather cord that she had wrapped around my balls and cock, and she would twist and tighten it, causing me a large amount of pain. She placed a hand on my cock and just…tightened the cord with the other hand. My cock throbbed and literally, precome splashed out of my cock in such a volume that my wife had to ask me if I’d orgasmed.

“No, mistress,” I groaned, embarrassed. “I…it’s just how it works for me.” I was shy, embarrassed — she knew I got wet, it was impossible to hide, but she’d never realized how much CBT pushed it to extremes.

“That is so…” she started to say, and I tensed up for her disgust. “That is so fucking cool.” She was ecstatic that she had this unnatural effect on me. She had me get on my hands and knees with my legs spread and started tapping my balls with her riding crop in increasing intensity until with each aching blow my cock dripped stringers of precome all over the bed. She made me clean off the leather tongue of the crop with my mouth, telling me how awful I was for dirtying up the toys, and then, to punish me, got out the flogger.

She flogged my balls. Gently at first, and then harder, with a great amount of skill, she whipped them with underhanded shots. She did just enough to make them sting from the initial contact with the tips of the flogger and then ache a moment later when my testicles started reacting to the blow. She timed it perfectly, each blow letting me ache for a moment before the next shot hit. And with every shot, I felt my cock pour out precome. The tips of the flogger actually started getting darker.

I’m sometimes ashamed and grossed out by how wet I get when my wife hurts me. I don’t know if it’s normal. But God, only masochistic activity does this to me. I am never so turned on as when she’s beating me. It’s incredible. And as long as she doesn’t mind — as long as she still loves me in spite of the sloppy curse — I can accept it for what it is: proof that masochism is something wired into me, fundamentally, and I may never know where it came from, but I can never doubt that it’s pure and true.