Francesca and Roy, one of my favorite couples, used to have a problem. Francesca had—still has—a chronic yeast infection, and fucking aggravates it. (Some of her nutritionally knowledgeable friends have advised her to go off her diet of pizza and beer, but she craves these things, and spends most of her waking hours running her pizzeria, so their advice is impractical.) She needs an average of a week between times to recover, sometimes twice that. If she doesn’t wait as long as she needs to, the infection flares up to disabling proportions and recovery can take a month.
Her appetite for fucking far exceeds what the yeast will allow; in fact it closely matches Roy’s. They each want sex about every other day.
Sex is an issue to Roy. He sees sex as ultimate acceptance and its refusal as ultimate rejection. If Francesca were to say no to him, he would at best sulk, complain he couldn’t sleep, and treat her for days as estranged from him. At worst, he’d leave her immediately, unalterably convinced that it was her own wish that he never return. Even if he were only to sulk, Francesca would be unbearably distressed; besides, she believes that withholding sex in marriage is wrong.
It wouldn’t do for Francesca to deny Roy; therefore she can’t enslave him. A woman who enslaves her man has to let him know that sex is available only on her terms; she has to use his desire for her as an incentive to obedience. Not Francesca and not Roy.
Now, Roy isn’t a bad man. In fact he’s a very good man. He’s totally devoted to Francesca, works hard, and never even gives another woman a lustful glance. He doesn’t drink, smoke, gamble or use hard drugs, but he still doesn’t begrudge Francesca her beer. He respects her individuality and isn’t at all domineering. He’s very nearly a perfect husband.
The only thing about him that ever seemed to need changing was his unfortunate tendency to aggravate Francesca’s infection. Even in that regard, he was never really villainous. He understands Francesca’s problem and expressed a willingness to have his sexual needs met by oral or manual stimulation, and a further willingness to meet her needs by gently licking her clit without stirring up the yeast or adding to the irritation.
Unfortunately Roy is powerfully built and easily gets carried away in the heat of a sexual encounter. Francesca gets carried away too, and finds it difficult to hold her determination to resist him. Far too often, he fucked her when they’d agreed he mustn’t. Even when he set out to satisfy her orally, he often let his enthusiasm overcome his judgment; he likes to insert a finger (or two, or three) into her vagina to massage her g-spot, which stirs up the yeast almost as much as fucking does.
It was a sad state of affairs, especially for so close a couple. Francesca often endured terrible discomfort while Roy tormented himself with commensurate guilt.
Eventually Francesca discussed the problem with me. I prescribed female domination much as the physicians of my youth prescribed penicillin, which was what she’d expected, and I gave her quite an extensive series of lectures on the subject. She described the problem of Roy’s rejection button, then went on to explain her view of sexual morality. It struck me odd, probably in much the same way that my own sexual morality strikes others odd, but I understood it and acknowledged that female domination wasn’t for her. I suggested an alternate approach—one that didn’t involve ever quite saying no to Roy, but that still employed many of my favorite techniques and offered their inherent advantages. Francesca liked it, tried it, made it work, and fine-tuned it until it met their needs perfectly.
The first night, when Roy had started into some heavy sexual foreplay, she asked him to wait a moment, got out of bed, and retrieved the two lengths of nylon webbing I’d given her.
“Nylon webbing, like mountain climbers use.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Tie your wrists to the legs of the bed, so I can make love to you and you won’t do anything that will stir up my yeast infection.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be careful.”
“Maybe. Sometimes it works that way. But if I tie you up every time you want to make love, you won’t have to be careful and I’ll get well enough so I can let you come inside me.”
He looked doubtful.
“I’ll make sure we have a good time.”
“Okay, I’ll try anything once.”
She tied his wrists and went back to kissing and caressing him, then knelt astraddle his face so he could tongue her clit. She found it easy to control the level of stimulation so as to get exactly what she needed. When he’d satisfied her perfectly, she turned her attention to his cock. She played with it, took it in her mouth, swallowed his come, then untied him.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No! You’re great!”
Two nights later, Roy was ready for more. Francesca was pretty sure she’s be well enough to fuck after just one more night’s rest, so she tied Roy down and simply made him a present of the same treatment.
The next night, Francesca was indeed well enough, and horny besides, and made the first move. They fucked, with Roy on top, and Francesca was left as satiated as ever, but Roy’s lust seemed to lack its accustomed urgency. Though that probably contributed to Francesca’s physical satisfaction by allowing him to keep going longer than usual, it still disappointed her.
Three days later, Francesca and I discussed Roy’s lack of enthusiasm. Was he already so jaded by bondage that he couldn’t turn on fully without it? Maybe, but we decided it was more likely he’d been drained by the previous night’s play and needed two days to recover.
Undaunted, Francesca undertook to expand her repertoire of techniques. The fourth time she tied Roy down, she made him come using the two-handed technique that focuses on the frenum and corona, and she kept up the stimulation until he started to squirm and tried to pull away.
“Oh! You can’t stop till I let you.” She let go. “That will be fun to play with.”
“Wow!” Nothing more.
She untied him.
Two nights later, she was ready to fuck and she let him know. They went at it with Roy on top. He was enthusiastic as ever, not jaded at all.
The next time he was horny, she tied him again. She used the same two-handed technique and decided to see how long he could take it. After he came, he squirmed, tried to pull away, started to whimper, and finally realized that it wasn’t going to end until he admitted to his woman that she could be too much for him.
“Let me stop!”
She released his cock, bent down, and gave his nipple a quick going over with her tongue. His scream was just barely controlled.
“I didn’t know you are so sensitive. It makes you so much fun to play with.”
“You’re torturing me.”
“No I’m not. And you don’t look like someone who has been tortured.”
She untied him and they cuddled and slept.
Two days later he was horny, but apprehensive about letting her tie him down.
“I’m afraid you’re going to torture me again.”
“I never torture you.”
“It hurts when you keep playing with me after I’m done coming.”
“I don’t believe you. You just can’t stop till I let you and you worry when you have no control.”
“Could you just not do it like that?”
“I don’t know.” I like it, just like you like to keep massaging my g-spot so I can’t stop. Besides, I never turn you down. You can let me have some fun.”
“I’ll tell you what. I won’t make you keep coming tonight, but I won’t promise for next time.”
She tied him down, had him eat her, and went to work on his cock. She started with the two-handed technique, then changed over to brushing one hand lightly over the frenum. His cock rose repeatedly to press against her palm, and she exclaimed her delight at its response as she kept rubbing. Finally his breathing turned to panting and his cock rose with the stiffness of impending orgasm. She continued rubbing it until the first momentary relaxation of his muscles let it drop to the level of his pubic mound, then she quickly pulled her hand away.
“What I get to see!”
His cock stiffened and rose again, splashing his chest.
“Oh, nooooo!” His cock plopped down again, then bounced back up and spurted a second time.
Again. And again. And yet again. And a few more little twitches after that.
When it finally came to rest, she contemplated his shamefaced demeanor and decided there was nothing to do but confront the obvious.
“You must be so embarrassed!”
“Oh, wow! You know it!”
“I’ll bet it will turn you on all day tomorrow, when you remember that, and think I may do it again.”
She untied him. He needed to be held. It made her feel loved. It made her aware of the intensity of her love for him.
I had coached Francesca in detail on that technique and its probable effect. It’s one of my favorites, and men find it embarrassing in the extreme.
If a man comes with nothing holding his cock, it bounces obscenely with each contraction of his ejaculatory muscles; and if his hands are tied out of the way, there’s nothing he can do about it. As each contraction begins, he feels and sees his cock stiffen and rise an inch or two. As it rises it spurts. A thrill of pleasure runs through him, accompanied by a rush of embarrassment at knowing that the woman next to him is watching him with a distinctly feminine mix of curiosity and amusement. When his muscles relax, his cock falls against his lower belly with a wet slap. It all unfolds for him in slow motion because the upward and downward movements of his cock seem to add to the time taken by each contraction. They don’t really, and they might not even seem to if he weren’t so exquisitely aware of the female attention focused on him, but the attention is there and each contraction becomes a long, slow exploration of the depths of sexual embarrassment.
The technique has a useful tuning knob that few techniques do. The way Francesca did it that first time with Roy, the man’s orgasm decays quickly. The number of contractions is relatively small and the amount of fluid expelled by each contraction (beginning with the third) is less than it would be if stimulation were continued. The result is that the seminal vesicles aren’t drained to the usual degree, so it’s likely to take less time until the man gets horny again.
You have the option, though, of making the orgasm last longer, thereby emptying the seminal vesicles more completely. Just stimulate some area of the man’s body that’s erotically sensitive—a nipple, perhaps, or his scrotum—and he’ll keep coming until he’s drained. It will seem like an eternity to him. He won’t keep coming after he’s drained, as when stimulation of the frenum and corona is continued, but it will still be quite a show.
Francesca took every opportunity the next day to tease Roy in little ways, reminding him what she’d seen and how it embarrassed him. She could see that it turned him on. By the time the day’s work was done, he obviously needed her. Since she was well enough, and half crazed with lust herself, she invited him to fuck her. He accepted eagerly and did his part with great enthusiasm.
I’m sure a number of factors conspired to make Roy so much more enthusiastic after only a day’s recovery than he’d been the previous time: he hadn’t been drained as thoroughly; his recollection of the previous night’s embarrassment excited him; Francesca’s continued teasing added to that excitement; and he felt that a missionary fuck would restore, if only symbolically, the balance of power in their sexual relationship.
The next night, in a calmer mood, Roy told Francesca they needed to talk about the weird sex they were having. He focused on her propensity for torturing him, but it was obvious that that was only a small part of what was troubling him. She told him that what they were doing made it possible to keep her illness under control. Besides, she said, she’d taken a liking to it and didn’t want to stop.
He acknowledged what was really bothering him: He felt that this new style of lovemaking was perverted and he was afraid Francesca would lose respect for him if he continued to go along with it. She assured him that what they were doing was a perfectly reasonable adaptation to their circumstances, that she appreciated his help in dealing with the infection, that his allowing her to tie him up made her feel loved and trusted, and that it intensified her love for him.
“Remember the other night, when you were so embarrassed by the way I watched you come, and you needed me to hold you after I untied you? Holding you like that was such a loving feeling, like people who have been married so long usually don’t get.”
Roy didn’t try to dispute that, but took issue with the propriety of a style of lovemaking that involves such great embarrassment. She pointed out that it turned him on, and he made a face.
“Look, we have both found that being embarrassed turns you on. We would be stupid to waste it. We have been together a long time. We love each other. We know we can trust each other. Will our marriage be happier if I don’t make love to you a way I like, and you refuse to enjoy something that turns you on like when you were a kid?”
It was a convincing argument, but that’s not why Roy bought it. He bought it because it was reassuring. It promised him a safe and loving environment in which he would be accepted for the man he’d just discovered he was, and in which he could freely enjoy being that man.
Francesca chased the last bit of doubt from Roy’s mind by giving him a magic word that he could use if her tortures got to be too much for him—a word that would let her know that he needed her to stop immediately. He found that reassuring too. It made her tortures less worrisome, though I’m sure they haven’t become any easier to take. And he’s never actually used the word to stop her.
Eventually there came a day when Francesca was ready for a good fuck and hadn’t got around to telling Roy before he made his own need known to her. She decided to complicate his expectations by tying him down in her usual fashion and fucking him from above.
“This is neat!” she said as she mounted him for the first time ever. “You get to be inside me and I get to be on top.”
Their sex life settled into a routine, but certainly not so dull a routine as most couples live with. When Francesca is horny and well enough to fuck, and Roy hasn’t made the first move, she’ll do so herself and they’ll wind up fucking with Roy on top. He’s figured this out, and since it’s still his favorite way of making love, he tries not to make the first move unless he’s too horny to sleep. If Francesca is ready and Roy makes the first move, she’ll sometimes let him fuck her the same way, but other times she’ll tie him down and get on top.
If she’s not well enough to fuck, and doesn’t expect to be well enough the next night either, and he makes advances, she’ll tie him down, have him eat her if she’s horny, and then bring him off. Sometimes she plays with his cock or eats him just until he’s comfortably done coming. Sometimes she plays with his cock way too long. Sometimes she lets go of it when he reaches the point of no return and plays with his nipple. Sometimes she lets go and just watches. That’s what she always does when she expects to be ready the next night.
She’s determined to keep him from figuring out that part of the pattern. If he were to know that she’s going to be ready on a certain night, he would wait for her to make the first move, eliminating the possibility of his being tied down for their fuck. For that reason, she mixes up the things she does, and he never knows what to expect. If she uses her mouth, it doesn’t mean she’ll still be using it when he comes; if she uses two hands, it doesn’t mean she won’t let go when he reaches the point of no return. It excites him to consider the possibilities as she brings him closer and closer to the edge.
They’re a very happy couple. Their one big problem is solved, they both get all the sex they need and still aren’t blasé about it, and most impressive of all, they’re still in love even though they’ve been through years and years of marriage.