Useful Things

I was thinking about sissification and that whole fetish. Is it right to call a sissy's dick his 'boy clit'? I think not. It seems like doing that is really insulting, and to the wrong person. A clit is not just a miniature penis. In fact, that misconception might be why men have had trouble satisfying women for so long. Either way, it seems to be at best a mistake and at worst an active degrading of womankind generally. I mean, if a woman WANTS to be degraded, that's absolutely her right. But calling a penis a boyclit is just derogatory to women in general. And I know a lot of women who would, and should, have issue with that.

I bring this up not because of the request, but because it helped me in my thinking through fulfilling the request. It's fun to get inside the mind of the domme sometimes. Or, I guess I should say, to let my inner domme out to play a bit.

Useful Thing

            Hey. Pay attention.

  

          I know your mind was wandering. Probably thinking about some big hard cock shoving its way down your throat, weren’t you? Imagining a real man taking your throat and shoving his normal sized shaft down your sissy throat, letting you taste what it means to be a real man, neither one of you caring whether or not you can even get a breath in edgewise. That’s what you were thinking about, isn’t it? Oh, don’t deny it.

            You can’t keep secrets from me. Don’t even try.

            I’d tell you to play with your little dick; that might get you to pay more attention when I talk to you. A bit of pleasure helps to focus the mind. Of course, if you were going to do that, we’d have to let you out, wouldn’t we? And then you’d have to use your two fingers to carefully pull that little nub of yours. I don’t know why you insist on calling that a penis. It just doesn’t seem to fit, does it? Penis is such a long word. And cock is such a powerful one. Those are words you think about all the time, words you obsess over. You roll them around on your tongue, enjoying the words almost as much as you’d enjoy the real thing. But when I say cock, you don’t think of that little worm between your legs, do you? Of course not. No one in their right mind would confuse that with a dick. Not a real one.

            What should we call it? Not clit. No, a clit is a wonderful thing, an amazing benefit that women have. And you don’t think that thing is a benefit, do you? It’s not a good thing. A clit is not just a tiny, teeny-weeny penis, is it? No. A clit is something you may wish you had, but you don’t. You’re stuck with just your nub, that cruel trick of nature.

            Does it bother you that even mother nature laughs at the size of that little pimple of flesh between your legs?

            Maybe it’s better that I keep it locked up. If it was free, if you could touch it whenever you wanted to, you’d probably make a big old mess all over my floor. You might even get some on my boot. And I know you’d happily lick it all up, and you’d enjoy the taste of your own cum as much as you crave the taste of a real man’s, but I don’t think you’ve earned that kind of release. And I don’t want that disgusting slime to get on my boots. Oh, I’m grossed out just thinking about it. No, it’s better that you stay locked up, I think.

            What if you came without my permission? The hell that I would have to unleash on you, the pain and the torture; oh, I’m tired just thinking about it. I’d have to make damned sure you learned your lesson. Maybe I’d have to hang weights from your nipples. Maybe I’d just put a pair of clamps on them and tighten them until you bit your lip in pain. Then I’d tighten them a bit more. You’d be laying there in such agony that it probably wouldn’t even occur to you to ask why I was cuffing your hands above your head. It probably wouldn’t mean anything to you when I kicked your legs apart, and you might not even notice when I rest the sole of my boot against your crotch. You’d feel the tiny little nothing between your legs slip in between the treads of my boot, and you’d feel the pressure on your balls, but it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the pain in your nipples.

            Of course, then I’d just lean in, pressing harder and harder. I’d crush your pathetic testicles under my boot, grinding what’s left of your manhood into a pulp under my heel. I’d press down until your eyes started to bulge out of your skull, until you had completely forgotten about the pain in your nipples. I’d crush until your face was white with pain, grinding my foot back and forth until you started to cry. Then I’d lift my foot away and laugh at you as you tried to curl up into a ball. I’d laugh, and then I’d tighten the clamps on your nipples. They would be so tight you’d start thinking about how much easier it would have been to just pierce them. One quick stab with a needle, and then it would have been all over. But the clamps won’t pierce you. They might feel that way, but they won’t.

            When I feel like maybe you’ve had enough, I’ll take the clamps off, then flick at your nipples a bit as the blood started rushing back in. It would probably make me laugh the way you squirm at that pain.

            And then, of course, I’d kick you in the balls, as hard as I could. I don’t think I could burst them, but I suppose we’d find out, wouldn’t we? I’d kick you, and kick you, and kick you. Long after you’d started begging me to stop, long after you started crying. By the time I stopped, I’d be out of breath, you’d be covered in tears, sweat, and the snot dripping from your nose as you sobbed like a little bitch. And then, maybe, you’d learn to never cum without my permission.

            No, that’s too tiring. I don’t want to bother with all that. I think it’s best I leave you all locked up. Don’t you agree? This way, I may end up kneeing you in the crotch so hard that you’ll taste your balls in the back of your throat, but I won’t have to keep doing it until you pass out. Yeah, much better this way.

            On the other hand, maybe it would be good to keep hurting you down there. I could keep kicking, keep stomping, keep grinding away down there until you were begging me to just cut it off, to let you look like a woman even if you hadn’t been lucky enough to have a clit. I could make you a sexless creature. That’s what you should be anyway, don’t you think?

            I like you better without gender. You aren’t a woman, despite the way you dress, the way you act, and the way you look. You’re definitely not a man. No, I think it’s better to look at you for what you are: a thing. Not a woman, not a man, not even a person. Just a thing.

            That way, we won’t have to worry about you being gay, will we? When you suck cock, you won’t be gay; things don’t have sexualities. A thing only lives to serve, and that’s how you should be, isn’t it? You should be a thing.

            It’s not all bad being a thing. Things have lots of uses. A thing can hold a candle and provide light while I spend time with real people. Would you like that? Maybe we could put a candle deep in your ass, let you hold it there as it burns, as the wax drips down onto your skin. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Or maybe we’ll just drip a nice pool of wax on your back and rest the candle in that, letting the pool get bigger and bigger as the flame burns down, letting it cover your entire back. You could make a good table. Then you’d have some value, at least.

            There are other uses, I’m sure. You could be an ashtray. Most people’s mouths are used for talking or for biting. I think it’s best that you not speak. But I can still use your mouth as an ashtray, right? Flick some ash there onto your tongue, let you swallow it and thank your lucky stars you’ve found someone who knows how to treat you; how to mistreat you.

            And, of course, a thing is useful for sex. A thing is a sex toy. It’s an ass for my strap on to fuck. A mouth for my boyfriend’s cock. A tongue to show just how great my clit is. You could lick me to orgasm after orgasm. Maybe we’ll put the candle on your back and let you lick me until the light went out.

            Actually, yes, let’s do that. Come here, boy. Come and get on all fours. I’m going to put a candle on your back. You hold it there and don’t move, okay? I don’t want you to get burned. You’re no use to me if you get burned. I want you to just stay there, wait until I command you.

            I’m going to let the wax build up a bit, so the candle will stay firm. Don’t flinch; just take the pain. It shouldn’t be that much. And it’ll be over soon.

            Too soon, I think. Hm. How do I handle this?

            Oh, I know. I’ll just take this pepper spray here and use it down between your legs. It won’t hurt at first; it’ll just feel like a weird spray. But then it will tingle. You feel it?

            Good. Now get your tongue over here. Worship my clit, and keep thinking about how unfortunate you are to not have been born with one. Show me you understand how to please a woman with your tongue, since it’s the only way you’ll ever manage.

            Get to licking, slave. Get licking, and try not to focus on the tingle. Try not to focus on the way it starts to first get cool, then warm. Try not to pay attention to the itch, to the burn. Try not to focus on how it keeps getting worse and worse and worse. Don’t move around too much; you might knock over the candle.

            Just lick. Yes, that’s it. Lick.

            And suffer.