I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but there’s a thing K and I have been doing at the start of our weekly sessions. He comes in and ditches his coat and shoes at the door. I’m standing in my living room with maybe a t-shirt and a jock strap on. I’ve got one foot on the ground and another one perched up on an ottoman. K comes over and kneels between my legs. He rubs his face on my bulge for a second, then he pulls the jock away and he rubs my ballsack with the top of his head. Because I have one leg up, he can really get in there and under it. He lets my ball sack rest on his head for a few seconds. Then he takes my boner and slaps it on his head and face.

This ritual has a lot of meaning and purpose. It establishes and reinforces the nature of our work together. He is there to serve, to revel in, and worship my manliness. I am there to be served, pleasured and worshipped. Nothing we could do or say would better exemplify these facts than him resting my ballsack on his head and then slapping himself with my penis. In case there was any doubt or one of us forget, beginning with this ritual makes things unmistakably clear.

Is he being debased or humiliated? No. But also…kinda? I mean not like in a negative way. No one is feeling bad about themselves or anything. He’s enjoying himself quite a bit, actually. It’s not unusual for him to look kind of blissed out, or as he would put it “cock drunk.” And what about me? Am I being glorified and exalted? Fuck yeah, I am. It feels really good to me physically, too. Sometimes I think I could just thrust my dick against his forehead a few times and cum that way. But would never waste it like that. Not when I have a dedicated and skilled penis masseur kneeling before me.