He made me #1, his photo is safe with me. I could elaborate but I’d prefer to leave it at that.
Here is just a sample of what I love.
I’m off on vacation for the rest of the year. Keep me satisfied while I’m gone.
This year it could be you.
I’ll be making an appearance at the iWantClips AEE booth Sat from 2-4. Catch me if you can.
The most accurate depiction of ball busting as pertaining to my story is an excerpt from Urban Dictionary;
…increasingly popular phenomenon called “ball-busting”; an activity where women kick men in the testicles for the pleasure of either one or both of the parties involved. In the consenting act of ball-busting the above mentioned endorphin release in the male is sometimes made greater by the psychological effect viz; – that “otherwise caring women have knowingly caused pain to my sex organs for their own pleasure, despite knowing that it could damage me for life”, – ergo the act is a sexual one.
! Disclaimer ! If you own a pair and have a weak stomach, I would suggest you tune out now.
…not my first time simply kicking a dude in the nuts. I discovered this weak spot in boys at a young age and I’m convinced it’s the end all be all as to why if there was a God, she would have to be a woman.
My first time ball busting was back in 2010 during a trade shoot with Slave Andy. If you are curious as to how it went, you can purchase my ball busting clips with him and others here. My first time was nonsexual, business as usual. It only took a very small bit of convincing that I could kick as hard as I wanted and it wouldn’t effect the shoot. Andy was a pro… and that’s really not something to brag about.
Anyway, the reason for my post is to tell my story of a true submissive. I was ball busting for HER pleasure.
He begged me. We were laying on my bed in my Brooklyn apartment debating on where to have dinner and I was sure I had heard him wrong.
“Come again?”
“Please, kick me in the nuts. I’ve seen the look of pure pleasure and excitement on your face as you’ve kicked other subs in their nuts and I want to be the one to bring you that much joy.”
He was a longterm online financial sub of mine who had paid me thousands upon thousands over the years and he just so happened to be in NYC on business so I decided I’d meet up with him. I’d give him a chance. And as fate would have it, we hit it off and developed a deeper relationship over the course of his stay. Spending the evening in my bedroom or his, debating on where to go to dinner had become a common occurrence.
For the record, he was not into pain at all. Pain of any sort did not turn him on. He did not want me to just simply kick him in the nuts to destroy him. He wanted the definition I posted above, he wanted an otherwise caring woman to knowingly cause him pain for her own pleasure. He was a pleaser. He only wanted to see me happy. A pure, selfless pleaser.
I warned him that I’d hurt him. I hesitated. I drew my leg back and I watched him flinch. I hesitated again. My hesitation only made his anticipation worse. I knew what I had to do. I pulled back and nailed him square in the nuts. He went down hard. I laughed. I laughed and I couldn’t hold it back so I didn’t even attempt to hide it. And once the giggling subsided, I bent down and asked if he was okay.
It took a minute but he was. And he got up and he looked me straight in the eyes and asked me to do it again. “You looked so amazing, I have to see it again.”
And I did. And he went down again. And I laughed because it felt good. Not because I wanted to hurt him but because kicking a man in the balls just feels so fucking powerful and amazing and so right. And of course, he asked for it.
Recently I read an article in Time Magazine titled, “How Trolls Are Ruining The Internet” and it inspired me to share my story.
*GASP*
Shocked?
I am.
Actually I’m not. I’ve been targeted many times before but this time it really got me questioning myself. So I told my story to my vanilla friends and I’ve decided to share with you, too.
(Please note the above sarcasm.)
It pretty much went along the lines of, “you’re fat.”
My response, “I’m rich.”
“But you’re fat.”
“But I’m rich… …”
Here is the original image:
Filmed this on the same day for reference:
Ironically the fat shamed clip/image in question is titled, “Flaunting My Cash.” (Also ironic, all of my income comes from insulting men online.)
Clearly, I am not fat. And regardless of what I or anyone else looks like, I make like A LOT of money being ME.
Maybe my logic is flawed here. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
So remember kids, it’s the well thought out & sensical insults thrown around on the internet that make the cyber world such a unique and magical place. Any and all valuable opinions can be heard with the added thrill and bonus of remaining anonymous.
And on that note, why not tell me what YOU think?
My phone rings. It’s Niteflirt.
“Oh, fuck me.” I think.
I was taking my 45 minute ME time before my shower and seriously debating on ignoring the call. -Alas, I pick up.
“Hello. This is Niteflirt. A customer is on the line. This customer is calling your listing in Women Fetish Femdom, to your member name Princess Meggerz. The rate for this call will be $6.99 per minute. To accept this call…”
Begrudgingly, I hit one.
He’s forign with a thick accent and the connection’s shotty. I tell him to call back hoping he gives up and takes his ‘white American goddess’ fantasy elsewhere. They’re usually only good for a few bucks anyways. Apparently wages are shit in third world middle eastern countries, but what do I know?
“I had a dream about you. You and I were married and we had a child.”
W.T.F.
Uhhh. No.
“What makes you think I’d even consider marrying you?” I ask.
“why not..?”
We had a boy. His name was “Zayrod” – he meant Jared. He wants me to know more about him. He is paying $6.99 to reintroduce himself.
LOL
He wants to know why I am laughing at him.
LOL
“Send me a tribute and you can be my boyfriend…” LOL
“Yes Goddess.”
“Send me another tribute and I will call you ‘baby.'”
“Yes Goddess.”
Right around this point our previous call starts to come back to me and I know he’s good for even more cash.
He decides to divulge his “creepy” fantasy to me. His words, not mine. I’m at that point where no fantasy creeps me out anymore, clearly.
He asks me to fart in his face (cuz I’ve never gotten that one before). Because it’s romantic. It’s romantic when you send me tributes, baby.
We’re about a good 30 minutes into the call at this point and my boyfriend’s beginning to grow on me.
He then asks me for a different platform to send tribute on. “I fucking hate these sites taking your money!” he exclaims. My kind of boyfriend, let me tell you.
Eventually-
One thousand dollars later, “This call lasted 62 minutes. $289.95 has been credited to your account bringing you back to the advisor menu…” I can also hum the holding music if need be.
Anyway, moral of my story? Answer that phone! Money aside, I made myself a boyfriend. 😉
(Incase you’ve been living under a rock, start at the bottom and read to the top.)
*** Feel free to RT and reply to my story on twitter. The more the merrier.