|Hello dear readers, today I’m talking to someone who surely many ask him the question he has in his nickname. CanWeMaybe, you’re a Dom that, besides having sexy kinky adventures, also likes to write them down and share them. How did you start with that? And what was your motivation?
Canwemaybe: Thanks for having me. Why did I start writing about my adventures? That’s kind of a two-part answer for me.
One, I wanted my Tumblr to contextualize me in a different light compared to my presence on XTUBE and my profile on Recon. I know some subs and doms prefer to engage with those who are more enigmatic or
mysterious, but you can’t be enigmatic in a scene… and if you can be, you’re talented in ways I can’t personally fathom. For me, my sessions are not like those of Kink Studios—45 minutes of a highly edited content and a scripted fantasy in a constructed adult playland. I invite you into my Brownstone. You pass my living room and dining room in which I host dinner guests.
My engagement with you is done in my bedroom, a very personal space of mine. In the process of writing about some of my encounters, I’ve also learned I put quite a few people at ease before engaging with me because they see, for a lack of a better word, my humanity. To submit to another human being, sometimes in forcefully and physically restrictive ways requires a lot of trust, and if every aspect of their online persona is a stoic strict sadist, people will have reservations.
Two, I wanted to practice writing more. I’ve been working on a personal project for over a year now to document my parent’s journey from the fall of Saigon. My father, a Naval lieutenant, escaped to international waters with what was left of his crew the day Saigon capitulated to Hanoi in 1975. My mother was stuck in the capital, only a few blocks away from the American embassy, hiding in her home with her parents & siblings as the last U.S. helicopter left the embassy and was not able to escape until 1980. Their experiences and journey to reunite after five years I thought shouldn’t be held within the confines of their memories or within the stacks of letters I discovered hidden away in a drawer one Christmas. I thought that by practicing writing, like any skill, I could improve my wordsmithing abilities.
That’s an admirable project. I hope you’ll create something that you’re content with and we may can read one day. And you indeed seem to handle your playing and writing very personal and honest, as we can see in some posts.
|SLAVEBOY6 / PART 1
Note: I’m back. I took a break from writing (not from kink). Here’s what you missed out on—I moved. I’m now in a brownstone with 3 of my best gay friends, yes, they get involved in sessions sometimes. I’m more depraved than I ever was before, and my gear went from two underbed units to four underbed units and the back of my closet doors á la American Horror Story: Asylum.
Part of the fun this time was the time leading up to session rather than just the session itself.
The roommates and I were throwing a Halloween party and some friends in the neighborhood came. One of them tells me I have to meet this guy he brought, he’s, and I quote “hot, super kinky, and you two should play together.” I make a mental note but I’m a bit preoccupied, there are probably 70+ people in my home tracking 20 gallons worth of Jungle Juice up and down all our stairs and bedrooms and I’m not really in the mindset to flirt with anyone.
At one point in the night, I’m cutting across the dance floor when the same friend stops me and introduces me to Boundkailo… who tells me we’ve chatted before on Recon. My internal reaction the whole time is “wow, he’s a striking Clark Kent” (he came dressed at Clark Kent), and “oh fuck, what did we talk about, did I commit some gaffe?” I think my external reaction was a bit more composed.
Fast forward the next day and we start chatting on Recon again (I was the dick that never responded to his last message. I chalk it up to Recon’s poor notification system). He and I make a plan for him to come back to NYC to spend a weekend in bondage.
The week before he arrives he locks himself in chastity. In the days leading up, while I could tell he was clearly feeling the frustration and horniness from his texts… I was also beginning to feel uncomfortably horny myself. I had no self-imposed chastity. I came over a dozen times that week and yet still the thought of this gimp strapped down, bound, and used for a long session had me so primally ravenous that the evening before he was set to arrive I woke up at 3am and could not fall back asleep.
The next day, he arrives around 930pm. He reveals all the gear he brought with him… aside from the sized gear and personal toys, he also brings his own lube, duct tape, Saran Wrap, etc. He’s simultaneously one of the most cordial, depraved, and prepared individuals. I’m generally the person that supplies 99% of the stuff for the scene.
For round one, I tell him to strip down and underneath all the layers of clothing, he reveals a svelte physique and a cock bulging through a clear Holy Trainer. I slip a hood over his head and escort him to the bed when I begin to attach the leather cuffs to his wrist, thighs, and ankles. I lay him on his back, insert a breather gag which in turns makes his breathing heavy and more audible. I start playing with his locked up cage, caressing his nipples… quite frankly I took the cage off quickly because I just wanted to play with his cock which is why I have a love/hate relationship with chastity. I want you horned up before the session but once you’re in my control, I want access to everything, every orifice, erogenous zone, etc.
He’s contorted into a few different positions throughout the evening with the addition various toys and gear. I have him at one point spread eagle, at another point his hands are bound to his legs in such a way that he has to keep his legs pulled back. I stretch a black swim camp over his face and watch him breathe, and every time he takes a breath, the silicone cap pulls in laying against his handsome features… I twist, pinch and pull at his nipples… later running ice over them. I also end up pulling out steel rods for some light Friday night sounding.
I decide to eventually let him cum. It’s been a couple hours and I have a goal of knocking out 4+ orgasms in this session. I want to see what his 7 day load looks like. He begins to whimper… muttering “close… close… really close” and I continue stroking the gun oil on his dick when he lets out a gasp and moan and unleashes a geyser of cum—I think it was the largest volume I’ve seen in person. Every stroke pushed out more and more. I wish I had a multi-angle camera rig to capture it all. I kept on stroking his cock even after milking him dry to feel him writhe and hear him moan some more.
I give him a 15 minute break, but if I’m being honest, it was for me too. For round two, I put him in a sleep sack I had just bought earlier that week. I slip a gas mask on his face, fill it with poppers, and attach a Hitachi wand to his cock for a bit. After some period of time, I take him out of the sack to hog tie him with cuffs, spread his cheeks and slide in hooks and other anal contraptions into his amazing ass. I wish I could’ve done more but it was sensitive from a prior session so I couldn’t do much… and because I couldn’t go ham on his ass, his time in the hogtie was limited. I flipped him over, spread his legs with a bar and began edging him again. This went on for about another hour switching back and forth from using the wand, a fleshlight, and my own hands… he’d come close and I’d slow down and this happened for awhile before he accidentally came. I got too close and he was trying to hold it in, but it was too late. He couldn’t. He gave himself a ruined orgasm. I had stopped and waited and watched as he came, unsatisfied.
I tried going for round three but it didn’t look like it was going to happen that night so I decided to call it around 2am knowing I’d have him into the afternoon Saturday. I needed some sleep as I was running on only 3 hours the night before. I lock him back up in chastity, grab a diaper from one of my roommates and fumble putting the diaper on him (je suis désolé, I don’t have small infants or many ABDL kinksters in my life). His wrists and ankles were bound, I put his hands into my thick rubber mitts, slip a pup mask over his face and tuck him in. He makes the cutest puppy. I think I’ve shown a dozen people at this point the sleepy puppy pic. We laid there in my bed (him keeping me warm of course) chatting into the early hours of the morning before we both ended up in a rather restless sleep.
(btw he is an adorable puppy 😉 ). You show your emotions and thoughts.
Are they also a bit of a self-reflection for you when you write them down?
Thank you on both accounts! My blog writing is very much a moment of self-reflection for me. It really forces me to examine the scene and there’s a reason why I don’t write about every scene—it’s emotionally laborious and time-consuming. Not all scenes are equal. Pictures and videos can only tell the viewer so much, they’re just one of the many facets that make up a story. Writing can give you a much more intimate insight into the chemistry or lack thereof between the subjects and I’d argue a well-woven story can get you heated and in the mood in a more profound way than any picture can. The pictures and videos on my Tumblr may suggest I’m serious, or strict, or that it’s heavy and my writing will contextualize it… that yes, there are moments where the scene is firm, tough, and uncompromising but there are often moments of levity and mirth and that’s just who I am as a dom.
Haha yes you even mention it once: If you were to write about every story, it would be full-time job. And I’m very much with you on that: Especially in BDSM, where fantasies are often very much of mindgames, relationships and feelings, a story can express these often best. One thing I was interested in knowing when reading through your experiences, is playing something very individual for you, or do you have a general style/preferances of things to do when inviting someone? Or is it a mix of both?
I have a general style of things, luckily for me I’m open to a lot. I describe kink as a menu… I definitely have a preferred cuisine, I like bigger menus and if the menu is not as robust I definitely have a few favorite dishes—bondage, edging, forced poppers, CBT, anal training. But because I’m open to a lot it’s gotten to the point where I have people take an intake form so I can keep straight what they’re into or not into, how they prefer to be approached (callous, strict, and uncompromising or caring/tender/supportive or a little bit of both) and what makes their toes curl. I will say my least favorite is roleplaying. I can’t get into it unless the other person can really get into it which helps me get into the headspace.
It’s interesting to hear you say that, because I mean, if you look at it from a certain perspective, you very much do take a role ^^‘ You get information beforehand what style of play works with the sub you’re gonna play with, and adapt your behaviour (maybe even form an Image) to provide an enjoyable experience all throughout the kinky encounter. I would say that is even a higher grade of role play. Or you not see/feel that as a role for yourself? And if not, where do you feel the differentiation to it? And what do you see it as? As being you?
Now that you put it that way, you’re right—I do take a role, just not one of a burglar that’s going to rob and molest you, a police officer that’s going to arrest you, or a parent who’s going to change your diaper if you’re into that. I guess I adapt to get the most out of the sub because if they’re not enjoying themselves, I would be enjoying myself a lot less. The scenes I like the least are the ones where I have to act the least like myself in & out of the bedroom and that’s taking on the persona of someone more callous. That persona is generally coupled with scenes where subs want me to use them in an anonymous session, where they’re a gagged non-responsive object, repulsed by my touch, consistently struggling, and discarded once I’m done with them… I feel like just a toy myself, a medium by which to get them off and I don’t get much pleasure out of it because I want fire & passion between myself and my partners. I can jump back and forth between callous and caring but I need to feel wanted if I’m going to have any fun.
My friends joke that I cosplay as a dom and that my secret kink is actually vanilla and I’m starting to think they’re onto something. I love cuddling, body contact and a great makeout session as much as I enjoy bondage and CBT and subs that recognize and are into that, that want me as much as I want them, where the rope and the leather is an obstacle in their way to get to me rather than in their way to escape are the subs I enjoy the most. They’re the ones that want to shove their tongues down my throat when I kiss them and a gag frustrates them, the ones that lay in bed with me after a session is done and we can shoot the shit, share some laughs, get to know each other out of sleepsacks and cuffs, and maybe order some food if we’re both hungry. That’s what I want from my subs, not just full submission but a personal connection.
If you want me to use you as an object and throw you out of my brownstone when I’m done with you, that is me playing a role.
That is a very sincere answer. And even as a sub, I can very much relate to it. I would prefer sessions like your second paragraph too. Thank you for your time, Canwemaybe, I hope we get another chance to talk soon again, and I wish you fast and smooth progress on your book project.
This one was a doozy.
He wanted to be owned completely. Total power exchange. He would give up his life, belongings, pets, it all to his ‘master.’ There was absolutely nothing off limits for him. He wanted to be dominated in every aspect. His body could be mine. His money could be mine. His life could be mine. His kink was anything that I could conjure up with my sordid mind.
I kept doubting him and offering different ideas of what I wanted to subject him too — each one worse than the other. He agreed to it all. He was looking for his master for life, and if it worked out between us, his life would literally be in my control. He wanted to sell his possessions and move in with his master. That’s simultaneously hot and a bit scary.
He wanted a training session to see if he could really commit to this lifestyle, so we agreed for a test run.
He came over. He took off his shoes and clothes in the doorway as instructed, got on his knees and crawled towards the bedroom where he got on the bed, laid down on his back and waited for me to have my way with him.
I slipped on the blindfold and tightened it. I cuffed his limbs to the bed spread eagle. I straddle him and grab his balls and he gives out a little yelp. I begin to squeeze and slap his balls and he kept trying to stifle his screams and he asked for more.
I then put his cock in a vice and squeeze the knobs little by little. Each time he would let out a long groan. He describes his balls being squeezed as a long dull pain and he was clearly enjoying himself from the raging hard on he had the whole time.
I pull out sounds and even sounded him for a bit, and even though it was his first time, he took it like a goddamn champ. I was impressed.
Once I was finally bored of beating his balls, I poppered him up to the point where he became almost loopy/delirious. I began a session of breath control, choking him for brief moments and poppering him up again never letting him fully catch his breath. I decided to see how far I could take it with him so I squeezes as hard as I could… he was squirming a little, then a little more, then a lot more to the point he was flaily and broke out of his chains. He describes the sensation as being near death, seeing white, feeling limp and helpless, seeing a tunnel and being turned on by it all at the same time. I mean, it was hot for me too in not so many words.
I take the rest of the chains off and decide to call it quits there. It’s getting late, and I’m beginning to not trust myself so I lay there with him for the next couple hours so he can digest the experience (he’s a great cuddler to be honest). I ask him he wants anything to eat — I was starving and the least I could do for someone who just gave their body to me for a few hours was feed them a half-decent meal.
He eventually left but not before telling me he wanted the weekend to think it over, and as I was walking down Bedford St. that Saturday, I get a text from him telling me he just isn’t ready yet. Understandable. Being a slave is a lifestyle choice, and I sure as fuck could never do that.
Find me on Recon: www.recon.com/canwemaybe