tagHow ToExperiencing GM-Partnered Sounding

Experiencing GM-Partnered Sounding


I like to write edgy gay male stories, but I'd never even heard of the act of sounding before someone remarked on a gay story site that they had trouble finding such stories. I looked the term up and was both intrigued and shocked, wanting to include sounding by one man of another in a story but having no context I could put it in.

I usually write from experienced emotions, and I didn't think I could do justice to the sounding experience in a story without having had the experience myself. I mentioned that to my steady male lover at the time, a university exchange student from Lebanon, who had been sent from Beirut by an old lover specifically for me to mentor at the local university in exchange for regular, dominating sex. To my surprise, Samir (I'll call him Samir, not the least because that was his name) said he had been sounded back in Lebanon and knew of a tattoo artist in this university town who did soundings.

I left it at that for a couple of weeks, afraid to pursue the issue, but my muse increasingly pressed me to write about sounding. I had been challenged to do so. The tattoo artist had rooms above his shop. He was a wiry, bald, but hard-muscled guy, probably in his late thirties, who was a walking billboard for his craft. I normally would not have chosen someone like him to have sex with, but he had something I wanted to acquire, and there Samir was, egging me on. He seemed as excited for me to have the experience as I was to learn of such a strange experience.

The tattoo artist told me that the key to sounding was that I remain absolutely still through the experience so that no internal damage was done—that after my urethra canal, running down my shaft, toughened to the experience through multiple use with wands—rods—of increasing thickness, the worry of damage would lessen. I was trembling. I had no plans at that point to have more than the one experience—and with the thinnest wand possible—so that I could write about it.

Seeing that I already was trembling at the mere idea of it, the tattoo artist said that the best position for me would be sitting on his cock in his lap, with my extremities immobilized. I told him I was worried about giving up full control, and his answer was that that was the whole point of one man sounding another. I would have to be submissive to his every command. And, as preparation, he would need to fuck me first and take full control of me. That I would have to be completely submissive to him; if I couldn't fully submit to him, he wouldn't provide the experience.

With Samir watching, I let the man bend me over his bed and fuck me from behind. As he did that, he gave me commands of positions to take and responses to make with my hands and channel muscles. He commanded that I hold the urge to ejaculate, and I did so, with difficulty. When he was satisfied that I would follow commands immediately, he showed me the sounding rods, saying he would use no more than two of the smallest ones on me in this first experience. Then he explained what he was going to do with them, in detail.

I almost backed out at that point, but Samir was giving me encouraging looks, and I didn't want to disappoint Samir, who had set this up at my request. Once again the tattoo artist said I'd have to remain completely still, but that I didn't have to hold off ejaculation. I could let it flow; I would just have to combat the urge to jerk while I did it if a wand was inside the canal.

He said that if I waited for the wand to be extracted, though, the experience of ejaculation during the extraction would be explosive and I could jerk freely—and probably would want to. When we had both cooled off, he sat in a straight chair, commanded me to kneel between his legs and service his cock with my mouth, which I did, and to roll the condom on him when he was hard and spray his cock and my channel with lubricant again, which I did. Then he pulled me onto his lap and cock, facing away from him. He worked his knees between my thighs and forced my legs wide apart, immobilizing them. He had Samir pull my arms around to his back and handcuff them, immobilizing them as well. He lifted and lowered my channel on his hard shaft until he was satisfied that he was in complete control of me. I had gone hard in the process.

He then had to repeatedly tell me to relax, hold still, and breathe naturally as, holding the bulb of my now-hard cock erect between two fingers of one hand and squeezing it to open my piss slit, he slowly pushed the silver sounding wand with a slight bulge at the end into my urethra canal and fed it down in a slight curve into the narrow canal. As he did so, I could feel his cock throbbing inside me, and I could tell that he was as keyed up as I was. He kept murmuring encouragement in my ear as I laid my head back in the hollow of his shoulder and whimpered at the feel of the hard steel penetrating down the length of my shaft, telling me how nice my cock was and how well I was doing. At length he told me the wand was in four inches, that he was going to twirl it a bit to give provide me the sensation of that and then extract it and replace it with a thicker one. And then that he was going to fuck my cock with the thicker one.

I gasped as he slowly pulled the rod out and almost ejaculated then. I trembled almost uncontrollably as the larger wand entered the canal and he stopped and murmured to me to relax, hold still, and breathe naturally. He was hard as a rock inside me, and I was concentrating as much on his cock inside me as on the wand. He was breathing heavily now, as much into the experience as I was.

He told me that the thicker wand was in deeper than the first one had been, but he didn't say how much deeper. He said then that he was going to start fucking the channel with it and that, although I could flow with the wand in, perhaps I'd want to warn him when I was about to come and he'd pull the wand out. He said the ejaculation I experienced from sounding would be like no other and that it might be best, especially the first time, if the wand was out, because I'd probably want to jerk and shudder as I spouted. He began moving the wand up and down, slowly, in the canal, and it did feel very much like fucking. He twirled it. Emitting little gasps and working hard to maintain control of myself, while lost in the new sexual sensations I was feeling, I felt myself ready to blow, and told him I was about to. He extracted the wand as I shot out onto the carpet, now free to shudder almost uncontrollably—and doing so. He was right. The ejaculation was extraordinary. I felt my whole body collapse into itself and go weak and trembly like a bowl of Jell-O.

Telling me how good I'd been, he stood, bringing me up with him, took two steps to the side of the bed, bent me over the bed again, and fucked me to his ejaculation. Afterward he put his mouth to my ear and whispered to me that he wanted me to come back to him for more. It didn't sound so much a request as it did a command, though, which frightened me.

It particularly frightened me because I could see where this fetish could become an obsession. And I didn't want it to become that with me.

I admit that I did go back to him a couple of times, enjoying the experience each time with progressively thicker wands, and wanting that special ejaculation, but I eventually stopped it as having been something to experience but not to practice regularly—afraid more of the emotional and mental control aspects of it than of the physical act. Fundamentally, I didn't want the tattoo artist to control me, and he would do so as long as I came back to him—and I would likely sink deeper and deeper into his control the longer I let him dominate me this way. The man who had initiated me into male-male sex had controlled me totally and used me mercilessly, and I didn't want to give up that much control ever again.

After the third and last session with the tattoo artist, I did let Samir, who dominated me and who I totally trusted, sound me a few times himself, and I felt a closer connection with him when he did it than I'd felt with the tattoo artist. With Samir, the familiarity and trust level permitted us to come almost simultaneously. Also, Samir continued practicing this on himself in my presence before we fucked, increasingly so when he knew I was aware of the practice, and it was arousing to me to watch him work himself with the sounds.

During that first session, the tattoo artist offered to sound Samir, who was willing, so that I could watch the effect on someone more experienced and able to take thicker wands longer and deeper. And from those experiences, I felt able to write stories about sounding.

My first effort was Dark Angel Sounding, written on that first story Web site challenge to provide more stories on sounding. Dark Angel Sounding, now commercially in its second edition, has become my gay male best-seller—and probably my most controversial work—and which, having had the experience, has permitted me to write the sexual act into other stories as one of enticing domination, submission, and total trust—and as medically safe if done properly. It remains for me a "darker fetish," and I usually write it that way in my stories.

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