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Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 7:53:32 PM   
JockTrainee190


Posts: 10
Joined: 2/28/2008
Status: offline 		This looks like a very diverse and intelligent online community, so I thought I would leave a message with regard to the specific fetish I have, in case there were other like-minded doms or subs, esp. gay male.  After a number of very intensive experiences with dominant trainers, initially unsought but then subsequently sought out through personal ads, I have a deep turn-on to what I discover is being called "sadorexia" within certain circles:  having my food controlled, my diet restricted, my weight obsessively and demandingly monitored by a dominant top trainer.  For ten years I have posted on various online boards but have yet to contact anyone with a similar interest or set of experiences.  So I thought I would post here and see if there is anyone experienced or interested in same. 
Profile   Post #: 1
RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 7:59:08 PM   
babygurl4daddy


Posts: 19
Joined: 8/26/2006
Status: offline 		yes of course... daddies should always control what their babies eat ...
giggles...

AB play always comes back to some kind of other fetish nestling deep down in your soul.
For a daddy to have complete and total control of his helpless little baby... sigh

(in reply to JockTrainee190)
Profile   Post #: 2
RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 8:01:12 PM   
ProlificNeeds


Posts: 1061
Joined: 5/19/2007
Status: offline 		Though it has nothing to do with my personal weight, I do have an odd attraction to the idea of having my food and a daily regime of exercise policed with a degree of severity. Mostly because I like the idea of being pushed to the pique of physical performance, not for looks/beauty, more with the idea of being able to withstand extream physical trials and stress.
Maybe I have a J.I. Jane fantasy? I dunno.

(in reply to JockTrainee190)
Profile   Post #: 3
RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 8:20:21 PM   
JockTrainee190


Posts: 10
Joined: 2/28/2008
Status: offline 		Wow--two responses already, that's two more than I have ever gotten on any other board in ten years! 
 
Whether appropriate or not here, people tend to ask me how I “got into this scene” and seem to be mostly interested in a somewhat voyeuristic way what my experiences have been, I figure why not tell the whole story.  Hopefully others will relate to it and find it a turn-on—if not, oh well.....  Feel free to ask any question after (if) you get through this all.
 
Before recounting my first actual training experience, some background is important.  I grew up on the East Coast and until age 5 was at normal weight.  Then when I started school, I slowly gained weight and spent all of elementary school as the fat, smart kid.  When I hit puberty, the change in my metabolism, a bit of dietary education around calories, and my discovery and eventual love for running resulted in me losing all the excess weight (about 50 pounds) and due to learning better eating habits and running 5-10 miles every day—which I did literally EVERY DAY for a little over 10 years through high school, college and grad school, no matter what the weather, no matter how sick I was, no matter where I was—I maintained a slim athletic build.  In addition, I began playing various sports—spent a year wrestling, another swimming, started cycling and playing tennis regularly with friends, took up boxing at the local gym—and generally became known as a jock.  My weight stayed at a steady 165 until I began weightlifting in college, at which point I discovered that it was fairly easy for me to add lean muscle mass at which point by the end of college I weighed 175-180, while still maintaining a 32” waist.
 
Stayed this way through my 20’s until at age 29, two things occurred:  repeated injuries to my legs, due in part to the obsessive running routine—cartilege in my knees began to give out, pulled tendons, etc. etc. etc.—necessitating long layoffs from running.  And a noticeable slow-down in my metabolism.  I continued my weightlifting routine—at that time a 3x/week lowweight/highrep toning routine—but without the daily cardio, I began to gain weight, eventually after about a year and half hitting a high of 232 pounds, with a 38” waist.  I attempted to lose the excess by various means and succeeded in getting down to around 202 pounds in about a year, doing more cycling—stationary and road—but at that point decided to consult a personal trainer at my local gym to get some advice and support. 
 
I had seen him around for a while, figured he was gay (though it turns out he called himself bisexual) and thought he was very hot.  Sort of the opposite of my body type—I am endo-meso:  stocky, peasant-Italian, big strong legs and glutes, tendency to gain fat and muscle easily.  He was one of those formerly skinny guys that with lots of dedication had carved out a very well-defined, muscled body—nice big shoulders arms and chest, slim hips and lean runner/cyclist legs—the sort of guy who loses weight when he’s upset or stressed.  In addition to being very hot physically, I found his attitude also very hot—serious, no-bullshit, a little gruff, about as obsessive as me (I had seen him workout and train others), but polite and professional.
 
So we began training.  He did an overall evaluation of me—turned out at that my lean muscle mass at the time was 165, meaning that at 202 scale pounds, I was carrying 37 fat pounds or 18% bodyfat, only a little over the acceptable 15%.  He used the caliper method, having me strip to my underwear and specifically and methodically pinching all the areas of my body where bodyfat had a tendency to accumulated.  He did it without saying anything, except on my waist, where he whistled and said, “more than an inch here, man.  Not good.”  I had had my bodyfat determined before but through underwater weighing.  The caliper thing was incredibly erotic.  He ended by then tape measuring me in all the usual places, neck, chest, arms, waist, hips, thighs, calves, using a pen to mark the points on these parts of my body where I was largest and writing all the measurements down.  “I need to keep a record of this to measure progress or lack of progress,” he said.  “It’s good to get taped every week to make sure you are not falling down and are keeping to the program.”
 
He quickly told me that someone my size and build should really not be permitted anything over 12% bodyfat and that 8-10% would really be preferable to achieve a good look.  I was very turned on by the rather objective way he had of discussing me—as if I were a piece of meat to be weighed, evaluated and controlled—as well as the naturally dominant manner he had of approaching my training—things were “acceptable” “permitted.”  It came I think from him coaching high school wrestlers and boxers, but boy, did it make me hot.  So he changed my routine—adding in daily cardio work and shifting me over to a mass-gaining weight-lifting routine—higher weights, lower reps, more sets per body part, greater frequency.  The goal here, he told me, was to add lean muscle while “stripping off the excess blubber.” 
 
I remember him casually saying things like, “You don’t need that fat. No one needs more than 5-10 pounds of body fat on them” or “That’s the problem with eating well.  Guys with your build can’t get away with that.  Got to watch everything.”  He did seem pleased that I was in generally good shape and beneath the body well-muscled, about which he said, “You carry the poundage well, but why be pudgy when you can be tight, right?”
 
The first three months I met with him twice a week for workouts—He’d weigh and measure me, always recording it on my chart.  I had started one hour daily cardio—either swimming, stationary cycling, stairmaster or sometimes an easy treadmill run—on top of which I made sure to cycle about 50-100 mi. per week on the road with friends or on my own.  He would meet me after my cardio for weight-training and with his spotting and forcing reps, we got my lifts up pretty high pretty quick.  But due to my slow metabolism, adding some muscle mass, and not really being terribly strict about my diet, I only lost 10 scale pounds in those months, down to 192, and came out with a bodyfat percentage of a little under 15%.  I had dropped down to a 34-35” waist, but at the end my trainer declared it all, “OK progress, but not where you should be.”
 
Throughout this period it was very clear that a very intense mutual attraction was going on.  He and I had the same sort of obsessive, intense mindset about these things, he definitely enjoyed the control and mild humiliation that had gone on between us under the guise of motivating me, and he knew I was totally into him and into his training of me.  Due to mutual interests, we began to meet outside the gym, for various events, and at about this time, we were at a party together when I reached for some tortilla chips, only to have him slap my hand and say, “Hey man.  Should you be eating that?”  It was so out-of-the-blue:  I mean no one had ever attempted to control my food intake or had in a way publicly humiliated me about my eating that I just stopped and found myself saying, “No, sir.  I shouldn’t.  Thanks.”  Our eyes met and we knew that this sort of domination/submission thing was incredibly erotic for both of us.  When we left the party together that night, we started to make out against his car at which point he said to me, “I can see how hot you’re going to be when you lose this fat.  But you really gotta watch that diet, man.”  Then he pulled away from me and said, “See you at the gym on Tuesday.” 
 
That was the point at which the whole relationship shifted.  Nothing had been explicitly said but we both knew what was happening.  He enjoyed the dominance, teasing and control.  He wanted to use my desire for him to both gratify himself and make me achieve my physical potential.  He knew it turned me on.  I knew he knew it.  And so, down the path we went.
 
**
 
When we met for training he said, “I think where we’ve been falling down is by ignoring your diet.  You need more help with it, since you really don’t have the discipline.  I think I need to be training you in that area as well.  You should have lost all this blubber by now.”  I remember being incredibly flushed and turned on when he poked my lovehandles.  “Right?”
 
I just nodded.  “You’re right.”
 
“So this is the deal.  I want to see you at 185 by the first of the month (4 weeks away, a 10-pound loss).  You are restricted to 1200 calories per day and are going to write down everything that goes in your mouth.  At the end of the day you are report in to me.  You are going to lose this fat in the next four weeks, by whatever means necessary.  I’m going to be on top of you.  If you can’t follow this restriction, then we’ll have to take other steps.”
 
“What if I meet the goal?” I asked.
 
At which point he leaned over and gave me a long French kiss.  “Take a guess.”
 
So that was how the formal dominance began.  It was all before e-mail and the Internet, so I called in my food every night, copied my food journal and handed it in to him weekly, and he began slowly tightening the restrictions around my diet.  Certain foods I was completely forbidden:  any form of baked good, anything fried, no alcohol.  In addition, I was allowed three meals a day and two pieces of fruit mid-morning and mid-afternoon.  I was to do my hour of cardio before eating anything in a day, and I was not permitted to eat after 8pm at night.  I was most certainly hungry almost all the time, since I was maintaining a very active workout schedule—daily workouts of at least 1.5 hours—but I knew he was correct, that such strictness was necessary.  I also was highly motivated by the idea that he and I would have sex once I “made weight.”
 
What I didn’t quite expect were some of the ways in which he began to assert his dominance once I had gradually adjusted to this routine of calling in my food and following his orders.  Having only lost 5 pounds in three weeks and therefore 5 pounds away from goal with only a week to lose it, he said to me casually, “Let’s see how you do with no food tomorrow.  Nothing for 24 hours.  And I think on days when you aren’t lifting you should do an extra half-hour of cardio, just to get that fat off you.”  That was a first for me and I remember feeling a little overwhelmed, since I was already fatigued from the restricted calories and the heavy workouts, so eating nothing and working out more seemed a little frightening.  But I had gotten curious myself about my own limits so I did it, added a half-hour of swimming to my hour on the stairmaster that day, and drank nothing but water.  I almost passed out in the afternoon from very profound fatigue, but after sleeping for about 2 hours, the hunger pangs and exhaustion passed and the next morning I had actually lost 3 pounds on the scale. 
 
When I reported this in to him, he said, “Well, that’s what I was hoping.  From now on, till you hit goal weight, you are going to have a weekly fast day.  Understand.”
 
I managed to hit 185 that month, at which point, of course, goal weight was revised down, because I had lost about 3 pounds of muscle from the intensive workouts and restricted calories, so my bodyfat at 185 was only 12.5%.  I did look lean but there were definitely pockets of bodyfat noticeable around the sides of my waist, on my lower belly, on the top of my ass and inside my thighs, even more noticeable because I was in such good shape.  He pointed these out during the monthly measurement session with tapemeasure and caliper, and told me, “Really, I don’t think I will be satisfied until I see your abs.  It’s tough I know but you let yourself go for so long so that’s part of the reason we need to get tougher.” 
 
That was the point at which I was restricted to 1000 calories per day, with the standard one-day weekly fast, and my diet was now to be stripped of nearly all carbohydrates, leaving me as many vegetables as I wanted, along with at least 100 g of protein per day.  I was permitted coffee but no sugar.  Likewise, no more rice, potatoes, bread, starches of any kind, really—nothing but meat, broiled or grilled, vegetables/salad and water.  Lots of water—3-4 liters per day.  I was permitted one tablespoon of olive oil for my salad but no other fats of any kind –no butter, no nuts, no other oils.
 
The very odd thing about this stage of the restriction was that I had somehow moved past continual gnawing hunger and the elimination of carbs in a strange way gave me a sort of a high—I would get continual hot flashes, felt very horny most of the time, and except for occasional crashes of energy, felt good.  I would of course about half-way through the cardio work lose all energy, but learned soon to just hunker down and do it, almost like going out of my body. 
 
When I achieved goal—10% bodyfat, at 179, with 161 lean pounds (losing some more muscle but more fat)—he made good on his promise and we began a sexual relationship since I was now “in acceptable condition.”  This marked the next stage in his control, in a way, because he was very good (and aggressive) in bed and it was almost like his physical training of my body, his control over my diet and appearance, had merged into a whole relationship that was of a single coherent piece.  Since I would be staying over his place sometimes, he introduced other forms of control over me, usually by simply doing them with me too turned on, too curious, too grateful to resist.  I find some of these among the more exciting parts of what he and I did together.
 
Examples:  if we were eating a meal together at home, he would often tell me that we were going to share a meal, which meant that I sat and watched him eat a normal meal and that I would be permitted to eat whatever he left and didn’t want.  This became known as “leftovers.”  He would say, “I think we should have leftovers tonight,” which meant I ate what he felt like leaving for me on his own plate—very little usually.  I didn’t ever complain about this, because I knew I was at the lowest weight I had been, I looked incredible, and that this level of control was both effective and necessary.  Plus I loved the domination and knew it turned him on.
 
Another thing he began to do was to order for me when we would go out, sometimes telling the waiter/waitress that I was in training so I was only going to have a diet coke and a salad.  Other times he would say, “Can you bring another plate, we’re going to share,” which usually meant he ate most of it and let me have very little.  Because he was naturally lean, he generally ate anything and everything, and would often torment me by telling me how good certain things were while simultaneously praising me for my discipline and my dedication to “not being a fatboy again.”
 
Daily weigh-ins were required and even though we both knew that any gain was a fluctuation in water retention, if the scale was up even a single pound, it meant “total restriction,” our code for complete fast except for water.  On those days, though, our sex was usually pretty incredible, so I slowly became conditioned to enjoy the light-headedness and exhaustion.
 
Various other games got played with me during this period, as he continued to exert and take pleasure from his dominance and my submission.  He was occasionally order sexy clothes from catalogues—small size shirts or underwear, when due to my musculature I would need medium size, or pants/shorts in waist size 29” when I was 31”.  They were of course too tight and he would tease me about whether or not I was getting “big” again, maybe I needed a few more workouts, a little less food.  He once bought me a huge box of chocolates and didn’t say anything about it—I knew it was a test and that he was probably going to see if I was really dedicated by checking up on whether or not any were missing, so it sat for a long time on my sideboard in my place, untouched, no one really knowing that it was a symbol of a whole secret dominance/subsmission thing going on between us.  Occasionally he would very casually offer me things like ice cream or cookies when he was eating them, a tacit test to see if I would refuse them.  He sometime did this in front of people, but of course no one else knew what this was all about except him and me, which I found incredibly erotic.
 
People noticed my physical change of course, but not as many as you’d think, since I’d always been pretty athletic and my friends knew I had gained the extra weight due to my knee and leg problems.  Plus they knew I was having an affair with my trainer—not suspecting what was really going on or the extent to which the training had gone—so they just assumed he and I were kind of workout buddies.
 
At around 9 months of this, he began to fiddle some with my eating schedule.  For a month I was permitted only to eat between the hours of noon and 6—partly to prove my dedication to him, partly to test my limits, partly to see if we might be able to nudge my bodyfat to “single digits.”  This became kind of a mantra at the time—the idea of my being able to go to less than 10% bodyfat and keep it there.  Another mantra was the 30” waist—I had gotten down to 31 inches and had kept it for 3 months and now he wondered if I might “give him an inch.”  To this end he assigned me an additional abdominal routine to be done daily—upping the work from once a day to twice a day.  He’d sometimes feel my belly and say, “Where’s my six-pack?” or give me a little punch and say, “Tighten up,” all designed to make me self-conscious.  It really turned me on.
 
I remember one day him coming home with Xeroxes of research articles about how extreme caloric restriction in mice seemed to have effects on their longevity and he read to me that one of the researchers said that the regime they had imposed on the mice was equivalent to no more than 300-500 calories per day for a 170 pound man.  I began to wonder if that was going to be the next step, but he never did that (though, with the periodic days of total restriction, I estimate now that my total caloric intake per day during this period averaged about 800-1000 per day.)
 
Around this time, as well, he began to link my orgasms to fasting.  He referred to this as “cumming on an empty stomach.”  In other words, I was only allowed to cum with him or by myself after a 15-hour period without food.   For example, if I had eaten dinner (4 oz. meat and a cup of vegetables) at 6 pm the previous night, then I was not permitted to cum unless I had refrained from all food for another 15 hours, i.e., no sooner than 9 a.m. the following morning.  The effect of this of course was to greatly motivate me to refrain from all unncessary food consumption, since during this time we would often be having sex, with him enjoying sometimes two or three orgasms.  So if I ate nothing, I would be able to enjoy cumming with him and if I had eaten, then the sex would be very frustrating since I wasn’t permitted release. 
 
It was a truly amazing period of my life and this is really the first time I have put it all down.  There were so many little games, headtrips, tests and things, and this was now ten years ago, I probably have forgotten some things.
 
It all ended when he was offered an incredible position in another part of the country and relocated.   I think this all happened at a good time, because it was about a year or so and I remember wondering really how long it could all go on.  I began to become a little afraid of endangering my health—though I really was in the best shape of my life—and I also could feel that as bizarre and extreme as this had become—all of it a secret from everyone who knew us—it was also sort of losing the “oomph.”  He wasn’t a truly sadistic sort of guy, so really breaking me down and harming me wasn’t at all a turn-on for him—or for me.  So he wasn’t interested in actually starving me to the point of skin-and-bones or really pushing me over the edge.  The control and dominance aspect of it was our mutual primary turn-on and the very strict discipline and the physical results were what we enjoyed.  Plus, I can’t say we were really in love with each other—he wasn’t particularly romantic anyway, as you might expect—it really was more of a erotic/sexual coach-trainee relationship.  Very absorbing for little over a year.
 
He moved.  We stayed in touch for a while, doing phone sex, but after a few months, the whole thing faded as he got really busy and met his current boyfriend.  I began to eat more normally, put on some weight, staying between 180-185, and a 32”-33” waist for many years thanks to sticking to a fairly careful diet and maintaing my workout regime.
 
I began to advertise in local gay papers for another trainer on the same wavelength, talked to a lot of guys and then finally, about three years later, met Trainer #2.
 

(in reply to ProlificNeeds)
Profile   Post #: 4
RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 8:21:50 PM   
Nineveh


Posts: 1299
Joined: 2/5/2008
Status: offline 		I have done a little of this, food and exerise control, althoguh not to the level that you seem to be mentioning.  I think it is a sort of molding of a sub that is much more benevolent than the personality molding that some people talk about.  For me it also falls under body modification as that is precisely what I am doing by controlling a subs food and exercise.  Modifying her body.

(in reply to JockTrainee190)
Profile   Post #: 5
RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 8:23:50 PM   
JockTrainee190


Posts: 10
Joined: 2/28/2008
Status: offline 		Modifying in what way and for what purpose?  To meet your standards or preferences aesthetically/sexually?  Or as part of overall control?

(in reply to Nineveh)
Profile   Post #: 6
RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 8:34:08 PM   
SophiaCorrupted


Posts: 69
Joined: 2/3/2008
Status: offline 		Also an interest of mine...it's rare to find a Dom that thinks of this as anything higher on his kink list than "tolerable."

I also usually get a response like "But you're not fat" when this topic comes up...as if that's even the point.

(in reply to Nineveh)
Profile   Post #: 7
RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 8:39:03 PM   
JockTrainee190


Posts: 10
Joined: 2/28/2008
Status: offline 		Well, in fairness, I would say that I didn't really come to the fetish/scene myself either, it kind of evolved between my first trainer and I, but with all the focus on food, weight, dieting and so forth, especially in American culture and particularly in gay male culture, I remain very surprised at how rare this sadorexia fetish is, at least online.  On the other hand, in addition to my first trainer, I did find two others with whom I became involved, and currently have had an off-again, on-again online chat relationship with a mostly dominant guy who "gets it."

So continuing with my own story:
 
Since #1 had moved away, I would occasionally put ads in the gay newspaper here in town stating, “Athletic guy, with great endurance, seeks trainer into the eroticism of forced workouts, dietary restrictions and dominance/submission.  Experienced and knowledgeable only, please.  Make me your object of desire.”  I’d run the ad about 3 times a year for a month or so at a time, and most of the responses I got fell into the category of conventional S/M—tops looking for bottom boys, mostly for sexual play, which of course wasn’t what I was looking for.  A few guys “got” it, but when I met with them, I didn’t find them especially attractive or they were looking for a boyfriend, rather than a fuckbuddy, so to speak.  Having had such an intensive experience with #1, I knew what worked for me and what didn’t.
 
At this point, I had gotten seriously into long-distance cycling, logging between 100-150 mi. on the road per week, between my own training rides, club rides and rides with my cycling partner.  My weight stayed solidly between 180-185, while my glutes, quads and hams grew thick and solid (they are still the best part of me).  My previous training had helped me understand the mechanics of building upper body mass, so I continued my weight work, not wanting to get too big (since I was already pretty large for a cyclist), but getting nice and defined.  Given the high volume of regular road cycling I was doing, I was able to get away with not paying a great deal of attention to what I ate for the first time in my adult life and had gotten into sloppy eating habits—pigging out occasionally on junk food, drinking alcohol and so forth—but none of it showed up on my body, so I stopped caring too much.
 
That all came to an end when I met Trainer #2.  He responded to my ad, I had coffee with him and man, the moment I saw him, I knew we were going to click.  He was quite different physically from #1—for one thing he was about 15 years older than me, a very in-shape 50-something, quite dark and butch-looking, with short military haircut (graying on the sides), bushy moustache, black eyes and a real no-nonsense air about him.  He told me he had been in the Marines when younger, really got into military-style PT (physical training), both giving and getting, and after sizing me up right there in the cafe, said flat out, “I know your type and what you need.  Former fatboy, huh?  I’ve been there.  Discipline is a life-style, you know, not just a game.”  He lifted up his shirt and showed me a tightly defined set of abs.  “Years of work.  Not a single wasted calorie.  You want that?” 
 
Well, I knew then we were off to the races!  Turned out he lived about three blocks away from the cafe and with my heart pounding I went right home with him for “inspection.” 
 
“You are going to be photographed, front, side and back every week until you achieve what I consider peak condition.  Strip.”  I did, down to my underwear, white cotton bikinis.  He pulled out his Polaroid and shined a light on me.  I have to say, once again, his natural dominance combined with this sort of treatment, like I was some inanimate piece of meat to be turned this way and that and photographed for inspection, was unbelievably arousing to me.  He had me put my hands on my head and took the shots he wanted.  “These will be good to compare later when I’ve got you where I want you, boy.  The camera doesn’t lie.”  “Keep them there,” he told me when I went to lower my hands.  He began to run his hands over me, feeling me up, telling me occasionally to flex whatever part of the body he was feeling.  Though I was fairly lean to look at, he was pretty relentless as finding the places where small amounts of stubborn bodyfat was still hanging around—my lower abs, my shoulder blades, my glutes, my inner thighs.  “You are in good shape, great muscle mass and tone, but your diet is sloppy, isn’t it?  You are still eating for pleasure, aren’t you?  I can tell, because a real athlete eats for fuel, and doesn’t have even the little bit of extra you have.  You aren’t going to be finding any soft flab on me.”  At which he pulled off his shirt and pants and sure enough, he was completely ripped, abs, triceps, legs.  He did a little posing routine and I could even see the striations in his glutes.  “Just so you know I ain’t fucking around.  Used to bodybuild and still keep to the routine.”
 
My mouth was dry from arousal and fear.  This guy meant business—in fact, he kind of made my other trainer look like a wuss.  Having sort of silently wondered, given my excellent condition and appearance, what a trainer might do with, I now knew.  I of course was hard as a rock when he whipped out the tape measure and began recording the measurements.  “Big legs and ass, boy.  The cycling shows.”  I think at that point I had 27” thighs.  “Want the chest bigger, same with the lats.”  He then lightly punched my belly.  “Tighten it up.”  I did, and he landed a couple of test punches.  “Good strength but the fat needs to come off.”  He had me stand there for about an hour during inspection, which became the regular routine between us, him taking pictures, walking around me, eyeing me up, measuring me, with me looking ahead.  He came around in back of me, pressed against me and started to jack me off in my underwear.  Every time I began to move or turn my head, he’d bark, “Stay still.  Look straight ahead” and stop jacking until I did, at which point he would resume.  I think he probably brought me close two or three times, making me just stand there and take it, motionless, staring straight ahead, then finally, he ordered me to cum.  I shot, groaning slightly, but he barked in my ear, “Don’t make a sound,” and so there I was, silent, unmoving, staring into space, pouring my semen into his hand, backing up against him.  It was one of the hottest scenes I had done, all the control between us happening on a psychological and social level. 
 
“I want to see you look more ripped and more muscular.  You prepared to do what’s necessary?”  Of course at that point I was willing to promise practically anything.  “Ever done juice?”  I told him that I hadn’t and he shrugged.  “That’s cool.  Not sure we need to.  First I got to see how you respond.”
 
He said he wanted me to start ramping up the weight routine—I was to workout 2 days on, one day off, making weight-work my highest priority.  He was available to train me in the gym twice a week, he said, just to make sure i wasn’t slacking, and each of those session were to be preceded by inspection.  Chest and back were a priority. 
 
He had me go over my regular daily diet and everytime I mentioned anything that wasn’t meat or vegetable, he simply said, “Lose it,” so by the end he said, “I want you solid muscle, so that’s really all you are going to be eating.”  I told him about my previous dietary regime and he nodded approvingly.  “Too few calories for you now, since we are going to be adding muscle, but you can kiss the carbs good bye, maybe for the rest of your life.  Food is fuel, that’s all.  Get used to that attitude.  You get five meals a day.  Every meal is 30-50g of lean protein plus 2 cups of vegetables.  Period.  I want a gallon of water in you every day.  Oh and you can drink as much coffee as you want.  I want you on this diet for a month and we’ll see what happens.”
 
I have to say the whole afternoon was sort of like hitting a brick wall at 60 mph for me.  I found him physically and mentally incredibly hot, so it was hard not to get completely seduced into saying yes to absolutely everything—but the fact was that what he was so casually tossing off as my routine would mean major changes.  It wasn’t really possible to be long-distance cycling without some carbo intake, especially not at my current weight and level of conditioning.  And his goal for me—a bodybuilder type physique with nearly no body fat—wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.  But I figured I’d try it and see—if it clicked for the two of us, it would be great, and if it didn’t, well, we’d just have to part company.
 
I do have to say that he was an excellent workout partner—great to look at and man, I had never gone through a workout so efficiently.  He was like a fucking machine—we’d do a set, he’d time me for one minute rest, next set, one minute timed, and so forth.  There was no idling around with him and my muscles felt it—I got pretty pumped pretty quickly.  He started me on weighted ab work, 500 situps with a 45lb plate to start every workout, and occasionally he’d do a set or two in between mine, just for fun, I guess.  Workouts were always followed by “inspection,” more or less like the first time—I was photographed, measured and then I would be grilled on my food intake. 
 
He expected me to keep a rigorous log of food, water and time consumed and seemed to get off on my reading it to him while I stood up in front of him naked and he jacked me off.  Any slip in the diet—anything extra, any carb, any missed meal—earned my cock a hard painful slap and a lecture.  “You can’t afford slips, boy.  You gotta learn a man’s discipline.  I know the diet is boring, but you gotta learn that food is not to be enjoyed.  You put what you put in your mouth to make muscle, that’s all.  Don’t like it?  Tough shit.  That’s training.” And so on and so forth.  If he were completely pleased with my food intake log, I would be permitted to orgasm—just as I had the first time, with him behind me, into his hand, forbidden to move or make a sound.
 
So while I didn’t have to go through the raw discomfort of low-calories and fasting, in a certain way, with this trainer the diet end of the training was a bit worse, in that everything I ate eventually became like animal fodder to me, simply put in my mouth to further a physical end.  I remember times when I would be out at a party or a restaurant, looking at people really enjoying their food and thinking to myself that I had removed myself from that world.  What did make it somewhat easier was that my trainer himself followed his own guidelines and his body was in fact an inspiration to me. 
 
I dropped down to about 175 from 184 after a month of this sort of training, seeing him twice a week, and following the dietary guidelines.  For the first time in my life, I did begin to see my ab muscles, since at 178 with the additional muscle mass, I was undoutbedly down to single-digit bodyfat.  It wasn’t an especially dramatic difference, since I had been in such excellent shape, so the real appeal of the whole thing was mostly his strict military attitude and the near completely objectifying way he treated me and my body.
 
However, the problem arose that on such a regime, as I anticipated, it wasn’t really possible to continue my cycling at the level I had been.  A couple of times I “bonked” badly on long rides—simply ran out of fuel, since I wasn’t eating enough carbs, and though the loss of nearly ten pounds, made me faster on the road, I knew pretty much after the first month I was eventually going to have to make a decision. 
 
When I brought it up to my trainer, he was pretty adamant.  “I can’t allow any deviation from the regime.  I’m not interested in a cyclist.  I am interested in a musclestud.”  I was torn at the time and realized I had a few choices.  I could sneak carbs and not report them, in order to continue my cycling.  They probably wouldn’t show up on my body, not with the daily routine I was doing, and they would enable me to continue my cycling.  Or I could give up my cycling and devote myself to this guy’s idea of who he wanted me to be, being strictly honest about everything.  Or I could simply eat carbs when I needed to—before and after my rides—report  them to him and let him decide what to do.
 
I am not proud to say that I decided to sneak and not report, and I now regret that I didn’t take Option #3, though the result probably would have been the same.  Before and after rides I would eat what I felt I needed to have the necessary energy to finish and recover, and when I would get together with my trainer, I would simply not tell him and report only the food he would find acceptable.  What I didn’t anticipate from this course of action was that I eventually lost interest in the training—it became a sort of make-believe thing, since I wasn’t really bringing myself fully into it, plus I began to find the rather repetitive nature of the encounters a bit boring.  For him it was definitely the fulfillment of a fantasy, for me, well, it began to lose the oomph it originally had.  After the second month or so, I decided to end the connection, which I did, once again, in a way that I am not especially proud of—I lied to him and told him I had a horrible flu and that I couldn’t work out that week.  When I didn’t call him the following week, I half-suspected he might call me, but the truth was he never did.  To this day, I don’t know what he thinks happened and I remember looking up his name a couple of years ago in the phone book but he wasn’t listed.
 
The weird thing was, though, that for the whole year afterward, I continued eating in the way he had prescribed—five meals a day at the same time each day, 4-8 oz. of protein, 2 cups vegetables, with the only modification being additional carbs before and after rides.  With this level of dietary discipline, I maintained the low body fat percentage I had achieved in that month, and earned a reputation for myself among my friends for being a bit fanatical about my diet—little did they suspect what it grew out of.  Many of my masturbatory fantasies centered (and still do) around the scenes with this trainer, and I continue to feel bad I couldn’t have been more upfront with him.  Maybe if he reads this, he’ll know what happened.  The lesson I learned was that honesty is indeed the best policy, mostly because if I’m not telling truth, _I_ lose interest in what’s going on.  A good lesson.
 
My third training experience had many similarities with my first, in that it came about through a chance meeting rather than due to any effort of mine.  I continued to run my ads periodically, hoping, I guess, to recreate my original (and very erotic) experience—meanwhile, I continued my long-distance cycling, weight work and somewhat more strict attention to diet after my second training experience.  When I joined a local cycling club (mostly just to be able to purchase their cool jerseys), I decided to try going for a few of their weekly training rides, and it was during one of those rides that I “clicked” with a guy whom I shall call Ron.  He was about two years younger than me, rode pretty much at the same pace as I (slower than the 135-lb hollow-boned hill-jumping speed maniacs that populated the club rides) and had a similar build as I did—thick hips and legs, squarish endo-meso body, very hairy.  Also I found out he was married with kids, happily, or so he said.  Both of us were looking for riding partners so after a few club rides together, we ended up making a set date for a weekly ride together, the ostensible goal being to both get into perfect shape to be able to do some of the local centuries.
 
At this point, I had no intention of getting involved with Ron, just thought of him as a ride buddy, but various things tipped me off that it could very well go in another direction.  First, he was rather obsessive about his own diet as well as other people’s diet.  Turns out his wife had gained a fair bit of weight during the pregnancies and he was unhappy about it, telling me about how he was trying to get her to reduce but not having much success.  “When you are a big guy like you and me, you realize you can’t afford too many liberties with food, you know what I’m saying.”  So, when he started making comments about food I would eat, well, a few little erotic bells went off.  For example, he asked once if I knew how much sugar and fat was in the frozen yogurt shake I was going to have, when we stopped to take a break once in the middle of a ride, and he had this disapproving expression on.  I went instantly hard and ordered a grapefruit juice instead, to which he said, “Much better choice.  Can’t let my riding buddy get fat.  I don’t want to be looking at a big fat ass in front of me up those hills” and he slapped my butt—hard.    I pretended sort of jokingly to be submissive—not sure where all this was coming from or going—and said, “Just what I need—a strict trainer, SIR!  Gotta look good in those tights.”  He smiled, “You know it.”  And whether he was married or not, I knew there was an erotic charge going on, so I started to feed it, telling him about my plan to drop another 10 pounds before the start of the cycling season, to which he responded, “That’s a good idea actually.  You and me should schedule a couple of weekly hard rides—I can help you with that goal—would be good for me, too.”  And since he knew I was gay, I took this as a signal of interest.
 
So that’s what we did for the next step—two 30-50 hilly rides per week, which was fine that autumn, but when it rained on one of our ride days, we took it indoors at my gym and under the guise of “supporting my goals” he made sure I weighed in before and after the three hours of stationary cycling, measuring water loss and “making sure you’re going in the right direction—down!”  I was pretty sure he had never been with a guy before, so when he began to make comments about my body, talking about the definition I was getting in my chest and legs, touching me here and there to illustrate his point, I suggested that we go to a nearby hottub place.  We did, which was when I made sure I turned it all on—asking him to massage my legs, “because you made me work so hard today,” telling him how great it was to find a guy on the same wavelength, who knew what it took to get disciplined and tight and strong, all of which eventuated in undeniable evidence of his own interest (if you know what I mean).  I was kind of torn at this point—not sure what would happen if I moved it into something explicitly sexual (though looking back now, I don’t know what my scruples were about it) but it was at this point inevitable.  I did what was necessary to show Ron exactly how great a time one man could show another man—repeatedly—and at the end of it, it was clear he was very happy.  “Wish my wife could get into this, but she just rebels when I try to tell her this stuff.”  So I was balls out with him:  “Well, I’m the opposite—it really turns me on to have you riding my ass, watching my food, turning me into a stud for you.”  I remember him chuckling, half-embarassed, half-aroused, “Who’d have thought?  I’ve sort of had that fantasy, you know, with women—making them diet down nice and slim and subsmissive, but I have to say, it works for me.  And you ARE looking good these days—ass nice and tight, taut belly.”  Which he slapped and punched like he owned me.  !!
 
Now the most perverse part of this, I think, was that Ron himself was really not in especially fine shape—I’d guess he was somewhere between 15-18% fat, just an ordinary straight married guy who did a little bit more cycling than some.  He himself certainly had more of a belly than I had and a chunky ass, though because he was a little taller and broader in the shoulders than I, he didn’t look bad.  But I found that this slight disjuncture between his own appearance and the demanding attitude he had toward his wife’s and my appearance very hot, and our post-ride hot-tub sexual encounter became a weekly thing, even more erotic when after three weeks of furious dieting, I made my weight goal and got back down 179—nothing like sex to motivate you, huh!  It was very clear that the leaner I got, the more turned on he became, an effect which I augmented by making sure that he knew that I was doing this specifically for him and his pleasure, saying things like “you know, I just want to make sure you keep coming back for more, show you a good time....” 
 
After about 3 or 4 times of playing at the hot tub place, I found out specifically why all this was going down—good old straight Ron had a bit of a taste for ass-fucking and chubby wife didn’t go for that too much.  In fact, he confessed that he and she weren’t having much sex at all—he wasn’t turned on by her and she didn’t seem much interested, and turns out Ron had been playing with guys since college on and off.  So our routine got set up pretty quick—twice a week:  long hard ride and/or work-out,, with Ron supervising, making sure I was “nice and tight” as he put it, weighing me in at the scale in the gym, then a four block walk for a round of soaking in our private room at the end of the hall, followed by a long hot oil massage and a good hard fuck or two. 
 
When I suggested one day that I do a 100 deep-knee bends before getting fucked, to pump up my ass and thighs while he watched, the effect was rather electric, not only due to the eroticism of his watching me and having to hold off, but also, he said the feel of the fuck was so much better, with my ass really taut and muscles quivering.  That was the way that a private workout for his benefit got incorporated into the routine—usually with some sort of sex play—he made me do 500 crunches while he slowly jerked me off, or laid on top of me naked or pushed my back down with his foot as I did pushups (usually only about 5 or 6, since Ron weighed in at 200+).  He was partial to my doing leg raises and rubbing my anus while I held my legs up with my abs.  All of this drove him completely crazy, though it took some time for him to start to adopt a truly dominant attitude—he was so horny and grateful after a couple of years of bad sex with his wife.
 
Nevertheless, eventually Ron got in the swing of things and one creative elaboration that was his idea was to buy me clothes he thought I’d look sexy in—speedos, underwear, cycling shorts and jerseys which I would model for him and sometimes work out in.  My favorite one of these articles was this black spandex body suit/wrestling singlet thing from International Male which I actually wore at the gym with nothing on underneath.  He liked it so much he bought me one in red, and with the way that I sweat, by the end of many workouts, the red one was pretty damn revealing which of course was even more of a turnon for us.  I thought this clothes-buying routine was sort of cool—like I was his sex toy or his mistress or something, plus Ron in general was not especially forward, as I have said, so it made me think a little more of him.  I took him over to the Castro one afternoon and spent the whole time trying on clothes in the stores—thought the poor horndog was going to jump my bones right in the dressing room.
 
How and why did it end?  Nothing dramatic really.  First element was that Ron himself the following winter packed on an extra 20 pounds or so following an accident in which he twisted his ankle and really tore his Achilles tendon fairly badly.  He could have continued to work out with weights on his upper body with me, but needing to curtail his own cardio regime had the expectable effect on his waistline (plus fat wife, Christmas cookies and pain pills didn’t help).  The extra weight made him very self-conscious sexually, especially given the sort of scene with me that he was into, and although I wasn’t particularly turned off by his extra weight myself (thinking perhaps I’d get to give back a little of what I had gotten once Ron was able to start cycling again), he had a very hard time with it—he topped out at about 225 or so, which was the fattest he had ever been, which led to a vicious cycle of him feeling bad, cancelling out on work-outs, eating more, gaining more, feeling bad.  Behind this, though, I think was a lot of guilt and homophobia about having this exceptionally kinky affair with me for the past 9 months or so.  Add onto it the fact that we had VERY sucky weather that year—something like 60 straight days of rain—ruining about any chance of cycling any of us had, and well, Ron and I ended up not seeing much of each other and gradually fell out of touch. 
 
I still have some of the clothes (though the crotch has long since worn out of the singlets he bought me) and last time I saw him, I bumped into him with his wife at a mall out near where they live and he was VERY large and very uncomfortable talking to me, so I felt bad and stayed polite and distant.
 
Anyway, that’s the story of #3—not so intense and more sexual than physical training, but hot while it lasted.  The moral of the story:  Straight guys are a trip!

(in reply to SophiaCorrupted)
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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 8:40:46 PM   
Nineveh


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quote:

ORIGINAL: JockTrainee190

Modifying in what way and for what purpose?  To meet your standards or preferences aesthetically/sexually?  Or as part of overall control?


Both.  Primarially as a part of overall control however.  I was domming an overweight woman who was not happy with her weight.  I personally do not mind that, although I do like having someone of the "ideal" bodyshape to show off.  It was mostly about giving her the outside control she needed in order to be able to achieve something she desired for herself.

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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 8:44:23 PM   
JockTrainee190


Posts: 10
Joined: 2/28/2008
Status: offline 		And did she achieve goal weight for you?

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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 8:50:31 PM   
Nineveh


Posts: 1299
Joined: 2/5/2008
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quote:

ORIGINAL: SophiaCorrupted

Also an interest of mine...it's rare to find a Dom that thinks of this as anything higher on his kink list than "tolerable."

I also usually get a response like "But you're not fat" when this topic comes up...as if that's even the point.



I can see you getting that reaction, althoguh had things between myself and the woman I did this with lasted long enoguh for her to stop being overweight I am fairly certain I would still have wanted to contorl that aspect of her life. It was a very powerful feeling for me, planning out her meals and her exercise routines, putting consequences into place if she fell short.  A very simple way to exert control over her and her life in a way that was pretty much entirely positive.

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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 8:51:44 PM   
Nineveh


Posts: 1299
Joined: 2/5/2008
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quote:

ORIGINAL: JockTrainee190

And did she achieve goal weight for you?


No,  we found that we were incompatible on other levels and she also had some problems with my wife so she was not mine long enoguh to get there.  She did make some very definite progress however.

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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 8:55:03 PM   
Leatherist


Posts: 5149
Joined: 12/11/2007
Status: offline
quote:

ORIGINAL: JockTrainee190

This looks like a very diverse and intelligent online community, so I thought I would leave a message with regard to the specific fetish I have, in case there were other like-minded doms or subs, esp. gay male.  After a number of very intensive experiences with dominant trainers, initially unsought but then subsequently sought out through personal ads, I have a deep turn-on to what I discover is being called "sadorexia" within certain circles:  having my food controlled, my diet restricted, my weight obsessively and demandingly monitored by a dominant top trainer.  For ten years I have posted on various online boards but have yet to contact anyone with a similar interest or set of experiences.  So I thought I would post here and see if there is anyone experienced or interested in same. 


Only ones I ever met that dared to do this were RL Gorean Masters. They used food control and such to reduce morbidly obese girls to healthy proportions. Never heard of anyone else having the balls to go there.

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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 9:01:23 PM   
RedMagic1


Posts: 6470
Joined: 5/10/2007
Status: offline 		I think it's hot.  I get off on using control to help people become the best they can be.  But everyone knows I'm not a true Dom.

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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 9:02:28 PM   
Kana


Posts: 6676
Joined: 10/24/2006
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quote:

ORIGINAL: SophiaCorrupted

Also an interest of mine...it's rare to find a Dom that thinks of this as anything higher on his kink list than "tolerable."

I also usually get a response like "But you're not fat" when this topic comes up...as if that's even the point.



And you get it exactly.
Sometimes it about her health
sometimes its about what I want
but sometimes
its just about control, in all areas

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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 9:05:16 PM   
Leatherist


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Joined: 12/11/2007
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quote:

ORIGINAL: RedMagic1

I think it's hot.  I get off on using control to help people become the best they can be.  But everyone knows I'm not a true Dom.


Same here. You aren't "twue" unless you follow the pc principle of  "Accept me as I am, enable me to be unhealthy, even if it kills me."

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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 9:15:28 PM   
Leatherist


Posts: 5149
Joined: 12/11/2007
Status: offline
quote:

ORIGINAL: SophiaCorrupted

Also an interest of mine...it's rare to find a Dom that thinks of this as anything higher on his kink list than "tolerable."

I also usually get a response like "But you're not fat" when this topic comes up...as if that's even the point.



You are changing someone's body in a fundamental way. How is that not about control?

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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 9:18:11 PM   
Kana


Posts: 6676
Joined: 10/24/2006
Status: offline 		"Same here. You aren't "twue" unless you follow the pc principle of  "Accept me as I am, enable me to be unhealthy, even if it kills me."


Yeah, like thats being a good Master.
Here don't mind me, I will stand idly by and watch you do things that are terribly unhealthy for you in mind body and spirit and not step in.
I would say something to a friend, but for someone who has entrusted herself to me, I better be doing a whole lot more than that.



< Message edited by Kana -- 2/28/2008 9:23:04 PM >

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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 9:24:53 PM   
JockTrainee190


Posts: 10
Joined: 2/28/2008
Status: offline 		My experiences were definitely what the two of you were talking about--as intense as the training was, as demanding and controlling as he was, I always had the sense that it was  about making me the healthiest, sexiest, strongest, hottest I could be, which is why I consented to the control, the humiliation/punishment/shaming, the restriction and its burdens.  It was for him but it was also for me and my own sense of well-being.

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RE: Food and weight control, sadorexia - 2/28/2008 9:27:25 PM   
angelslave77


Posts: 478
Joined: 5/14/2007
Status: offline 		Op I didnt real all your posts (I have a headache and your essays were a bit much for me at present ) but from what I have seen this idea happens a bit in reference to those who give themselves over as slaves (well at least I know of some rt who do this). And as a control kink it definately has merits (would drive me nutty but each to thier own)
I think if it is a Dom just trying to get a sub to lose weight it is going to be a lose lose situation and I dont mean weight. The only person you can lose weight for is yourself , because it isnt about the food you put in your body, it is much more about the reasons why you put that food in your body (and yes there are exceptions), so having someone restrict your intake and make you work out will work for a while, but in the end if you dont fix the the cause it will just continue to resurface.

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