Thursday, July 17, 2014

Ruminations

This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.



So, wow, it's been a month since my last post here. Hmm. I have been turning a lot of things over in my head in that time, and it has not been a smooth or easy month for either me or my Dom.

I have been unsettled because of the way he wants to ramp up our agreement. He has not been thrilled with me at the way I've been dragging my feet.

Here's the issue: A way long time ago (like, more than 2 years), when I was very very new at submission and had not long been involved with my Dom, he wanted to set up a three-some with another female. And I at the time agreed. He put me in touch with her and we two ladies chatted and emailed and even had a few telephone conversations, and at the time I felt a connection to her and thought I could handle that situation. Well, for reasons only my Dom could tell you, that meeting never happened. 

So about a year ago, as things between the two of us were solidifying, he starts talking about bringing in another person again (a different female, someone I don't know and have never spoken to). And since I'm a year older and wiser, I felt strongly that I really did not want to go there. So I argued and fought and said I didn't want to, and in sessions he would ramp me up to the verge of orgasm and then force me to repeat that I am his whore and my body is his to do with what he wants, and if he wants a third party, I will agree. And honestly, trembling there on the edge of cumming, I would repeat the words, and only then would he allow me to cum.

So yeah, he blatantly used manipulative techniques. I see it, I know it, I allowed it.

But recently he's really been pushing the subject again, and I know he is in contact with someone he may be thinking of asking to be that third party. And I hate it. I brought up that he's asking an awful lot of me, to make myself vulnerable to a stranger, and how do I know this person is clean/safe/discreet?  And all he says is, I need to trust him to not allow anything to hurt me. And I cried and argued and fought, and eventually he said, very clearly, that this is non-negotiable. If I want to continue to be his sub, I must do this.

Well. I have been very carefully, seriously considering that. Some days I think that I will be able to go through with it, and be OK. And other days I am convinced that it is totally the wrong move for me, and I will be damaged if I do. Not physically, no; but if I allow a crossing of a personal boundary, how will I feel about it? Will I suffer guilt/anxiety/remorse afterward?

I keep repeating myself to him - At the end of the day, I have to be proud of my behavior.

And I honestly do not know if I would be. And I am not at all sure I want to be without my Dom, either, but apparently this is what my choice is: Participate in the threesome (and more than once, I have already been told), or I will lose my collar. End of discussion.

I do not know what to do.









Saturday, June 14, 2014

Master's whore. For real.

This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.


You need to know, right off the top, that I was assigned a task by Master, and that I didn't like it. At. All. It's one thing to be his whore in bed. It's quite another to be pimped out by him. We disagree, vehemently, about whether that's what he did. I have been told to detail the experience, so that's what follows:

Master told me I was to suck off another man, of his choosing. I was supposed to finger Master's pussy & cum while I sucked & to moan Master's name. And then I was to hold this man's cum in my mouth, to take a photo/video proving it, & then rinse my mouth out - no swallowing. Lastly, I was to recite my 7-stanza devotional 5 times before I went to sleep.

So I approached this person, and basically said to him, Look, I have a request, & it's going to sound odd, but just hear me out. I want you to sit here on this chair & let me suck you off.

I got quite a strange look, I can tell you. But he sat down.

I took him into my mouth & started sucking, rolling my tongue over his cock to get a feel for him, you know? He was not nearly as thick as Master, not nearly as difficult to take in. I started bobbing my head, drawing him into my tongue & pushing him back out. And honest to God, he lasted barely a minute. Barely. I hadn't even touched myself when all of a sudden I had a thin mouthful of cum, so I got up & went into the bathroom right away to record a video of me letting the cum fall out of my mouth. And then I rinsed, & spit, & rinsed again. And before I took myself off to bed that night, I sent the video to Master & recited my devotion as I had been told. Part of me was happy I had followed through, & part of me was horrified.

The following morning Master told me to go cum, & I complied as soon as I got his directive. And Master sent me a message stating that he was pleased with my compliance in this.

But I have been unsettled by this incident.  And now he is calling my compliance into question & hinting that he may ask me to do this again.

I spent quite a while that night feeling slightly nauseated by the taste of another man on my tongue, & feeling ill-used, to be frank. I know that the language of BDSM talks a lot about Masters and property and surrendering and giving up all control. When I expressed my sick stomach to Master, he told me to be proud that I had followed his wishes and done what he told me to do. But it isn't helping that much, & in fact, I am still having a hard time with it. He says I am strong, but I'm not feeling like it.

Friday, May 23, 2014

Nobody's Perfect, Not Even a Dom

This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.


So I got to spend some one-on-one time with my Master recently. In many ways - in most ways, it was very good. In some ways, though, I felt it was lacking. And though I don't believe it was my fault, I do take responsibility for it.

Let me set the scene, so to speak -

When we first arrived, Master told me I was going to be his pet. He had me strip, then sit on the floor near him ("Do you allow your pets on the furniture at home? No, you do not."). OK, fine, I'm all right with this. We ate a bit of dinner, me sitting on the floor the whole time. All right. But after a while, the floor became very uncomfortable, and I found myself shifting constantly to try and find a position which didn't cause my legs or my hips to strain or fall asleep. Finally I said that the floor was not comfortable, and Master pointed across the room and said, "There's a chair."

Now what am I supposed to do with that? Was it an order to go sit in the chair, or permission to sit there if I felt I needed to, or merely an observation? I didn't know. I looked at him uncertainly for a minute and then slowly crossed the room and settled in the chair. He said nothing, and there I remained. And I didn't like it. I didn't know if I was in compliance or not, and now I felt uncertain and insecure.

Later on, in session, Master started off by placing my bit gag in my mouth and fastening it securely. He then blindfolded me and secured it with tape. Then he removed my collar. I felt funny without it, but he said it was to protect it, so I said nothing. (In fact, dummy that I am, I thought perhaps he was going to replace it. Silly me.) Next, with my arms down at my sides, he used tape to bind my arms in place. I merely stood quietly, becoming excited at the thought of being totally helpless before him. I do trust him, you know, not to truly hurt me, so even though I felt a little shiver of nervousness, I was mostly quivering in anticipation.

When I was suitably bound, he guided me to lie on my back on the bed, and draw my feet up, soles touching, my knees open wide. I was now completely open before him, all of me laid out as an offering on an altar.  And I was excited by it. He commented that he could see me trembling, and I could feel my lower lip quivering, but again, it was in anticipation, not fear.

I felt the mattress dip as he sat on the edge of the bed beside me. His fingers immediately probed into his pussy and found it already wet and wanting. "You are dripping," he said, his voice husky. I could only nod. Of course I was! I'd been waiting a long time for this!

His mouth fastened over the peak of my nipple as his fingers began pumping me. I arched up in response to the delicious wet heat of his mouth, and was disappointed when he pulled away. He said something about knowing that I like being bitten - or was it bruised? My heart was beating so strongly I had trouble hearing him. I just know that I nodded.

He moved away then, and I heard the jingle of chains scraping across the bedside table. Right after that, I was arching up again, but this time in pain; Master had attached my clover clamps to my nipples. Those things HURT. I squirmed and moaned in discomfort, but my voice was muffled by the gag, and of course my bindings restricted my movement. I panted around the gag, trying to put the pain away. Master's fingers went back into his pussy then, and his voice was both disbelieving and delighted as he commented on just how wet I was.

Taking the clamps off hurt almost as much as applying them, and I know I moaned and twisted when he removed them. Then he sucked one nipple into his mouth, and it was both sore and wonderful. It sounds odd, doesn't it? It felt odd, too - my body responding as he suckled it but also having to contend with feelings of pain mixed in. Very strange.

But he likes to do that with me, mix in a little pain to heighten the pleasure.

He moved away then, leaving me to lie there for several minutes, still bound and in position while he puttered around the room for a bit. I heard his footsteps as he came back, and the next thing I knew, there was a flare of intense heat on my skin. Ah, he'd poured hot wax on me. My body tensed, of course, as I had had no warning, and he continued to dribble the wax down on me, on my nipples, across my tummy, and over my clit til it was well coated. And it was hot, yes, but I loved it, even as I shook and tensed and whimpered at the sting of the mild burns.

And then he brought out a surprise - a flogger. I jumped when I felt the tails trailing over my skin; it took a few seconds for me to realize I wasn't feeling pain. Master varied the touch of the flogger, now slow and gentle, now flicking with sharp stings on my nipples, now thudding firmly on my clit. And I never knew which type of hit was coming next, so I was tense, but I really enjoyed that, too. And Master let me cum, more than once, and that was quite nice, too.

But what happened next really confused me. He flipped me onto my stomach (which I resisted because I was afraid I would roll right off the side of the bed) and then had me pull up my knees, so that my ass was up in the air but my face and shoulders were pressed into the mattress. He then lubed up a set of anal beads and inserted all five of them inside me. I know I was panting, cuz I'm not really a fan of these beads, and I hurt and hissed and whined as he pushed each one inside.

And then he walked away and left me there like that. Granted, he is Master, and so I did not argue or complain, but I was unsure of what to do. He came back after several minutes and helped me stand up, then released all my bindings and told me to go take a shower, but to leave the balls in place. Umm, all right. I came out after my shower and sat on the floor next to the couch. And he didn't speak to me, and I didn't speak to him, and after a while he told me I could take the balls out. OK. So I did. And that was it. And he left my collar lying on the table for the rest of our time together.

And I felt like I'd been left hanging, you know? There was no sense of closure or completion, and simply wearing the balls for the 30 minutes or so that it was didn't seem to have a purpose. I didn't get it.

I still don't get it.

And so this is the thing I must take responsibility for - I didn't ask. I didn't tell my Master that I was feeling wrong-footed and off-balance and unsure. I didn't tell him that I needed more from him in that moment. I didn't tell him that I felt incomplete without my collar, that I felt as though he'd left the symbol of my devotion and commitment lying in a tangle on the table, as though it were of no importance, and that made me feel as though I was not important, either. I merely sat, again, in the chair across the room and kept quiet. And so, because I felt terribly shy and inconsequential, I didn't say any of what was on my mind. And when we parted ways, I had no bite marks or bruises to take home with me, not one single kiss to taste him with, and I had to ask him to please put my collar back on, because he seemed to think it was fine if I did it myself.  

So for those reasons, I was disappointed in how things turned out. And I can't expect my Master to read my mind, and I really do struggle with how much can I say and still be submissive, you know? Like, how does one respectfully and submissively say, I really enjoyed the times we were in session, but your after-care sucked? And here we are, several days later, and I still feel unsettled by how things were left.

And it doesn't mean I want to quit, or that I don't enjoy being his sub/slut/whore/pet/Kitten, because I really do. And I hope he keeps me for a long, long time. I just wish I could talk to him about how I feel on this issue, cuz I know that if I keep it buried, it's gonna come back to bite me in the ass. And not in the good way.  :)





Sunday, May 11, 2014

The Countdown Is On ...

This is an adult blog, containing graphic and frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. read at your own risk.


And finally, finally, the time for my weekend away with Master is almost here; only 4 days to go, now, and counting.

I need this time, this opportunity to focus on him and to redefine my service. It has been far too long since we've had more than a handful of hours to devote to one-on-one time together.

And I am nervous. Oh, I'm pretty much always nervous before we have such focused time together like this. I tend to imagine what he may require of me, and it usually involves pain. Now,  I am NOT a pain slut. I hate pain, I cry, I try to get out of it. So I imagine, and I worry, and then I start to obsess. And it all stems from my own uncertainties do I still  please him? Am I submissive enough? Can I overcome my pride/fears/self-awareness and become his perfectly willing whore?

As I see it, he can go from neutral to Dominant in the blink of an eye. It takes me much longer to disengage from all the outside stuff and be the focused, pliable sub/slut/pet that he needs me to be. My brain over-analyzes things.

When I mentioned to him about my nervousness, I told him it's always like that; that I have to step back and put all these things away every time. And he asked me why I do that, as it made more sense to him that I pull them out, deal with them and be done with them.

Well. What a concept.

So why don't I do that? Because dealing with these issues requires me to admit they are a problem, and I can't do that. I can't be seen as less than controlled and put-together and capable and strong, especially not by Master. He needs to know that he can count on my willing service, and if I have issues, my willingness might be called into question. And I can't have that.

But - 

Maybe it would be better for me to go ahead and confess my weakness. Maybe by putting my fears on the table, they can be dealt with and addressed and put to rest. Maybe it would be better for me to stop acting strong, work through these things that stunt my growth and actually become strong. 

I'll let you know.  :)  

  

 

Friday, April 25, 2014

And finally, day 7

This is an adult blog containing frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.


So here we are, Day 7 of my week-long task. Today promised to be the most challenging yet - especially considering that the first thing I became aware of, as I blearily blinked in the early morning sun, was that my body was already was humming. Yes, I woke up already half-horny. Lovely. All right then, so let's get straight to it.

Session 1 took place in my bathroom. I shucked off my pajama pants and perched on the edge of the tub, my knees spread wide, resting on my toes. The first pass of my fingers over my clit had me bending forward with the rush of arousal that spiked through me. One pass. I am in trouble. I bit my lip and started rubbing myself, firm little circles that alternately tugged and pushed against that greedy little nub of flesh.  I was surprised at how quickly I was reaching for climax - I was pushing past a level 9 in under 2 minutes, surely. I dropped my feet flat against the floor as my legs trembled, and my free hand gripped the edge of the tub to balance myself. I swayed forward again, letting loose a quiet whimper as my body shivered and I felt my inner muscles contract. I had to stop then, so as not to get too close to cumming. I bowed my head and hoped to God I would survive this day.

Session 2 was very similar - I was upstairs on the couch, again, but kneeling on it with my left arm bent and resting on the top of the couch. My knees were open wide and sinking into the cushions. When I first swiped my fingers across Master's pussy I could feel that I was wet already - and I'd barely even touched myself. I leaned forward and rested my head on my bent arm, pressing my chest against the back of the couch, and began stroking myself. And again, I ramped up to an 8 very quickly, passing on to a 9 in just a few minutes. My breaths became pants and my hips rocked against my fingers as I crept ever closer to orgasm, little tremors shivering through my as Master's pussy grew juicier and trickled over my fingers. I gave my clit one last good firm stroke, and pitched forward as Master's pussy clenched once on emptiness. I gritted my teeth and panted through my nose, feeling like any little movement or even too big of a breath might be my undoing. When I was able to move, my legs definitely felt shaky, and it took much longer for my horniness level to drop back down. Even an hour later, I was still feeling half-way turned on, like a 4 - 5. 

Session 3 of the day was a danger zone. I was still at like a 4, and I went back to my bed. I knelt on it and leaned way down, so my upper body was pressing into the mattress with my ass sticking up in the air. When I reached between my legs, my fingers encountered a pool of juiciness which immediately coated my fingers and made them so, so slick. I moaned then, out loud, it just felt so good, the way my fingers skimmed over my clit and slid so freely over my skin. Damn. This session was the first time of the week where I kinda lost track of myself. I didn't think, I just felt, and my body rocked so hard that the bed shook and squeaked. My fingers were heaven and hell, combined, so delicious and pleasurable but yet not enough, never enough. I was definitely a 9+, teetering on the knife's edge, and in my mind's eye my Master was the one fondling his property and driving me relentlessly toward climax, and I writhed on his fingers and thought I'd gladly swallow his cock and suffer the pain of his teeth, and I moaned out loud, "Oh, Sir, yes." The sound of my own voice startled me, as I wasn't consciously aware of speaking, and in that heartbeat I became aware that I was Right There and Going to Fall Over. Oh, shit, shit, shit!! Master will not be pleased! I tore my fingers away and curled them into the comforter, the slick juices on my fingers dampening the fabric. I gasped, and gasped again, and felt Master's pussy tremble and try to contract. I slammed my legs together and fell to my side, curling into a ball and tensing my muscles to try and stave off my climax. It was a near miss, but I did not cum. And let me tell you - it hurt. For quite a while afterward I felt the wetness in my panties and the aching between my legs, and the quivering of my muscles. And I hated it, hated this task, hated having to torture myself like this for days on end, hated the painful result of so much build up and denial.

It took several hours before I was ready to attempt another session. By then I had calmed down, both in body and mind - though not so much in body. I spent the lion's share of those hours still feeling the effects. But at last I couldn't postpone any longer, so back to the bathroom I went. I knelt on one knee on the rug by the tub, planting my other foot to brace myself, and leaned my side against the tub. This way I was plenty steady. I was hesitant at first, too aware of just how close my earlier escape had been. So it was with tentative fingers that I reached down and lightly stroked my clit, testing the waters, so to speak. And yes, there were plenty of waters. It seems my body had not gotten over its earlier experience, and there was a little bit of tenderness when I pressed down firmly. Huh. So not only was I still wet, and still aroused, but now I was a bit sore as well. Great. But Master's will is Master's law, and so I continued on, rubbing myself and shifting my knee over to open up a bit wider. When I felt Master's pussy responding yet again, I bowed my head and bit my lip, letting loose a sigh that was part pleasure and part resignation. Despite my misgivings I couldn't prevent my hips from rocking against my fingers, nor stop my heart rate from speeding up, nor keep myself from feeling more and more aroused. It took longer than the previous attempt - partly because I'd been so tentative in the beginning, I think - but within several minutes I was once again panting lightly and feeling my juices flowing over my fingers, whimpering as my inner muscles clenched and that feeling of tightness deep in my belly began coiling. I continued on until I knew I'd be in danger if I kept going, so with pounding heart and rubbery-feeling legs I got up and half-staggered out of the room.

Slightly less than 2 hours later I was back for session 6. Because I'd been playing so often - and so close to the edge - I hadn't really recovered; I'd spent most of the day feeling wet and ready. And once again, as I squatted and leaned against the wall of the laundry room, my fingers were instantly coated with a goodly amount of slick juices as soon as I reached down and stroked myself. I groaned with frustration and braced my free hand on the wall next to me; this day just might kill me. I grit my teeth as my fingers sped up, driving my level of arousal higher - I reached an 8 within just a minute or so and banged my back off the wall as my hips bucked hard. I moaned at the feeling of desire swirling through me, that all-too-familiar ache coiling between my legs and making my legs feel shaky. My left hand gripped the wall harder as my right hand bore down on my clit, rubbing faster and deeper, need and desire spearing through me in a sharp burst. I tossed my head back and cracked my head against the wall, hard enough that tears came to my eyes and I lost my balance, tipping over onto my left side in an inglorious heap. Ouch. I rubbed the sore spot on my head and laughed, weakly, in between shallow gasps for breath. Like I said - this day just might kill me.

And at long last, after 7 days and 27 separate masturbation sessions, I came to the final time; # 7 for today, # 28 for the week. I settled myself comfortably in a recliner and set it to the fully reclined position, then shimmied my pants down below my knees. I hiked my shirt up a bit, also, enough that I could snake my hand under it and reach my nipples. I eased my right hand down between my legs and started stroking my clit, slowly, languidly, no rush or hurry. At the same time I used my left hand to tweak my nipples, teasing them with the pads of my fingers, lightly pinching them, drawing little circles around them. In just a few minutes, thanks to the dual stimulation, I was feeling highly aroused, past a level 8 and closing in on 9. I sighed and whimpered as my fingers danced and teased, and Master's pussy produced a new gush of slick juices. My hips bucked under my fingers, my nipples were pinched and stroked in turn, and I moaned softly as a new wave of desire flooded through me. My thoughts grew fuzzy as the level of my arousal grew, and I panted and rocked and made the chair squeak in protest. I spiraled higher, building toward climax, my heart racing and my breaths coming shallow and quick. I closed my eyes as my hips bucked up hard, once, twice, a third time, and I knew that if I continued much longer, I would cross the line, and that just would not do. Regretfully, I pulled my hands free, curling them into fists in my lap while I waited for my heart to slow and my breaths to calm. I tugged my pants back into place, and then it hit me - I was done. I had completed the task Master had set for me. I tilted my head back and smiled. And even now, a full hour later, my brain is still a bit fuzzy, and my body is humming with mid-level arousal. I am tired, worn, feeling stretched thin, but I have succeeded.

And that feels good.        

 

 

Thursday, April 24, 2014

Day 6

This is an adult blog containing frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.



So I've made it to Day 6 of my week-long task, relatively intact. I've had a couple close calls in the previous 5 days, and I have spent most of today in various stages of arousal and denial. It hasn't exactly been a fun day.

I started off in the shower again this morning; such a lovely way to begin the day, don't you think? I propped my left foot up on the ledge and braced my left hand on the shower wall, then used my right hand to rub my clit. I stoked myself harder when I felt the excitement start to bubble up, driving myself to a higher level on the horniness scale .... a 7, an 8, a 9. My leg began to tremble but I kept on rubbing, taking myself closer to the edge of control. The fingers of my left hand tried digging into the slick sides of the shower as I hovered on the edge. And then I let my fingers fall away from my body, and stood on trembling legs to finish my shower.

In order to fit in all 6 sessions today, I knew I had to masturbate about once every two hours or so - that's a 12-hour time frame. So the next opportunity was at the office, about  mid-morning, in the only bathroom in the building. I dropped my trousers to my ankles and squatted with my back to the wall, then dove in. As I was a little bit slick yet form the shower session, it took just a couple minutes to feel myself reaching toward climax. And let's face it - I've been teasing myself for days now. Days. Of course my body is primed, and hoping to be allowed to feel completion. So in just a couple minutes more, I was hovering too close to the edge for my peace of mind. My hips bucked and my back bumped the wall, once, twice, a third time, and I felt that I was losing control. I stopped then, and noticed my fingers were shaking. I managed to put my clothes to rights and exit, but I felt a bit wobbly.

I left the at noon - hooray!! - and went to the mall to pick up my now-fixed computer. In the mall, I stopped in the restroom, and since no one else was in there, I decided to have my third session of the day. Now, getting one's self off in a public restroom is creepy, and icky, and I felt apprehensive about having someone walk in - even though I was safely ensconced in a stall. By spreading my feet apart, I could hold my slacks at my knees, so there was no danger of them hitting the floor. Ick. My fingers stole down between my legs and carefully slipped into place, stroking and rubbing and swirling, and again, it was only a couple of minutes before I felt myself growing wet and aroused. I kept swaying on my feet as my body rocked and I had to keep correcting my balance (but there was no way I wanted to touch or lean against the sides of the stall), and I hit level 8 almost immediately. Moving on toward a 9 wasn't difficult; I know I whimpered a couple of times and bit my lip to try and stifle my moans. My body bowed forward and I had to take a little step to adjust; I had a hard time standing up as the intensity built and my fingers dug deeper. At last I felt a shudder sweep through me and I knew I was getting too close. I had never ever felt like I wanted to have sex in a public bathroom, but right then I almost would have agreed. I made my escape before I could cross the line. And it took quite a bit longer to settle my breathing this time. It's like, increasing the frequency also increases the amount of recovery time I need. Or maybe it's just that I keep stopping before climax, so my whole body is getting annoyed with me.

I got my laptop back and did a bit of shopping, then headed home. I threw some laundry in and took care of my purchases, and by then another couple hours had elapsed, so it was time for #4. I got all comfy on my bed with my knees bent, my feet flat on the bed, and indulged in a little bit of fun play. I played with my nipples, I made a few teasing passes across my clit and then backed off to run my fingernails along the skin of my legs.I shivered then, and the arousal that built up was both the same and different as before; it was just as hungry, just as needy, but more relaxed, if that makes sense. I suppose it's because I was in a safe place with more time to actually enjoy it. In any case, I felt that I really enjoyed it more than most of the previous sessions. I reached level 9 in short order and wondered how close could I really get? I'd had a couple close calls, yes, but could I get within a hair's breadth and still be able to back off? I didn't know. And I didn't want to tip over and be subject to punishment, either. So I played, and I panted and whimpered and let myself moan out loud, and squeezed my breast and tweaked my nipple, and felt a flare of desire, so sudden and so strong, that my breath caught on a gasp and my heart galloped in my chest. My back arched up and my hips bucked hard, and I gripped the comforter in my fist and held on tight, because for a moment there I didn't know if I could stop. God damn, but that scared me. I froze then, and held my breath and waited, and felt Sir's pussy throbbing and tingling and aching so, so fiercely, and I trembled. I teetered there, my hand fisted in the comforter, my other hand splayed out on my leg, not daring to move, and I wondered if I had called Sir right then, and begged him, would he have allowed me to cum? Probably not.  And then, thank God, the pressure eased and I slowly relaxed and began breathing again. That was far, far too close a call. I got up and dressed as quickly as I was able, with my shaky legs and nerveless fingers, and resolved not to push the edge quite so far. 

And because it had been such a near thing, I waited several hours before daring to commence with session #5. I steered clear of the bed - too tempting! - and instead chose the couch in the upstairs sitting room. I sat down and leaned back, unzipping my pants and slipping my hand inside. I was still moist, which surprised me; apparently my body had not completely let go of its last brush with climax. Hmm. I slouched back against the cushions and sighed as my fingers got busy and I relaxed into a quiet kind of arousal, a 5, a 6, a 7, then higher to an 8. Oh, yeah, stroke just like that, right like that, and in a handful of minutes I was feeling all revved up again, a 9+. I was wary of skirting too close to the edge, but at the same time, I definitely wanted to get close to it. So I played, and rubbed, and sighed, and then there it was, that fluttering feeling deep in my belly, and my hips rocked and I sucked in a huge breath and shuddered with a not-quite-unexpected full-body arching. If I'd had permission to cum I would have kept going, as I was sure it would have taken only another minute to cross that line. And I wanted to, I really did; having been so very close earlier, and having spent all this week teasing and playing and being denied, I really wanted to finally find release. But having come too close last time, and not wanting to risk punishment, I reluctantly pulled my hand out of my pants and waited for my heart beat to slow and my ragged breaths to even out. One more session to go .... I'm not loving this task any more.

My 6th and final session of the day occurred where my day began - in my bathroom. I knelt on the floor, with one foot tucked under me and the other flat to support me floor. I bowed my head as my fingers found Sir's pussy again, and the thought crossed my mind that I can't keep doing this. My arm twinged as I stroked myself - using it so often has made the muscles sore, believe it or not. I rocked back and forth as my fingers stroked faster, and I closed my eyes and whimpered as the all-too-familiar feeling of desire built deep in my belly. I reached an 8 really quickly, in less than a minute, and then I debated with myself - would it be worth it to deliberately cross the line and end up punishing myself? I hit a 9 then, the ache I felt to cum was so strong, and so insistent, and I moaned out loud there on the bathroom floor in discomfort and need. Yes, I'd crawl across the floor, wear my bit, let Master apply a dozen clothespins to my nipples or pussy lips if only he would tell me it's okay to cum. I writhed on my fingers and twisted on my knee, and pitched forward so sharply I instinctively flung out both hands to catch myself. And then I stayed there on my hands and knees, and sniffled, and tears pricked the corners of my eyes because I was so frustrated, and so tired of putting myself through this. 6 times today - 18 times so far this week - I have stimulated myself to the edge of orgasm, and every one of those times has ended with me being left hanging and having to push down and ignore my body's aching. A couple of those times have been worse than the others, to be sure. I only hope I can make it successfully through tomorrow's challenge.     





Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Day 5

This is an adult blog containing frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes.  Read at your own risk. 


All right, a quick recap of my latest task; Master decided that for a solid week I am to engage in masturbation sessions of increasing frequency,  to be performed in different locations as prescribed by a list he gave me.  As today is the 5th day of the task,  I had to stimulate myself 5 times,  without ever being allowed to cum.  In the 4 previous days I had fulfilled all of the prescribed locations, so today I got to choose. 

I started the day off in the shower.  I love the feeling of warm water cascading over me, the way it slides down my body, the slippery feel of soapy skin.  My fingers stroked my clit just so, as I braced myself against the wall and bowed my back under the shower spray.  The water beat against my body as I stroked and rocked and panted,  my wet hair plastered to my face.  I felt myself pitch forward as I clung to the edge of climax, and after I pulled my hand away I had to stand on shaky legs for several minutes before I could climb out of the shower to towel off. And I cursed Master in the privacy of my head for setting me up like this.  

I arrived at work still feeling a little aroused,  so session 2 took place there at my desk.  I opened my legs as wide as I could while wearing slacks,  then leaned back in my chair and let myself play.  I was the first one there so I let myself moan and sigh and squirm. I ramped up to a level 8 right away and got a bit carried away,  since the slamming of a car door startled me; one of my coworkers had arrived and I hadn't noticed.  Oops.  I snatched my hand out of my pants just before she opened the door,  and sat there trying to look cool and composed despite my pounding heartbeat.  I had to wait until she ducked into the hall to clock in before I could zip my slacks back up. 

I left work early today and took my malfunctioning laptop to be fixed. After dropping it off, I sat in my car in the parking lot for session 3. It was cool out, overcast and grey, and I jumped a little when my cold fingers touched Master's pussy.  I shivered, actually,  but my fingers quickly warmed as I rubbed circles on my clit,  that little nub of flesh spreading tingles through my body as my arousal built. I propped my elbow on the edge of the window and rested my chin in my palm. I panted through my fingers as I bore down on my clit with my other hand. I passed an 8, then tipped a 9,my hips were rocking steadily against my fingers and I had 
the fleeting thought that I hoped the car was not shaking. 
I felt myself shudder and wished that Master was there,  pinning my hands above my head,  his finger stroking me, not letting up until I exploded over his fingers.  God, I wanted that.  

I drove straight to the fitness center then, my breathing still erratic, my body tingling and Master's pussy aching fiercely in denial,  again.  My circuit training helped work out some of the tension in my body, and I was panting for a different reason when I finished.  But I was still kinda ramped up,  and session 4 took place as soon as I arrived at home.  I stripped off my sweaty gym clothes, tossing them into the clothes basket, and pulled my white camisole back on. Then I knelt on the floor,  my knees parted, and immediately began working my clit. I quickly got back to an 8, as I had never quite recovered from the last session,  and leaned down, bracing my free hand on the floor.  I felt my hips rock, again,  and my heart pounded, again,  and I got to level 9 .... and I didn't want to stop.  I had spent a good chunk of the day in some level of arousal,  and I was tired of being denied over and over. I dropped my hand and sat back up, but I was frustrated and unhappy - and I knew I had one more session to go.

For my 5th session,  I chose to be as comfortable as possible,  so I laid down on my bed. I like to bend my knees and press the soles of my feet together; that opens me up wide without straining any of my joints.  My arm felt tired from being used so much,  so I started out slowly, gently, taking time to play and enjoy instead of rushing right to high intensity. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes,  letting my fingers rub in lazy circles on my clit.  Oh, yeah, that felt good.  Mmmm. I felt myself heating up, arousal swirling through me, but languidly,  peacefully,  no hurry. But yes, there it was,  the building of need, level 7, level 8, level 9. I tossed my head and rubbed myself faster,  building up even more tension, more desire. I moaned softly then,  and bucked my hips up.  My arm ached,  but I ignored it, being too wrapped up in the waves of desire rippling through me. 5 days of this, of skirting the edge of climax,  and I wanted so badly to cum, to fall over that edge and revel in orgasmic  bliss. What would I do to be allowed release? I gasped and panted and thought rather recklessly that I might even volunteer to wear a half-dozen stripes from Master's cane, if only he would let me cum ....... 

but he was not there to ask, so with one last stroke I pulled my hand away,  curling into a ball and clenching my hands into fists while Master's pussy ached and throbbed,  and I felt shaky and so, so frustrated.  Just thinking about the next 2 days made me want to cry.  Being horny nearly continuously is not as much fun as it sounds like.