Hello everyone. Let me start off for apologizing for this blog’s long layoff. Unfortunately, as Ella noted, timing was bad. I suddenly got very busy at work, and to top it off, the Devils suddenly became the hottest team in the league (what was that about Martin Brodeur being rusty coming back from surgery? ). But I know you folks have missed our wonderfully literate pornography, and for the long wait, I do apologize.
But let’s talk about long waits, shall we? As Ella noted, after our Super Bowl wager, after which her right to orgasm became mine for several weeks, we decided to change things up. For the past two weeks or so, she’s been in charge of mine. And in this blog’s biggest understatement to date, I’ve found it difficult. Wonderful, of course. I love being at her mercy. But difficult nonetheless. Now, I know much of the sex blogosphere is involved in BDSM and perhaps used to longterm orgasm denial, so my complaints of delightful agony may fall on unsympathetic ears. But before these last few weeks, I’ve hardly gone more than a day without orgasm since I started masturbating. So the better part of a week … well, you can imagine.
I get ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning. I had been pushing for Ella to agree to play this game with me for a while. She has a tendency to convince herself she doesn’t like being dominant until she actually starts doing it. So it took her a day or two to really get into the game, but she became quite playful. At first, she would let me cum only on days we had time for phone sex. That was two or three days in between, usually. And she’d have me doing things in the days in between. She learned the joy of sending me to jerk off for pre-determined periods of time. The first night, we couldn’t play on the phone and I worked late hours, so I came home to find this e-mail:
When you get home tonight whenever you are ready, look at the clock. Then take off your pants and touch yourself for fifteen minutes, however you want, but build it up so that at the end of the time, you’re jacking off as if you’re going to cum, but don’t. Then come back to your computer and respond to this email, with the intent being for me to read your response in the morning and grant you permission to cum when you wake up. You can use any tactics you like, but if it’s not good enough, I’ll say no.
My god, by the end of those 15 minutes, I was thrashing on the bed. I did just as she said, jerking off as if I was going to cum. I wasn’t going at it gently. And I was hoping that, when I described my agony in detail, she’d be merciful. I’m not sure why I expected it. Maybe because she wasn’t so into the game at first that I thought I’d get permission the next morning. But she responded with total casualness. Just a simple “no.”
It wasn’t just the refusal that made it as arousing as it was, but the simplicity of it. That I could be aching and rolling and squirming, and she could just smile and shake her head. “Nope! No cumming for you.” And she later added that she got herself off thinking of my agony. How hot it was to be reminded that she could have an orgasm whenever she wanted — and even wanted to when thinking of my pain — but I had to wait for her word.
A few days later, she sent me to jerk off for five minutes. Comparatively, five minutes was easy. So I went, did it, and came back to the computer to tell her that, though easier than 15, I was quite wound up. But I thought I was done. “Do you need another five minutes?” she asked. “I think you need another five. Go do another five.” It was just a reminder that I was at her mercy. And when I was done with those five, I got another five. It was so suspenseful, wondering when my time would end.
Suspense was often the name of the game. One day she had me on the phone, not to hear me cum but to hear me suffer. She was between classes, and before she called, she told me she wanted to hear me edge once. So I edged. And when I finished, she told me to do it again. And again. And again. And again. I don’t remember how many times she listened to me grit my teeth and squeal and whimper, but I do remember each time hoping desparately it was the last. I couldn’t lie still. I couldn’t keep my ass on the bed. I couldn’t keep from sweating and tensing up. I think I left nail marks on the palms of my hands. God, it was so hot, especially listening to her voice, so calm and controlled, in contrast to my heavy breathing and near inability to speak. Every moment a reminder of her sexual authority and my horniness. Not because I enjoyed it, but because she got off on it.
Some days at work, I had to remain aware of where my hands were, because I had the irresistable urge to touch myself. Did that mean Ella would give me a break? Hardly. She sent me more than once to my office bathroom to stroke and edge. The illicitness, the added arousal at a place where I wasn’t supposed to be so worked up … well, let’s say it wasn’t easy to hide such a large erection.
But it was her most recent rule that was the hardest. On what was my third day, we were planning on having phone sex. But when we were on the phone, she told me she had something new in mind. In the six days remaining of my period of bondage, I was allowed one orgasm. I could have it any time I want. (Ella loves to make me make decisions when I’m her playtoy. She says it’s because she loves to watch me try to choose and because, by making a choice, I have to choose my own agony. Maybe she can expound on that) With the three days I’d already waited, that made nine. Nine days, one orgasm. Good god.
The rational choice would be to cum on the fifth day, right? Well, whatever might’ve been rational, I knew when I woke up the morning of the fifth day that it was going to be that evening. Folks, I think I learned what the word “horny” means that day. It was a day off work, meaning I had little to distract me. I was hard all day. I could not think about anything but burying my face in Ella’s hot snatch, getting her juices all over me, hearing her moan. I fantasized about her sucking my cock while telling me not to orgasm. I wanted her to tie me up and ride me and smile and my pain while she came. I wanted to get on top of her and fuck her with more ferocity than I ever have. I was so hot that day I had to change my underwear in the middle of the day. I was so fucking hard and so fucking wet.
And that night, after she made me stroke slowly, then quickly, and wait for her to cum … WOW. I’ve had better orgasms, but never from mastrubation.
Well, I’m hardly feeling all that much better right now. I’m on my third day right now, and I actually had to move my laptop from my lap to my coffee table, because my lap keeps moving up and down, humping and fucking the air. I want Ella’s cunt. I want it now. But, thankfully, I’m going to have it. She’s visiting tomorrow, and her current plan is to release me. She’s told me that, as soon as she sees me, she doesn’t want to tease. She just want to take advantage of my frustration and have a good, hard fuck. So I’m going to get to cum at will.
Unless, on another whim, she changes her mind.