the philosopher wants me to cum on command.
i can manage it with touching. he gives me a countdown, and by admittedly stretching it out a bit, he gets me to cum by 1.
essentially, he scares me into cumming.
he knows me so well by now, my master. he knows that i need to hear threats of all the awful things he'll do to me. i think he's laughing at me underneath, while he threatens me, while he goes through the ritual, while he recites the progression.
he'll strip me naked, he says.
he'll remind me of how disobedient i've been.
he'll list all the misdeeds which have earned me horrible punishments.
he'll scold me.
just the mention of being scolded starts me down into subspace.
and that word.
instant soggy cunt.
it's really all the standard stuff.
you've seen it here before.
he'll put the collar around my neck.
he'll make me crawl for him.
he'll make me lap up milk from a bowl on the floor.
he'll order me over the ottoman.
he'll beat my ass with his belt.
and then the cane...
he'll talk it all through.
his voice will get harder.
he'll threaten me with clothespins.
he'll tie me to the futon, he says.
he'll drip hot wax on me.
"from closer than last time?
so that it really hurts?"
i feed him the lines.
oh yes, kitten.
it will hurt a LOT!
"and then you'll put your hands around my throat..."
i have two guaranteed arousal triggers.
the thought of his hands squeezing my throat
and threats of caning.
they do it every time.
his voice changes again.
you'd better cum, kitten.
i'm going to count to 20,
and by the time i reach one,
if you haven't cum...
he never specifies what he'll do. he doesn't have to. just his voice scares the orgasm out of me. but not until he gets down into the single digits. maybe around 3. sometimes it takes all the way to 1. and he stretches out the count. but i do make it.
i do cum.
with what he calls my special little moans,
and then with huge wracking sobs,
he loves it.
except that so far, it only happens with touching.
and he wants more.
he has set the bar very high for me.
the bar from which he will suspend me if i don't pull off this feat.
after all. what's the point of having a sex slave if you can't train her to perform new and wonderfully impressive tricks?
i reminded him that it's not only men who have performance anxiety.
and tonight he said:
"don't worry kitten.
this will be a long-term project."
and then he heard my voice change, and asked if i was crying, and i was shy, and then said no, not really, and then said maybe a little, inside... but the good kind of crying...
there are things we don't talk about.
there are things we don't say.
and then sometimes...
sooner or later
i'll cum on command.
just his voice
and his threats
and the way he suddenly addresses me as "slave"
and the safety of knowing
we have plenty of time.
we'll get it right.
i know we will.
i am your kitten
i am your slave.
i am your selkie.
say the word
and i will cum.