Tuesday, July 28, 2009

"You may not cum tonight, my angel."

I do not cum unless he lets me. And normally I do not ask.

Last night, I asked. I had suffered, being away from easy contact for a few days. I was inflamed from thoughts he had planted in my brain, and from a long conversation that wrapped his chain ever tighter around my neck while it sank a hook into my heart.

My pussy hurt.
So I asked.
And he said no.

In a way, as I have said before, I am glad that he controls my orgasms, and I suffer with gratitude the pains of unrelieved arousal. And it does hurt. It truly hurts. This is not a metaphor. My cunt hurts and my womb contracts and I am rocking down into my chair as I write and it feels is if a butt plug were being rammed up my tight little brown puckered ass hole and as if my labia were being whipped by a flogger strung with thin, biting lashes, filaments almost, that sting and cut and I welcome the pain, and I writhe under the pain and I beg for more in hopes that I will eventually cum but all I am given is more pain that flicks at my clitoris until I am ready to scream from frustration but no, my angel, you could not cum last night and you may not cum tonight and my mind fills with vague images of torture and punishment which are vague because anything more concrete would send me hiding under the bed and are vague because I just don't know enough and really, it's just as well, it's just as well I don't know all the horrible things he has done to past submissives who have fallen under his evil and beautiful spell.

So I writhe and moan and my brain goes off on its own, perverted path, and I restrain myself from searching the web for descriptions of truly awful and sadistic sexual tortures because I don't want to know what one day I will be begging him to do to me.

For now, anything seems mild compared to the pain that assails me from not being able to cum.

Thank you, my Lord.
Thank you for this pain.
Thank you for your control.
Thank you for reminding me,
with this pain,
with your control,
that I am yours.
And nothing else matters.


Paul said...

OG, this sounds so painful, I suspect that your Sadist is enjoying himself.
Love and warm hugs,

oatmeal girl said...

My sadist enjoys his power, he enjoys my desire, even as he is swallowed by his own. He is sadistic in many different ways, but the torture he subjects me to is mostly not of the physical sort.

And he makes me feel alive.