Sunday, November 22, 2009

"I don't believe I will permit you to cum for a while"


Still floating from my Master's visit on Friday, the 2nd in 3 days. I was tired and happy and painfully aroused. But my pleasure belongs to him. I don't even touch without permission, let alone cum. So I suffered. I wrote him and I suffered and I squirmed and I twitched, and my suffering was compounded by watching Ohio State destroy the University of Michigan (how can anyone doubt that I am a true masochist?!) and my messages became more rich and creative and really -

that was my mistake.

Because that's when he said it.
I don't believe I will permit you to cum for a while
Now being a poet and all, I noticed something very sinister about this statement. Look carefully.

There is no period at the end.
There is no end.
It goes on and on...

And the prohibition had exactly the effect my Master was hoping for. The effect he was expecting. Because, of course, by now he knows my responses. He knows that if he twists this, bites that, spanks with a finely calibrated degree of force, he will elicit from his malleable pet precisely the sounds and colors and words and welts he is after.

My Master is very pleased.

And the prohibition continues.


Paul said...

OG, the tortured artist producing ever sweeter nectar.
A sadistic genius indeed.
Love and warm hugs,

nancy said...

How difficult to know you are not allowed..
Just knowing that makes me all the more likely to want and be aroused~!
Good luck~

oatmeal girl said...

Paul - if I were smart, I'd restrain my creativity at times such as these. But I don't have that much self-control. And the flood of writing is exciting. A different form of release.

nancy - I normally can't anyway without permission. But to specifically be told that he won't let me for a while... that's like putting metal tips on the flogger lashes.

Diable Incarne said...

Yes, I enjoy this game too... watching Luna writhe and enjoying the melodious tone of her pleading and begging for permission to touch, to play, to orgasm.

My damnable denial as she affectionately refers to it... I could surf the wave of her torrential tide once the dam is opened and she gushes forth.