So yesterday I had that nice long masturbation session, followed by a nap of decadent duration. I reported this whole thing to my Master in quite evocative detail and today received his response.
Short and concise.
"Excellent. Now do it again today."
The man is never satisfied.
I am sensing a qualitative difference between being told I may masturbate and being ordered to do so. Now given that my orgasms all belong to the fiend along with the rest of me, I have always interpreted permission to cum as being equivalent to at a minimum being encouraged to cum. He gets great pleasure out of my highly descriptive reports, so of course the permission is not meant for my pleasure alone. And when he tells me I may touch and cum and leave my orgasmic exclamations as a voice mail message after a specified time, you know damn well it's an order, not a request.
But there is a special flavor to this current requirement that I exercise my cunt. It's another way he makes me feel so deliciously owned. He took my request and scrawled his initials all over it and made it into another demonstration of his power, while making me want him to take over even more parts of my life.
When chaos howls outside my door and uncertainty snaps at my toes, the thought of signing over to him every minute and every breath becomes increasingly tempting.
It's probably a good thing it will never be possible.
Meanwhile, I feel more limits crumbling.
As if they were ever mine to erect in the first place.
I have always been very good at self-delusion...