You would think that with all that lovely stimulation - mental, physical, even (dare I say it) romantic - I would be exceptionally eager to take advantage of the masturbation permission the sadist granted me after his visits of this week and last. Plus I was even given extra leeway so that I could try out the sex toy I was sent to review. Certainly, Daddy's gentle attentions to my body made me disgustingly wet, and now as I think of his touch I'm all squirmy again. But overall I am so deadened by SAD that I have no independent sex drive whatsoever.
I don't even have enough energy to fantasize my way to wanting to masturbate.
Can you imagine? Now you know I'm nonfunctional!
At least I'm not depressed. I'm still managing to avoid depression. And I do manage to do one thing a day, outside of writing my blog posts. (Odd... I wonder why I'm actually being more regular about posting this week...)
Today I brought in from the car the 50 pound bag of chicken feed I use for kitty litter. Pretty impressive, considering I bought it on Saturday.
I should think masturbating would be good for me. Get the blood flowing. And certainly there are many memories that set my pussy dancing without having to manufacture fantasies. Such as when Daddy pulled my naked, kneeling body against his own as he sat up in the Eames chair. He pulled me close to him and resumed caressing my left tit with his large right hand. So gently, he caressed me... I felt my arousal rising and reached out for it... but Daddy, my sweet Daddy, gently said "Don't push, baby. Don't force it. Just give yourself to it." And I relaxed and felt everything and floated up with his tenderness, not cumming but flowing with the stream of sweet pleasure and gratitude and love as he taught me about my body and gently, tenderly, spoke of how beautiful I am.
Don't you think that should make me want to lie back on the bed and try to caress my left tit the way he did? Don't you think that should make me want to fondle the moist velvet of my-right-this minute very wet and twitching pussy?
Alas... SAD is a ruthless Dom who continues to deny me orgasms even when Daddy allows them.
Maybe you could cum on my behalf?
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5 comments:
I take it all back. That is wonderfully romantic.
(an Eames chair? my thwarted designers heart is lusting after your furniture)
He is indeed sweet and tender and romantic, when he's not being wicked and cruel.
My heart goes out to you with the current SAD nonsense.. I hope that the Solstice and the longer days to come will help you .. in many ways.
Hang in there~
I would do so, if I had time.
And wasn't on punishment of a sort, myself. *wink*
I would LOVE to OG :D (you couldn't have timed it better, papacrow is out tonight)
btw, I site this post as another EXCELLENT example to prove my case that the Mr Fiend (it's no good, that's how I think of him now!) is DEFINITELY romantic :D
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