You said it as an afterthought really, I think. I don't think you had any idea the impact your order would have on me. Maybe you do know. . .and that's why you did it.
After we hung up the phone I lay on my bed thinking. I was thinking about why my stomach was in a little nervous knot, and why I felt so small and controlled and owned. I idly traced the spot on my leg where you have me draw your initial, even though it wasn't there.
I remember when you first asked for control of my orgasms. I remember how reluctant I was. I remember how it skirted the line for me in bringing up memories of lovers past who didn't know or care if I ever orgasmed at all. In time, I was able to give it to you. I remember that it was difficult. I remember the times when I would be frustrated and have to safeword. I remember the special rule you had to make because I would get so scared and upset that I was not being good enough for you-- the one where I would be punished if I came without your permission but that you would not be angry or dissapointed with me.
But tonight you said you didn't want to keep me from cumming when I wanted anymore. Now you have a new rule. Now I have to cum every day. It didn't seem like a very submissive thing to ask of me when you said it, did it?
I'm exhausted. I put dinner away so it doesn't spoil and then I take my pill. I start closing the lights and am momentairly distracted by some forms I find that I have to fill out for school. By the time I get the lights out and am ready for bed, the sexy feeling has waned and all I'm thinking about is sleep. In fact, I do drift to sleep a bit. I wake up wide -eyed in a slight panick. Maybe you meant starting tonight! Of course you did.
Now I am starting to feel the impact. I am starting to realize what this might mean. It means that I must masturbate now, even though my body is completely uninterested. I realize it means you have more control over my body now than you did before. Being forbidden from something means that you need only avoid behavior that you might want to engage in. Being ordered to do something means you must find time and energy and motivation to do it. This realization hits me hard and I squeeze my legs together while groping in the dark for my vibrator.
I turn onto my stomach and turn it on. . .feeling it buzz against me. The sensation is too much and I shut it right off and continue to think. I wonder what will happen on busy days when I have little time at home. Will I have to take part of my lunch break to go to the bathroom and make myself cum? This question embarasses me. It makes me feel slutty and naughty. It enforces the idea that, while I might seem totally in control and bossy in my vanilla work place, I might be secretly sneaking away to rub my pussy for my master.
I wonder also, will it make me hornier? Will I become oversexed? Will I become so conditioned that I am begging for stimulus in humiliation in front of my master? I turn the vibrator back on and feel my heart start to beat while my hips bump forward and back against it. My mind is now very aroused, and my body is slowly catching up. My mind is a haze of excitement and the sensation is too much. I take the vibrator away again. And I drift to sleep in exhaustion. I can't have been asleep for long. I wake up and my breath is still ragged. I am drifting in and out of conciousness like one does in class.
I would like to put the vibrator away and go to sleep. But I can't. And this thought excites me terribly. I realize that this order has done something new to me. Before, you controlled my orgasms until you gave me permission to cum. When permission was granted, I had an orgasm that was mine -- for me. With exquisite crushing weight of reality, I know now that every time I cum, that orgasm will belong to you. No matter how good it might feel to me, or how much I want to cum, it will not be mine. This thought frightens and pleases me so much that I find myself squirming up the bed. . .pressing hard against the vibrator and occasionally stopping to lick my fingers. . .wet with myself.
I start murmuring to myself. . ."Oh. . .oh. . .oh. . ." as my excitement grows and I start to remember how it felt the last time you took my orgasm from me. The last time I felt that my orgasms were not my own was the time you gave them to other people. It was the weekend you went away to Troy on business. Before you left you told me that if I was not allowed to climax unless someone was listening to me. And that person had to be someone who had never heard me cum before. But that wasn't all. You told me that I had to come twice before you came home. Once with a woman listening and once with a man listening.
I remember that you made me call someone who I had never before spoken to, and masturbate to orgasm for them. I remember the embarassment of knowing that will always be her first memory of me. I remember how small and needy I felt afterwards. I remember how nearly panicked I was. I remember wanting to hide in your pocket and cry. Not bad crying mind you, but overwhelmed crying. It was very powerful to know that you could make me, Laurel the good girl, call someone up and cum for them like a common slut. No, it was very powerful to me to know that you could *make me* into a slut.
For you -- anything. I was owned. Not just my body, but all the accompanying facets of me. You could give my sexuality away with a single order. You could take my privacy from me. You could take away my choice in who I was intimate with. You could give away my cries, you could give away my orgasms, you could give away my body.
With that memory I had to turn off the vibrator and be still. The memory still takes my stomach and knots it. I remember that it was edge play. It was not just doing something that I already wanted to do. It was changing my image of myself. And I did that, willingly. I took gratification from the idea that you could take my image of myself and mold it into something to your liking. I like that you can take me and make me into exactly what you want.
I find myself dreaming again. My body is still swaying slightly against the sheets, but I have drifted to sleep again, thinking of how I had called that man who I'd only known through email and masturbated for him because you wanted me to. God, how lost I felt later. It was a shame you were out of town. I needed you more than ever. My submission hit so far down that I couldn't do anything without asking permission. I was asking our friends, even the subs, if I could please eat dinner now, or get dressed now, or use the bathroom now. I was incapable of coming out of subspace for three days. It scared the hell out of me, frankly. It also set in motion the longing inside.
The longing inside you just touched with this rule. To give you a part of myself and make it yours. I turn the vibrator back on and start to gyrate. I cannot stop thinking that I feel your collar at my throat (even though it isn't there). I can feel your control over me as clearly as if you had your hand on my throat. I can hear my breath loud in the still of my room. And suddenly I am cumming. . . "Oh . . .god. . .ohhhhhh. . mphttttt." I bury my face in my pillow and bite it. And then I don't remember anymore. I woke this morning with the vibrator still underneath me.
I know this isn't anything really hot master, but I wanted you to know how deeply you affected me last night and to let you see into my heart and head.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Ponderings
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