My First Lesson in Orgasm Denial
It had been two months of daily orgasms, every morning, commanded by my delicious Dom. He is a man of complex exotic flavors that blend into a succulent fusion of endless pleasure. I had learned this about him during this initial time. In the beginning I thought the daily orgasms would serve to keep me sexually satisfied; a good idea because my Dom was 5,000 miles away,
I had been accustomed to waking up cranky in the mornings my whole life. My mood required a shower and a cup of coffee…with cream. I would drink my second cup black, but my lever of “ratitude” would not tolerate anything less than comfort initially. When I was commanded to pleasure myself every morning before getting out of bed, I had doubts about my ability to keep this going.
I was not given an end date, other than it would continue until I was told differently. Being the bear that I am when I have to rise from my hibernation, I am rarely interested in morning sex. However, I am an obedient submissive who enjoys tasks because it is an opportunity to please my Dom. A challenge or not, it would be done.
In the beginning, the orgasms were sometimes difficult to achieve. Sometimes I would fall back asleep while trying to rub one off. I would wake up with a startle and have to start over, know I would be late for work if I didn’t hurry. Those mornings required intense fantasizing. Initially it was hard core BDSM porn that included my “trigger” – anal. Anal fingering, anal fucking, anal fisting. I could count on anal to always push me over the edge to orgasm. Later as more Skype encounter occurred, I developed more eroticism encompassing my Dom that guided me to my morning destination.
Soon I was masturbating daily, focused on my Dom and my sexual appetite transformed. I went from waking as the grumpy, frigid bitch, to rousing as a sexual creature whose purpose at the moment was to savor the deliciousness of my Dom and experience what my body was already craving before I even opened my eyes in the morning. The cognition of these images fueled my lustful appetite through the remainder of the day.
Last week my morning ritual was unexpectedly terminated. My Dom instructed me to have no orgasms for an entire week. I was not to pleasure myself or touch myself in any way, except, of course, for personal hygiene. Being the compassionate Dom that he is, he shared some of his porn with me and allowed me three lovely orgasms before my week of sexual denial would begin.
My Dom has asked me, after his task had been given, how long I thought I could go without sexual release. My mind flashed back to being married, bored and neglected. Sex with my husband was performed with a calculable routine that produced the enthusiasm of a 12-hour shift on an assembly line, compressed into ten minutes. “Two months, “was my reply. That was what I remembered.
Certainly I was having sex with my husband more often than that, but there was no pleasure in it for me. It was usually about two months before my sexual self reminded me that she was still there and loved me, if only I would just give her a rub. My husband was always in bed hours after me so it was easy to take advantage of the time and slowly fantasize about fingers and cocks inside of me. Some were memories of the past and some were my deprived imaginings of what I craved but suppressed for months at a time. Yes, I thought, I could easily go a week without an orgasm. That was Sunday.
Monday and Tuesday was no problem. I was busy with work and did not have much time to think about sex. When my thoughts did wander, I quickly diverted them elsewhere, reminding myself of my command. I had a feeling of being the good School Girl, perhaps even the Hall Monitor – a little self-riotous cunt. I was in control of this.
Wednesday was a short day. I took a nap that afternoon to catch up on lost sleep. I was also knew the next two days were cram-packed with clients. No breaks. I justified the nap as preventative maintenance from total exhaustion.
I awoke from my hour of slumber relaxed and rested. As I contemplated a long body stretch, I realized my right hand had my cunt grasped in it’s palm with the middle finger nestled between the labia lips, against the side of my clit. I yanked back my hand in a panic! How could I have betrayed myself…and my Dom? Did it count if I was not aware? Surely not. I hadn’t actually played with myself…had I? I had to check.
I would reach back to my pussy and spread the thick lips of my labia open, in a purely clinical manner, I told myself. I touched my clit. It was noticeably engorged. I felt the outline of the shaft through the hood. The jewelry in the head of my clit kept the hood pushed back, exposing the well developed mushroom. This area was dry. I pushed my finger farther down to my inner labia and it instantly slid inside.
I could feel my inner Hall Monitor standing with both hands on her hips – her face frowned-up. I removed my hand from the crime scene. I reasoned that I hadn’t masturbated or my wetness would have been smeared all over my cunt. I was keeping this event as an unreported misdemeanor. I would stay more aware of what was going on from now on.
Aware I was. My sexual stirrings had been heated up and I couldn’t find the know to turn it off. For now it was at a low but steady simmer. It took me longer to finish the paper work that evening. Little twitches from below kept reminding me of it’s presence. The Hall Monitor was shaking her finer at me. I obeyed the rules.
Thursday I woke up to a little “boner”. I could feel it firm between my labia lips. All I had to do was squeeze it between my thighs, working the labia around it, pushing the jewelry in the opposite direction. I got out of bed instantly, turned the coffee on and growled a little on my way to the shower. The rest of the day was filled with cunt knawings in the few free moments between clients. I was able to shut it off until the next mini-break. The Hall Monitor was pleased with me.
Friday’s morning alarm woke me to the same stiff boner. I didn’t linger in bed – the naughty thoughts were already there; too tempting for idle hands. I busied myself that day with work. Fortunately it was a busier day than the day before and my lust was put on a back burner, subconsciously simmering.
I was behaving well until I was laying in my bed that night – still and quiet. I would dose off and wake several times to find my hand squeezing my breast or pulling a nipple. I could feel the wetness between my thighs. I realized now that 2 months was no longer a valid interval for me to go without an orgasm. I tossed and turned all night.
Saturday came and I knew I could be in trouble. There were no clients to see, but there was at least plenty of paper work. I managed only a small part of the work. It was quiet and my imagination wandered to forbidden places. I lingered there, longer each time. I decided to go shopping and run other errands to occupy my mind. Unfortunately, this was only a temporary fix.
The evening was spent miserably. I was feeling like a cat in heat. I wanted release, but I had to wait for my Dom on Sunday. The Hall Monitor was feeling so high and mighty now.
I slept heavily that night, exhausted from the work week and the pent-up sexual energy. I didn’t rise until nearly noon on Sunday, but my carnality was already awake in me. It was no longer a matter of me controlling my lust. It controlled me. I was consumed.
I only had a say over not giving in and touching myself. All day my pussy ached and my clit throbbed. I muddled through the paperwork slowly. I left to get groceries. All I wanted was to hear from my Dom; hear him tell me that I could pleasure myself again.
When I returned home, he was on Skype. I was so relieved. I pulled myself together, not wanting him to see my desperation. He had been away on a wonderful trip and he told me many details. I was so proud and happy for him to see how much he enjoyed his trip. I was just learning how so much of his pleasure gave way to mind. I had forgotten about my own discomfort during the chat. I had missed seeing and hearing him. I found comfort in him.
Then the moment arrived. I was asked if I had done as I was instructed – no pleasuring myself for a week. I, now humbled in knowing that I could not easily do without sexual release, replied that I had not disobeyed his request. He rewarded me with as many orgasms as I could produce until midnight. I was then to resume no orgasms until given further notice. We said “Goodnight,”.
I still had a paper work deadline to meet before midnight, but I knew the orgasms had to take priority. I knew I could only finish the paperwork in a productive manner if I calmed myself first. I was already naked, as I often was when I Skyped with my Dom, so I wasted no time getting into bed.
I thought the first orgasm would be instant. I needed no fantasy; no foreplay. I had been sitting on the edge of an orgasm for days and all I had to do was push the Start button. However, I had no idea how my week of denial had affected me.
I slid my finger into my pussy and pulled up some girl goo to the clit. My pussy gave a spasm. I moaned softly. I could hear my Don’t voice telling me again that he wanted me to cum as many times as I could until midnight. I liked hearing him tell me what my tasks are. My mind memorizes everything about him that I can for that moment…his intonation, speech rhythm, exactly what he says. If I get to see his face, then it includes his facial expressions as well. It plays over and over in my head until the task is complete. This time was no different. I was steamy, hot, and wet.
I first made sweeping motions over my clit to cover it in slickness…So many times I have imagined being with my Dom. He pulls my nipples to bring them to erection, shaking each tit by it’s pink nub. Then he slaps it’s aroused nipple. I flinch back momentarily as the endorphins enter my body…
I went back to the front of the clit and rubbed in a left, circular motion, manipulating the
Posted onApril 20, 2018Categorieswritten eroticaLeave a commenton On Another Note Edit”On Another Note”
On Another Note
I played the French Horn in high school. The horn suited me, with it’s mellow, haunting sound. It duplicated the chronic sadness and isolation I often felt as a teenager. I found solace in it, and I excelled in it.
It became obvious very soon that I could easily go to college on music scholarship if I applied myself. Every year I was chosen to represent our region in an awards band. I went to band camp every summer and was selected for the top bands there.
My senior year was the year I had to shine because not only would I be trying out for the regional and state bands again, I would be competing on the University level for scholarships. My high school band director was a clarinet player. I needed a French horn player and a good one to give me an edge up.
My idea was that the principle horn player for our states only professional symphony at the time, would be the best to learn from. He had played in a New York City symphony, the Atlanta and the Chicago symphony. I had to have him. I contacted him, I auditioned for him, and he accepted me as a student.
The most unusual thing about the lessons was that he owned a pawn shop. I would take my lessons there. At first he kept the shop open and we would be interrupted by customers. Later, as I progressed, he closed the shop because the intensity was compromised, if interrupted.
I was smitten with him the first time I met him. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. He had black wavy hair, a salt and pepper beard, beautiful lips, and eyes that were such a dark green that they were almost black. He was a little stocky, but all muscle. He ran five miles everyday to keep his lung capacity up. He was also twenty-eight years older than me – an edge that I craved. I was in major “crush” mode.
The chemistry worked for us. I worked very hard each day so I could impress him the next week at my lesson. He recognized the “crush” and even teased me with it by letting me see him glancing at my breasts while I was playing. Sometimes he would touch my mouth and lips tenderly, perching them into the embouchure he wanted. He even walked behind me a few time (I always sat on a tall bar stool) and wrapped him arm partially around my waist with his hand on my diaphragm, just under my breasts, to tell me to sit up straighter so my diaphragm could expand more. I did, but I was dizzy with lust.
I studied diligently under him the whole school year. I went from being a good high school horn player, to a horn player with a tone that people stopped to listen to. Needless to say, I scooped up the best scholarship to the University I wanted to go to. This part was wrapped up 2 months before the school year ended.
I continued my lessons with as much devotion, but now I was getting more and more subtle attention. He would look at me from across the room with the most enduring gaze when I played. His hand might brush across my outer thigh, or his hand might linger too long on my diaphragm when my posture was lacking. I returned the favors with an unexpected turn and brush of my breasts, nipples fully erect, across his arm. I would lean just enough forward so he could glance down my cleavage. I even let my leg rub down his crotch as I slid off the bar stool once. I pretended not to notice. By the time I graduated high school, the electricity between us was unbearable.
I remember one particular lesson well. I lived an hour away and my mother drove me that day so she could get some shopping in. She drove off as I walked in and locked the door behind me. This was routine. He turned the sign off and closed the blinds. If a customer saw us, they would just stand and knock on the door.
I walked to my bar stool, sat my horn case on the floor, and I could already feel him close. I turned around and he was just inches from me. My whole body flamed. I almost couldn’t breathe. I was embarrassed at the complete, uncontrollable arousal and bent my head down slightly. He said, “I think you’ve had something on your mind for a long while.” He eased my chin up with his fingers. “Would you like to tell me about it?” I looked directly in his eyes and his hand brought my lips to his. Fireworks!
Suddenly there was a mad scramble of questions: “Are you still a virgin? Are you on birth control? Does anyone suspect us?” All the while he was kissing my neck, my mouth, pushing me to the back room as he threw coats from a rack onto the floor. Then, just as suddenly as the chaos began, he stopped.
He stepped back, looked at me, smiled, then he came back to me, to life my shirt over my head. I took off his. He had a beautiful dark, downy chest. I put my hand there. It was so soft. He smelled of fresh soap. He gently unfastened my bra. My full tits gave a slight bounce when he pulled the cups away. I heard a low, “Yes” come from his mouth. I don’t even think he knew that he said it out loud. He kissed me slowly and passionately, touching my breasts as if he was kneading delicate dough, until he found my hard nipples.
My head was already spinning when he knelt before me and took my nipples into his mouth, one at a time. He fed on me like a starving child. I could hold myself in no longer. I grabbed his hair, leaned my own head back and let out a long over-due moan. The moan must have fueled his passion because he was now pulling my pants off, kissing my belly, and had me high-stepping to get out of my panties quickly.
He stood and guided me to the coats, where he laid me down. He stripped the remainder of his clothes off. He stood gazing at me. I at him. He was a feast for my eyes. There were no 6-pack abs, but he was toned. His thighs and ass were muscular and strong from his daily running routine. His cock was ample, proud and glistening. I could already feel my own wetness, pooling inside my thighs. These coats were going to need to be cleaned, I thought.
He lay beside me. He took me in his arms and asked, Do you know how long I’ve wanted to just reach out and grab you?”
I blushed and whispered, “Not a day longer than me.”
The sex was intense. There were no inhibitions. There were no parts of our bodies untouched. When we finished, we were both blissfully spent…until I remembered my mother.
Damn! How long had we been in the back room? It was certainly longer than I would normally be there for a lesson. I jumped up, explaining about Mother. I ran to the bathroom to clean up as quickly as I could. I washed what little make-up off that was still on. I brushed my hair. I jumped into my clothes. He was already dressed. I grabbed my horn case and I already had my purse on my arm. He walked up to me and kissed me lovingly. He walked me to the door and asked, “See you next week?” I nodded yes as I opened the door to leave.
Mother was sitting there in the car looking annoyed. This normally made me very nervous with her, but I was still high from my romp. I didn’t care too much what she thought, but I didn’t want to be forbidden to see him again. She asked why she didn’t hear me playin my horn. I told her we had finished early and were talking. I said that we had just lost track of time. I don’t know if she noticed the little bite marks on my lower lip, the pinkish rash from his beard on my neck and chest, or the subtle smell of sex on me. She never said if she did.
Posted onApril 19, 2018CategoriesUncategorizedLeave a commenton On Another Note Edit”On Another Note”
A week of masturbation in unusual places was what Jack had commanded of me. I was told to take pictures to document my depravity. That morning I had errands to run. I found myself downtown in a place I’d never been to before. It was an older city government building with tall, tiled ceilings and cold granite floors that echoed the click-clack of my heels. I had to immediately stand straight and balance myself by taking smaller steps to ensure I did not slip on the high polished floors.
I became very aware of myself now. I slowed down. My small steps were deliberate and soon I was taking larger strides as I acclimated to the new surface. I held my shoulders back and my girls were front and center. Proud. My head was held high, ready to make eye contact with whoever caught my attention. My hips swaggered with the smoothness of warm caramel being poured over two big dollops of ice cream. If someone was going to hear me at least ten steps before I entered a room, I’d make damn sure they remembered me when I got there.
Activities must have been slow that morning because I’d completed my business quickly. There was no one of interest to catch my eye. I was disappointed. I liked to flirt, to dangle the carrot, so-to-speak. However, I’d always pulled back before a real bite was taken. I’m sure the thought of my new daily task was responsible for me feeling more sassy than usual. I was horny now. I closed my eyes for a moment to savor the sweet squeeze of my cunt. When I looked ahead again, I saw the door to the ladies room. It was time.
There were only two stalls. I took the second one. Once locked in, I backed to the toilet, dropping my panties under my knees and raised my skirt around my waist. I sat down, thighs apart.
My thoughts began to meander around in my garden of sexual fantasies…slick, wet cunts; rosy, spanked asses; licking tongues; clamped nipples…my hand found my own nipple and I lifted it out of the top of my dress. I positioned my cell phone with my other hand and took a selfie for my Sir, as I pulled the nipple firmly.
Someone opened the door to the bathroom. She came into the stall next to me. I felt a small jolt of panic and excitement as I could her disrobe enough to sit down. I felt very naughty and exposed even though she had no idea of what I was doing next to her. I took my hand from my breast and placed it under my pussy lips where I began to pee; feeling the rush of warm liquid drench my fingers. I opened my labia so I could manipulate the little stream. When the pee was gone, I touched my clit, almost moaning out loud. The sound of the woman washing her hands at the sink reminded me that I was not alone…not until I heard the bathroom door close.
I positioned my camera phone back in my hand, now fingering my cunt with the other. When the photo was taken, I put the phone aside. There was work to be done in my fantasy.
…he slapped my face as he pulled his cock out of my mouth. He pushed me on all fours. He fucked me roughly from behind, pulling my hair; reaching forward to choke. He spit on my ass as he pushed in two fingers. A few moments later he replaced his fingers with his cock. No mercy was shown as he fucked me harder and harder.
That was it, my trigger! I exploded into spasms as I tried to make sure my moans were not heard. I had to hold my breath, until I gasped for air after the last quiver of orgasm. I sat there quietly, composing myself. Then I remembered the additional task I’d been given. I pushed all of my fingers of my right hand into my sticky, wet, cunt, and pulled them back out, placing them all into my mouth, licking them clean. It was the taste of a slightly salted melon. I thought of my handsome Jack and the wonderful tasks he had given me.
I adjusted my clothing and washed my hands before leaving, looking in the mirror. Yes, that was an amazing glow that I had. So, as I exited the lady’s room, I stepped slowly and deliberately, heels click-clacking on the floor. My shoulders were pulled back and my head was held high. Maybe no one else would remember me being here, but I sure would. Thank you, Sir.
Posted onApril 18, 2018CategoriesUncategorizedLeave a commenton Ladies Room Edit”Ladies Room”
I woke up to a slight pain coming from my right nipple. Jack was laying behind me, pulling the nipple forward, stretching and twisting it. My body responded, squeezing my thighs together and pushing back against him. I immediately felt his cock stiffen as it protruded into the crack of my ass. I was still moist there from our last session…and a little sore.
He slide into my tender pussy, pushing all the way in. My cum is still there, slick, lubricating his cock. His hand left my tit and saddled my hip, pushing me gently forward, before slamming me back against his hard rod. A loud moan escaped me. A few more assertive thrusts and he pulled out of me.
I felt my juices ooze from my aching cunt, down, outside the labia lips and onto my ass. Jack had notice this too. He reached inside of me with two fingers and pulled out a generous serving of my honey and slathered the entrance to my ass with it.
He had used my ass endlessly for several days straight. I know it’s going to hurt. I tensed as he pushed the head of his cock against the opening.
“You might as well relax, my cum slut. It’s going to happen, regardless.”
I felt the “pop: and the pain as he entered me. It was hot, searing pain. My cunt re-lubricated itself. Why do I love this so much?!!! He waited a moment for me, then it was on.
Jack filled me to the hilt. He pulled my leg up and back over his hip to get in even deeper, as he pumped me with fury. He pulled my head back by my hair. I gazed into his eyes. His dominant stare set me on fire!
“Cum for me, Bitch! Pet that clit that belongs to me and then Cum.”
Mentally I was already there, touching myself was all that I needed. My hard clit was lubricated and ready. A few firm, circular rubs and the deep contractions of my pussy began. I pushed Jack even deeper into me and he answered by fucking my ass harder. Our groans of pleasure encircled our bodies as we both came.
Slowly he pulled out of me. He snuggled me close, pulled my face back to his and kissed me gently. We fell back asleep, resting for our next session.