Edging. He uses forced edging for a multitude of purposes: as a training tool, as punishment, as a way to heighten anticipation. When the tables are turned I’ve used making him edge all day as a form of torture, and to see how far he’ll let me push him. Edging in itself is not a very pleasurable activity for me; it is mostly frustrating, sometimes annoying, sometimes a misery.
Maybe I like it best when it’s a misery, when I truly want to come and he is denying me – but not by simply saying no, that’s not enough, no. Because then I could just stop thinking about it, turn away from wanting sex, and be done with it. No, it’s best when I hate it, when he makes me drive myself to the edge, forcing me to go there and wait for his permission, never knowing if he will grant it.
I confess: I love being denied. I love that he controls when I can come, and that is a part of my Rules, but more than that, I love when he exerts that power, either by telling me I have to make myself come or that I can’t, especially if it involves requiring me to edge. Truthfully, I wish he’d deny me more. It’s such a conundrum, really really liking my orgasms, but wanting to know he controls them/me even more than I want the release.
As Punishment: I’d been lackadaisical about following my rules all week: stealing an orgasm without permission, forgetting to do my morning devotion, going to sleep without completing my tasks, forgetting to send him a daily kitty, refusing to get out of bed when I’d been told to. Oh, and forgetting to put the EAK my “Emergency Anal Kit”, in the car, where it’s supposed to be at all times.
This day ended up being an all-day punishment edging/denial event.
I had a task list about a mile long (before the current state of affairs, he would have me send him a list of that weekend’s “to-do” items, and then he’d have me follow-up with him about my accomplishments, or, sometimes when I was feeling overwhelmed and fractious, he’d even dictate what I should get accomplished and in what order. Another element of control that I miss.) In any case, on this day he told me to pick 6 tasks, to include 3 rounds of homework.
At the start of each task, I was to insert one of my buttplugs, drink a full glass of water, then masturbate with Baldy for 5 minutes, on my knees with my ass in the air – without coming – and only then, after asking permission, could I go pee. Then, buttplug still inserted, I was to do my task, removing the buttplug after 30 minutes. The buttplugs got larger and larger in size…and, even with that discomfort, the orgasms were harder and harder to avoid, though I did manage it.
I folded clothes, cleaned the bathroom, cleaned my room and did three hours worth of homework, all with varying sizes of plugs in my ass, and my discomfort and need for an orgasm growing with every hour.
In the end, I was begging to come. No matter what I say about the mental aspects of being denied, in the moment I hate it. I even took a video of myself edging and fucking my ass with a dildo (I had graduated to fucking myself, not just inserting the dildo, because I was sure he’d give in if he saw the lengths I was willing to go to – and how, you know, sorry I was…) He wasn’t moved.
Instead, at the end, my instructions were to use my largest strap-on cock in my ass (it’s pretty huge) and a glass toy in my cunt (that was throbbing and aching for something – anything – to fill it) and make myself come THREE times – in the same position as I’d been in all day.
I came so hard I think I broke myself. I was shaking and gasping and thanking him even though he wasn’t there to hear me. But then, I couldn’t come again. I was shocked that I couldn’t push myself over the edge at least once more, but it wasn’t to be. Like I said, I think I broke myself. My poor clit was raw and sore with all the attention it had received. To say nothing of my ass. I didn’t walk right for three days.