tagBDSMSubmissive's Journey 21

Submissive's Journey 21


Why would I ever not want to have an orgasm?

I really had no idea. Having an orgasm is the high point of my existence these days. When I am cumming, time seems to come to a standstill, as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through my body. So when my Mistress, Barbara, said that I was going to have to learn to control my orgasms, I was confused.

Of course, her word is law for me. When I submitted to her, it was with the hope that she would help me explore my limits; that she would give me new experiences, and she was very good at this.

Many times, when she would be toying with me, she would take me to the very brink of orgasm. Her strict rule was that any time she was playing with me, if I felt my orgasm approaching I had to obtain permission from her to cum. Oh, the sweet agony of holding back my orgasm, while she pondered if she felt that I had climbed high enough.

Often, she would reply, "Not yet." And she would continue to stimulate me and torment me in the most delicious ways. But her statement of "not yet" implied that the orgasm would still arrive, only later, so I held back, and held back, climbing higher and higher; climbing to heights that I never knew I could achieve.

Finally she would say, "Now you may cum." At that, my body would explode with the most magnificent orgasms I had ever felt.

So naturally, I assumed that THIS is what she meant when she said I must learn to control my orgasms. Someday, I may be wise enough not to assume I know her plans about anything.

My misinterpretation became clear to me, because one day she proved to me that my assumption had been all wrong.

On that day, we both were naked. Me, wearing only my collar and handcuffs; my Mistress wearing only her favorite strap-on. She had cuffed my hands behind my back, making the entire front of my body readily available to her. She was laying on her back, and had pulled me atop her, grabbing my hips to impale me on her strap-on.

My pussy was already soaking wet by things that she had done earlier to me, so the strap-on slipped easily up into my vaginal passage. Still, I could not suppress a gasp as it suddenly stretched and filled me. My knees were straddling her hips as my labia smacked the base of her strap-on.

"Get busy, pet. Start riding!" She gave each of my well exposed tits a stinging slap to encourage me. Unable to use my hands, I began lifting my pelvis with my thighs, and then lowering myself back down again. Her strap-on was constructed in such a manner that every time my weight came down on it, another shaft would be driven into her cunt, and the base plate would grind sensuously on her mound and clit.

Her hands were wandering over the front of my torso, teasing me with a mixture of caresses and torments. Sometimes her fingertips would whisper over my sensitive flesh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Sometimes her fingernails would scratch just hard enough to leave red streaks. Sometimes her hands would massage the entire globes of my breasts, bobbing before her as I moved up and down. Sometimes her fingers would grasp my areolae and/or nipples in a grip so painful I would wince.

All the while she did these things, she was looking into my face, watching my reactions to what she was doing. I know we were both excited; the wetness where our groins came together was ample proof.

Each time my weight smacked down on the base of the strap on, it made Mistress' body bounce slightly. That slight movement would make her luscious breasts wobble and dance before my eyes. Her nipples, like mine, were fully engorged, drawing my attention, and making my mouth water as I began imagining covering them with my lips and suckling. But that was only in my imagination. I had to hold my torso vertically to maintain my up and down fucking action.

Her strap-on was bumping against some of my most sensitive areas internally, and it was not long before I felt the familiar sensation of my approaching orgasm. Addressing my Mistress with a pleading expression on my face, I asked, "May I please cum, Mistress?"

Instead of saying, "Yes, you may cum," or even "Not yet," she answered with something I never expected to hear.

"Pet, you are not going to cum at all during this session. Let me make this clear. You are forbidden to cum."

I was still bouncing feverishly on her strap-on, as my mind tried to process her command. When it registered, I realized that I needed to do something to squelch my onrushing orgasm. So, I began slowing my up-and-down movements, subtly changing the angle that the strap-on penetrated me. I also bit my lip hard, to generate a sudden pain to shock my awareness away from the pleasure that had built in my core.

It was working. I felt my orgasm receding. Inwardly, I was feeling rather smug that I had so quickly come up with a solution to my problem. That is when I noticed the look of anger on my Mistress' face. I had seldom seen her look so pissed off.

With a buck of her hips and a shove of her hands, she abruptly dislodged me from the strap-on, and I found myself suddenly laying on my side beside her. But only for a moment.

She leaped to her feet, planted her hands on her hips, and glared down at me. "How dare you?!"

As I started to stammer something about my confusion, she went on to say, "You cheated! Don't deny it! I saw you bite your lip!I felt you change your rhythm!"

"But Mistress, you told me not to cum," I protested.

"That is correct," she replied. "But I did not tell you to slow down, did I? I did not tell you to change your rhythm. I certainly did not tell you to rob me of my pleasure!"

My heart shrank in my chest as I realized what she meant. I had been pleasuring her; driving her towards HER orgasm. My change in rhythm and speed had frustrated that. I was mortified. I had forgotten that I was her toy, and she was using me to pleasure herself.

Her anger was palpable, and justified. I immediately apologized, conveying my dismay as best I could with facial expressions, since having my hands cuffed behind me limited me from doing much else. Mistress must have believed my sincerity, because her angry expression was somewhat mollified.

This gave me the courage to venture a question. "Mistress, may I ask something?"

"Go ahead," was her terse reply.

"Mistress, you commanded me not to cum, but an orgasm is a physiological response of my body. If I had continued to do exactly what I was doing, I would have cum, thereby disobeying you. So what was I to do? I was really trying to obey your command. Now I see that I had foolishly not thought through the results of what I did."

This question, wrapped with further explanatory apologies seemed to trigger the teacher within my Mistress. After all, she was training me to become the best pet that I can be. Her angry expression softened into a gentle smile.

"Oh, you silly thing. You think that orgasms are inevitable just because your body is being stimulated? Those stimulations are merely sensations. You bring those sensations into your awareness and you can act on them on any way that you wish. Just as you can take the sensations of pain, and convert them into sensations that are merely interesting, or even into sensations that are pleasurable, you can take the sensations of pleasure, and convert them also."

"Tell me," she went on to ask, "have you never been fucking someone, and, even though it felt good, you just didn't feel like cumming, but you still wanted them to achieve their release?"

I only had to think about that question for a moment or two. The image came to mind of a former boyfriend who was a nice person, but somehow the chemistry between us had not "clicked" for me. There were many times during our brief relationship when I truly wanted him to achieve satisfaction as we made love, even though the pleasurable sensations were never enough for me to achieve my peak.

Blushing, I whispered, "Yes, Mistress. There were such times."

"Good," she said. "So draw upon that memory and use it to convert the sensations of your approaching orgasm into sensations that are merely 'nice'."

My eyes widened with surprise as I realized how easy this would be to do. I think she saw the comprehension on my face, because she nodded approvingly.

I asked shyly, "Mistress, may your silly pet try once again, so that she may show you that she truly understands?"

To my delight, she chuckled and lifted me onto my knees, then settled herself on her back beside me. "Very well, my pet. Show me."

Grateful for a second chance, I again straddled her and, wriggling my hips, managed hands-free to get her strap-on to slip back up into my cunt.

I started with slow up-and-down movements of my hips, and at the bottom of each stroke I moved my hips in a small circle to better stimulate my Mistress' clit.

For her part, she was determined to test my resolve. She watched my face closely as her hands moved to the front of my torso and began doing amazing things to stimulate me. It felt like three or four hands were caressing me; teasing me; tormenting me. My breasts became glowing masses of pleasure; my nipples engorged so fully that they felt like they wanted to explode. My belly muscles fluttered to her touch. My clit thrummed under her gentle strokes. Her hands caressed my neck, and my arms.

She had me moaning in minutes, and my moans blended with hers, since seeing me so aroused was indeed turning her on as well. The speed of my strokes on her strap on increased, my cunt slapping down on her pelvis with wet, squishy noises as my juices flowed. Later, she told me that those urgent impacts of my cunt against her, sent erotic vibrations to her very core.

I felt my orgasm starting to build, and without changing my rhythm, I kept pounding myself vigorously up-and-down on her penetrating rod. I took a mental hold on my sensations and examined them, remembering those interactions with my former boyfriend. To my delight, I was able to convert them from being urgent messages that my body had to cum... into... it's difficult to describe... into mere pleasure at being able to give the use of my body to someone that I cared deeply for.

My body became a gift for my Mistress. A gift that sought only her pleasure, not my own. My control, my delight, must have shone from my eyes, because my Mistress then gave me one of the brightest, deepest smiles I had ever seen from her.

She whispered, "Very good, my pet. Keep it up. Don't stop."

Her whisper trailed off into a series of gasps, and her body began shaking underneath me. She cried out with a very vocal release, as her cunt began spasming, welling her nectar up from behind the base plate of her strap-on, soaking us both.

When she began to orgasm, I almost joined her. The sight, sound, smell, and feel of her naked body always affects me strongly. Again, focusing on the fact that this pleasure was my gift to her – that this was not about me – helped me maintain my control. To prove that I had truly learned my lesson, my Mistress had me continue to "fuck" her to two more magnificent orgasms.

Sated, she removed her strap-on, uncuffed my wrists, and cuddled me to her side. I rested in her embrace, blissfully happy, even though I had not experienced a single orgasm of my own.

(continued in part 22)

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