Last night I was so close to cumming I just couldn’t. I was right on the edge, but something just didn’t click the way it should have, and I ended up frustrated, though less frustrated than I was a few months ago when the similar thing happened. Part of (or maybe the entirety of) the reason I was less frustrated was because of the difference in the relationship dynamics between Master and me. I was annoyed that I didn’t cum, and he said something along the lines of “be thankful you got that much” and it somehow put things in perspective.
Despite not cumming, it was still a wonderful and delicious fucking session. He hadn’t fucked me since Sunday and said I was spoiled by our vacation, during which we had sex nearly every night. He had me admit to how badly I wanted him to fuck me, and then he fucked me nice and hard, my legs on his shoulders, him pinning me down as he rammed into me. It was good, and perfect, and one of my favorite positions.
There was thunder and lightening outside, and after he came Master opened the blinds so we could see the streaks of light across the sky. Master and I both are big fans of thunder and lightening, and he began fingering me while I was laying with my head near the foot of the bed so that I could watch the sky light up. He had me rub my clit, and after I asked to cum he told me that I could after the next lightning strike.
I whimpered and moaned and tried to hold on as long as I could, but there was a definite gap, as lightning had just struck before I asked. I held on for so long that when he finally told me I could cum, I couldn’t. I was so close but I had trouble letting go, and I ended up not cumming at all. I was disappointed, frustrated, and so close to the edge that I felt like I was going to pop, but for some reason I just… couldn’t!
But, his words to put me back into my place, remind me that cumming is a privilege, not a right, and that really did the trick. I consider this a testament to the way our relationship has furthered, and him saying it as a testament to that as well. I didn’t feel any resentment or annoyance, I was just content with what he had said. All the discomfort and disappointment melted away into loving him.
That’s right, I thought, I should be lucky he gave me the pleasure that he did. Not because I don’t deserve it, but because I have chosen to give my body and my self over to him to do with as he pleases. If my cumming pleases him, then I should cum. If my hanging right on the edge so long that I am somehow unable to cum pleases him, then I shouldn’t cum. This is what I have been wanting for, to feel owned, to be cherished, and even to be denied if necessary.Possibly related posts: