His directive on the third day of our experiment with orgasm control was to “Keep the Bone with you at all times.”
This is “The Bone.”
It’s not actually called that by the manufacturer. To them it’s a “kegel exerciser.” But that was what W called it, obviously based on its shape, and made doubly amusing by the fact that I’m at a dogsit.
So I got to carry a bone around all day.
Wonder if the dog was jealous?
It was a weird directive, and for most of the day I was puzzled by it.
He didn’t tell me to use it.
He didn’t tell me to play with myself.
In fact he didn’t even mention orgasms until later that afternoon.
“I haven’t decided if I’m going to let you have an “O” or not today,” he said. “I was considering waiting until you asked for it.”
Again I was a little nonplussed. I’m not that orgasmic. Just carrying the damn thing around all day wasn’t going to cause me to burst into spontaneous orgasm. And coming off the weird “shut down” reaction to edging the day before…
I shrugged and said okay. No skin off my nose, right?
And okay, I’ll admit…I’ve never been one to beg, and even rarely to ask. Call it pride, call it what you will, but it’s something I find very difficult to do. So…shrug…I could carry it around all day and wait for him to make up his mind. No biggie, right?
Except that…oddly…it started to prey on my mind. Would he tell me to play with myself? Would he tell me to use the toy? Would he tell me to play with myself and then deny me the release of an orgasm??
And I started to get wet. And think about sex. And think about being ordered to have an orgasm…and ordered not to have an orgasm.
And then, around 3pm, I fell into my usual routine of an afternoon nap. And getting ready for that nap, Bone in hand, I realized that my usual routine (somewhat disrupted by the dogsit and my recent workload) was to have an afternoon orgasm.
Normally I never ask him for permission. As this recent series of posts indicates, we don’t have any such controls in place, not requirements for permission or for me to fuck myself (or anyone else.) He likes me to have sex, wherever, whenever, with whomever. He just wants to know about it afterward. (Yes I’ve tried to spin this in my head to work with my kink – the desire to be controlled – and I have done so to some small degree, but…sigh…it’s still “spin” and doesn’t always work.)
Until today. Because, I would, in essence (and reality) have to ask to play with myself – at least if I wanted to have an orgasm. And hell yes, after the day before and carrying around the Bone all day, I did want to have an orgasm! So I did what I have heard so many submissives say they have to do: I texted W for permission to have an orgasm.
Er, well, I sort of did. Remember that “I have difficulty asking for things” I said up there? Yeah, that. What I texted was this picture:
And asked, “Are you REALLY going to make me ask for it?” (See how I did that? I never did have to ask – or worse, beg.)
And I waited, and waited…
And I got wet, and then frustrated, and then wet again. I considered doing it anyway. He’d forgive me, after all, and we don’t have a punishment dynamic. But the goddamned submissive in me couldn’t do it. There were rules in place, and, dammit, I am (somewhat) obedient by nature. At least with him.
I finally fell asleep without having had an answer.
Finally I got this: “No O.”
And dammit if getting a “no” answer wasn’t as satisfying as getting a “yes” would have been.
Around 11:30 he texted me and said that as a preview to the next day, I should know that I could have 3 orgasms that day and the day started at midnight. At 12:02 he said, “Orgasm time!” But I was feeling pissy, and wanted more – I knew he wasn’t “ordering” me, he was just suggesting that I could have one, if I chose.
Sometimes the spin works, sometimes it doesn’t.
I wanted him to order me. I wanted him to tell me to use the Bone. I even hinted at adding to the game by making me do it for him on Skype. He was willing, telling me that his Skype was active, but it still wasn’t definitive enough for me. I really wanted to be told to do it. Everything he was saying indicated it was still my choice.
So, I didn’t choose. “Maybe when I wake up,” I texted back. “I’m going to sleep.” Not surprisingly, he accepted my answer without a fuss. I didn’t even know if he’d been looking forward to knowing I was having sex with myself – and if he wasn’t, then it just wouldn’t work in my head anyway.
I hate it when my kink gets in the way of enjoying myself.
PS – I’m well aware (and apologize to W in advance) of how unfair I was being. He can’t read my mind, even if it feels like he can at times. Even if I want him to at times. And we’re just trying this new game out…we’re both just feeling our way. But it’s just as hard for me to not feel what I do, to tamp down on the need I have to…sometimes…see the Mean Guy outside the playspace. And even this is all part of it, of finding our way in a new experience for us.