denyingherorgasm: Every Saturday morning I wear these headphones, kneel in whatever I slept in, and
denyingherorgasm: Every Saturday morning I wear these headphones, kneel in whatever I slept in, and am blindfolded and gagged. All I can do is hear. I always hear the same recording. Our special recording. When I first met him, he told me what he wanted from me. Tease and denial he said, and he explained it fully and made sure I was comfortable with the idea. At the time it embarrassed me to admit it, but it excited me. A lot. It excited me so much so that when he played with me that first time, I wasn’t even thinking. I remember him asking if I would be okay with him recording the audio. It was before he even touched me, but my mind was blurred from what I knew was coming. He had made me tease myself countless times before that day, but he had never edged me himself. I can still hear the brief lustful yes I whispered, desperate to give him what he wanted so he would touch me himself. That same audio is what I listen to at the dawn of every weekend. First comes my moaning, as he teased me slowly out of my clothes. This never bothered me, as I’m still allowed to make a whore of myself by moaning, so long as I admit that making so much noise does indeed make me a whore. The sound of the start. It was slow at first, being teased by his fingers. Pinching and circling my nipples and kissing my neck. I can hear the rustle of the sheets as I squirm around. I don’t get to do that now, as I don’t deserve to be touched unless I’m properly bound. I touched myself without permission once when he was teasing me, so I’m not allowed for my hands to be free anymore when I’m being used. Then comes the escalation. I remember the feeling of his hand slowly tracing down my side and stomach, teasing my wet panties with the tips of his fingers. Then comes the sound of my moans as his fingers softly teased my lips and clit, and the subsequent sound of me reaching the edge that I’m so familiar with. He pushes the past me to the edge and tells me “Not yet, hold it for me like a good girl.” I comply desperately, even though I now realize he was going easy on me. My knees start to hurt as I listen. Normally I’m allowed to kneel on the carpet while I listen to our special recording. Today I have to kneel on the hard wood because I wasn’t at the door last night when he came home. I’m stupid and I lost track of time. I deserve worse than this, and I am sure will be punished more today. Every time he edges the past me, my legs shake. It makes me desperate for his touch. I know I’m not allowed any stimulation while I listen to our special recording, so I listen as I’m supposed to. He whispers into the microphone and gets the past me to the edge again. I can hear the desperation in my past voice: “Do you want to be allowed to cum little girl?” “Oh yes Sir please let me cum, I don’t know if I can hold it anymore.” I know I was lying, I could have held it longer if I tried. I should have tried harder, he deserves that. “Please Sir…… Please” “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. What was that?” “Please…… please let me… let me cum Sir.” I can hear myself out of breath. My breathing is hard now, and my head swirls as I relive the memory for the hundredth time. The thought of wanting his hands on my bare lips crosses my mind before I berate myself for being so selfish. My incoherent desperate moaning and his reassuring voice go on for a short while longer before I hear the words. “Cum for me.” And then the torrent of ecstasy that escaped from my mouth that day fills my ears. Some days I can’t believe that was me. I hear him move closer to the mic, I can still feel the way he held me and ran his fingers through my hair. “Good girl. Tell me how it felt.” “It felt so good, thank you.” I wince, as I do every time I hear my past stupidity in forgetting his title. “You held off for a respectable time. How did you ever live your life without orgasms like that?” “I have never felt anything like that before Sir, it was so intense. I was quivering for so long before you let me cum. I don’t know how I went without this in my life for so long. Thank you.” I used to hate hearing this recording. I would kneel and never be touched, and it would frustrate me. At first I thought he made me listen to this when I was being denied as punishment. Now I realize otherwise. Listening to this recording is a symbol of my submission to him, a testament to the fact that my own self admitted desire to cum is his to control. He listens to me if I want to talk about our recording, if it makes me realize something I could be doing better. It’s a safe means of inducing self reflection. Every Saturday morning I make my Sir his breakfast, and while I kneel and listen to our special recording he eats. He tells me that sometimes he watches me as I kneel next to the table, while other days he reads. It doesn’t matter if he watches me or not. If he has something more important to do, I understand. Sir can do whatever he wants with me. I’m not selfish like I used to be in that recording. I never once asked him about his pleasure. The entire scene is about me. It’s shameful, and I realize that now. Sometimes after it’s over I feel a gentle tug on my leash. I love that feeling. I’ll crawl under the table. I can’t see, but I know the path by heart. I’ll feel his hand as he gently caresses my cheek and removes my gag. I’ll take his cock into my mouth and focus on his pleasure. Once I’m done, he will edge me. I am always edged after our special recording, regardless of whether I’m allowed to please him with my mouth or not. I’m never allowed to cum after this edging, but that’s okay. Sir orgasms for both of us, and I’m happy to be on edge for him and focus on what matters in life. Not my orgasms, but his. I hear my soft breathing in the recording as I fall asleep in Sir’s arms. The recording clicks to an end. Then I feel the tug on my leash, it’s Sir. He still wants me! I have to go. Devotional Training: Owned. -- source link
#denial#edging