FORGETFUL IS NOT A MISTAKE

Not sure what I feel. Bored, anxious, indifferent, … I am talking about my orgasms.

There are only very few and far in between these days. And when under orgasm control, this is one of the most exciting exercises, something that can make me suffer immensely. Because I don’t just like them, I really truly deeply love them.

With my first Master I used to sort of “buy” them. I knew the punishment for having them and I’d calculate what I think I could handle and had as many as I could. Very often I was assisted / encouraged by a switch-friend online (I like to blame others for my orgasms).
My second Master had a different way of working and so I couldn’t negotiate my pleasure. And he found out very soon that he could make me do anything if I would think there was an orgasm to be earned.

And yes, I love them, whether they come with loads, or not at all because I am restricted. The thought of them, just as much as the feel. It all keeps me happy, wet and feeling submissive.

But lately things are different. I am –not exaggerated in any way- at possibly the most stressful period I have ever been in my life. That is personal. Work is immensely busy too, which I am quite happy about because it keeps me sane. There is absolutely no time for niceties, no time to thoroughly relax, or read hot stories, or write them. If I am lucky to come across a bit of porn, then it better be a short clip.

And whereas I didn’t have to get a lot of stimuli to get myself all hot and excited, I feel like my lust is waning.

I have had a few moments in the last few weeks, where I thought of an orgasm, where I thought I wanted one, where for a brief moment I really desired a touch. But that were moments, not that constant lovely tingling feel.

Last night, I was alone, thinking that after a lot of very hard work constantly for days or even weeks now, I could do with an orgasm. Or at least with feeling nicely horny again.

So I took my beloved rabbit, and placed it between my legs, the vibrating bit against my clit. My new rabbit has loads of settings, so I switched between a few, trying to enjoy the moment.
My cunt responded and got wet, so I slid the shaft in, and changed vibrations again. I laid on my bed for a while like that. Normally by now my mind would be in overdrive, rushing with fantasies. But nothing happened. I could feel my clit was having a nice time, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep any of my fantasies going, and had to force myself to think of one.

I then changed in one of my favourite positions –on my knees- and started fucking myself. Still nothing. I realise I start to get frustrated, so I take a deep breath and think of all things nice. I lean forward so I have to support myself with one hand, I arch my back, close my eyes, and continue to fuck myself. I get wetter, but I have no joy.

I could cry. Did I forget how to be horny? Did I forget how to orgasm or at least get close to it? What happened to me???? This is not right!

So this morning I decided to do something.
Firstly, I am going to work harder on my weight. I will be stricter in my diet and start exercising more intensely. Losing weight always makes me feel better about myself, makes me feel more attractive and gives me confidence.
The day after tomorrow I will have broadband again at home. And I will browse sites such as literotica again and print a lovely bedtime story daily.
Also, I am going to ask A. if I can attend a party. The club I went to last year has restarted parties, and slave will keep me updated about when and where, and provides me with care and protection.

I think that will get me back to “normal”. Of course, this particular period of abnormal stress will soon be over too. And I do hope, that really that is the reason for my sex-drive to be out of sorts.

There was time for some fun during work last Sunday when I was the lucky receiver of some wise words from my very wise six-year old. She was struggling doing some of her homework, and just about to get seriously angry and throwing her pen (she gets her temper from her dad!). “I hate making mistakes!” I could hear, so I try my best to calm her by explaining that mistakes are good, cause you learn from them. Still, she is not convinced and reiterates that she really hates making mistakes and that I never make any. I try not to burst out in laughter and tell her of course I do, plenty even. It is then she looks up and says:
“Forgetful is not a mistake, mum”.