Dear Sir,

The next instalments, as promised...


Tuesday night

So Tuesday night’s session was the first one to occur at my apartment. I tidied up a bit, got changed and generally fussed about the place for a while. I had decided when I got changed to remove my knickers, which added to the excitement of getting everything else organised. Not that it was necessarily required, mind you, as three times during the hour before you arrived I ended up so moist between my legs I had to clean myself up, the last time being minutes before you buzzed my apartment.

Part of the reason might have been the preparations I was making, such as making sure the toys and restraints I had were easy to access should you ask for them, and determining what furniture might be useful, or might be just in the way, etc… I grabbed a folded-up blanket that I usually snuggle under on the couch during winter and laid it over the back of the couch, the frame of which is otherwise unpadded.

Eventually everything seemed in order. A final trip to the bathroom and then there was nothing to do but wait. I sat on the couch and tried to relax. Less than a minute passed when suddenly, Buzz! I laughed out loud. No relaxing for me tonight.

I came downstairs to meet you and let you up into my apartment. You glanced around for no more than a few seconds before pointing to the blanket sitting not-so-innocently over the back of the couch.

“Bend over the couch.”

Cue not missed. Brilliant. No time to…well…do anything, worry about anything, think about anything (including the still-open blinds). Straight over the couch I went, followed almost immediately by the back of my skirt as you exposed my bare bottom to view.

“Spread your legs.”

Not surprisingly, it wasn’t long before you determined I was all wet...again. This was no doubt helped by you leaving me in an entirely compromised position whilst you investigated the realms of my world. My mind raced as I tried to work out where you were and what you were looking for, or at. Soon I realised you were in the kitchen. I heard drawers being opened. “What’s he looking for--- Ohhhh.”

I thought back to our earlier conversation, where I revealed that I was on the lookout for an old wooden hairbrush, as I’d often fantasised about receiving a “hairbrush spanking”. You’d gone straight to the source of the next best thing.

A wooden spoon.

What you stumbled across though wasn’t just an ordinary spoon, but one that was specially selected by some of my colleagues at a company I worked for years ago, after I came last in the footy tipping competition. That very spoon actually formed the basis of the first spanking story I ever wrote, completely embellishing the story of when I was awarded the thing at office drinks one night.

The length and intensity of the spanking increased this time, but not too much for me to deal with. I can imagine, particularly with an increase in pace, that some resistance is likely to surface going forward, but I’m comfortable enough in your hands to be pushed, even if I push back or make a little fuss, knowing that ultimately I have a way out if I need to take it.

Having the implement rubbed lightly over my body and between my legs throughout the spanking added to the excitement and actually shut down the mind a little as it tried, unsuccessfully, to process all of the contrasting sensations. Trying to hold onto numbers in my head in the midst of it all is not a trivial challenge, leading to frantic ruminations of  “15, 15, 15…” as my inner thighs were teased and my hot pussy was probed lightly by the spoon.

My memory of what happened next is partially blurry – possibly because I was edging towards subspace, possibly because you’d just dropped a bomb on me, revealing that your plan for me that night was to bring me to the brink but not let me orgasm until we next meet.

I remember standing with my hands on my head while you played with my breasts. I remember taking out your cock and playing with it for a while before undressing you and following you to the shower, where I knelt with a towel, waiting for you.

I wasn’t thinking a great deal that night – the inner monologue was quieter than usual – although I do recall trying to determine whether or not you were serious about what you’d said about leaving me without an orgasm (or any means to get one before our next meeting). I remember deciding I wasn’t beneath pleading with you on the point if I discovered you were serious, which is a pretty big deal considering it’s an extremely rare event for me to allow myself to even initiate sex, which is a longish story for another time.

The decision was somewhat moot in the end, given that I honestly didn’t think you were serious until it was too late. 

Today on the phone, when you pondered the idea of leaving me to boil away for another week, I made sure not to make the same mistake twice ;)

Onto the bedroom, and you’re the only person I’ve ever shown my toys to – that’s always been my ‘secret stash’, so it was a fun piece of show and tell, despite your sinister intentions. The clit stimulator I showed you is perfect for solo use, but doesn’t complement anything else very well. I do have another one which, on its own, is not as effective, but is far more practical for including during sex. I’ll have to show you that one another night. 

Despite my dismay at learning you had every intention of going ahead with the orgasm deprivation, I did start to see the value of it, even within the confines of a play session, as it drew out the anticipation in the bedroom.

I see the advantage, even just within the sexual act itself, to first allowing the sexual energy to rise, before allowing its release. As I attempt to describe it, it’s occurred to me that this is one of the elements of tantric sex (a quick Google search also just reminded me that orgasmic deprivation was also thought to be the cause of hysteria in women for centuries, which explains a lot about the last week!)

Having a vibrator inside me while I gave you oral was very pleasurable, in spite of the restrictions.

I’ll write a separate piece about the roller coaster that has been the days and nights since having my precious means of release taken away from me, but Tuesday night was another delightful experience. I hope you’re enjoying the journey as much as I am :-)


~~~~~~

A long week


You laid down the rule early on in our session on Tuesday (despite it only being as you got dressed to leave that it finally sunk in that you were dead serious!)

No sex or masturbation until we meet next.

Ok, so I went from Thursday afternoon until Sunday morning with that restriction a couple of weeks ago and that wasn’t too bad, so nothing to worry about, right? Except that last time there was no deliberate build up of sexual energy to kick things off.

For someone who often refers to shakti, a word describing the life-giving sexual energy in the Hindu culture, I still have a lot to learn about it and this week has given me some interesting insights.

To begin with, I started feeling the build up of energy as soon as we started to have sex and you would gradually bring me to the brink of orgasm before stopping, like a wave that peters out just as it reaches the shore instead of breaking. With every one of those passing waves I wanted the next one even more than the last.

Initially I got really frustrated, even a bit angry.

“You like it, don’t you? Dru likes her cock,” you teased.

“Yeah, Dru likes her orgasms too.” I thought somewhat bitterly, though I held my tongue at the time.

As the energy rose though, the focus shifted and I felt myself becoming super aware of every sensation, particularly of you inside me. In my last email I mentioned about learning to enjoy the journey, rather than staying focused on the destination, but this took it one step further. Remove all possibility of the destination occurring, and what is there left to focus on but the journey itself.

Now, that was all well and good while you were with me, but then you left, after repeating the instructions – no sexual activity including sex and masturbation, until we next meet.

Tuesday night was ok, if a little frustrating and on Wednesday I kept busy and active and didn’t even think about it until I got a text from you checking in on me.

Getting to sleep has gradually got more and more difficult as the nights progress, starting with a bit of trouble on Wednesday night, building up to being wide awake for hours on Friday and Saturday nights. It’s currently 3am on Sunday night and I’m due at the gym at 9am tomorrow, so I’m hoping to get some sleep soon.

The most interesting tendency I’ve discovered is somewhat of a vicious cycle whereby the build-up of sexual energy creates intense, frequent sexual fantasies that thereby make it harder to resist masturbating, if only for relief from the pressure – in fact, maybe that’s exactly what the body is doing; ie. creating more and more intense fantasies in an effort to force itself to release the energy one way or the other.
 
Even more paradoxically though is that most of the fantasies have involved further, more direct deprivation, leading to eventual release; eg. Being made to stand or present myself in various positions and hold still for your prolonged or delayed inspection, in spite of a desperate urge to squirm around or rub my legs together, or being restrained and/or tied in ways that make sexual release very difficult before being teased with different toys.

Faced with no direct options for relief, I’ve written quite a bit (obviously in the last couple of days) and I went shopping yesterday where I picked up some Japanese “love rope”, a couple of books on lesbian and three-way sex (the read up on the different techniques and generally get an idea of what’s usually involved) and a Ninnworx film called ‘Crescendo’ (perhaps only for the irony of the title), which I’m at least smart enough not to watch under current restrictions ;)

In desperation on Saturday night, I did start to rub against my clit (through my clothes), my mind tricking me into thinking that I could make things a bit easier on myself with just a bit of rubbing. Of course there’s no relief until there’s an actual release, so things were quickly spiralling as I began rubbing more frantically, the primal force taking over. I stopped myself before reaching orgasm, which of course just made the whole predicament worse for me, both because I’d effectively fuelled the sexual fire burning inside and because I’d broken the rules you’d set down for me.

My only ‘legal’ outlet was one I discovered tonight – dancing. Putting on a concert DVD, I spent most of the evening dancing around the lounge room, happy for at least some temporary relief. Keeping busy also helps – working on Saturday and shopping earlier today were both effective distractions - but the nights are definitely the hardest.

The experience has caused a lot of frustration, some anger, some tears (mainly when I’ve been wide awake and gyrating hopelessly against the sheets at bizarre hours of the morning), a great deal of fantasising and more than a few laughs as I’ve been amused by my own behaviour.

It has honestly fascinated (and at times horrified me) to realise just how important it is for me to have a regular means of sexual release, whether through sex or masturbation. I’ve known for a long time that I’m a particularly sexual person, but the evidence of this week has been overwhelming.

Needless to say, I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight :)

Dru xx