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Why Orgasm Control Has Become My Favorite Kink

I own a lot of toys. Like too many toys. Whenever I go to a kink con or event where there are vendors, I usually walk away with something. A new stingy crop. A pretty leather flogger. I have a Liberator Esse that I tell people is my “yoga chair.”

Not sure they believe that one.

But, honestly…I haven’t REALLY used my toys in a long time.

Part of that is because I basically only play with TRS and he’s not as into them anymore. But, honestly, the physical part of kink and BDSM just isn’t that interesting to me. I really enjoy psychological play—using my mind and words to exert control and reactions. And I don’t need toys to do that.

My absolute favorite kink is orgasm control, which has a wide range of activities associated with it.

You can start out light with edging. That’s always fun, and it can be done in as single session. I love the power of getting someone very excited and then leaving them on the edge. Then taking it down a little until the excitement is simmering, and then bringing it back up to a boil. Repeat as many times as he can take before the begging is acceptable, and then let him come.

Then there are ruined orgasms! Not all men react the same way, of course, so this is only enjoyable if a man will stay hard and horny after I ruin it. But it’s so much fun to get him right to that edge where he’s desperate to come and then at the very last second, take my hand away so it all just dribbles out. This way leads to madness. And so many giggles from me. And if I can do it over and over and over again, all the better.

And then there’s longer term orgasm denial and chastity. Honestly, chastity cages don’t interest me that much. I consider them a novelty. To me, they are just toys. If a man wants to stay chaste for me, he will. I certainly don’t begrudge anyone the use of them, and I play with them on and off. But I like it better knowing that a man CAN touch but is just choosing not to come simply because I told him not to do it.

There are so many benefits of a very horny man who is desperate to come but holding off for me. He becomes more attentive. Sweeter. Constantly pawing at me and then apologizing for his neediness, which is amusing if you like the pawing. I do. Everything you do and say is wonderful. Everything you wear is divine. He cannot stop looking at you, wanting you. You become the center of his world…which is, of course, exactly where I want to be.

And the enjoyment of fucking a man who is not allowed to come….How do I love thee? Let me count the ways….

It is divine. It gets me so excited. Seeing the frustration on his face. Seeing and hearing how he’s trying so hard to hold back. That he wants to be so good for me that he’s denying himself this basic bodily function, and also that I know that when I finally do let him come, it’s going to be amazing for him—much better than if he were just coming regularly.

Slowly, almost painfully fucking him. Stopping and starting time and again, as he struggles. Milking his cock. Squeezing every drop of desperation out of this experience but not squeezing anything out of him.

It builds up the excitement day after day, turning almost every interaction into a form of foreplay.

And when I’m fucking him, I feel like a Queen and he’s my sweet servant boy just sent to make me feel good. His needs are totally secondary to mine. And that really gets me off. Like—-really.

I don’t long long term chastity. I suppose it’s not that I couldn’t try. After all, Locktober is coming up. Isn’t it? But I am greedy for that orgasm after a while. As fun as it is NOT to let a man come, it’s equally as fun to LET him—when I choose.

The point is that I get to choose. That he turns his cock over to me. His orgasm. His sexuality. That I become the judge and jury of how he experiences sexual pleasure, and that in doing so, he becomes my sweet, beloved toy for me to use as I see fit.

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