Yesterday Lion and I spent some time in our camper. We recently got a new mattress, hoping to do better than the pillow top memory foam thing that felt like we were sinking in quicksand. We made the bed and decided to test it out.

Lion’s first thought was about sex. I played with him for a while and asked him if this counted as his play session for the day. His face said no but he told me it could if I wanted it to. I said I thought he would have more fun later. Then we decided to see if the mattress was good for sleeping. I rolled over and to my surprise Lion snuggled in behind me with his hard on nudging me. He never does that. And we fell asleep. Apparently the bed is good for sex play and naps.

Later on Lion kept reminding me that he is wild. As if I’d forget. He’ll be wild for at least another week I think. Eventually I got the “hint” and started playing with him. After edging him a few times I stopped. I went out to the kitchen and brought in dessert and he said he was hoping I was coming back to play with him more. He said nothing had come out when I was playing with him the first time around. I hadn’t planned on playing with him again, but he was being particularly pathetic. After I brushed my teeth and was minty fresh I went back to sucking him. He can really feel the mint.

We talked about my wanting to do a ruined orgasm on purpose earlier in the day. I was still undecided. I didn’t want to go too far and give him a full orgasm because he said he thinks I should not give him as many. I knew part of him really wanted a bonus orgasm as long as it was my idea. Another part of him didn’t. So I figured I’d try for the ruined orgasm.

I don’t remember how many times I edged him. It was more than three. And I wasn’t giving him much time in between either. Each time I seemed to be getting closer and closer so I pushed him a bit farther and bingo! Ruined orgasm. Be careful what you ask for, Lion. I made him eat it too. At least he couldn’t tell me nothing came out.

I think the worst part about it for Lion is that I laughed at him. I knew it was uncomfortable and not at all what he wanted so I couldn’t help but laugh. He says it seems like I’ve turned a corner in terms of being in charge. Maybe I have. I just think it’s funny that he’s getting what he asked for and now he’s not so sure he wants it.

Poor Lion.

I’ve been wrestling with an issue that I admit, is purely mine. You see, I want to feel that Mrs. Lion has sexual control of me. It’s my kink. Wearing a cage that I can’t take off and that prevents any sexual pleasure is a big part of it. Another big part is that she can discipline me and control if and when I get teased or, if very lucky, an orgasm. What she makes me do is part of this control as well. I’m sure you know that anyway. Over the last year we have both been learning how to put this into practice. Slowly, Mrs. Lion has been learning to exercise control and even spank me sometimes for breaking rules.

I’m a slow learner too. I haven’t really figured out exactly how to react to her fledgling dominance. I may be trying too hard. I crave consistency but that isn’t Mrs. Lion’s style. So, I tend to make much more of any moves she makes in the controlling direction. So, when I get opportunities to call the shots (i.e. the “Love Coupons” I am sure you are tired of reading about) it makes me worry.

So, you might think, all Mrs. Lion has to do is be super strict and eliminate any sexual choices I might have. Are things ever that simple? Theoretically, that would work. But in practice, that role would be very difficult for her and would guarantee that she never felt I really wanted to do anything for her. It turns her on when I initiate sex. However, that’s a choice for me. We figured that one out for now. Mrs. Lion sets an orgasm date for herself and I initiate on that date. Smart Lioness!

For now, my orgasms are also scheduled. You can see the next date and other stats in the right column of this blog. Until very recently, Mrs. Lion has been giving me “bonus” orgasms. These bonuses are really great and they are entirely her idea. But in my little mind, sometimes I feel that I had something to do with getting them. That feels a bit like control. Over the last two or three waits, Mrs. Lion hasn’t given me any bonuses. That feels more controlling to me. Is that better for me? Well, for right now it is. Though I think that later, once I get things through my head, it might be great to get a bonus here or there. Bear in mind that neither of us see any particular benefit in long waits.

I am hugely conflicted here. I love sex. I really love orgasms. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t wonder why I wanted to do this. I really hate waiting. But, as we have both said before, we are having way more sex now than we did for the last decade. I’ve been thinking about bonus orgasms. When I am strapped into the sling and Mrs. Lion has spent a long time doing anal play, spanking, cbt, and other play, an orgasm is a great way to finish. On the other hand (there always seems to be some damn “other hand” with this stuff), it is a fantastic display of power to just lock me up when she finishes play without letting me come. It seems that there is almost always a benefit in not letting me come. Similarly, extending my wait has the same beneficial effect.

It’s too bad that all these benefits accrue from depriving me of something I want so badly. But they do. Maybe spankings should also include extending my wait. That always gets my attention. I am not suggesting that every spanking include another day or more added, but I am suggesting that extensions are an unused way to raise the stakes. It’s easy to make this suggestion when I am horny. But I reluctantly have to admit it is a good one.

Any real power exchange, whether enforced chastity or anything else, is only effective if the person surrendering power is losing things that really matter. “Forcing” me to do things — or for that matter, not do things — I want to do anyway, is not surrendering power at all. Keeping me away from a sincerely needed orgasm is. I’ve just hung myself by my own petard, haven’t I?