Sex is different for me. It’s not that I’m no longer interested in it. I really love sex. More than six years of orgasm denial and control has trained me on every level of my being. I suppose the best way to explain this change is that my expectations are managed. I no longer expect to ejaculate even when stimulated right to the edge of an orgasm. Like Charlie Brown in “Peanuts”, I take a running start to kick the ball that’s teed up in front of me. The joke in the comic strip is that Charlie Brown never learns that Lucy is going to pull the ball away at the last second. I’m just like Charlie Brown.
In the heat of the moment, each and every time Mrs. Lion masturbates me to the edge of orgasm I fully expect I’m going to ejaculate. Somewhere in the intellectual part of my brain, I know that she’s going to stop before I reach the peak. The rest of me is ready to go. Just like Charlie Brown, I hope to be able to get that orgasm. When Mrs. Lion stops, the intellectual part of my brain says, “I told you there was no need to get so turned on she was never gonna let you come.”
Mrs. Lion is too smart to let me really learn. She gives me the chance to ejaculate regularly, but not too regularly. She lets me get over the top often enough that I am ever hopeful. She will even edge me multiple times and then push me over the edge. Other times, she’ll edge me multiple times, stop, and say “Not this time.”
I’m panting too hard to sigh. If I could, I would let out a big deep sigh of disappointment. The big difference between orgasm denial and orgasm control is managing ejaculations. Some people believe it’s far more controlling to withhold orgasms for very long periods of time. Doing this creates a very different mindset. Guys that don’t expect to ejaculate for months on end become a cheering section for their own denial. It becomes a sort of contest. Extending the wait is a contest. I imagine there’s a sense of disappointment when his partner finally lets him ejaculate.
It’s diametrically opposite to my situation. Mrs. Lion will give me an orgasm every 4 to 10 days. Sometimes she will make me wait longer. The average is about seven days. That’s long enough to make me really want to come, but not so long that I am not actively hoping that each time she plays with my penis she might let me ejaculate. It’s positively diabolical. Just enough time to get truly frustrated, but not so much that I will lose hope.
Edging every day or two guarantees that the right hormones are flowing. I’m rarely more than 48 hours away from being brought right to the very brink of an orgasm; actually, being brought to that brink over and over and over again. It’s exciting to think about. I find it fun as well. I never know when sexual activity will result in me scoring a touchdown. I don’t have any input into the process. I just have to lie there and hope for the best.
One sacrifice I make being under orgasm control is that I have to be sexually passive. I can’t initiate. I have absolutely no control over how stimulated I will be. I have to lie on my back while someone else — my lioness — has complete control over my sexual pleasure. If I’m tempted to take things into my own hands, we have a collection of male chastity devices that guarantee nothing sexual will happen without Mrs. Lion providing the action. After over six years of this, I find this very natural. I’ve surrendered control for so long that I don’t believe I could take it back if I wanted to. Fortunately for me, Mrs. Lion has no such interest.