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The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Friday, 28 May 2010

Grumpy bitch

Today I was in a pretty dire mood. I've no idea where it came from, but I do know the major cause - lack of sex. I'm not getting enough and that certainly caused problems this morning. For one reason or another, Captain and I didn't have sex the night before, which guarantees I'll wake up horny. The sunlight filtered through my eyes at around 6am and I spent the following few hours wondering whether it was too early to wake him up for sex. It was. So there I was, awake with him asleep and I had a swollen, unsatisfied cunt, coiling snakes of desire in the pit of my stomach and was generally feeling ratty, aroused and not at all sure what to do with myself other than make occasional little whiny noises.

I just couldn't
ask for it. The words failed me. Perhaps part of it is some sort of embarrassment, but I wouldn't call myself exactly shy. I know that I loathe having to ask for it. It makes me feel like a bad submissive - that I don't have the strength of mind or character to patiently wait to be given what I'm offered. I don't have a problem asking ahead of time and can usually write a fair amount or chat endlessly about my likes and dislikes in advance. But when with someone, whilst in a power exchange scenario (and certainly I tend to be more like that than not around Captain) it's much, much harder. For a start, asking for it highlights the fact I'm not getting it, which makes me feel unattractive and unwanted: I have to ask, because no-one wants to give it. I feel like I'm wheedling, or begging or doing all of those hateful pathetic things that make me feel weak and small. Worse, when it comes, I feel as if it only came because they felt sorry for me. A pity fuck. At best. I don't want pity. Just fucking.

I'd rather masturbate, frankly.

Which was pretty much where I'd gotten to once all of these thoughts had churned through my mind and I had gotten myself pretty angry and fed up. Rather than actually deal with any of this in anything like approaching an adult manner, blinded by horniness and rage, I got up and declared furiously to a that there was no point me staying if I wasn't going to get any.
I then spent a few minutes stomping around the place before getting ready to leave. Fortunately, wiser and calmer heads prevailed with Captain bringing me back to the bedroom and making me talk about it. Then strapping me down with many leather belts, a Hitachi between my legs, gagged and blind. I opened myself up to the sensation, there were a few minutes where I even thought I might orgasm but thought the better of it. Deciding that given what had happened I didn't deserve one. After a while of this he undid my legs and fucked me, hard. That worked. The pressure and heavy thump of him pushing violently into me was the right tempo and force for the rage and sickness I had inside of me. It matched my anger - both at myself for having behaved like this and at the force of my need. Slowly, I started to come to.

He came, we went back to bed and in a serious gesture of benevolence (I wouldn't have been this nice to me had the shoe been on the other foot) he let me masturbate to orgasm. We dozed then I took him out for an apology breakfast, trying to explain myself. Glad of his kindness. I went home still very out of sorts.

It's obvious to me that I need to get into a situation where I can have regular sex. But not just any sex. I need regular kinky sex and companionship, which means having partners who work with me, who I can build up a trust and who can deliver what I need. Kisses, passion, filth. Finding them takes time, energy and serious effort. Keeping them even more so. And whilst I am certainly enjoying having the liaisons that I do, it's clear that I need more and more often. And I need it at my beck and call. Which means it's back to the dating pool to dip my toe once again for that perfect male bottom - who I can use and abuse whenever the urge takes me.

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