Cruel Master Blog

I've seen this word used in a sexual context so many times online and found it hot, but I've only ever scratched the surface of its meaning

Until it happened

I begged him over and over to break me, for days, weeks, months even, and everything during that time felt like a prelude to one singular moment

I've already spent like two hours edging in the morning and around noon, I used the vibe while my ass was plugged (much to my discomfort, but it was what granted me the pleasure of the wand), I grinded desperately on my bed, I also fucked myself, and all I wanted at the end of it was a hard edge, the one that replaced my orgasms, the peak, the climax that I'm allowed to have, I needed clit stimulation, I needed to feel it, I was dripping and aching for it, my whole body screaming for it, searching for any semblance of relief

...and then he said no

There was a point where I realised that no amount of begging would change his answer, that I can't talk my way out, that trying to argue would only make it worse for me, that I can't just not obey, and that I wouldn't be able to reach an edge with the stimulation I was still allowed to have no matter how hard I tried, my body participating in the betrayal and suffering

And then he told me to thank him for denying me the edge

I didn't want to, it wouldn't be honest, I felt anger, it didn't seem fair, it didn't make sense, I'm already denied orgasms so why can't I at least edge, why should I be thankful?

But I did, eventually, type out my thanks and sent it to him and in that moment something inside me snapped, I let out a noise of defeat and just started crying

It took months of daily talking and weeks of being denied to build up enough courage, trust, obedience, resistance, to be able to let go and give in, all for that moment to happen

Part of me hated it, but I also needed it all the same

I was kneeling afterwards, calming my body and mind down, not just naked but bare, unwrapped, hazy, owned, his

I realised today that it’s been a 100 days since i last had an orgasm. 100 days since I was last allowed release. It seems impossible to think it’s been so long, and yet it also feels like a lifetime. When i really sit and think about it, it’s crazy to think that i’ve had so few orgasms in the past year, and even then non of them have happened in the last few months.

There’s something strange about a number like that. At first it feels impossible (although not quite as impossible as 2 years i’ve managed before), then dramatic, then eventually it becomes part of the rhythm of my body. You stop measuring it in weeks and start measuring it in behaviours instead. In the way my thoughts linger too long. In how quickly my breathing changes. In the ache that never fully leaves. In the squirming i don’t even realise I’m doing. In learning how to sit inside want without trying to escape it.

I have a constant ache that never leaves, sure i might be distracted from it for a little while, but it’s always there in the background, like my body is perpetually waiting and building up to something it’s not allowed to have. My wanting feels almost unbearable sometimes, especially the times Sir has edged me and just responds to my begging with “no”. The realising that no amount of aching or wanting or need changes the fact it isn’t my decision to make. It’s a potent feeling, it’s cruelty and kindness, it’s frustration and devotion, it’s obedience and pleasure and surrender.

100 days of wanting.

100 days of aching.

100 days of edging.

His fingers pinch your clit, hard. You gasp, eyes wide, pain shooting through your body. You jerk helplessly, wanting to move away from the assault. But there’s nowhere to go. He holds you open, spreading your cunt lips to show off that swollen, aching clit. Two hard flicks in a row make you wail and beg him to stop. He doesn’t listen. A skilled touch pulls your clit hood back, revealing more of your tender flesh than should be possible. More real estate for him to work with. You don’t even know where he got the vibrator from, but suddenly it’s on you. The highest setting, pressed with the lightest touch against your exposed clit. You don’t even have enough air left in your lungs to scream. The high-powered vibrations lightly meeting your clit is torture, worse than if he were to push the toy hard against your flesh because this is concentrated, specific, targeted. The barest connection point holding all of the sensation. You aren’t even aware that you’re wailing. Desperate, animal noises. Worthless struggles against his weight and hold. Tears streaming down your face. Your cunt dripping onto the bed. Finally, finally, he turns off the vibrator. Pulls it away from you. But he’s not done. Because what comes next is so much worse.

A tiny, metal clamp. Angry jagged teeth and an adjustable screw that makes the tension bespoke. Whispered objections leave your lips desperately, but he doesn’t care. His fingers come back to pull back your clit hood, your eyes widening in sheer terror when you realize his intentions. There’s nothing to buffer against the cruel, cold metal as it crushes your throbbing, swollen clit in between its jaws. The scream that leaves you is earth-shattering. He laughs and gives the clamp a hard flick. It sends shockwaves through your body. Then he attaches a wire to the clamp, connecting it to an electrical box, and ice-cold understanding shoots through your body. You’re not going to survive this.

He turns the dial on the box, and your clit jumps in response to the current. It’s pain, it’s torture, it’s pure, unadulterated sensation that drills deep into your nerves and holds you hostage. He turns the dial more. Your body breaks. It’s not an orgasm; it’s a forced eruption. A gush of fluid explodes out of you, coupled by the worst sound you’ve ever heard. It’s you. It’s inhuman, incomprehensible. It doesn’t stop. The current keeps coming, your body keeps breaking, and finally, your mind does too.

swollen, twitching, begging for mercy it’s never going to get. i’ll trap you between my thighs, hold you down, and play with it until you’re thrashing, sobbing, trying to wriggle away from the very thing you were desperate for a moment ago

my thumb rubbing circles too sharp, too fast, never steady enough to let you cum. every time your body tenses, every time you think it’s finally here, i’ll stop. or worse, i’ll slap it and watch you jolt as your eyes roll back