Degraded and Denied: Life of a Fuck Toy

We’ve all seen some version of this. But here’s how I write it, with the most important at the top:

submissive needs Dominant needs Dominant wants Dominant whims submissive wants

Submissives First In my mind, this is the only way it works. The submissive’s needs have to be managed first. Without those met, the submissive cannot let go and submit. When submissives have to devote energy to managing their needs and their Dominants’ needs and wants, it’s too much. Submissives have a tendency to put their Dominants first (and often, everyone else). So in the end, they suffer. They cannot do it all. And when they try, they wilt. Dominants must understand and work to fulfill their submissives’ needs. Or the whole hierarchy falls apart. 

But submissives have responsibilities here, too. First, they need to know what they need. Not want, but need. Second, they need to communicate about their needs—to help their Dominants check the gauges and rebalance when necessary. If you don’t truly know what you need, you can’t expect your partner to know. 

…But Dominants First, Too The other thing is that I don’t think submissives should see their needs as coming first. In an ideal relationship, submissives put faith in their Dominants to care for their needs, and they focus on their Dominants’ needs. If you can’t let go of putting your needs first, then you aren’t really giving up power. Communicate. Share your needs, and have meta discussions about them. Then let go. Trust. Lean in with your submission by putting your Dominant’s needs first. Focus on what they need. Let that guide you at all times. With submissive and Dominant both putting one another’s needs first, the dynamic flourishes. It deepens, and it takes you places you never knew existed. 

Why Whims Why do Dominants’ whims come before submissives’ wants? Why are they on there at all? At least for me, explicitly putting my Dominant’s whims above my wants is a reminder of what it means to be owned. And I need to feel it sometimes. I need to know that my Dominant has no need to justify decisions. I plug my ass in the middle of the workday when told. I drop what I’m doing to complete a task. I deny my orgasms at the last minute. That is what it means to be owned. No other reason required. I need to know that my needs come first, but I also need to know that my desires come last. Very, very last. This is what my slave heart needs—not just in theory, but I need to see it.  

Genital torture. 8. I love moderate to hard pain, but not extreme.

Orgasm control/forced and denial. 10. One of my biggest kinks.

Public use. 10. As long as the public is kinky, not vanilla. But I adore being displayed to or used by crowds, whether I know the people or not.

Human urinal. 9. Anywhere on my body, face, or even in my mouth - I just don't swallow it.

Electric torture. 5. I'm ok with this. It's not something I crave.

Spit. 10.

Human ashtray. 9. I love it anywhere but in my mouth.

Ass and mouth use only. 10. My cunt is basically just for fists and unusual insertions. My ass and mouth are for cocks.

Rimming. 10, although I prefer giving to receiving.

1. Mostly hit the edge just once OR mostly hitting and riding the edge for an extended amount of time

2. Self imposed denial OR being denied

3. Mostly solo edging OR edging with someone physically

4. Use a variety of toys and (internet) aids OR just use your body(’s)

5. Edging tasks OR doing whatever comes to mind

6. Short term denial (under a week) OR long term denial (over a week)

7. Edging is better OR cumming is better

8. As much edging as fits in a day OR way less edging and strict no touch

9. Edging made me easier OR edging made me like more stuff

10. Edging is more mental torture OR Edging is more physical torture

11. Share your denial story somewhere online OR keep it to yourself

12. Also a denial bitch OR only a denial slut

About 9: Easier in the sense of more willing to have sex or like more stuff in the sense that you get horny by new or more things because of edging

About 12: A denial bitch is someone who loves getting off on knowing other women can’t cum, and also love shoving it in denial sluts faces that she as a denial bitch does get to cum

Comment, reblog or make a new post with maybe #denialslutfacts

My answers;

1: Riding and hitting the edge over and over

2: Being denied, whether online or by my side

3: Mostly solo really

4: Variety of toys and aids

5: If I’m on my own, whatever comes to mind. Otherwise, tasks

6: Longer please. :P

7: Edging is better

8: As much as fits in the day

9: Edging made me like more stuff (both really but hey)

10: Edging is mental torture for me

11: Online… duh. :P

2. I’m being denied now, but during a brief period when I was unowned, I denied myself

3. I prefer being edged by someone, but since I live alone, most of my edging is masturbatory - I’d say about 75/25

4. Toys/aids almost exclusively

5. Both

6. Long term (today is Day 422 - last orgasm was Nov 29, 2016)

7. Edging is WAY better!!!!

8. As much edging as fits in a day - no touch for more than a couple of days and I’d shut down entirely

9. I’m not sure edging did either.  I was already easy and into nearly everything, LOL. 

10. Whew, I don’t really know.  Some sessions are more one than the other.  Some days are more one than the other.  I’d call it pretty 50/50.

11. Share it all over.  Every online kink presence I have (Tumblr, Fet, FB, Collarspace, WP blog) has a lot of focus on denial.  I’ve even taught a class on it with my Sir in my local community.

HAVING SAID THAT – if you are someone who *legitimately believes* in misogyny and patriarchy, that women are less than and inferior to men, pleeeeease fucking unfollow me right now.

Something happened last night. I went somewhere. I didn’t even know it was real. I didn’t even know it existed. I didn’t know it was possible to feel that way.  I bought a new toy. A lovely glass dildo that I’ve basically fallen in love with. I’m not sure any penis will ever compare. And, I begged to cum. Not because I really wanted to. “Please, I want to cum”, actually meant “please, play with me”. The thing about this story is, I have to read back our texts. I can barely remember what happened. I was there, following instructions, responding to questions, but my mind was… somewhere else.  He told me what to do. To use a little bit of lube, and slide it over my sensitive pussy, having edged hard shortly before. He told me to insert it. I did as I was told. He told me to push it deeper. I slowly, carefully, with more lube, did as I was told. And back to my clit. Rubbing the glass over it. I can’t explain how good it felt. And he told me to put it back in. I didn’t even question him: he said, I did. I was already going into a sort of sub space. It was nothing compared to what was about to follow.  I’m so close, I begged. Please, let me cum. Please, don’t let me cum. I want to be good. “You will be good. Nice slow strokes.”  That’s when he started to push me. I was so close, each and every stroke felt as if it would take me over. Every time I pulled the dildo out, my pussy clenched, my muscles tensed, and I tried, desperately, to hold back. One of the towels I had ended up on my chest, in my mouth, as I tried to keep my orgasm back, like holding back a wild horse.  He became cruel. “Don’t stop, and don’t cum, is that clear, denial slut? Shut up and fuck.”  It turned me on more. I tried to take breaks, I tried to go slower, I tried a different position. I kept myself on the edge for… longer than I would have imagined possible.  “Good girl. Slide it out, and into your mouth.”  I was grateful for the break. Thankful for the pain of my pussy clenching, aching, screaming for an orgasm. I was relieved to have something in my mouth. Sucking, I know how to do. Even if it wasn’t a real cock.  When he told me to go back to my clit, I realised the break hadn’t helped at all. I felt it in my entire body. I told him, desperately:  “I’m literally two strokes away from cumming my clit feels so warm and swollen and ready and I can feel this orgasm built up in my body unable to escape and every neuron fired up and every inch of my body sexual.” Now that’s what I call an edge, he said.  Something happened. I don’t remember how. All I remember my entire body was on fire. I could feel the edge from my clit down my legs into my toes. From my bottom to my lower back through my spine to the top of my head. I felt it in my forehead and my cheeks, I felt it in my breasts. My hands were shaking, or was that afterwards? I don’t remember.  I don’t know if the slightest touch will make me cry or cum, I said.  Cry for me, he encouraged.  “I’m not even sad, it’s just my whole body is sex.”  “There’s poetry.”  I sobbed. I wept, and even that nearly made me cum. I kept touching myself, barely even moving. Slowing down. Slowing down even more. And then finally, coming to a still point. The dildo inside of me. My head empty. My body filled. As my breathing slowed, all I felt was my heartbeat. Wherever I was, there was nothing there. Just my heartbeat, and sex, and there he was. Talking to me.  “Well done. That was beautiful.”  I went somewhere, I said. I’m not sure where.  Edge-space, he said.  I didn’t know I could go there.  And now, I want to go back.