I achieved a goal today. I conquered a fear. I gave a gift and it was honoured and accepted. I basked in praise. I grew. I changed.
Recently I pitched an article on how to get over the stage fright of masturbating in front of a partner. When the pitch was picked up and I set out to write it, I was overcome with anxiety. See, the thing is … I have only masturbated for a partner once. Once. So I quietly decided that I should put my theory into practice and figure out how to get over the stage fright I feel at the mere suggestion of touching myself in plain view of a partner.
It all started earlier in the afternoon when I begged Sir to let me come. After my rogue orgasm earlier this week, I have been denied my usual edging privileges, and today, when I begged him for a much needed orgasm, I was granted one. But it came at a cost. I was allowed to come only after I was able to edge for five consecutive minutes. The challenge started at two minutes and increased incrementally as I succeeded. The whole process took an hour of his gentle chiding and strict enforcement of time restrictions, quizzing me on my level of arousal to prolong the edging with intermittent cool-down periods.
There was a point about twenty minutes in (around the time I started to take pictures) when I realized how much more valuable his instructions were versus a traditional punishment. Everyone kinks how they kink and punishments are an important part of many folks’ dynamics, but for me, they aren’t ideal. I don’t do well, from an anxiety point of view, when I feel afraid to make an error because of the consequences. I am happy to take feedback or correction, but penance and punishment don’t change my behaviour other than to make me nervous.
Once you can edge for 5 minutes without losing control I will allow it. Practice, discipline and obedience will only make it better.”
I diligently watched the clock, setting timers, following his every instruction and spontaneously filming myself and snapping some provocative pictures. At first it was strange to see myself on my phone in front of me, and stranger still to play it back. To my great relief, it wasn’t unbearably bad. I didn’t look awful or sound stupid. It wasn’t all the things I had prepared myself for it to be.
When I was finished, when I was finally allowed to come, I shyly asked him if he’d like to see it. His enthusiastic Yes! made my cheeks hot and I nervously sent it. His response was overwhelmingly sweet and validating and now I wonder why I ever worried.
When we were chatting afterwards, debriefing, he told me he was proud of how brave I’d been. My immediate response was to tell him that he makes me feel brave, and he does. He could have enforced a more arbitrary or self indulgent punishment, made me pay for my slip-up, rub my nose in it. Instead, he did what he knew would make me feel the most secure and the most understood. Did I learn my lesson? Absolutely. Do I know how to better manage myself when I edge for him? Most definitely. And did I come through this error with renewed confidence? Yes, and I have the pictures to prove it.
This is a perfect example of the adage, ‘Submission is earned.’, absolute proof that his methodology is personal and specific, both of which make me trusting of him and able to abdicate power to him. I may be the one earning permission to touch myself, but he is forever earning my submission with his insight and consistency.
I am learning so much about myself in this beautiful relationship. Every day is more intimate than the days before, everything feels deeper and clearer. Lighter, brighter; more alive. I like who I am in submission. I like how this feels, how it’s stretching both of us in new ways and making space for us to each explore parts of ourselves that might otherwise go unseen.