I don’t often ask to come, but I did tonight. I was feeling backed up, as if I couldn’t quite fully relax. There’s no statute of limitations on orgasms when I have sex with other partners, but he unequivocally owns my self pleasure and masturbatory orgasms. I asked if I might come tonight and to my surprise, he granted permission without conditions. He knows it’s been an iffy couple days and that today especially I am tired and a bit weepy.

There’s something materially different about coming alone, for him. It always feels charged with intimacy and my drive to come increases significantly. When I have permission and he is expecting me to orgasm I feel compelled to do just that, anything less would feel like disobedience, and I do so love to be his obedient bitch.

With his blessing I curled up on my side, cozy under a soft blanket, to pet and knead my mound. I began by pulling my lips apart slowly and dipping my fingers between them to feel how slick his express permission makes me. My clit was puffed and protruding, engorged and slippery, as I pinched it between thumb and forefinger, jostling it, immediately on the edge.

It was almost too easy. The epic edging I have done lately paid off and I almost didn’t know what to do with myself; luckily I managed. The orgasm was incredible, and I know he will be pleased that I asked for what I needed and that I was successful in honouring his instructions.

 

 

 

Violet

Violet Fawkes (she/her) is a freelance writer and sex blogger focusing on pleasure education, erotic fiction, and the intersection of identity, kink and mental health.