Living On The Edge

Tasks, tasks, tasks. I do spend a lot of time writing about them. They are a hugely important part of my relationship with Sir. The last one I shared was when he asked me to get creative and please him, so I took to revitalising my lingerie wardrobe. But his requests come in clusters, and the next one I want to share had me, quite literally, living on the edge.

What does it mean: Living on the edge?

In our very early days he introduced me to the art of edging during a scene. Edging is where you are brought to the edge of orgasm and before it hits stimulation is removed. It’s a form of orgasm control, which, I must say, is one of the joyfully frustrating things I’ve learnt to play. It works in person, but it’s also a test of my submission when I am not with my owner. I’ve shared about this a couple of times now, in the playful post My Favourite Game, and my story of how I manage separation anxiety: BDSM, Discipline, Punishment and Me.

With him being away but still tasking me I was given a two week window over which I was to edge myself four times each day. I know him, and how much he likes me to push myself so I knew I’d have to get as close to the edge as possible. WITHOUT accidentally tumbling over into orgasmic bliss.

Not that it would be bliss if I accidentally hit those highs. It would be a horrid orgams and who knows what sanctions he’d have put in place had I made that error.

Anyway, I’d been playing with edging for some time.

It was always such a fun way to spend a child free afternoon- it still is really. But this request of his would take me so much further. I’d not been asked to repeatedly edge for that many days before, and while I loved it solo there’s a big difference between one “child free afternoon” to entertain myself and fourteen days of tease and denial for Him.

As always I have the option to veto a task, for whatever reason. If I genuinely don’t believe I will be able to achieve it, if it crosses boundaries, perhaps it infringes on my parenting… However, this rarely happens, and in this case I was quite excited about the prospect of tormenting myself for him. Living my best life, and playing at the edge of desire.

There are a couple of stories with other people which took place during these two weeks, one in particular makes me laugh to this day, but this post is about my solo efforts.

And as I’m sure you can imagine I was anxious to get started.

The excitement bubbled away. The butterflies in my tummy swirled, the chatter in my brain paused and the throbbing between my legs grew.

What a way to live: Edge four times each day for two weeks for me.

I’m sure that there are other vulva owners who have taken part in activities like this. For me, I was in uncharted waters though. What a lot of fun was to be had exploring. I soon found out I could Not-Orgasm three times closely together. After this my body would kind of shut down for a spell. Then, after a recharge I could start the build again from fresh. Not only do I love to go over and above for Sir, I’m also a slut for sensations. As I wasn’t limited to four times I decided to press on for two waves of three.

It was fun, it was even more frustrating and it was deliciously painful to stop.

My house was full of “nooooooo” and “no, no, no, no, sob”. There may even have been occasional cursing. The week progressed, with other tasks which made things even more amusing. Often at my expense! All shared with Sir using a combination of humour and good grace. But early on day 11 my period arrived. Quite by surprise, as always. This wasn’t a problem for me, I decided to happily continue the task in hand.

Completing my daily goal I sent him an update.

But shortly after I had to send another email. While changing my tampax I had nearly orgasmed. The email flew through the internet and into his inbox. I was so amused by my predicament, unsure how I would manage to contain my excitement for a further 3 days of edging but absolutely determined to do so.

When I’d completed the school run the following morning (day 12 was a Friday) I had an email notification blinking. He’d clearly taken pity on me and, satisfied with my efforts, told me to orgasm for him. Yesss!!! I hear you say. How exciting! An orgasm after edging 66 times in 11 days. Woohoo!

Could I cum?

Nope.

My brain was so fixed on edging until Sunday.

I couldn’t quite comprehend that I had permission for release early. Worse still, my body had a complete block on sensation and I couldn’t even edge. One hour, two hours, the a third passed. I stopped for lunch. Checked my emails. He’d definitely told me to achieve release! I pottered around for a little while, had a good break before returning to my job for the day.

Finally, a short time before the school run, the air in my house turned blue, tears exploded from my eyes, and anyone walking past my house would have been flattened by the sonic boom of delight that erupted from me. I’m not sure how but I’d managed to capture the extended moment on camera. Utterly spent, I shared it with him along with my gratitude as I dried my tears and mopped the floor.

What a wonderful way to end the fortnight, even if it was two days early.

Whenever I think of this task (which is more often than you’d think) there is a song that comes to mind: Living On The Edge by Aerosmith. And I generally sing my way through as many of the lyrics as I can remember, which helpfully stops me from getting sucked into the idea of playing the game alone. But it also means this post is especially relevant for Wicked Wednesday, where the prompt this week is Sing Along.

Living On The Edge has been shared for Wicked Wednesday as well as Monochromerotic. (The theme this week is angles, I thought the header image works for both.) I have a few posts that combine the two, check out this wicked image though… Birthday Bumday.