47

WinterFire is now on the receding horizon in My rear view mirror, and it was wonderful as always. My birthday falls a few weeks before it, and I wanted to do something a little special with j... Sort of to make up for our missed opportunity last fall, but really, I always want what happens when we see each other to be special.  I want to give him a great experience, and he inspires Me in a slightly scary way, a way that happens on the fly and it never feels clear whether it will actually work. It *does* work, consistently, but it feels high stakes poker to Me much of the time.

Folks in the scene will know that Dominants commonly "give" their birthday spanking to a submissive, and those tend to be a fun scene, often in a group at a party. I've done it several times Myself with at least three people, in one case a woman who slightly misunderstood the invitation and agreed thinking she would be spanking Me. I found out a little something new about her interest, but she took it like a champ in the end.

It crossed My mind to give j My turning 47 birthday spanking, but it didn't feel right. It's been done so often, it felt like a lazy choice and yes, I want him to be able to respect My choices for our scenes. The last scene I was in with him back at Fusion was a group scene and the pretext for people beating him was because it was his birthday (which it wasn't exactly). Besides that, heck, this is the boy that has taken a thousand cane strokes in a single three hour scene with Me; it took Me from strokes 700-900 just to get him to bleed. About wore Me out. That boy is tough, mentally and physically, it's one of many things I enjoy about him. It didn't matter which toy I picked, it just felt like 47 whacks of anything wasn't going to challenge or engage him or Me. I really didn't want to phone it in. Plus I had three days to work with, but 47 whacks wasn't going to take long at all. I felt a little stuck, it's hard to summon inspiration on command.

What to do... What to do...

I had an idea that might be too ambitious, so I posed a question to j's Madam, but the answer was unknown. Feeling sure I was onto something worthy of the attempt, even if it failed, I informed j that I had decided what his birthday gift to Me would be. The look of surrendered curiosity on his face was delicious as I waited to tell him.

"Your birthday gift to Me, My dear, shall be 47 denied orgasms before we depart on Monday."

I don't know what he thought (how I wish I had mind reading powers some days), but I sensed he felt this a worthy gift. And I know that as a sexual submissive, it didn't seem like 47 years of breaking rocks at Leavenworth to him.

The question I had tried to answer earlier was: what's the most times he has ever been orgasm-denied at once?  I knew from prior visits that I had once taken him to 12 in a row. And I had a sense that he might be unable to endure 47 in one session. So I had a floor and ceiling of sorts.  Honestly, how many men do you know that could be brought to the very precipice of ejaculation and resist tipping over 47 times? This sort of boy is a rare and splendid bird, the proverbial ruby-cocked mattress thrasher.

Most of a month later, the fine grain detail of what became three tease and denial sessions has already faded into a tender glow of remembrance and awe. I know that I beat him in the dungeon for an hour in a tour-de-toybag scene Friday night.  I got nicely wet and rubbed some girl perfume on his face at several points while he was strung up, instinctively taking the scene from a nice whacking to something with that rich emotional/ energetic content we both enjoy. It became as the Rough Crowd folks in Chicago say, a violent display of affection, deep affection. Then afterward dinner and cuddling in the sumptuous hotel bed, where he learned of his impending gift, and began working to provide it to Me.

Easy enough to do Friday night, I was doing all the stroking. And I'll tell ya kids, it's not for sissies, this forced tease and denial, it's not a great angle when comfortably lying down; My arm got sore. But here's a first world problem if there ever was one. I faintly recall he got to 14 that night. Such a nicely trained boy he is!  I stroke until he gets within a hair's breadth of orgasmic inevitability, and he is trained to announce STOP!  he's a good boy and doesn't try to shirk it, he plays it straight. Stop means more like Freeze in a game of freeze tag. Any touch, a single word, even a breath blowing across his quivering nerve ends can send him over the edge. I know because I did it once by accident several years ago. It's also possible that something just clicks and it dissipates, he's done. But until that point, j is My personal, adorable musical instrument and I tune him, tightening the strings further and further as I play him, bringing him to the pitch I desire, making him sing.

It was Friday late evening. I had already spent an hour doing impact on him and was coming down from My rush. He was tired from the travel and event set up plus his hour long beating and a good dinner and 14 almost orgasms at the hands of a beautiful Woman. So 14 was enough for us both and we zonked early, by about midnight.

We had agreed Saturday would have nothing scheduled between us, though we did spend good time together for much of it.  Sunday we co-topped one of the other staffers, a former Marine who is both cute and tough as nails. It was My first time co-topping with j and so interesting to feel we were as much connected and dancing together as tops as when we are in our other dynamic. And he's so evil, God bless him. The boy we were whacking is an experienced, heavy bottom with that crazy pain processing ability you sometimes see in Marines and Special Forces guys. It was j's scene to lead, which I respected, and I had to admire him for screwing with the bottom in two great ways. First, we beat the guy all over, except his right calf. Because as scene people know, ya always want to leave the person feeling balanced. Except when you're intentionally fucking with them. Second, j had him doing math while we beat him, because it forces the brain to operate a little differently and fucks with the experienced guy's usual well oiled pain processing machine.  Good. Times.

Afterward, we retired to the room and j gave Me the next installment of My gift. This time, I made him stroke himself, so I could focus on watching him like a bug pinned to a laboratory specimen board, wiggling, and on talking to him.  I commanded him START!  He stroked until he had to say STOP! and I froze whatever else I was doing... Dirty talk, taunting, playing with his nips or balls, caressing his scruff, kissing.  Sometimes I gave him a nice few long minutes to fall well back from the edge, sometimes I shoved him right back at it and watched him trying to keep balancing. By #16 of this session he was profoundly struggling to keep control and at #17 I really thought I had pushed him too far. After letting go the cock at STOP he was leaking thick and heavy -- but it wasn't an ejaculation. he stayed in the sunshine, just barely. And he had two beautiful tantric orgasms, which I just love watching. I know he cannot control them, j has in fact chosen to *not* try to learn to control them in a deliberate manner. We both like them wild and unpredictable.

Then it was time to send him off to his afternoon play date. I don't know what they did to him, but when he returned he was done. he begged off our evening play date plans, and I could see it was unlikely the orgasm scene would be finished. It was a mood I haven't seen him in before. We went into friends hanging out mode for the rest of the evening. I got the sense he was deeply missing Chloe, and I really felt that with him, so although disappointed, I also totally respected his changed headspace. I don't think I could have managed the equivalent nearly as well. And he switchy, while I'm not, so I get that the headspace oscillates and frankly, how that works is a sweet mystery. We hung out around the dungeons and socialized in the bar, both just a little deflated it seemed. Then because he is event staff, Sunday had to be an early night. We went to the room, I gathered My things to one side, and he planned to sleep then pack in the morning, but neither of us wanted to actually part even though it clearly was time. I don't know how it happened, maybe j just got a 15th wind, but in the end he completely packed as I watched and we talked, and then he invited Me to sleep over.  I still didn't think the last set of the 47 orgasms was going to happen, I'd written that off hours before as to-be-continued-at-Fusion. But once settled in bed it became clear he had not forgotten or given up, he was determined to complete the gift despite the lateness of the hour. It made what happened next all the sweeter.

Less than 12 hours after completing nearly disastrous orgasm denial 31, he finished My marathon.  I watched in awe as he flailed and endured for Me, while I did little more than announce in an intentionally indifferent tone what number he had completed. I wanted him to feel like a toy being used, and I'm sure he did. Somewhere in the late #30's, he leaned over and pleaded with the only two words I recall him saying the entire scene: "Command me."  And I knew he needed more words from Me, understood he craved more emotional connection now. I happily provided. I commanded Start! each time and as before, I taunted him, but more intensely, more dangerously, things that might be the wrong things to say and couldn't know until it was too late. Telling him to be a good boy and not spill; making him say STOP louder and Louder and LOUDER, saying it would be awful if I accidentally didn't hear him and accidentally pushed him over the edge when he was so close to victory, and if he wasn't LOUD ENOUGH for Me it would be all his fault; taunting him not to break Madam's command against having a cum at the event; how awful it would be for him to return to Madam having failed; how he doesn't want to disappoint Her; how much I want to send him home with a glowing report and how proud She will be of him when She hears what a good boy he was for Me, how much he suffered and endured for Me.  I knew he was missing Her, and instinctively, I brought Her with us down the homestretch. Such is the intimacy of kinky, poly love and affection. Like I said, he inspires Me to things that are in the moment, and have the potential to go seriously awry.

The last few denials are a blur. My sweet strong boy was flailing, we were in that shared space of a single thought, a combined breath. We had achieved the joyous merge and were reaching for the summit of what had become a far more epic undertaking than even I foresaw on Friday. The last two denials triggered another pair of tantric orgasms, the first big, the second huge, looking for all the world like an epileptic seizure. For all the build up, it still caught Me off guard and I had to fight to keep j from hurting My neck as he thrashed and spasmed around Me. I spent a beautiful 45 seconds or so thereafter with his kneecap grinding quite painfully into My shinbone. But I didn't really care, and he held. My strong, sexy, enduring boy held fast. And I was deeply proud of him, and of us.

As he finally came down enough to relax and cuddle together comfortably, he leaned toward Me, kissed My face, and said, "You are beautiful."

Gift received.