I’m fairly confident I have mentioned this before, but if you’re new here, I didn’t really enjoy orgasms or touching myself for a long, long time. A friend once encouraged me to get a vibrator and to start self-pleasuring, pointing out how important and healthy this was. After getting past the initial embarrassment, I followed her advice but I didn’t like it at all. I tried different things and I just didn’t get it. What was this thing called orgasms she was talking about?
If I was telling this through pictures, this would be the moment where I’d shrug, as that was my response to that whole experience. Oh well, I don’t enjoy orgasms? Or maybe I can’t get them? Doesn’t matter, I guess.
Then when I was together with my ex she was absolutely terrible at giving me orgasms and I simply ended up saying that she no longer had to try. It was easier that way. Less disappointment. Plus, I still didn’t really like them anyway. Let’s put it this way… the pleasure I got from orgasms wasn’t worth the effort of moving my finger back and forth for an extended period of time, nor was the potential mess I might have to clean up afterwards.
So… orgasms, haha.
I did have one every now and then if it’d been a long time since the last. The long break would lure me into a false sense of ‘maybe this time it will be worth it!’ and it just never was. So after that one time, I’d be satisfied again for several weeks… months?
Miss Lois though, wanted to try and get me to enjoy them more. One because I think she thought I deserved it and two because I guess you can have more control over someone if they enjoy their orgasms they permit you to have, haha.
On this particular, random day that Miss Lois and I started another conversation, we started out by talking about some normal things in life, like how I was doing with the antidepressants I was trying at the time (spoiler alert: not very good so they’d been cancelled). Honesty, by that point in time… it had been like at the very least a year since Miss Lois was aware of me trying to find help through the NHS, healthcare had been more than disappointing. Very bad, really, and she acknowledged this, which made me feel relieved as she always encouraged me to keep on trying.
To change the topic, she mentioned some more things about my best friend, like how she’d shown him a picture of my bruised boobs from the elastic bands, and then she showed me his response. She said she wanted to show me because she was proud of me.
She then asked me how wet I was, which wasn’t really wet. She hadn’t expected me to be though and neither had I. But she did want me to squirt right now and to start immediately.
(Little shock to the system when you think you’re just talking peacefully, haha)
Three and a half minute later, I had managed to squirt. She asked me if I had cummed, but I hadn’t because I didn’t know if I was supposed to.
I sent her the picture that she asked for and added that she always made me squirt the day after I had just changed my bedsheets.
She replied by saying she had sent the picture to my friend and that he said I should cum… and that she agreed.
It took only three minutes though, haha and she wanted to know if I’d enjoyed it.
The way it had felt like to me was that… well, the afterwards was like trying to recover breathing, feeling as if needing a few minutes to recover before functioning again (which is all pretty normal, haha). I did think it felt pretty good while cumming, but I also thought I was still too focused on just getting the task done to be able to enjoy it entirely. Like, the enjoyment was very selective and very short. It didn’t yet feel like it was worth the effort, to be honest.
She was happy to hear that I enjoyed it though, then told me to do it again. This time though, she wanted me to focus on the feeling, to take it in and enjoy, and to let it overwhelm me.
I said I’d try my best…
I think I was worried about doing it right now. Like, what if I couldn’t enjoy it as she intended me to? Was I even capable of it?
However, I had sort of successfully managed to focus on what I was feeling when touching myself. This meant I could feel the pleasure starting to build, but then as it did it was also hard to grasp it. I was also very aware of feeling while I was touching, squirting and cumming, but it felt less pleasurable than the first time I’d come. It was still nice, but it felt like changing my focus didn’t entirely work. Whatever was blocking me from feeling the pleasure was still there.
Miss Lois said that she thought my mind was blocking me from the pleasure because it thought I didn’t deserve it.
This makes sense because my dissociation stems from having hurt a friend in the past. When I did I felt so bad that I told myself I would never let this happen again, but in order to keep that promise, I had to be in control. Humans feel and do things without thinking sometimes, so I dissociated from myself in order to be in control, feeling like I didn’t deserve to live otherwise because hurting someone made me a bad person.
I mentioned how I didn’t recall creating such a big spot…
She suggested we should at some point experiment with making me cum while being in significant pain or just after heavy pain.
(Eh… did you say heavy pain? Do we have to… just to see if I can enjoy cumming more? I’m ok not enjoying it! lol)
Me: “To see if I feel any different, Miss?”
Miss Lois: “Yes. Because if your subconscious thinks you deserve to cum, you might feel free.”
So in other words, if I would be in a lot of pain for her, I might feel like I deserved to feel pleasure more? I mean… yes… maybe…
We talked a bit more about some things regarding my development. She also said that she wanted to give me the chance to write her a document on why I deserved to call her Mistress, instead of Miss. (I’ll write on that sometime in the future.) Then she asked me if I liked it when people love my pictures on Fetlife. I did like it. I was less sure about the comments but thought I liked that too. This was different from before, where I kind of didn’t feel much in regards to it.
She asked me if I had ever considered that I am a bit of a ‘slut’ deep inside.
I hadn’t. Even now, I’m like… slut? me? I guess it’s because I associate slut with something negative as if you are doing something wrong when someone calls you a slut and I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong, just living my life haha.
Back then though, I was worried about this, thinking I was doing something wrong by being unable to feel this.
This subject sent me down a line of thoughts thinking too much damage had been done to me in terms of mental health, home situation etc. that I was unable to ever possibly feel if there was indeed a slut inside of me.
Miss Lois: “There has not been too much damage. We just have to dig her out.”
Me: “I can’t do it on my own.”
Miss Lois: “You don’t have to.”
Me: “It’s so hard.”
Miss Lois: “You are not alone.”
I was clearly not doing okay anymore and sinking into the em, self-hating I don’t want to live thought spiral that I had so often.
She tried to keep reassuring me and it sort of helped a little bit. But inevitably, when our conversation ended, I drifted back into my thoughts and worries.
Why couldn’t I feel? Why was it so difficult for me to feel normal things?
For a few months, Miss Lois would often tell me to orgasm and or squirt and then ask me how it had felt afterwards. At some point, she implemented the rule that I was allowed to orgasm as much as I wanted to, but for every orgasm, I had to give myself three ruined ones first.
I think this was a way to give me the freedom to experiment and find pleasure without having to be talking to her while keeping her presence present by having the three ruined ones rule.
This rule actually really helped because at some point I did start feeling like I enjoyed orgasms or wanted them, sometimes anyway.
Nowadays, I still don’t always care for them but I now do enjoy them when I feel like having one. I know what to do to make it more enjoyable too, I guess. But the biggest change is that I have learned, at least a little bit, to allow myself to enjoy them.
Later that day, around 6 pm, she briefly came online to say:
Miss Lois: “Remember, it’s only because of the pills you are not taking and you can push through this. I know you can, you are strong.”
By this point in time, I had lost complete faith in antidepressants though and my reply was: “Is it, Miss? Pills don’t stop breakdowns.”
That night, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from spiralling. In the morning she messaged me to see how I was doing and it appeared to become clear I wasn’t getting out of this depressive/anxious state any time soon.
Miss Lois: “I want you to get naked, put on your hood and your gag over it, wear your stilettos and take a picture.”
(Continued in Body Writing to Recognise my Slave Identity)