Not so Happy O

Anna woke slowly from the light doze that she had drifted into. Turning her head slightly, she noted that the clock read two-forty-one. Three hours. She had been trying, off and on, for three fucking hours to come. Tears welled up in her eyes. It was not the first time in the past week that sexual frustration had brought her to the brink of tears.

It had all started so simply. She had not even realized what he was doing. But from their first phone sex date, he had demanded that she tell him before she came. By the time that they met for the first time, it had become asking his permission before she could orgasm. Of course, from that point she was not allowed to come at all without his permission. He asserted that it was only right, a sign of her submission to him.

Of course, there had been fun bits of it too. Over time he had trained her to come on command. A simple trigger phrase and her body would automatically spiral to the heavens and hang there for several long moments before plunging back to reality. He had loved that one. His favorite was to use it when they were out: stores, restaurants, simply walking down the street. It had become a game with him triggering her in a variety of 'vanilla' locations and her doing her best to give no outward sign of the intense sexual response that his voice elicited in her.

She had not even questioned him. He was her Dom, her Master. Her first. If he said this was part and parcel of submission, then who was she to question him? Of course, when they went to their first BDSM club, she had discovered that not all subs were so well trained. He had taken truly sadistic pleasure in teasing, tormenting and denying her release in one scene. He said that it was only fifteen minutes but it had seemed an eternity as the Hitachi buzzed between her legs, his teeth nibbled at her breasts and his hands found every erogenous zone on her body. When he had finally allowed her to orgasm, she had screamed so loudly that everyone in the club had taken notice. He had preened like a peacock about the club for the rest of the night. While she had been made to walk around in wet knickers. She had been so deep in her submissive nature that none of it mattered. Sub-frenzy, they called it. That first intense Dom/sub relationship had caught her up in its waves and she was hanging ten on the big one without thought to crushing weight of water that was about to break over her.

Break over her it did though; with devastating effects. It too had begun simply enough. He wanted her to explore her bi-sexuality. He arranged a threesome with a new sub that they had met at the club. But from the beginning, she had been unsure. The much younger and prettier woman raised alarm bells inside of her. But he dismissed her reluctance, practically forcing her to comply. It had been the beginning of the end. Within a month, he had tossed her aside for the other woman. Oh, he tried to sanitize it all; they had simply outgrown one another, she should move on to another Dom, who was able to give her the monogamous relationship she craved. The truth was plain though...he had a new toy and had tossed the old one aside without a single thought for the effects it had on her.

That was when the trouble began. At first she had been so caught up in the pain and grief that came with the demise of any relationship, but seemed so much more intense with this one because of the depth of trust in a Dom/sub dynamic. She had cried. She had eaten tub upon tub of her favorite chocolate ice cream. Of course, she did not really have any friends upon whose shoulders she could cry. She most definitely could not explain the situation to her 'vanilla' friends. And he had made certain that she never established any real friendships with the other subs at the club. So she was left alone with crappy soap operas, chick flicks and trashy romance novels as her only solace.

Then about two weeks after his brief text message that had ended it all, it dawned upon her: I have not come. She had laughed and decided that was exactly what she needed, a really big Happy O. She had showered and shaved her bits for the first time in months. It had been a small step towards regaining her independence. His fetish for natural more longer mattered.

She had slipped between fresh sheets, grabbed her laptop and opened the browser to her favorite Literotica author's latest story. As the words poured into her mind of domination, submission, pain and pleasure, her body had strummed with long denied need. In desperation, she had opened the drawer of the nightstand, seeking her special friend. Its incessant buzzing offered comfort and promise. But after almost an hour, its batteries and her hopes were both dead.

It was the pattern that had been repeated nightly for the past week. She inhaled deeply as the tears cascaded from her eyes, blurring the neon orange numbers on the clock. No more! It ended tonight. If it took her all fucking weekend, she would not let the bastard win. She would not surrender her Happy O's so lightly, not the woman that had been multi-orgasmic from the moment she discovered sex. She would get that back...whatever it took.

She closed her eyes, searching the darkest recesses of her mind for a fantasy that had nothing to do with him, that she had never dared share even with him. She allowed her mind to sink into its depravity. Strangers binding her to a ginger bread man. Dozens of hands caressing, pinching and tormenting every inch of her. Cocks thrust at her from all sides. Forced to suck them. Others thrust between her open legs, buried deep inside of her, pounding away as she thrust her pulsating rabbit deeper and deeper. Her other hand pinched and pulled at her hard nipple as she felt her body spiraling out of control, reaching for the stars.

But when it came, it was not the stars that she reached. Not even the moon. She felt the release, but it barely registered. Her body that had once orgasmed so easily, so intensely, had failed her again. It was like those firecrackers that popped and fizzled without a bang. A dud. Her first orgasm in over three weeks had been a dud. Anti-climactic to say the least. The tears came once more. Great sobs shook her body as she cried herself to sleep, defeated and destroyed.

***

When we think of mind control, we most often think of sci-fi. But orgasm control and conditioning is tragically real. It is a practice that is all too common in the BDSM community. It is based loosely upon the classical conditioning experiments of Ivan Pavlov. Thing is that he worked with dogs, ringing a bell before feeding them. Women are not dogs. And the effects of this practice can have very real and devastating impacts long after the relationship ends.

There are thousands of Anna's around this world. I know because I was once like her. The road back to my multiple orgasms was long and the battle hard fought. But many never make it back. I run an on-line support group for the Anna's of this world and have spoken to women, who have not been able to orgasm in over twenty years as a result of this mind control practice. The truth is that some things really should be left in the realm of science fiction...and orgasm control and conditioning is one of those.