Orgasmic Meditation

Got all excited this morning – so to speak – because i saw a post about orgasmic meditation and how you could learn it on-line “in the privacy of your own home.”  When i went to the website, i discovered that registration was free and the initial consult was reduced in price – to $150.  i’m pretty sure if the initial consult is on sale for $150, the whole program is way out of my range.

Sigh.

It might have been fun.

i imagine a meditation induced orgasm as looking/feeling something like this:

images

Or, if you’re practicing with a partner, like this:

sexuality and meditation

And when i went to find those images (googling “orgasm meditation” and then hitting “image,” which is one of my favorite kind of searches) i also found these great quotes.

1a(If she’s turned on , you can do  no wrong, if she’s turned off, you can do no right.)

And this one:

sexquote_IsabeleAllende

(“For women the best aphrodisiacs are words. The G-spot is in the ears.  He who looks for it below there is wasting his time.”)

Do any of youall do orgasmic meditation?

 

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What i Don’t Like

i don’t like non-consensual sex or non-consensual spanking in my BDSM books.

Well, wait, sometimes i do.  Like Story of O or the Gorean slave books or Barbary Revenge, then yeah, it’s fine.  The whole thing is pretty non-consensual from start to finish, so that’s like a particular genre.

But in some supposedly romantic, kind of realistic book?  No.  Just because she trips and ends up in your lap, it’s not ok to pull her skirt up and spank her.   I want somebody to get me to agree before they start whaling away on me.

Yes, i’ve been reading again.

You know what’s even worse than non-consensual domestic discipline?  When her father suggests it.  Ew.

O, wait, if that’s your kink, that’s fine.  i’m not trying to judge you.  Or your kink.  i just don’t like it.  And i’m not against Daddy Doms – just against the idea that your biological father and your older boyfriend should be laughing together about spanking you.  Nope.

i like the dark edginess of real BDSM.  i want a relationship between equals.  i may be submissive, but it’s purely by choice, not because i’m weaker or in need of a firm hand.  Not because i’m like a child.   Just because i want to.  Like Anais Nin.

“I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.”
― Anaïs Nin

And this one, of course:

“I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.”
Anaïs Nin

Neither of those really captures it though.  It’s those things, and more.  Collars and cuffs, fireplay and rope, kneeling at his feet, and the indescribable pleasure and power of worshipping his cock.  It is being receptive, opening myself to his whims and desires.

i know, i am not likely to find the Dom of my dreams these days.  But if i can’t have him, i can imagine him, i can conjure him up in my dreams.  King, Warrior, Magician, and Lover…

 

With My Mouth

“Open your mouth,” he says.  “Yes, like that, good girl.  No, don’t touch.  Wait.  Put your hands behind your back.  Yes.”

i am between his legs, on my knees.  Waiting for permission to lower my mouth and take his cock in to the wet warmth, to stroke him with my tongue, to suck gently.

i wait, mouth open.  He is touching himself, stroking his cock with one hand, the other hand in my hair, ready to guide me if needed.

i can smell the musky man odor – i know, i know that’s a cliche, i can’t help it.  How else can you describe it?  i am so close, and so eager to begin.  i can feel the wetness between my own legs, so turned on.

i keep my eyes on his cock, trying to be patient, keeping my mouth open and ready.

“Put out your tongue,” he says.  Gingerly, i poke my tongue out, just the tip, but “No, girl,” he says, “PUT your tongue out.”

i stick it out then, stick it out as far as i can, and he laughs.  “Ok,” he says, “good girl, now relax your tongue.  Keep it out but relaxed.”

My anxiety is ramping up, what if he doesn’t let me, with if he just keeps playing with himself?  What if i can’t do it the way he likes?  What if i fuck this up and he doesn’t let me and he sends me away?

“When I tell you to start,” he says, “- and not before – when I tell you to start, you may lower your head and lick me with your tongue out, just like it is now.  Start when I say start, and stop when I say stop.”

And still he makes me wait – hovering, right on the edge, so close to his cock.  i want to rest my cheek against its velvety softness, but i wait.

And then, “Start,” he says.

i lower my head, his hand still in my hair but not directing me.  i touch the flat of my tongue to the head of his cock, on the side, as if he were a lovely ice cream cone.  Gently, lovingly, i lick my way around the bulb of his cock, like it was gonna melt if i didn’t lick it real well.

“Stop,” he says, way too soon, i am only barely getting started, but i stop in mid lick.  “Good girl,” he says, tugging my hair gently.  “Relax your mouth.”

i do, almost closing it, but not pressing my lips together.  He moves his hands to my breasts, which are exposed.  He grabs a nipple with each hand.  Strokes them, tugging gently.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, rolling each one lightly between a thumb and forefinger.

“Yes, sir,” my breathing is a bit short, but it’s an honest response, so much heat between my legs, i think i could cum just from this pleasure, if he would only tell me to.

“It’s going to hurt in a minute,” he says.  “I’m going to make it hurt.  Do you want me to do that?”

“Yes, Sir,” my voice is soft, but yes.  In this moment, i want what he wants.

“Ask me to.”

“Please, Master?”

And he does, both nipples, his fingers tightening slowly, pleasure, pleasure, and then it slips quickly over the edge, into pain and more pain, and i’m gasping with the shock and the pain, barely able to hold my position – trying not to cry out –

– and he stops, quickly, completely, so i am both relieved and a bit off-balance.  There are tears on my cheeks, but my hands are still behind my back.

“Good girl,” he says, and i am so pleased with myself for having pleased him, i’m smiling, even though my nipples still throb.  He laughs.  “Do you think you can please me with your mouth?”

i start to answer, but his quick ‘Shhh- no words” stops me.  “Show me,” he says.

i begin the way he likes, kissing gently, adding quick licks from my tongue, making sure my mouth is wet.  When his cock is slick and glistening, I slide my mouth down on it, relaxing my throat so he slides deep, deep into my throat, taking him into my mouth until it won’t go any farther.

“Good girl,” he says, and now his voice is a bit strained with pleasure.  Slowly, slowly, i bring my mouth back up.  Determined to show him how well i can please, i begin to lick again.  We have lots of time.

A Story

i may have told you this story before.  If you’ve already heard it, don’t feel like you need to hear it again.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a Dom i knew.  We’ll call him Burford.  He was gruff and mean, but not really.  Really he was sweet and sensitive and i liked him a lot.

Burford used to tell me that if he were my Master, he would keep me naked all the time.  He said that otherwise, it would be too easy to forget i was a slave.  He said that i was so competent, that if he didn’t keep me naked, he would end up having me doing his taxes and a bunch of other mundane stuff and would forget that i was a slave and needed to be beaten and fucked regularly.

i understood that he meant because i’m competent, because i’m strong, it’s hard for men – even Doms – to remember that i’m submissive.  He said it in some really nice ways, he said he would get lost in the joy of being with me, and would forget i was a slave.  He was not intending to be cruel.

But it happens.  Some people think that being strong means not submissive.  i know that happens, i’ve heard people say that it’s hard to be dominant with someone who’s strong.

i think that however strong a submissive is, that equals how much they need to be dominated.  That’s all i’m saying.

But i quit talking to Burford when i got together with my partner.  My partner didn’t want me talking to him anymore – understandably – so i didn’t.

Then Sunday, when i was really mad at my partner, i emailed Burford.  i just wanted to talk to someone who knows how deep my submission runs.  Not even talk to, maybe just email or message for a little bit.  i don’t think i’ll hear back from him, i doubt if he even uses that address anymore.  And it’s probably just as well.  Really.

i am, however, still exchanging email with the guy i knew in high school.  He is vanilla, as far as i know or could imagine, and our conversations are incredibly mundane, but it makes me feel good.  That – talking to him – is what shifted my sexual energy.  Knowing that he’s interested in me in some way.   i don’t know if other people are self-sustaining that way, but i need the boost of feeling like someone might want me “that way.”

Anyhow.  That’s a thing i did, emailing Burford.  i guess i’m not sure it was a right thing to do, but i wouldn’t take it back.