Explorations into denial, pain, and humiliation

[Yasna]

Day 30 of no touch denial! I'm past my previous personal record and entering into uncharted denial territory. I feel hopeful like an explorer: I'm sitting in the crow's nest, looking for maelstroms, reefs, shallow banks, approaching heavy weather, and unbelievable sea monsters. I'm pretty sure I will encounter all of these and I'm looking forward to it. Maybe at some point I'll even reach the edge and fall over. Or steer along and just enjoy the look into the abyss. But today the sea is calm, deep and quiet. Even my pussy is in a good mood to mark the occasion, cheerful like a child in expectation of its birthday. It's buzzing again almost constantly. It hasn't done that for a while. It's pulsating very gently, and when I lie quietly I can feel the waves resonating in my lower abdomen. After waking up this morning I spent about a quarter of an hour just enjoying this delightsome feeling.

I've been thinking about why I'm able to stick to my plan this time. (Knock on wood!) As a lot of "success" stories this also is a story of failures. A lot of failures. My interest in denial began with the rather trivial observation that orgasms are more intense after a period of abstinence. I'm talking about cumming every other day instead of every day. Sometimes unexpected things happened, I ended up skipping another day and the ensuing orgasm was even stronger. So there was an incentive to delay release, but, let's face the facts, I was still cumming more often than not, usually multiple times. Besides, the aim of delaying release at this point was having more intense orgasms, not having no orgasms.

But I found out that the pleasure from orgasms is governed by the law of diminishing marginal utility. The value of my climax currency was undergoing inflation. I was masturbating and cumming habitually, maybe even compulsively, but first and foremost mindlessly. Then I went to a workshop that took from Monday to Friday and I shared the room with a participant. No masturbation for four nights, probably the first time in years. But I also experienced something that I hadn't experienced in a long time. I felt really sensual. That was an exciting feeling in itself. Of course I made up for the orgasms I had "forgone" over the following weekend and, boy!, they felt good. But the tender shoots of desire, yearning, and sensuality were steamrolled. I just had orgasms, great orgasms, nevertheless I didn't feel satisfied. The rate of inflation had increased significantly. So began a phase of attempts of self-denial for a couple of days at a time just to experience these more subtle feelings again. Sometimes I managed for three days, sometimes for four, but typically I failed on the very first day. Don't get me wrong: I love to cum. But I really started to dislike the subsequent drop in libido.

Then I experienced real denial highs and they blew my mind. One I remember particularly well: It was Saturday morning and I had already denied myself release for two or three days. I was edging for quite some time and it was almost time to get up to take a shower before going to work. I was sweating and panting and everything in me screamed to get myself off. Do it! Do it now!! But there was this tiny little voice saying: "You know better. You'll be disappointed afterwards. How do you feel right now?" "Horny! Incredibly horny! Incredible! Alive!" "See?! If you hold back you can feel the same tonight again." I jumped out of bed and floated through the day. In the evening there was the voice again: "You know better. Don't you wanna feel that intense tomorrow morning?" In the morning the voice whispered: "You know better. You'll …" – "Shut up! I get it! I'll hold back." I was on cloud nine. I felt invincible. Totally unflappable. Attuned to myself. In closest possible touch with my sexuality. Divine. Mother Earth herself. The inflation of my climax currency became rampant.

February went by without an orgasm. However, that was more a consequence of grieving about a breakup than a conscious period of denial. Eventually I started my PM dare experiment which included a "denial for a day" dare as well. Especially one guy was very insistent on keeping me denied permanently and I'm very thankful for that. I've reread my diary about these ten remarkable days. Oh my god!, was my flame burning hot and high! But I was using up all my fuel very quickly. In retrospect I'm not surprised that I had to give up. I wanted too much. I spent four to six hours every day on doing dares and writing about it, next to writing papers, preparing for exams, and working at my part-time job. I planned for more than 120 days! (If I had stuck with it I would be on day 78 now.) It was a wonderful, intense experience though, and I learnt a lot from it. But I haven't told what happened afterwards yet.

Despite the fact that everyone was very friendly and understanding I was terribly disappointed in myself. I hate it when I don't follow plans through. Initially I thought I'd just ease up a bit, but I was so stressed out I soon realized I needed a break, a period to concentrate on my studies, the opportunity to wind down. Masturbating and above all orgasming was my favourite method of relaxation. I was so much looking forward to it.

In the evening I went to bed quite early and started to pleasure myself. It was nice to do so without worrying about not going too far. It didn't take long to the first orgasm. It was decent, but not spectacular. But my first orgasm usually isn't the best so I was prepared for that. It was more like a warm up. I took my time for the second climb-up, slowed down from time to time, and drew out the pleasure. Damn, I had earned it! And the second orgasm was everything I had hoped for after two weeks of holding back: It hit me like a warm wave, swiping me off my feet, engulfing me, eyes rolling to the back of the head, the galaxy exploding before them, making me forget where and who I was for a moment. I even squirted which doesn't happen very often. Phew! That was great! Terrific! That was great. Really great. It was. Wasn't it? What the fuck, I just had a mind blowing orgasm! What's wrong? Relax, you're overexcited. But I am relaxed. That orgasm was great, terrific, mind blowing. But I felt empty and cold. Frozen. Fossilized. All the energy I had stored up over the preceding two weeks had dissipated in the blink of an eye. I hadn't dialed down the tension; I had pulled the plug entirely.

This mood prevailed for a couple of days. My mind was empty, my body a wasteland. After a few days my emotions "normalized". I was even able to enjoy orgasms without falling into a slump afterwards. But in these days something clicked in my brain: I was not necessarily giving up anything at all when I denied myself release. It was like living on a fertile coastal stretch, well-off, comfortable, but a bit monotonous. I enjoyed the bounties of the land, but I was getting lethargic. I knew there was something to explore beyond the horizon. So I made my ship seaworthy, set sail, and here I am: at the end of my known world of denial. It's not always easy, but I enjoy every second of this adventure. My pussy buzzes in approval.