Explorations into denial, pain, and humiliation

[Yasna]

Why this blog?

I've been fascinated by different aspects of BDSM – pain, bondage, humiliation – for as long as I can remember. But lately I'm very much interested in denial. Especially the idea of permanent or at least long-term and open-ended denial terrifies me and arouses me extremely at the same time. However, what usually happens is: I read through a denial blog or indulge in a denial fantasy … And I masturbate. And I cum. A lot. I have been able to deny myself orgasms for several weeks. I thoroughly enjoyed how it made me feel: more sensual, my libido in the "red" range most of the time. Nevertheless I fell off the waggon every time. I relished the orgasms, but I felt stale and unsatisfied afterwards. I want to find a way to make denial sustainable for me.

I don't need to have the answer right now. I don't need to say "I'll never cum again" and be disappointed when I fail after a few weeks. I want to give it time and I want to experiment. From a logical standpoint no touching at all in a sexual manner seems to be the most reasonable approach to me. It's not that I think I don't deserve pleasure. I don't want to need it. This might lead to loss of interest though. But the whole point of my experiments is to enhance my sexuality, not to numb it. Nevertheless, no touching in a sexual way is my jumping-off point. I'm on my fifth day of this "no touch"-regimen now and so far I feel a slightly heightened arousal level. But I also had some pretty busy and stressful days so the jury is still out.

This blog is intended as one way of keeping my interest high. I love to write generally and especially about my sexual experiments. Unfortunately I'm not very consistent with it, and I hope this blog helps me to take the time to put my thoughts and feelings down more regularly.

And if it turns out that this is not enough to keep me interested and satisfied there are several strategies I'd like to explore: add pain and humiliation, which always make me horny; work my way up to a pleasurable anal experience (I'm currently almost an anal virgin); try vaginal masturbation only and avoid any stimulation of the clit (I doubt I can cum without any clitoral stimulation); test out edging at different frequencies; maybe incorporate very occasional ruined orgasms. So much to try!

Needless to say, I'm happy about everybody who's interested in my journey too. I hope we have a good time here!

[I have written this a couple of days ago for my new tumblr, but I'm not sure if I'll continue posting about my experiences there. It feels more homely here. And I can incorporate reports about dares more easily. Maybe I'll keep both for a while …]

[Yasna]

Here's my first week of "no touch"-denial: five days of smooth sailing, one day of "not too bad", and one day of desperation. Do you want to know more? Maybe I should clarify first what I mean by "strict 'no touch'": no intentional touching of any kind in a sexual manner. None at all. Not the clit, not the pussy, not the ass, not the breasts, no humping, nothing. I think of it as a kind of sexual pleasure elimination diet: I'll start with absolutely nothing, and might slowly add back if I lose interest. (Or maybe not so slowly … ) I'm looking for my arousal baseline. I'm a nerdy girl.

I have some experience with self-imposed orgasm denial. The longest time I've gone without release was about four weeks. Not very impressive. No? Maybe it's a bit impressive when you know that I really enjoy to cum, I usually orgasm a lot. Even more than that when I have my kinky phase, typically around my period. A nice masturbation session is my favourite method of stress relieve. The funny thing is: I think I really enjoy more not to cum. I guess this is an extension of my submissive nature. I don't completely understand it (yet?). I feel more attuned to myself – and of course more aroused – when I deny myself pleasure. Sure, that's paradoxical, because I receive pleasure from being attuned to myself. And from being aroused. And deliciously desperate. And dripping.

I didn't plan on this new denial adventure. I had a very busy week, got up early, worked or studied all day, came home late and exhausted, got straight into bed, and fell asleep like a stone. After three days I realized I hadn't touch myself at all. Too exhausted to masturbate – that's a good strategy to start denial! And being on a strict "no touch" regimen, but you don't know it yet makes it easy to adapt. As I wanted to make another attempt on a longer period without release, I decided to take the bull by the horns. The next two days were easy too: I was enthusiastic and still busy and still tired. Tuckered out actually. In my only spare time I did fifty minutes of cornertime (see my report here).

But then came the long Whit weekend. I had no obligations at all on Sunday. But it was less difficult than I expected. Yes, I was horny, and yes, I would have masturbated under different circumstances, but it was bearable. I spent the morning in bed, reading erotic stories, mostly of women masturbating. When I read an old-fashioned book I find it more natural to hold onto it with both hands, making it easier not to let one hand slip under the cover … I felt my pussy tingling, and I really enjoyed it. Like when you're not particularly hungry, but you have the opportunity to taste a rare delicacy. Hmm! I was almost a bit disappointed that it went so smoothly. But things were about to change.

Pentecost Monday is a public holiday here. I had to wait tables in the afternoon and evening. Another morning to spend in bed: Hooray! Or so I thought. Because I woke up early. Very early. With a hot knot between my legs. As if my pussy had finally realized it was getting serious. It was so tempting to undo the knot … I leaned back, folded my hands behind my head, and breathed deeply. It didn't help. I read another story. Just made it worse. The knot became steamy, loose ends were tingling the inside of my pussy. Breathing deeply again. I needed some distraction or I would cave in. Luckily I had been dared to an ass spanking the day before. So I got my wooden spoon, stripped out of my pyjama, went doggy on my bed, and got cracking. I flinched at the first stroke, because I had not only used all my strength, but the blow seemed so loud on this quiet morning. The spanking felt nice, more arousing and distracting at the same time. I tried to make the most of every single stroke. And I did: when I crawled back into bed I had two hot areas to focus on. My butt was glowing red, but my pussy was really frustrated that the stupid ass has gotten all of the attention. I was happy when I finally had to get up to get ready for work.

It was a nice sunny day and as the commute is not long, I decided to go to work on my bike. I quickly discovered two things: First, it's a peculiar experience to ride a bike with a freshly spanked ass. Second, it's an even more peculiar experience to ride a bike with a needy, neglected, ill-humoured cunt. I was rocking back and forth on the saddle to avoid stimulation. "Oh my," I thought, "you're such a slut! You're getting horny just from riding a bike!" I was wet when I arrived at the restaurant. The whole time I was thinking about the ride back. After a couple of hours of anticipation it felt even better. I'm wondering how long I would have to deny myself before I could cum just from riding a bike. I hope I'll never find out. After I've taken a shower there was that knot again, sending out enticing threads in all directions. But no, I was hell-bent to keep it tight. And finally my pussy gave up.

The next week will be very busy too. I'm almost thankful for that. But there will be a weekend again …

[Yasna]

It's day 10 of my "no touch at all" denial experiment and I can say I'm definitely beyond the easiness of the first days. Since touching my sexually responsive regions is off limits they seem to expand in an attempt to get at least some attention. My nipples are erect and sensitive most of the time. When fabric brushes against them they send shivers through my body. Even rubbing my feet together excites me "sexually" right now. But that's one of the things I really love about denying myself release: when my sexuality slowly invades every single fibre of my body; when everyday occurrences lose their banality and are immersed in the heated atmosphere of lustfulness. Yesterday and today the pure act of stripping naked to take a shower got me aroused. "Really?," I thought, annoyed and pleased at the same time, "I just want to get ready for my day here." The lines between touching for washing and for sexual pleasure started to blur. I might have to resort to cold showers soon. Brrr! The day before yesterday I was waiting unsuspectingly in line, when suddenly my pussy twitched. A couple of hours later the same happened on the bus and subsequently in the library. Apart from some slight worries that people might apprehend what's going on I find these instances quite enjoyable and easy to deal with. Who would masturbate in public even if the desire felt almost overwhelming, right? Alone at home things are different though.

Yesterday morning I spent quite some time reading through this detailed, entertaining, and inspiring denial journal. I got some really neat ideas of things I'd like to try – numbing cream on the clit, a clit pump. But the wonderful read made me extremely aroused and I felt my panties getting soaked. Some passages resonated deeply with me and made my clit throb. Not letting my hand slip into my jeans became a serious challenge to my self-discipline. "Just a little touch. Please? Just a slight one. Not long. Just a little. I'll stay far away from the edge, I promise. Just a little touch after ten days of negligence? Please?" I had to remind myself stringently, that this was not what I wanted right now. Well, that's not entirely true: of course I wanted to touch. Badly. Really badly. If it had been a democratic decision between my leaking cunt, my endorphin flooded brain and "me" (whatever else of "me" would be left in this scenario) "I" probably would have lost. But somehow "I" held things together. I desperately wanted to touch myself. But there was something else I wanted even more: to preserve exactly this heightened level of arousal and exhilarating frustration. At the moment that's enough to keep control.

But concentrating on my studies was difficult. Even though I expected another struggle I wanted to do something at least remotely sexual. Thus I decided to repack my toys. The old box hadn't been big enough for a while and I had gotten something new in the mail (a muzzle gag with integrated ball; I'm looking forward to try it out!). So I laid out my dildos, my gags, my clamps, my bondage gear, and my plugs. Quite a collection and some fond memories! But when I reached for my rabbit vibrator I gasped for air. How many blissful orgasms I had with this wonderful device! How good would it feel to just lay back, stuff it in, set it on high, and dissolve in waves of pleasure? Again there was a short moment when I nearly surrendered to my horniness. My pussy was buzzing, doing its best to lead me astray, but again of no avail. It feels good to win these small victories over myself.

However, there is one aspect of my denial that's really unpleasant: I don't sleep well at all. I didn't get more than two or three hours of sleep in the last nights. Once or twice I woke up from horniness, maybe from a dream? But most of the time I've just woken up in the middle of the night, even though I was still dead tired. And I couldn't get back to sleep for hours. I've observed the same the last times I denied myself orgasms for a longer time. I'm wondering whether the change in hormones interferes with the ability to sleep. On the other hand the wakefulness gave me extra time to browse the internet and I have found some cool ideas for DIY additions to my enlarged toy box. I'll keep you posted …

[girlsockboy]

I absolutely love your denial adventure. Please do continue

[Pet Ra]

Originally Posted by Yasna

...
But most of the time I've just woken up in the middle of the night, even though I was still dead tired. And I couldn't get back to sleep for hours. I've observed the same the last times I denied myself orgasms for a longer time. I'm wondering whether the change in hormones interferes with the ability to sleep.
…

Good to read that I'm not the only one.
I too wake up some nights, dead tired and can't stop my brain from thinking about my denial and how honry it makes me

[Yasna]

Lovely, right? A visit to SPA: relaxation, being pampered. But wait: why the upper-case letters? SPA is short for "Sexual Pleasure Anonymous". Now that I'm typing this I smirk a little. When I thought about it a couple of hours ago I laughed hysterically. It was a difficult and intense night.

I get dizzy when I just sniff on alcohol. Therefore I very rarely drink. I have no good idea what any addiction feels like and I don't want to diminish other people's problems. But what appears to me as a similarity between addiction and sexual denial is the internal struggle. The feeling of being driven towards doing something that on a different level you don't want to do. Maybe also the impression of being at the mercy of your urges. Don't get me wrong: I don't want to imply that expressing someone's sexuality in any way is bad or even self-destructive like addiction. (It probably could be, though. But that's a different topic.) I've never been to an AA meeting. However, this blog, this forum as a whole is a place where people can share their experiences. So, is everybody in? Then let's get started.

"Good morning! I'm glad you're all here. I see we have a new face among us. Do you want to begin?"

Well, yesterday had been quite a normal day. That is to say "quite a normal day" considering that I refrained from any sexual stimulation for 10 days. Sure, there were a heightened sense of arousal, sexual thoughts and fantasies being on my mind a lot, a noticeable but not too uncomfortable permanent horniness under the surface. Yeah, yeah, the usual, you know? [Approving mumbling.] As I hadn't caught a lot of sleep lately I went to bed around 10pm, read a little, browsed the internet a bit, and fell asleep. Did you ever wake up, but had the feeling that you can't really awake because your consciousness had split? The one half, as usual located in your brain, is trying to figure out what's happening. The other half has dropped to your genital area. This part doesn't want to wake up at all. It feels like a stampeding herd of buffalos. Or like a tribe performing an ancient ritual. But they are not pleading for rain (it's pretty wet there already); they try to summon the demoniac hand that would redeem them. That would grant them release.

I know I'm getting rather highfalutin here. But it's difficult to do that state of mind justice. I maybe never felt such an intense urge to masturbate before. It was different from anything I had experienced up to that point. It was not only that I was horny; my pussy was leaking, my cunt twitching, my body trembling. I was overwhelmed by a feeling of inescapability. I felt at the mercy of a higher power, a ruthless and merciless power to be sure. I doubled up in the fetal position, pressing my hands against my chest. I could feel my heart race. Is this how withdrawal feels like? When you know what you want, but everything inside you screams that you're doing the wrong thing? That was the moment when I invented SPA: "Hello, I'm Yasna, and I can't kick the habit of touching myself." I beg your indulgence; you know in which state I was in. [Soothing whispers.] I was thinking about what might be able to distract me, but everything seemed to be too much in that moment. I just could lay there, a bundle of conflicting urges, holding onto a plank in a turbulent ocean close to dangerous vortexes. Half awake, half narcotized by this relentless urge. I started crying at some point. I was sweating. You must think I'm crazy. [Negating outcries.] Finally I drifted off, back to shallow, but consoling sleep. [Pats on the back.]

When I awoke I felt "normal" again. Normal like …, you know. Nothing compared to the turmoil during the night. Now that I'm typing this I'm also surprisingly calm. I'm not even particularly aroused like I usually am when I write about my sexual experiences. It seems like after the exhausting battle the involved parties agreed to a truce. I wonder how long this is going to last. And if they are just restocking their ammunition and awaiting reinforcements. Today I'll be hiding in the trenches and see what's happening. But even though this night has been tremendously difficult I'm happy. I don't know if anybody can understand this. It's this intensity I crave. For this I cheerfully sacrifice my sleep, my run-of-the-mine pleasure, and my fleeting orgasms.

[Yasna]

In my last blog entry I've been very enthusiastic about my "no touch"-denial experiences. I've depicted an intense and impressive incidence. And of course I'm biased toward writing about the preeminent moments. I don't want to create a false impression though. It's not always like that. I don't want to hump everything straightaway. Sure, sometimes I want to. But not always. At times the difference of perception is far more subtle. Let's take the ordinary event of waking up. Normally the alarm clock rings, I switch it off, and – usually a bit reluctantly – I get up and start to get ready for the day ahead. Now, on day 12 of my strict "no touch"-denial the alarm clock rings, but before I've even turned to switch it off I feel the tension in my body. It's not uncomfortable. It's like my body is expecting something, it's alert, it's open for what's in store. I realize I breathe more heavily than usual. I rub my feet against each other, just to move my muscles a little, to feel a slight sensual touch. I push the blanket to the side and loll about a few seconds. I feel an itch on my butt and I scratch it, softly-softly. Oh, I would love to grab it tightly, to pinch it hard. That would feel great! I smile when I jump out of bed. It feels like a permanent natural high. Not a drunken stupor. A very little buzz. A sip of champagne. Delicious.

I've written the preceding paragraph on Saturday morning. Now it's morning again, two days later (day 14) and everything I've said above is still true, but feels very differently today. The champagne has become a bit flat. I'd rather have a soul-warming cup of tea right now. Despite all the perks of my self-denial that I have described so far it's not easy at all. You can believe me that a huge part of me would rather be in bed right now getting myself off than sitting here typing in the early morning. I had a really exhausting and emotionally terrible weekend and I've slept extremely badly again. [Note to self: reading denial blogs and watching videos of girls cumming before bed doesn't calm you down. ] I feel down and drained. I really miss the relaxation from a nice masturbation session: forgetting about the outside world for an hour or two, dissolving the bottled-up tension in body and mind, pulling myself out of the difficulties of everyday life with orgasmic blazes that stir up a furore and are yet so powerful in restoring calm of body, mind, and soul.

I'm getting lyrical; that's always a bad sign. I could state it more directly and straightforward: I'm really! fucking! horny! I know it would feel incredibly good right now to pleasure myself and cum. Ah, what a gruelling predicament: to know that one could have awesome orgasms after withholding them for so long and nevertheless going on withholding them. However, I know I'd be terribly disappointed after having an orgasm now. In my current mood I don't trust myself to stop once I've started. No pleasure at all appears to be the only threshold I'm able to defend right now. Maybe the phase around two weeks into denial is particularly difficult (at least for me, I've had similar experiences before). I start to play mind games: "Two weeks is not that long. If you indulge now it's not a huge loss. You can take up denial again afterwards and you'll be back at two weeks in a heartbeat. [Haha, sure!] It will be so much easier when you have less outside stressors." While the latter might be true it's a cop-out for sure. As I said I want to find ways to make denial sustainable for me. I've given up and started over too often in the past. I'll try to lay low today, not feeding the urge, and see what happens. Maybe there's a new bottle of champagne waiting …

[Yasna]

So it took exactly two weeks. I've discovered it Tuesday around noon, two days ago. I had an interesting seminar and a captivating lecture in the morning. I had no sexual thoughts at all for a couple of hours. This doesn't happen very often lately. However, when I went to the restroom afterwards I found a broad stain in my panties. I usually get wet quite easily. I also produce a generous amount of vaginal fluid (I have to admit I lack comparative information though). And of course I had been moist over the preceding "no touch" days too. When I was reading erotic stories or when I was fantasizing or when I was writing these reports. But without any stimulation at all? It took exactly two weeks of no touching at all for my pussy to leak constantly.

I have to admit I'm fascinated. Why does the opposite behaviour – either pleasuring or not pleasuring yourself – causes the same effect, and the only difference is the timeframe? Isn't this a violation of nature's principle to use resources as efficiently as possible? Why it is not "Okay, apparently I face a dry spell. Let's lay low until times get better," but rather "Damn, I'm not getting any. Let's produce a deluge in the meantime so she may feel my wrath"? I've been watching a video repeatedly yesterday of a girl edging herself after a week of not touching (at least that's what the description says). Usually I don't care much about close up pics or vids of genitals. But I can't get enough of this one: The already glistening labia. The pussy twitching vigorously before she even starts … just by stretching the skin of the mound of Venus. The swollen and red clit. Her whimpering and moaning when she finally approaches the edge. More vigorous twitching. And above all the grool starting to accumulate and slowly running out … And watching this video induces the exact same reactions in me (except for the edges of course). The taunting thought "This could be me." In fact, my clit has been throbbing while I was writing about it. I'm sitting bottomless on a small towel and I would like to soak it and keep it close to me when I sleep. Isn't it a wonderful prospect to be able to smell me urge while in dreamland? I love the feeling of being wet all the time, even detached from any stimulation. It's a constant reminder of my sexual nature amidst the normalcy of day-to-day life.

Yesterday had been the first day in a while with some spare time. And it probably will be for a while. So I decided to permit myself a little bit of playtime. I've gotten the occasional PM dare over the last two weeks and I still have quite a lot of them queued up … Time to remove at least some of these duties! I started with a simple body writing task. Did I say "simple"? It wasn't simple, neither in execution nor in effects. I don't quite understand how people can write on themselves in good handwriting. I always end up with the embarrassing scribbling of a first-grader. Probably I'm overthinking this, but I also wonder every time whether I should write in the normal direction (so that an imagined viewer could read it) or upside down (so that I can read it when I look down). I decided for the latter and after my morning shower I took a permanent marker. Slanting and scrawly, just I had anticipated. TOUCH ME, PLEASE! Just above the pussy. Or rather tilted across my left lower belly, in caps and two rows, and with the comma close to the elevation of the clit hood. TOUCH ME, PLEASE! Of course that was calculated taunting, but I was surprised how much it affected me. "No, I don't want to touch! This is a mockery of what I want!" I take words seriously. To write an order onto myself (thereby identifying with it at least to some degree) asking me just the opposite of what I wanted created significant cognitive dissonance. Or to say it less formally: I got bitchy. "Who is this guy from the internet telling me … Bla, bla, bla …" I'm kind of used to play both parts of dominant and submissive myself. And I can be quite demanding. But the point is that I (as a dominant) know myself (as a submissive) very well and I can align the "different" expectations quite easily. But I also submit to directions willingly. Well, usually. Unless the directions don't align as nicely with what I want. I prefer to have control over giving up control. (Something I have to work on.) But that's the whole point of involving other people, isn't it? To be confronted with tasks I might not think of myself, to get out of the comfort-zone. So I looked down at my scribble and thought: "Well, dear task giver, you made me think and stretch my limits a bit. Thank you for that. But, hey!, 'Touch me, please!' is what my pussy has been screaming for most parts of more than two weeks. And, no, I won't!" At least part of the idea of body writing is sending a message to yourself, so it's only reasonable that you should be able to see it, right? I just put on a belly top and a skimpy pair of panties, leaving most of the writing visible. And every time my eyes fell on it – getting smudged more and more in the course of the day – I paused for a few seconds with a smirk on my face. "No, Mylady, I won't do that. Be still, my twitching cunt …"

During my "PM dare frenzy" in April I probably wanted too much, did too many dares, and ended up burning the candle at both ends. I'll go slowly this time, making sure I enjoy every task to the fullest and not overwhelm myself. (If I haven't done one of your dares yet: Please be patient. I'll get to it.) I went through my open dares: Hm, "collar", always nice: an hour of wearing my leather collar. And it's very effective in increasing the anticipation of what's to come. I hadn't worn it for about two months and it felt amazing to put it back on. For a couple of minutes I couldn't get enough of my reflection in the mirror. I set the timer to 60 minutes, browsed the internet in the meantime, and observed the arousal creeping up. Once I decided what I wanted to do it was so hard to wait for the time to pass. Finally the timer went off. I had chosen to do an "animal" dare, so I stripped naked (Probably very ungraceful, I was in a hurry, damn it! At least there wasn't much to strip out of.), got on hands and knees, and linked a short chain from my collar to an eyelet in the wall, at the appropriate height to prevent from lying down or getting up or even kneeling up. And I like to add my nipple clamps with bells to the "animal" dare because they fit so nicely into the theme. That falls into a grey zone though. I enjoy pain. So do clamps (or does inflicting pain generally) count as touching for sexual pleasure? Ah, I'm overthinking again. Let's find out. My nipples have become quite sensitive during this period of no touching. They protrude and are hard most of the time, and involuntary contact sends shivers through my body. It was exciting to put them on, and yes, it was pleasurable. I adjusted them to the pressure at which they just wouldn't fall off.

The "animal" dare is the one that has been demanded most often. It's also one of my favourites. To me it's a special kind of corner time, an opportunity for my mind to roam freely. Not totally freely though, but rather guided by the animal theme. Sometimes I relax within the fantasy of "being" an animal, of not having to talk or having to think. More often I get aroused from the humiliation of the thought to be kept like this. The bells on the clamps are quite small, but they are made from very thin sheet metal. I think they sound a bit like cow bells. They chime, and my inner cinema starts rolling: I'm chained like this in a miserably small pen, turning around is impossible, it's even difficult to look what’s going on behind me. Correspondingly, every passer-by has an inviting view of my ass and pussy, and most of them don't miss out on the opportunity to at least administer a few smacks. Somebody just stands behind me for a while. Then I hear a dark voice: "Just look at this disgusting animal, dripping from its snatch! [I really am.] I bet it's desperate to touch its filthy cunt. [I really am.]" A female voice replies: "Yes, she's such a horny slut! Look at the puddle between her legs! [There really is one.]" They walk away laughing. And in my mind it's echoing "She's such a horny slut … She's such a horny slut …"

When the timer went off I was incredibly disappointed (and horny of course). Don't get me wrong, it was great as long as it lasted, but it was extremely difficult to except that nothing more would come from it. Taking off the clamps didn't feel as intense as I expected it to be. It had felt nice to wear them, however in the long run they didn't provide enough stimulation by themselves and only increased the urge for more. So maybe wearing clamps shouldn't count as pleasurable. When I put away the collar, chain, and clamps frustration was the prevailing feeling. But it didn't persist for very long. I have chosen this, it's what I want. I'm incredibly happy that I appear to be in the right frame of mind to make it work this time. The difficulties are part of what is making it worthwhile. Overall, I enjoy my self-denial very much. And the soddenness of the towel I'm sitting on is a satisfying reassurance that I'm on the right track.

Tomorrow starts JuNO, a 30-day denial challenge hosted by a female orgasm denial tumblr. "June is coming. I won't be." That's so cute. It's very tempting to join, but it involves obligatory edging and I don't think I have reached the limit of "no touching" yet. Hence I currently plan to have my own JuNO (or, in my case, JuNoT). If I stick to it I would increase my record of self-denial by almost three weeks. And from there the 50 day mark is not far away. And after that, everything's possible. There will also be an advent season challenge …

[Yasna]

Day 21 of strict no touching in a sexual manner. This is just going to be a quick status update. I had some really busy days and not too many things noteworthy happened.

I've proceeded to use panty-liners all the time now. My pussy is always wet, leaking most of the time, and I think it's still increasing rather than waning. I like the feeling a lot, except for a small worry about the smell. Despite increased efforts in hygiene (I'm quite squeamish in this regard) I sometimes have the feeling I can smell my pussy juices (maybe I'm just paranoid). Recently in a crowded bus a poor little boy was so wedged in that he ended up with his face very close to my crotch. I felt very awkward, wondering whether he could smell something. Apart from this I'm on denial high far more often than not – I'd say 90 percent denial bliss, 10 percent internal struggle –, but when urge and horniness show up it's like being hit by a sledgehammer. And usually I don't see it coming. Have you ever buckled unexpectedly because you've been stabbed with a warm rod into the lower abdomen? And you feel everything tighten around the rod, almost clenching, twitching? That's how it feels sometimes. And I definitely miss the relaxation that a couple of nice orgasms can bestow upon you after busy days. I sometimes feel quite tense, but of course one can't have both, the relaxation from release and the amazing high spirits from denial.

I've already given it away in the headline – I had my first small slip-up. When I awoke two days ago my clit felt incredibly tight and hot, and I simply had to touch it just to relieve the tension. Or so I thought. I reached into my pyjama shorts, and slightly rubbed my clit. Ohhhh! It was not that was still in a sleepy haze; I was very well aware what I was doing. It took me about half a minute to call myself to order again. Just a small temporary loss of self-control; no reason to panic. I take it as a learning experience. When I reintroduce masturbation I'll have to be very, very careful. Because I went from nil to close to hundred in this short time. Despite it felt really good it was not too difficult to stop and the inevitable frustration lasted only for a few minutes. I'm overjoyed that I found something I really love and could imagine to pursue for the long haul (usually I'm quite erratic). But I'm still just experimenting. No pressure.

[Yasna]

Day 25! Exactly half the way to what I have envisaged as the finish line of my "no touch" experiment (July, 2nd). I'm only a couple of days away from a new personal denial record. At the first week mark I thought: "Already a week? That's easy!" After two weeks: "Wow! Piece of cake!" Three weeks in I was so confident: "I got this!" However, these last days have been really hard. Frustrating. Wanting to run my head into the wall frustrating. Crying myself to sleep frustrating.

Having my period definitely has a share in this situation. Generally more vulnerable emotionally, I'm also usually hornier during these days. And I often rely on orgasms to relieve some of the cramps and cut it short if possible. During my period I failed the last time I tried for longer self-denial. Furthermore I want to read the reports of the girls participating in JuNO, but I can't stand it for longer than a couple of minutes. Just reading that stuff takes me to the point of arousal where I fear to lose all self-control. I'm so jealous of them being able to edge, at least to touch. When I read "I had six proper edging sessions today" I literally started to cry. My goodness, I'm just at halftime?

Yesterday evening I felt that I needed at least some relieve of the tension that had been bottled-up. I've been dared to an all-round ass-pussy-tits spanking a couple of weeks ago. That seemed like a good idea. I love self-spankings: the self-induced anticipation of every stroke, followed by the sensation of pain, setting body and mind on fire, and finished with relief … and the anticipation of the next stroke. I was also looking forward to try a new implement: a cane I had gotten a few weeks ago. This cane replaces my first sex toy ever: a rigid wire I had bent into shape from a clothes-hanger as a teenager. It has served me well, but it tends to deform after a couple of blows. The new one is quite a simple rattan cane coated with latex, 85cm (about 33 inches) long. Very flexible. Promising. I was shivering with anticipation when I undressed. I decided to proceed in the order from least to most arousing: butt first (25 times on each cheek), then tits (15 times each), finally pussy (20 times).

The first blow was a bit of a disappointment. Nice swishing through the air, but far less of an impact than I had expected. But it turned out my technique just needed some readjustment. After a few attempts I could make it sting like I was used to. And shortly thereafter I could make it sting even more. Nice! Interestingly the new cane created less noise though. On the one hand this made my method of ascertaining to not slack off by measuring the sound level impractical. [I have explained the method here.] On the other hand it decreased my worries about neighbours overhearing. I used the butt spanking to work on my technique and didn't really count, but I surely exceeded the prescribed amount of blows. When I checked in the mirror I saw some nice, sharply demarcated, almost parallel welts. Self spanking is an art form …

I took some deep breaths before I moved on to my breasts. My nipples have become very sensitive during the time of self-denial. I hadn't touched them at all other than when taking a shower. I was really curious how they would react to pain. The first blows landed below my tits, but with the third or fourth I hit my left nipple quite hard. I gasped. But not only from the pain. I felt a sting at my clit as well, followed by violent throbbing. My knees gave away a little. Of course there is a neurological connection between the simulation of the nipples and the genitals. But holy crap, what a strange remote effect! Afterwards I aimed as best as I could for my nipples, and when I hit them I experienced the same sensation again, just a bit subdued. Oh, my god, for the first time I really believed that it was possible to achieve an orgasm from stimulation of the nipples alone! And the best was yet to come!

I know I can cum from pain alone. A precise hit to my clit can send me over the edge. But so far that had happened only after long masturbation sessions with lots of edging when I was really really really horny. But without any preceding direct stimulation? Before yesterday I would have thought that there was no chance. However, as I was lying there on my back, stemming my hips into the air (actually desperately trying to hump the air), dripping my juices onto my bedsheet I wasn't so sure anymore. My clit was so enlarged that it protruded dark red and swollen from its hood. I've never seen that to this extent before! I have no idea from where I was able to summon the strength, but I decided that I couldn't take the risk. Hence I converted the pussy spanking to a spanking of the inner thighs. And believe me: I hit them hard … driven by incredible frustration. "I can't even have that kind of touch?" I didn't want to stop. "Just some more stimulation! Any!!" When I finally called it quits it was more from exhaustion then a conscious choice. My thighs were burning, my breasts were burning, my nipples were burning, and my clit felt as if it was about to burst. For a couple of minutes I laid there motionless, and then I fetched a towel soaked in cold water to press between my legs.

I usually don't like the idea of chastity belts a lot. To wear a chastity belt means accepting a situation in which one can't touch oneself. That's a significant sacrifice for sure. However, to develop the self-control and to offer the commitment to not touch oneself even though one could seems the harder, therefore more meaningful gift to me. But at this moment I craved my pussy to be locked away, to be absolutely inaccessible, to be able to forget about it, to stop the gruelling fight with myself. I even considered cuffing my hands to the headboard, just to stop the internal struggle. I finally fell into a very light sleep, being half awake for longer periods of time, dreaming, waking dreaming, sobbing. And now that I'm typing this (it's just 5am) I'm just too tired to be frustrated. Maybe it's just idiocy from sleep deprivation, but I'm actually proud of myself and … not happy … not happy at all … but relieved I could still write "Day 25!" rather than starting with day one again. But I really hope for better times to come.

[herpderp42]

This is really a work of art. I am extremly impressed by your willpower and writing skills.
I am sure you can do it!

[Pet Ra]

I'm really jealous about your writing skills and your willpower. This is not just a repoert, this is poetry (stuff deserve to be printed and made to a book).
I would have failed long time ago if I were in your position

Reading this makes me feel good because I know that I'm not the only one making the experience how some body parts seem to develope a mind of its own. On the other hand my cunt start to revolt it its steel prison like a wild animal in a small cage.

I can't wait to read more

[Yasna]

I wake up in the middle of the night. I'm pulled out of a surreal dream, reluctantly. I don't remember a lot from what happened, but it was pretty weird and my subconscious mind did it's best to undercoat even the most absurd plot erotically. At one point I was flying above my hometown on a strange mission to rescue it from a threat I don't remember while I was rubbing my clit. Hey, I'm a superheroine, horniness is my superpower and I drown villains in my pussy juices. (I admit, I'm also weird when I'm awake. ) Later I encountered a woman who wouldn't move out of my way so I smashed the glass she was balancing on her head in an outburst of anger. Apparently she was a costumer at the restaurant I work at because my boss appeared and as a punishment I had to hump the top of the back of a chair while they and my colleagues were watching and laughing. How humiliating! This part of the dream had at least some foundation in reality. The last time I was waiting tables I realized at one point that I was pushing the chairs back under the table not with my hands, but with my crotch! Tiptoeing to ensure the tightest possible contact with my pussy! I swear I did this totally subconsciously and my cunt had taken over in this moment. Had this been the first time or had I being doing this all day long? I looked around the room filled with customers, but luckily people don't care too much about what waitresses are doing. Nevertheless I felt utterly embarrassed.

So I wake up from these dreams in the middle of the night, pretty horny as you can imagine. But I don't wake up from horniness, but because a thunderstorm is closing in. I feel the first drops of rain finding their way through the window over my bed. I get up and close all windows. I live in a small but cosy apartment directly under the roof. The sun had burnt down the whole day, and it's still quite hot in my bedroom. Without a cooling draught it's almost unbearable even though I only wear thin pyjama shorts. I switch on the fan next to my bed, kick the blanket away, and lay back. It starts raining profusely, then hailing, beating the drums on the windows. I won't be able to get back to sleep as long as this continues. I sigh. Another night of interrupted sleep. I try to relax. The fan is moving slowly from side to side, distributing its blow all over my body, wandering from head to feet. Hm, this feels nice, cooling … But, wait!, there's more. The breeze caresses my nipples that are so sensitive at the moment anyway, poking out all the time, hungry for attention. They get even harder, their skin feels like stretched to the maximum. Although it's almost dark I can see them against the dark grey backdrop: little thimbles, small cylindrical castle towers on guard against the invasion of voluptuousness. No, they have abandoned me. They are inviting the enemy in, throwing the gates wide open. I press my arms against my sides and lift my tits a bit to relieve some of the tension. And the draft continues to move up and down my body. One of my legs is bent and upright. When the flow of air passes my inner thigh it feels like the very soft touch of a feather. I shiver. Fuck!, I'm getting aroused by a whiff now!

A couple of weeks ago I've read a story about a girl who was enjoying a lazy sunny day, getting horny by the summer breeze while she was standing in a window opening, and finally cumming just from a cool haze, carried from a sprinkler onto her excited hot body. A very nice story, great atmosphere, and a wonderful fantasy, but a bit over the top. Right? I think about what might be the smallest level of stimulation to achieve an orgasm. The water jet from the shower head is already too much to bear at the moment. I've read that people under hypnosis can cum without any physical stimulation at all. I also read a story of a slave girl who was trained to cum spontaneously on her masters' command. Is that really achievable? And what a great and scary mindfuck would that be, knowing to be able to cum in an instant, but to offer the control over this to somebody else? The breeze from the fan makes me hot (what an irony!), but it wouldn't be enough stimulation to take me to the edge. I spread my legs a bit and the loose cuffs of my shorts allow the airflow to get a bit closer to my pussy. That feels delicious and I enjoy it for a couple of minutes. The fan continues to move from side to side, a built-in mechanism to pull away the pleasure periodically. What a devious device! Nevertheless I feel my juices running down my butt crack. I'm so tempted to rip off my shorts and stick out my leaking cunt towards the titillating draft. But I feel that this – while technically not touching – would cross the threshold of self-pleasuring I'm willing to accept during my "no touch" experiment. After about an hour and a half I drift off to sleep – dreamless now, as far as can remember – until morning.

You can be assured things have gotten intense when you crave to be fucked by a breeze of air. I'm on a huge denial high again, happily humming, happily leaking, happily horny, while I'm writing this. Just wanted to let you know.

[herpderp42]

*blows some air towards her pussy*

Great diary entry again! The weather last night was certainly unbearable. While the window was closed it was too warm and while open it was too noisy...

[Anselan]

Hi, just wanted to let you know that I've been denied for 10 days now and reading your reports has been by far the biggest torture by now, because they aroused me so much. Still I couldn't really stop reading.

Hope you stay denied and keep writing them