When I am not denied, I use the wand.

When I am not denied, I require heavy machinery to get me off. I don’t get horny, and I am strong, independent, solid as a rock. The only thing that breaks me is the direct connection to power: that unbearable, irresistible force, that rips orgasms from me furiously.

When I am not denied, my orgasms hurt. I have to tear them from my body, I have to fight to get close, it is a struggle that is painful and difficult and causes hard, tearful, forceful but difficult orgasms.

But when I am denied the softest vibrations are enough. I keep my softest easiest vibes close because it’s all my sensitive throbbing clit can take. I edge carefully, and get close without any effort. Even just a dildo and my fingers are enough. Even just my fingers are enough.

And his voice. If I had nothing else, no toys, no machinery, no technology, I would still have his voice. Pushing me closer, edging me harder, telling me I don’t cum without permission, that I am his toy to play with, that he enjoys my suffering.

He could tell me that I can only hump things, and it would still get me off. I would still get wet, and desperate, and cry pathetically while I did whatever he commanded.

I come easily, when it’s what he wants. I come easily, when he keeps me on edge for days.

When I am not denied, I need the wand.

But this is real magic.

Denial magic.

Why would you want anything else?

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