May I table a confession?

Hi again James, and all your delightful filthy sluts.

So, you wanted to know how I got on after you added to my instructions.

I can tell you one thing. I am now very appreciative of the humble booth. And of tablecloths. And I regret ever showing Sir your blog. He actually saw your post before I did, and before I went to work one day, spent an hour edging me in the morning. Then he made me scroll your blog into I found it, and said I had to do the first one that day.

That afternoon, I took my notebook to the cafe, and sat at a table in the corner, hidden from everyone as much as possible. I pretended to be writing, but I was really reading smut on my phone, and under the cheap tablecloth, furiously rubbing my clit. Trying to not look around to make sure no one was watching, obviously, but also trying to make sure no one was watching. I’m actually not much of an exhibitionist, and I very firmly believe in not involving anyone without their consent, so it was tricky.

After about 10 minutes of rubbing, not even long enough to drink my coffee, I got right to the edge. Sir told me I could ruin, but I had to tell him before I did, so I hastily sent a text, and he replied, saying what a depraved little whore I am, so desperate to please a random man on the internet that I’d masturbate in my local cafe. That pushed me over the edge and I managed to very quietly ruin.

He made me edge every day, as much as possible, for the next five days. Then he told me to wear a plug to work, and that I was going to cum again that day. After work, he made me go to a very busy pub. I was to sit alone in a booth at the back (we know this place well), and do it again. This time was easier, because I knew no one could see me, but harder, because I wasn’t sure if I’d be allowed to cum.

He made me, while messaging him, edge for 30 minutes, nursing a beer and pretending to read a novel. Grinding on the plug and with my fingers deep in myself, with about 50 people behind me.

He made me ruin it. He said he thought that’s what you would do.

Cue another five days edging, and then tonight he took me to the restaurant at which we had our first date. (N’aww.)

We sat together, and he had his hands on me under the table, teasing me and probing me and whispering what a slut I am, to be turned on by this, how desperate must I be after nearly two weeks without a proper orgasm and all the edging and wearing a plug (did I mention that? I was wearing a plug with one of those weights so every time I move it moves inside me).

Once our food arrived, he moved opposite me, mostly blocking me from view. In the middle of my fettuccine, he looked at me, said “you have five minutes to cum. And don’t take your eyes off me.”

I’ve never felt so humiliated or submissive, staring at him while I rubbed my clit in a public place, but I got to the edge so fast. He could tell, because just as I was about to tip over, he said, in this kind of growly voice, “ruin it.”

Sometimes I think I’m not a very strong person, but the will it took to follow his instruction proves otherwise. I think I whimpered out loud.

Now I’m home again, edging as I write this, per his instructions.

I begged him to let me cum properly, but he says he likes how desperate I am. I’ve always hated ruins, because, for me, they make me even more horny, but they also, for the next few times, make edging feel harder. It takes longer and doesn’t feel as good. But i still get more and more desperate. He’s always gone easy on me, and he really likes making me cum, but he’s thinking that I can hold out for a little longer.

I’m to ask you, James, nicely and politely, if you think there’s any reason I should be allowed a full orgasm before Christmas.

He argues that it’s the first christmas we’re spending alone in the house we bought together, not with our families, and wouldn’t that be a nice gift, and wouldn’t it be fun to see just how desperate and willing I will get in the next three and a half weeks.

I would argue that I’ve been a very good girl and that that would be exponentially longer than I’ve ever been denied and that besides, I’ve already bought him a very nice gift. So please may I cum?

I’m fucked, aren’t I?

~ Meg (I can’t remember the letters, but masochist, submissive, and I guess a bit exhibitionist.)

Well wasn’t that utterly wonderful

Yes Meg, you are so fucked.

What a lucky girl.

It’s such a shame I’m answering this at 9 minutes past midnight, as I’d have suggested you cum, nice, big hard orgasms, but #DenialDecember has just started and we wouldn’t want to fail on our first day, right Meg?

But don’t worry, you get a ruin quite early on. Oh no wait, those made you more horny, poor you.

I’m sure he’d adore having a daily journal of yours to read.

Maybe we will too.

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