Short version: When life hands you lemons, make lemony orgasm denial lemonade. 🙂 

Long version: 

Here’s the story. I am not an easily orgasmic woman. Almost every orgasm I have ever had has been one I gave myself, through masturbation, and most of those have used vibrators of one kind or another. I do not come from penetration. I do not come from oral stimulation. I need clitoral stimulation, and even that is most effective when *I* do it. Even then, it can take me a long time to get there. I have never “accidentally” come in my life. 

As a result, for most of my nearly 25+ years doing kink and d/s in particular, I considered orgasm denial to be *nearly* a hard limit. I say *nearly* because i’m not really into having lists of limits. I would usually tell partners that because I am nearly anorgasmic – and certainly will never come from sex with them – that denying me orgasms was especially cruel and not something I would expect from someone who was trying to build a healthy, sustainable d/s relationship with me. 

So, that’s how it was for many years. Maybe once or twice in a relationship, a partner would bring me to orgasm with their hands and a vibrator – but otherwise, the only time that happened was when I did it. And mostly, I did that alone, not with a partner. I found over time that partners would get bored waiting for me to come, that the time it could take was so long they would disengage. Fall asleep. In FMF threesomes, I ended up being the one holding the lube while my partners fucked, because it was always more fun to make the other woman come. 

On the other hand, while I didn’t come with partners, I came a LOT on my own. I masturbated almost every day, sometimes several times a day. I burned out vibrators. Twice, I had them catch on fire while I was using them. 🙂 If I had to go even 24 hours without coming, I would get irritable. I couldn’t *sleep* without my bedtime orgasm. 

Alright, so, last year I started dating a new partner and building a d/s relationship again for the first time in a while. One night, we were together, and he asked me to touch myself until I came – and I couldn’t. I got close, but then I got numb from so much rubbing and vibrating, and COULD NOT get there. It felt like an hour passed, and finally he could tell I was getting upset at myself, so he told me to stop. 

I felt bad, but the next day, I felt worse. I felt like i had disappointed him, failed him. And the next day, I didn’t want to touch myself, didn’t want to come. I started coming up with excuses. I was busy, I was tired, I wasn’t feeling it. A week passed and I realized that this thing – this night of my inability to come when he wanted me to – had really become this dark sore place for me. 

I mean, it’s a cliche, right, the submissive who comes on command? But I can’t do that. It doesn’t matter how much we try, how much post-hypnotic suggestion, how long I go without touching, or how aroused I am – it doesn’t happen. And I felt ashamed that I couldn’t do that. 

So, I told my dominant partner. I laid out for him how hurt I was, how I was denying myself orgasms because I had denied him the that, even if I didn’t want to. I asked him to help me deal with it. I *expected* that he would say, “I insist you go into your bed and masturbate with your vibrator until you come.” Instead, he said, “So, don’t. You may not come again until our next date.”

It was transformative. I went from being miserable about thinking I had disappointed him to being erotically charged with the energy of NOT coming. I could not stop thinking about it. I was wet constantly. I became obsessed with the thing I could not do. I went from being miserable because I couldn’t come to being horny as hell because I couldn’t come. 


In that time before our next date, I learned how to edge. I went looking for information and found Tumblr blogs like @female-orgasm-denial and @femsubdenial and started lurking and reading. 

Together, that partner and transitioned into my giving him control of my orgasms. I would masturbate and then email to ask if I could come. Sometimes he said no, but usually he said yes. During that time, though, I noticed that when he said “No,” I would have deep feelings of submission immediately after. I would stop touching myself and curl up on my side, feeling an intense sense of being possessed and controlled. I would rest that way, feeling waves of vulnerability wash over me. 

I began to value that feeling so much that I was reluctant to ask to come, because I wanted him to say no. I wanted to the denial, not the orgasm. I told him I didn’t want to come unless he was there. I told him I didn’t want to come unless it was by his hand. I edged more. I came less. 

So, two things happened. One is that I had a week that for religious reasons, I was released from my agreements, and was able to come without permission, without asking. I did that a few times, but the orgasms felt disappointing. Yes, they were pleasurable, but they did not give me any those deep feelings of being possessed. They just didn’t have the same *emotional* intensity for me as the experience of denial had been having. The day before the last day of that week, I came, and emailed him and mentioned that I had not enjoyed it as much as I wanted to, even though it might be my last orgasm for a while.

That week ended and I was back under his control. We had some time together and I touched myself, but again, was not able to come, even by his touch. Again, I was frustrated. I was alone in a hotel room at the end of a weekend leather conference; he had to leave early for another commitment. I was lying in bed after he left, edging and thinking of him. I messaged him and asked to come. He said, “Yes.” 

And I started cry. I messaged him and very rudely said NO, he was supposed to say *no*, and I didn’t *want* to come. Then I calmed down and wrote him a longer email, explaining that I had realized that I didn’t want to come, I wanted the denial. 

At some point, I sent him a Tumblr post I’d found, I think shared by @femsubdenial, about asking to come, and really wanting to hear no. It was a plea for a partner to refuse permission to come, a plea for denial. My partner took it very seriously. We began talking about that, about how I didn’t really want to come again. He admitted to me that he found the idea of my never coming again very sexy, though he felt selfish about it. 

I have reassured him that it makes me *happy.* I used to think of myself as a nearly anorgasmic woman, who just didn’t enjoy sex the same way easily orgasmic women do. I used to feel envious. I used to get angry at women who bragged about coming dozens of time in a night, of being able to come at a word, a touch, a flick of a nipple. They had something I couldn’t have. I was somehow broken, not as desirable as that kind of woman. 

Denial has changed all of that for me. I am not broken. I am *amazing.* I am sexy and desirable and so devoted that I do not come, that I have not come in *months.* When I edge, I know that when I reach the point where I stop, I will feel the astounding intimate vulnerability of knowing that I have surrendered control of my orgasms to my partner. Orgasms feel good, but denial gives me a hit of emotional fulfillment that is *so* much more intense and longer lasting. 

And now, I have a charm that has the date of that orgasm I had earlier this year, during the week when I had control of them myself. That was my “most recent” orgasm. It may have been my *last* orgasm. The idea of that is intensely sexy for me – but at the end of the day, I don’t know if or when I will come again. I have given up control of that to my partner, that Daddy of mine. He gets to say. 

I have also agreed that if denial ever begins to make me unhappy, if it starts damaging our relationship instead of deepening it, I will tell him immediately. We can reevaluate, But for now, not coming is better than coming. I *love* the feeling of knowing that I don’t come not because there’s something ‘wrong’ with me, but because I’m a good girl, and good girls don’t come. Good girls *never* come. 

Absolutely fabulous write up of how denial can help with anorgasmia.

Here’s a plea I wrote like the one she mentions, not sure if mine was the specific one.

And lastly, four words

Brand New in Box

Start here with a story I wrote:

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