One of the lovely benefits of BDSM, as we practice it, involves a daily masturbation schedule. It is a way for Sir and I to connect while he is working or while he is out. He knows what is happening, because I am to thank him—via text—every time. And masturbation does not necessarily mean to climax. Oh no. It amuses Sir to drive me to frustration on the regular.
Okay. I like it too.
Today is, in fact, one of the days of no touching.
I know I will wake up tonight with my hand in my crotch. Or, as has happened a creepy number of times, I will be reading smut and idly start to stroke myself. This is, of course, in bed, next to Sir, who is already asleep. Every time this has happened, Sir has reached over and either pulled me into little spoon, or just rested his hand—heavily—on my hip. It is uncanny. He never remembers and is just as baffled as I at his nigh magical ability to sense when I am being “naughty”.
On the weekends, I am permitted greater latitude in masturbation. The caveat being that on Saturdays, I can masturbate to climax if witnessed by Sir. On Sundays, I can masturbate to danger, if witnessed by Sir.
By masturbate to danger, I mean masturbation but no climaxing. It is a delicate dance. And I am both scared and looking forward to my inevitable failure.