Tag Archives: withdrawal

I’m Too Sexy

I am an accomplished lover. I know I am.I have been told so on many occasions. Plus the noise, the pupil dilations, spasming and orgasmic flush all tell the same story. I know what I am doing and I do it to great effect. My sexual performance is a matter of great pride to me. I look after myself so I have plenty of stamina. I am an expert in studying body language (how do you think I got hold of you in the first place?) and what it conveys. I want to be the best so I will work damn hard to ensure that you enjoy it to the full when we go to bed. I don’t actually enjoy love-making that much. I actually prefer knowing how much what I do thrills you. Not because I want you to feel good, but because knowing I have that power over your reaction to my mouth, to my tongue, my fingers and so on, is intoxicating to me. I strive for perfection and that translates into me giving you the time of your life between the sheets. It also serves the purpose of making you want me with an unrivalled passion. You love how I make you feel, so you want more and thus you attach yourself to me all the more. In fact, so powerful is my sexual allure and performance you will often dismiss other things as inconsequential, just to ensure you get your fix.

Of course, causing you to be addicted to me in this way only serves to empower me so that I will deny you love-making when I want to punish you and upset you. As with all my forms of withdrawal and belittlement, this acts as fuel for me. I have to say however that pushing you away when you reach across the bed or try to unbutton my trousers when I am sat in the living room really is a crushing blow to you. You cannot understand how such a passionate, accomplished lover can now show no interest in you. You try all your tricks to lure me into bed but they will not work. I am the one who ensnares, not you. Remember, it does not matter to me that we don’t make love. I find it a maintenance chore after a time, I would much rather deny it to you and watch you crumble.

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Tears On Your Pillow

The bedroom is one of my favourite rooms. One of my ex-girlfriends used to call it the torture chamber. Another called it the freezer. Their appellations amused me. I don’t like to be touched. Dr O has suggested this is because that touch reminds me too much of what I am missing. I laughed at her remark. I prefer not to be touched, so how on earth would I miss that? I soon learned in the bedroom however that there was an expectancy to touch and hold. At first I would go along with this ritual but I soon tired of it and the thought of ‘spooning’ made me gag. I then learned however that my dislike of being touched and touching was actual a very useful weapon. I initially refrained from touching purely because I did not like it. No more. No less. The person in bed with me however would make such a scene about it that I learned they had to be touched or held to affirm that I felt something for them. Accordingly, by withholding any form of contact this would really upset them. It was marvellous. I was able to turn an idiosyncrasy of mine into a tool to cause upset and distress. If I refused to cuddle up (I’m shuddering just typing that) then I would be met with loud sighs and pleading requests. This emboldened me to not even face their way. In fact, I would lie looking at them and then purposefully turn my back on them. Moments later the sobbing would start and I would feel the power flowing through me before I drifted off to sleep. From what they told me, they endured many a lonely night trying to sleep. If they tried to place an arm around me, I would shrug it off or if really irritated (and this was a body blow) I would get up and sleep in the spare room. I love doing this. Not only do I get to really isolate the other person but then I can criticise them in the morning for forcing me from my bed and into the spare room. That gives me a delightful boost as I butter my toast.

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