Battle for Control

I’m not sure why I fight. I’m not sure why I even think I CAN fight.

But I do, nearly every time. Maybe it’s a fantasy of outlasting the evening, of showing what a master of control I can be. Of showing how I can “beat” her and not let her take the control from me.

I lose every. single. time.

I don’t know why I feel like I even want to try! But it’s there. “Lay back, relax…” and I know what is happening. I know just how good she can be with me. I start off, I am almost cocky about it – “I got this!” I can fight back, control those waves of feelings ripping through me.

She’s patient though. So patient.

She knows the spots. Knows the pressure points. Knows the things to do, sometimes the things to say… that make all of that start to falter.

I get these waves washing through my body – waves of pleasure, sure, but it’s almost like an adrenaline cringe – but it’s all over, starting at my toes, flowing through me. I can feel it fly up my spine, through my shoulders, touching my head, then back again, and subsiding.

It seems like just when her thumb or her body or tongue touches just that point, just that spot, or does just that thing, it fires off this wash through me. I know she can sense it. Hell, she can HEAR it. I know she plays me like a fiddle.

She’s patient though.

She plays me, washing me back and forth through this current of feelings and reactions and my attempts at control. It’s still there. My wanting to show I can win this tug of war. But of course she knows – she knows I can’t win. But I try.

Then, it’s like this final tidal wave blasts through me – those same sensations, but amplified in this massive overload of my system. And she knows she’s won. She’ll back off, she’ll play me, she’ll force me right to that edge over and over and over again. She has a great time at this point – she has 100% control – she can continue, she can stop just short, she can stop, or worse.

Her demeanor changes drastically about now. I hear giggles, snickers and see outright smiles and grins as she can see there’s not even a pretense of control any more. A stroke here, a stroke there, a nibble here or there, even sinking slowly down on me… she knows I am beyond any type of managing through this. It’s pure animal mode.

The hardest is when she starts to play her cards. Some fine ruined Orgasms to be similar to regular O’s, but to me, it’s supremely frustrating. You don’t get that white flash, that over the top flurry of sensations – but your body still betrays you in ways you cannot hide. And yet, you can be taken through this again and again. Mixing ruined with edging when you’re in this weird spot is sweat-inducing, delicious fun, for both people.

I don’t know why the initial battle has to happen, it’s just the thing. It’s just how it works. But I do know that, when she does decide she’s finished, all I have is this overwhelming sense of astonishment that I can be played in such an animalistic way – not in a bad sense, but in a thankful and incredibly erotic sense.