Playtime is a great thing. Playtime can be a torturous time too though. Charmer tends to lean hard on the torture side of things – sometimes physical, sometimes mental. This is a perfect example of one of those times.

She likes to step all over my inability to talk about anything sexual, to answer direct, specific questions about something that’s going on. Of course, once she finds one of those soft spots, she pokes and pokes and pokes at it, just because she can.

Edging is a mean animal if used as a control mechanism. There is a place where it becomes animal, where things stop being “oh that feels nice” and that inner lizard and ape take over and all you want to do is take back control over the situation and make things … complete. This isn’t a complaint about those times, it’s just a fact. And yes, it’s a fun time too, but Charmer likes to recognize those times and when she’s feeling particular evil, will start asking questions that she KNOWS I dislike (!) talking about.

I can feel one of those times upon us. Right now. This art of getting to the edge and KEEPING it there, rather than let it pass, *seems* like it would be a blast (it is) but it’s also very crazy-person making. She’s taking me to the edge, backing off, but not stopping, in some insane mission to find out how long this edge thing can be maintained. It’s a razor’s edge, too, after a bit. But just as I have been hanging in this super-intense limbo and am willing to come to blows to get past that edge, I get a question.

“What do you want me to do,” she’ll say. “Just keep doing what you’re doing…” I’ll offer up.

“Please elaborate.”

What?! I mean, come on. I’m not really functioning at a point where I’m going to have deep conversations here.

“What?!”

“Please elaborate. I need to know more,” she says.

“I want you to let me get past the edge…” I whimper out as she keeps stroking slowly, then faster, then slowly again.

“hmmm… Elaborate some more please. “

“ggggggrrrrrrroooooooowwwwwwwllllll” is all I can manage as I try to pull my senses back in control. “want… to… cum.”

“Oh? How? I mean, what would you like me to do? I’m so confused. Please elaborate.”

“Oh my gawd woman! I want you to keep stroking me. Let me cum!”

I’m feeling really proud of myself. I actually managed to blurt it out. I feel myself relax, and she has my internal urges flopping back and forth, pushing to release, but not getting enough to do so. I’m in full “deceit” mode too, trying to sneak it, but no joy.

“Well, I mean, that could mean all sorts of things. Do you mean firm like this…?” as she squeezes me and makes me almost explode instantly, “or super soft like this” as I feel her almost release and the lightest of touches takes over. “I just need more information please.”

My eyes are shut tight, my entire body is in this clench, willing myself forward, but she’s enjoying the game too much. She pulls me back to the edge, convinced I’ll be allowed to get past it, I relax a bit and my mind begins wandering and actively seeking out the sensations that show the stars have aligned.

“um, MORE PLEASE” I hear from somewhere in the outer reaches of space and she does this twisty-turny thing that makes my head whip back.

“I… can’t. I don’t know what else you want to know… ” I gasp out.

“I need you to elaborate, please. At least fast or slow, firm or loose or … whatever,” floats into my brain from her.

I’m measuring my breathing now, trying to keep her from winning the battle to keep me there, where there is nothing else in my world at the moment.

“Medium, firm, alternating, letting me cum… please oh please oh please” I blurt out in a slur of words.

“Much better. Thank you. I’ll have to remember that for next time…”