How wet can you get?

Orgasm Control - Whether it be the forcing of, the deprivation of or the conditioning of, I am there. If any of the paragraphs to follow make your heart skip or you breath catch in your throat, you might just be in this boat with me.

Scenario 1: No Orgasm

You would be stripped and inspected. If you were not already you would be shaved. You will have been edged mercilessly for several hours prior to our outing. Your entire body would be lotioned in a scent of my choosing. Your hair would be pinned up so as to expose your neck for signs of flushing. You would be put into a shelf bra and a dual strand pearl thong would be fitted to caress both sides of what I can only imagine as an excruciatingly sensitive clitoris.

A floor length full side slit skirt would adorn your hips, not necessarily revealing but allowing for easy access or adjustment. Your shoulders would support a loose heavy weight rough wool sweater that would billow and move against you so as to keep your nipples erect and sensitive. And finally a solid black choker.

Much to my chagrin, we would find ourselves in a public place of my choosing adorned with stairs, stairs and more stairs. And we would walk them all. And you would count them. If you lost count we would start over. Aside from completing this task your only reprieve would come in the form of your pussy leaking and quite literally soaking your thighs to your knees.

Once either outcome was reached the parade would begin. We would find the most densely occupied area and I would move and weave you through it. Those witnessing the spectacle would not know what they were seeing but they would not be able to ignore it. The flush on your face and neck, the swell and subtle peaks of your breasts and nipples, the sway of your hips, these would all call to the baser instincts.

But the most amazing assault would be the one they can't see, your scent. The scent of absolute need and desperation. It would infect their olfactory sensors like a pheromone. Men and women alike would be aroused by your very presence and in that moment you would become a creature of pure lust, a true goddess.

Now, is this actually possible? I sure as hell would like to think so.

And so I want to become the Arkitekt of your demise.

Edging...or something else?

If your first thought involved your house, this may not be the class for you. If it was your yard, this definitely isn't the class for you.

What is it?

Well, that is a question that technically does not have an answer. The typical definition you usually find consists of "...giving or receiving stimulation to reach the edge of orgasm and stopping before the plateau can transition into the climax." Sounds rather cold and clinical when put like that. Not very arousing at all. I say we change that for as when done properly, you can be rewarded with an orgasm so intense that when you do finally tip, would convince the Dalai Lama himself to burn his robes.

Now everyone has their own particular flavor when it comes to what gets them going. I am not going to go into detail for myself as this exercise is not about what I do to me but rather what I would do to you. And that would start with restraint, lots and lots of restraint. I wouldn't want you to get desperate and end the fun prematurely. I also want unlimited, unhindered access to all of your erogenous zones. Think of it like chords on a piano scale, if you can't hit all the right keys, the sound will be lackluster indeed.

I would prefer you spread eagle on a slatted frame but with your legs raised so as to tilt your pelvis to bring all the sensitive parts out to play. And the slatted frame will allow me to properly secure you while allowing decent access to the side less seen in this position. Straps at the ankles, knees, thighs, waist, chest, shoulders, elbows, wrists and fingers would ensure that you would stay put and be in a safe position to endure whatever tortures I have planned.

And tortures they would be, albeit sensual, but tortures nonetheless. My tool bag is quite varied and filled with many wonderful things intended for invading you both internally and externally. I want to invade your senses and warp them to satisfy my own twisted ends. I want your desperation to fuel your own unknown carnal desires. I want to take you down the rabbit hole and let you get lost along the way, floating in a sea of sensation, not knowing what is up or down, your only conscious thought that you need to cum and your brain so drunk with lust it can focus on nothing else.

I want to take you to the very literal edge, where even the slightest breath across your most sensitive parts would bring the walls crashing down. I want to take you to the point that you can see the white gradating whatever you see behind your eyelids and then take it away. I want to get you to the point that you would agree to the most depraved and humiliating ideas I can muster for the chance to tip. I want to give you pleasure so I can deny you pleasure.

And so I want to become the Arkitekt of your demise.