Therapy versus treatment

 Recently returned from a brief break, my mind turns back to my last time with ma belle Tyrante. 

It had been 4 weeks of denial, due to one reason and another and we were belatedly celebrating a milestone. We had a lovely dinner up town and Miss got to play with me in the noisy restaurant without alerting or inconveniencing any nearby patrons. A lovense gush is not very noisy after all, and my occasional twitching in my seat, caused by its twitching in my pants wasn't noticed among the general hubbub.

We got home via our usual train ride, the passing suburbs enlivened by the buzz. 

When we got in Miss got down to the business of treating me for my sexual frustration condition, after the usual bit of Miss time of course. We sat on the sofa, my legs spread either side of her and she roughly brought me off. First to a ruined orgasm and then to a brutal full orgasm, pumped until my cream was utterly churned. 

Then we had some more civilised fun and at evening time another ruin and another punishing orgasm. 

I needed to be away early the next day, but there was still time for Miss to kneel over in my bed, magnificent and all powerful and ruin me again, and pump me til I was shuddering and jolting.

6 times in less than 12 hours. Not a record for me but the record was some years ago now. 

After i left got to thinking.

What if we tried to make these a regular thing, but only as a culmination to a long month of orgasm denial therapy. Therapeutic sessions for hours at a time, leaving me blue balled and desperate.

Then after a month a treatment for the condition Miss has instilled, Miss can then drain my blue balls to the literal point of being emptied. Pumped until finally dry, climaxing dry. 

Leaving me terrified of Miss as i should be. In terrified awe and adoration.