A poem for the edge

I remember how I felt, how my heart was set astir
When you said you'd be the horse if I liked to be the spur.
When we both got to the point where we were ready to admit
That I liked giving you assignments and you just wanted to submit.

And you said those magic words, "Please tell me what to do."
You knew I liked giving directions, and you liked following them through.
I could do whatever I wanted, I knew, and I could tell you had in mind
Pain, humiliation or restraints of some kind.

Not surprising, I thought, since you're the type who gets turned on
By restriction and submission and being treated like a pawn.
It makes you so excited to be under someone's thumb
But you weren't sure how to act when I said, "you may not come."

"I may not come?" you repeated as you looked this way and that.
"Do you mean," you asked, "I should stay away from your flat?"
I wasn't quite sure if you were just playing dumb
So I said, "no, you stay right here – it's just you may not come."

"For example," I explained, "put your hand between your legs
And touch your clit with purpose until the poor thing begs.
When you want to turn the corner, when you're yearning for release,
That's when you take your hand away. You just stop touching – cease."

"But that's so mean," you complained, "so vicious and so cruel!
There's no reward for my submission with your no-coming rule.
No resolution, if I can't have the one little thing I want,
If there is no consolation for my poor swollen cunt."

I could tell your mind was racing as you asked, with your head bowed,
How you could do my bidding if no coming was allowed?
What if I were fucking you til you were about to pop?
"That's when," I explained, "you have to tell me to stop."

"When you're right there at the edge, with nowhere else to go,
If you want to be a good girl, that's when you must tell me 'no.'
That's when you must tell me in a voice both confident and bold,
'I don't want to come – I want to do as I am told.'"

I remember all the tension, the shocked expression on your face,
when you realized that now you'd be kept in such a place.
I asked how you thought it would be to live life now on this ledge,
Never satiated, always somewhere near the edge.

I knew we were meant for one another when you announced with resignation,
"Now I got the picture. This is my new situation.
I thought I'd give to you my pussy but keep the orgasms for me.
Now I see my error – such a thing was not to be."

"Why," you asked, demonstrating that you truly understood,
"Would I ever want to do something unless you told me that I should?
If you asked me what I wanted, there's only one thing I'll ever say.
I'll look you in the eye and tell you: I just want to obey."

"So let's try this now, my dear," I said, "touch your clit again.
Ah, now you're ready to burst, by the time I count to ten.
Now you feel the wave impending, that old familiar chum,
And now you take your hand away and say:" "I don't want to come."

You said it then and there, the words came from your mouth,
Though it was fairly clear your hand wanted so much to head south.
But it didn't, and I knew that our future would be bright,
Though at times you have the look of a fairly sorry sight,

Quivering with desire that is so often unrealized,
Not achieving this conclusion, so well-loved and widely prized.
Always trying (without succeeding) to learn to settle for "almost,"
Still quietly whimpering when I won't let you pass the post.

But you get better at it, more convincing every time,
To watch you sublimating your desires is really quite sublime.
Each time I hear you say it, I once again just think, oh yum,
When you over-rule your clit again and say, "I don't want to come."

Sometimes I feel guilty, and I ask you what you think
As you're holding back the flood, after so long near the brink.
"It's better this way," you tell me as you chew hard on your gum,
"I am your submissive. And your submissive doesn't come."

"Your submissive, I am learning," you said with great forethought,
"Must get good at living a life so rigid and so taught,
With such unfulfilled desire, perhaps someday I'll just go numb.
But until that day I know what I want. And I don't want to come."