If she’d ever felt more weak and less in control in her entire life, she couldn’t remember it. No wonder all the subbys got off on this shit. Orgasm denial must be like taking submissiveness steroids for them. But, for somebody like her who wanted to be dominant…
It was a feedback loop of constantly wanting anything other than the stasis of pent up arousal trapping her. She wanted to cum. She craved it, she NEEDED it. At this point, she didn’t even care about the orgasmic pleasure, she just needed to be released from the torture of not cumming. From having her nipples permanently poking holes in her bra and tingling every time she shifted in her seat, and her mind’s stubborn refusal to stop fantasizing about sex and focus on anything productive.
She was role playing Echo and hating every second of it when she wanted to be Lady_Anze. To be inflicting this torture on somebody else and feeling the power trip of holding their salvation away from them. To tease them with how good her own orgasm felt, how relieving and freeing it was, while denying them release.
But, as long as that “somebody else” was a nameless and faceless shadow in her fantasies, and not an actual flesh and blood partner…
Another frustratingly inescapable loop. Before anybody would want her to be their dominant, Sylvia needed experience. After all, who wanted to be the guinea pig that got slapped around while she figured out how to give a proper spanking? There were so many things she needed to know, but didn’t yet, and the only way to get that experience was to find somebody to practice with. Which she couldn’t do without–
Around and around like a cat chasing her tail.
Sylvia sighed and, with an enormous force of will, minimized Discord and opened up The Witcher. She’d been trying to beat the full Wild Hunt campaign on very hard without dying once, because where’s the fun beating anything on easy mode? But her quest had come to a grinding halt weeks ago when her ability to focus had gone on vacation.
Oh how far she had fallen, that playing video games was hard emotional effort.
As if sensing her negativity, Jane uncurled herself from her spot on the desk and gave Sylvia a reproachful look. Sylvia glared right back at the cat. “What?” She demanded, but relented as Jane slowly blinked at her. “Oh, fine,” she muttered, and scratched beneath Jane’s chin, making her purr. “At least you’re always happy to see me.”
Slowly, Sylvia lost herself into the game, immersing herself into Geralt and reveling in slaughtering the Bloody Baron’s minions. These were the quests she liked most. The ones where she got to solve her problems by slashing them to tiny bits with swords.
It took her a while to notice the flashing red new unread messages notification over the Discord icon on her other monitor.
Vy: hey
Vy: youre awful quite tonight, Domina
Vy: rough day?
If it had been nearly anybody else, Sylvia would have responded that there was a special place in hell reserved for people like Vy who refused to put an apostrophe in contractions or use opening capitalization, but who always used commas correctly. Like she was picking and choosing which bits of grammar were real. But it was Vy, and as much as she hated to admit it, Sylvia needed her company. Just like she’d needed her support most other nights this month.
So she deleted that snarky response, and the sarcastic one after it about being just fucking peachy, and finally responded with the truth.
Cupcake_Domina: Actually, I’ve been thinking of changing my handle
Cupcake_Domina: I’ve never felt like a domina. Calling myself one feels wrong. Like, I’m an imposter, you know?
Cupcake_Domina: And besides, you’re the only one who calls me that. Everybody else calls me Cupcake.
Vy: oof
Vy: that bad, huh?
Vy: want to talk about it?
Sylvia sighed, flipped back to The Witcher, and instantly felt her blood pressure spike. Feverishly dodging and slashing, she barely saved herself from dying to an enemy she’d sworn she’d finished off before tabbing away. So much for a de-stressing escape.
Why did Vy always want to talk in voice? Why couldn’t she just text like a normal person? Texting was so much less anxiety provoking. It gave her time to think before having to respond, she didn’t have to try to figure out tone without being able to see who she was talking to — the list of reasons to hate voice chat was long.
Again, if it had been anybody else but Vy… At least this time, Vy’s pink haired League of Legends themed icon showed in one of the private voice channels that capped at two people. The only thing worse than trying to figure out private voice chats was trying to figure out public ones with tons of people coming and going.
“I hope you know how tempted I was to make up an excuse,” Sylvia said as she joined.
“You say that all the time,” Vy laughed.
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“You’d have to actually turn me down a time or two for me to believe you.”
Sylvia rolled her eyes at the amusement clear in Vy’s voice, then remembered Vy couldn’t see it and felt dumb. “Well, you should feel fucking special. Ask anybody else on this server, I assure you, I’m a total flake.”
“Riiight,” Vy drawled, clearly still not believing her. “So, anyway, what’s this about feeling like an imposter?” Go figure, Vy was the one person Sylvia was honest with about all her shortcomings, and she was also the only one with a totally positive view of her.
Sylvia hesitated, biting her lip and wishing she hadn’t admitted how she was feeling. She kept telling herself that she’d try to change things with Vy. Try to show off her confident side and hopefully get Vy to see her as a dominant and a potential partner. Instead, she kept being honest, showing Vy her unappealing vulnerability and thereby making herself as unappealing as possible.
“I don’t know,” Sylvia answered lamely. “I guess I just don’t feel very toppy right now. I can barely keep control of myself, and besides, I’ve never dominated anybody. Calling myself a domme kind of feels fake.”
Vy “Hmm”-d into her headset, making Sylvia wish again that she could see her face and know what she was feeling. Thoughtful? Disappointed to have Sylvia dishing troubles onto her yet again? “I think you’re being unfair to yourself,” she finally said.
“And I think you’re a die-hard optimist.”
Vy chuckled. She had a nice sounding laugh, her light voice making it sound genuinely upbeat and never mocking. “Maybe so, but what if I applied the same logic to a different situation?”
“Like what?”
“Like what if I called you a fake lesbian just because you’ve never had gay sex before?”
“That’s not the same,” Sylvia complained.
“Isn’t it? You know you’re gay because you’re attracted to women. Knowing you’re a dominant is just like that. You’re turned on by fantasies of being in control, right?”
“Yeah but–”
“And you’d prefer a relationship where your partner wants your control?”
“Well, not all the time–”
“But at least in the bedroom?”
“Fine, you’re right,” Sylvia admitted, trying to sound annoyed at being proven wrong but hearing a bit of happiness coming through in her own voice. If Vy was willing to defend her to herself like that, maybe she did see a bit of her domme side after all, rather than simply as an online friend.