10s Rule

“Could you please unlock your phone and give it to me? I need to borrow it… ”

Seems pretty odd, you have your phone in your hand literally as we speak. But I hand over my phone and look at you with that inquisitive look of “what’s up?”

You tap away a bit, then smile. “There,” you say.

“Where?” I ask. I clearly don’t understand.

You look up and grin. “I know how much you love me edging you. And I know how much I love watching you edge yourself. I also know how much you hate… performing for me. But, alas, that sounds like a YOU problem.”

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I’m starting to worry now. This build-up has me really wondering what it is you’re planning. I mean, you started off great, but then that last part… yikes. I admit that it’s not my favorite, even that I really have to get in that /s mindset to go there, because, well, if you ask for it. that should be on me to do for you, and that’s kind of a point of all of this D/s stuff, yeah? Do what you’re told, whether or not it’s necessarily what you had in mind, period.

I sit back in my chair a bit.

“Here’s the deal. Get the bed ready. The blanket, the works. And strip. I’ll be there in just a few minutes, please be there, ready to go. “

“Ready to go?” I ask. “What would you like set up?”

“I want you stripped, and I want my murder bag. Put on some music too please, but not too loud, you’re going to need to be able to hear me. “

This is getting weirder by the minute.

I do as I’m told, I get it all set, Murder bag and all.

(For those in the back, the murder bag is actually 2 bags. Roll-up tool bags that contain all sorts of impact toys)

You walk in, survey, and wave at me to lie down.

I do, you climb up, wrapping one leg to each side of you, you in the middle.

“So, you get 20 minutes to edge. But there are some rules. And, well, some risks, too. First, of course, no cumming without being told to, and no asking. And beware, it might not be yes, but something else. Or nothing. So this whole thing is about control.”

“Second, here’s how the 20 minutes works. It starts after the first edge is hit. So, you know, no screwing around trying to keep that control thing going. And third, the rules.

I’ll start. I’ll get you to the first one. Then you have 10 seconds. No more. Before you have to restart. As of the restart, the timer will start. Each time you stop, or I stop, the 20-minute timer stops. We alternate. I do an edge, you do an edge. But after each one, it restarts within 10 seconds. If you go over, or don’t let me restart, for each 1 second, yes, 1 second, it’s 10 swats that won’t be altogether comfortable, particularly because they come as a group… after the 20 minutes or whatever is up.”

“Third, no lolly-gagging around. “

“Lolly-gagging?” I chuckle. “Are we 120 yrs old now?”

Your stare is telling me you’re not amused.

“Turn on your metronome. I want to be able to hear it. I’ll tell you when it’s fast enough. ” You had me my phone, I switch to the metronome app and get it going. It’s just over a second per tick when you nod and take back the phone.

My phone is the overall 20-minute timer. Yours is the 10s timer and metronome.

“This is the rhythm that is the low end of what you must be at when you’re doing your thing. You can go faster, but you cannot go slower. And, if you do, I add random, to my liking, number of swats after… with the implement of my choice. “

“20 minutes. 10-second breaks at each edge. No cumming without my instructing you to do so, and pay very, very, very close attention to what I tell you to do. And, if you do cum, regardless of how that’s instructed, just know that you still have to complete the 20 minutes. So… if it’s been ruined, too bad. If it’s a full, or… whatever, too bad. “

There’s a long pause. Silence except for you

Really, the rules aren’t that rough, but I can see that it’s going to be hard to both keep up the rhythm, the restart 10s window, and then stop in time not to break the rules. I’ve almost forgotten that whole “performance’ thing on top of it all. Cringe.

I settle in just as you take me in your hand. I wish I could say I wasn’t excitedly terrified, especially with the near-certain follow-on impacts, but my body is betraying me.

Now to get to that first edge… and start that timer.

I feel your hand wrapped around me, and not too fast, not too slow… and I know it both feels amazing, and at the same time, I’m concentrating on not getting to the edge very quickly, because I know this is all about maintaining some level of control.

But, it seems like we’re there in a flash, bucking and holding it back, as I see you reach down and start the 10s timer just as soon as you stop… It seems like it’s rolling forward in super-fast motion, like time warping and before I realize it, it’s reading 8, 9… I grab myself and know that I’m still twitching, still tweaking inside but also that I have to hit that metronome speed… my mind is paying attention to too many things.

I have to get back in some sort of managed control, some sort of paying attention to both me, and to the rate and timers…

Before I realize it, I’m racing to the edge again. I think it’s only been about 20 seconds. As I stop, and do what I can to control, you laugh at me. “Wow, only 23 seconds… it’s going to take a while to get to that 20 minutes, isn’t it?”

I’m working to pull back in control and keep from going over the edge as you start up again. “Oh geez, that was close. I almost didn’t get started in time…” you say, laughing. “I wonder how long this will be? “

…to be continued.

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