3. The cost of implementing CDUPA “unexpectedly” grows from an anticipated one billion dollars to ten or fifteen billion.
4. Frenzied horse-trading ensues, until a final package, which has little to do with the original purpose of the CDUPA but which nevertheless costs three times the original estimate, is passed and sent to the President for his signature.
5. Everyone boasts about how CDUPA shows that they are diligently fighting for our children.
Please forgive a brief rant here: I get very annoyed at election time, when I see political ads that say something like, “Senator Smith voted in favor of child pornography sixteen times last year. Let’s get rid of child porn. Let’s get rid of Senator Smith.” In 99.9% of cases, these ads are complete bullshit. It always turns out there were sixteen votes on some $25 billion spending package, which happened to include a few million for an anti-child porn program. Everyone, including Smith, voted “no” on the package, until some crucial problems — having nothing whatsoever to do with child pornography — were fixed, and then they all voted “yes”. But the sixteen initial votes allowed some political hack to smear poor Senator Smith as a child pornographer.
In any event, when one of these omnibus bills comes along, it’s my job to ensure that my clients end up with their fair share of the loot. It’s an enormous job, and it requires understanding thousands of pages of legislative gobbledygook, and knowing where hundreds of members of Congress stand on matters ranging from health care to transportation to defense contracts.
The relentless stream of messages coming across my iPhone reminded me of an arcade game, where the aliens attack from the top of the screen, and you shoot lasers at them in a furious but ultimately futile attempt to fend them off. Inevitably, reach the bottom and crush you.
Senator Smith has agreed to XXX, but he wants me to give him YYY. Is that OK?
Senator Jones will compromise on $XXX. Can I agree?
Senator Black wants XXX, but Senator White wants YYY. What should I do?
Senator Jones says he can deliver the votes, but he needs to talk to you personally.
And on. And on. And on.
And every message worth perhaps billions of dollars to my clients, not to mention millions of dollars in fees for my law firm.
By 7:00 PM, we had been going for ten hours straight. I was exhausted, and all I could think about was going home, curling into the fetal position on the floor in front of my wife, and worshiping Ellen’s feet. And we still had four hours to go.
***********
A major change our lives was our sexual relationship. We still had sex frequently, although it was much different than it had been.
As a dominant, I’d had an iron-clad rule against performing cunnilingus. The very idea of abasing myself before a female submissive (as the phrase “going down on her” certainly implies) was absurd. Also, I found the smell of some women’s vaginas to be offensive, so I couldn’t imagine that I’d enjoy the taste of one.
But during my first months of submission, Ellen patiently taught me to make her pleasure more of a concern during sex. (It didn’t take her long to upgrade her pleasure from “more of a concern” to “your primary concern,” and then “your only concern.”) Oral service, of course, played an important role in ensuring her pleasure, and she trained me to bring her to climax with my mouth and tongue before even thinking about anything else.
At first, oral service meant only her vagina. But one night towards the end of my first month, as my mouth was locked on her clitoris, and I was hoping soon to put her over the edge, she rotated her hips backwards, withdrawing herself from me. She took my head in her hands and forced my face down, deep into her ass, until my tongue found her anus, and she rewarded me with a soft moan of pleasure. I was surprised at how willing I was to kiss and lick this most ignoble part of her body (although, I reminded myself, the most ignoble part of perfection is still perfection).
The worm hadn’t taken long to turn.
I soon learned always to service her anus along with her pussy, unless she specifically told me not to. And I learned many other things, which helped me give her as much pleasure as possible with my mouth. How to recognize when she wanted attention to her clitoris and when to move my tongue between her inner lips. When to maintain a steady rhythm, and when to speed up or slow down. How to respond to slight changes in her breathing and moaning, or to the swelling of her sensitive tissues.
With time, I became very used to the smell and taste of her sweat and urine and vaginal juices. But fortunately, there were limits. When I licked her anus, she always encouraged me to probe her ever more deeply with my tongue, but although I always feared that I would one day be forced to taste her shit, she turned out to be much too fastidious for that.
She still allowed me to enjoy her body, within limits. In the afterglow of her first orgasm during an encounter, I adored kissing the perfect flesh of her inner thighs long and lovingly, before moving up to kiss her stomach and then finally her breasts. She often allowed me to fondle her breasts with my hands, and sometimes, she even let me suck her nipples.
But she made it clear that this intimacy was my reward for pleasing her (sexually or in some other way), not an act that gave her any pleasure. She certainly never showed me any affection in return. And she never allowed me to kiss her on the lips, except for the occasional peck when we were out in public.
Although there was no formal rule, it seemed that she gave me about one orgasm for every ten or so of hers — maybe once a week or every other week. And always as a reward for some specific behavior. But her repeated denials greatly heightened my enjoyment when finally she did relent.
Usually, she just gave me a quick hand job, as though relieving the pressure of my pent-up desire were an unpleasant but necessary task, something to get through, rather than to enjoy. But sometimes, when she was in a playful mood, she’d take her time, teasing and edging me until I begged her to let me finish, and laughing at me when I finally exploded.
She never, ever put her mouth to my cock.
About once a month, she took me into her pussy, but when she did, she was always on top. She preferred reverse cowgirl (me on my back, her straddling my hips with her back to me) or Amazon (my legs pulled back, my cock sticking out through my thighs, and her sitting on the base of my butt facing me).
When she inserted my cock into her vagina for the first time as my dominant, she explained, “I may fuck you once in a while when I’m in the mood. But you’ll have to work very hard for a very long time to earn even the slightest chance that I’ll ever let you fuck me again.”
Well, that’s encouraging, I thought. At least she hasn’t closed off the possibility entirely.
I was strictly forbidden to climax inside her. I was required to warn her when I first felt an orgasm start to build, and then to warn her again when I was at the very edge, so that she could deprive my cock of stimulation just in time to maximize my frustration. She thus made sure that from coitus, I received either no orgasm at all, or at best a ruined orgasm, with my cum dribbling pitifully out of my rapidly deflating dick.
Whenever she ruined my orgasm, she always insulted and made fun of me — for failing to control myself, obviously, but also (somewhat incongruously, I thought) for failing to climax like a real man.
Ellen made it very clear that the most egregious violation of her bodily sovereignty that I could ever commit would be to fail to warn her of an impending orgasm when I was still inside her. In all my time as her submissive, I did this precisely once.
***********
We’d returned home from Fiola Mare, having shared a lot of laughter, as well as a lovely prime rib accompanied by a truly memorable premier grand cru. We were both slightly tipsy and in the mood for sex, and I helped her come very hard after a long session of oral service to her anus and vagina.
As a reward, she took off my cage, and she fondled me for far longer, and with far more sensuality, than usual. When she finally mounted me, my cock was already throbbing, and I felt that I might burst at any second. I’d grown unused to such intense stimulation, and this combined with my absolute adoration of Ellen and the warm tightness of her wet pussy to intoxicate me completely.
As she rode me rhythmically in reverse cowgirl, I closed my eyes and lost myself for a few moments in the incomparable pleasure of sexual intimacy with this most perfect of women. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late.
My hips started bucking wildly against her, partly from the intense pressure of my semen seeking an outlet, but mainly from my panic at being unable to hold it in. What would Ellen think of me, if I were to commit such a blatant act of selfishness and disobedience? I tried to give her the required warning, but in the intensity of the moment, I choked on the words. My writhing hastened the inevitable, and I exploded inside her, my head slamming against the pillow several times from the force of the release.
Ellen froze. And I mean, she really froze.
Every muscle in her body tensed at once, and it seemed that her blood temperature dropped ten degrees in half as many seconds. “Did you just ejaculate into my vagina?” she demanded in an imperious voice. Her back was still to me, so I could only imagine the look of incredulity and revulsion that must have come across her face.
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