My body shivers with excitement and fear as she blindfolds me. I test my bonds and find them, as usual, to be perfect. There is no escape for me. For the next hour I am hers. When did this become an hour? It seems just a few days ago that it was twenty minutes. And yet I know it must have been at least several months since that easy beginning. She is so very thorough. Nothing is left to chance. She has built me up week by week, adding a few minutes each week, allowing me to adjust...or at least to have the illusion that I have adjusted.
Now I can feel her breath, hot on my cock. Each time begins exactly the same way, with this clear, simple, nonverbal message. I know exactly what I'm in for. This knowledge doesn't help. The act of tying me to the bed was enough to make me hard. But feeling the breath from her lips as she hovers above me, my cock snaps to attention. Poor dumb desperate thing--it's a Pavlovian reaction that will cost me dearly. And reward me almost beyond my ability to bear it.
I can _feel_ her smile. Perhaps after so many weeks of this, my cock can recognize the pattern of the warm air that comes from her mouth. And I know what she is thinking.
When she first told me what she wanted to do, it was late at night, and we were holding each other after an evening's lovemaking. At first, I laughed and heartily agreed, thinking it would just be a fun turn-on for both of us. But she explained exactly what she wanted to do, and exactly what the terms were, and it quickly became no laughing matter. It was a powerful idea, and it frightened me as much as it aroused me.
We talked about it late into the night, and in
the end, before we fell asleep, we agreed that we would try it. After
the first time, I wanted it again. And again. And although
every time I am trapped inside of it I struggle against it and want so
desperately for it to end, when it finally does end I can only think of
the next time.
Has it been five minutes? Yes, I think it has.
She is using her fingers on me, caressing the full length of my shaft. We're still in the easy part.
The first ten minutes or so are a doddle.
She knows it, I know it. So she just plays. And I try to relax.
How long had she thought about this idea before
presenting it to me?
For how long had it occupied such a treasured place in her mind's library of sexual fantasies?
Sure, we'd been into roleplaying and kinky games from the beginning.
This was something different.
I think that's why she kept it to herself for so long.
Oh, god. Now it starts in earnest.
Everything else has been a prologue to this. She takes my cock in her mouth
and begins to tease it. Deft little wet traces with her tongue. A
gentle sucking that suddenly stops.
Fluttering her lips against the head. God. It's all downhill from here.
The other reason she probably kept it to herself
for so long is the very reason she's so damnably good at this. She
needed to learn me inside and out. She had to know me and my reactions
better than I know them myself. And she knows.
She knows them all.
There is no move I can make, no trick I can try to hurry her. I cannot take her by surprise.
And I cannot force her hand.
It would almost be easier if she simply forbade
me to come.
"Don't come, or I'll punish you."
At least then I would be able to harbor the illusion that I have a choice in the matter, even if it meant being punished if I came without her permission.
But I don't even have that. She doesn't forbid me to come for the same reason that you don't need to forbid someone from breaking the laws of physics. It's just not possible.
And so I try.
I try so hard.
And I fail. Every time.
I no longer have any idea how long I've been lying
here, being pushed ever closer to an orgasm that never arrives. It
feels like years. Oh, the things she does to my cock!
Loving caresses, gentle squeezes, treating it as if it were a fragile lollipop rather than a hungry, desperate piece of flesh. And then, unpredictably, grasping my cock with her lips and fucking me with her whole mouth, giving me the most incredible sensations that can be imagined, sucking me as hard as she can, pulling me and forcing me toward that sweet release that I just _know_ I will have at last...
And then stopping.
My hips rise off the bed, beyond conscious control, straining at the empty air. There is nothing there for me. I cannot help but whimper as I give up the struggle and collapse back onto the bed, my muscles taut, sweat beginning to cover me as I am allowed a few moment's respite. And then I moan as I feel her begin again with her tender--and utterly frustrating--ministrations.
Oh, if only she would touch me somewhere else!
Anywhere on my body, anything at all, just _some_
other sensation. If she would just kiss my lips, or brush her fingers
against my nipples, or even spank my inner thighs...anything! How can she
so singlemindedly focus all her attention on my cock?
Until it feels as if the rest of my body becomes less substantial, less real, a figment of my imagination, while my cock seems to grow proportionately, taking over my mind, until I feel that that is all I am. One enormous, throbbing cock. No brain, no heart, no hands...nothing that could identify me as a human being with a personality. Just this mindless slab of meat that some cruel trickster god hardwired to be perpetually teetering on the edge of an explosion that will never come.
Another hour passes, two, three, and I no longer
have a rational mind to tell me that my sense of time is all distorted.
I have entered a state of pure primal energy. I cannot even think
the words, but my body tells me that she is working me vigorously again,
bobbing her mouth up and down on the head of my cock while her hand masturbates
the shaft. I'm barely aware of
the fact that my hips writhe beyond control. I have no idea what sounds are passing through my lips; if I am saying something that can remotely pass for English or if I'm merely babbling like an idiot.
Nothing I do can get the slightest reaction from
her. I learned that early.
Begging and pleading for release are not punished. They are simply ignored. She does not say a word to me, not a single word, during the torment. Nothing to even remotely indicate that she's aware of my existence as something apart from my cock. It is the ultimate objectification, and it fills me with equal parts terror and arousal.
And oh...here it comes...I can feel it now.
The hour must almost be up.
It feels like ten or twelve hours, or maybe days. Time has no meaning anymore.
She's working my cock gently but consistently, the perfect rhythm to push me over the edge into my much-needed orgasm. I'm moaning at full volume without even being aware of it, panting and writhing on the sweat-soaked sheets.
The wave is starting to build. It begins
at my toes and works its way up slowly.
God, it's going to be big. Oh my god...
Ahh...it's like...it feels like...oh god, it's too big. It's too much.
The wave...it's not a wave, it's a fucking tsunami and it's going to bury me.
I can't handle this.
I can't. It's going to rip me apart.
It will destroy me. Doesn't she know this will kill me?
Make it stop makeitstopohgodohgodohgodplease!
I lose it.
Screaming myself hoarse.
My body exploding up through and out of my cock.
The whole universe exploding out of my cock.
Nothing exists but this.
I do not exist.
...there's light...I can see again. I can
feel my lover, my Lady, holding me.
Somehow I am no longer bound. I'm shaking, my mouth nuzzled and whimpering against her hot neck. She talks to me in soothing tones, just holding me while my universe rebuilds itself. She knows from past experience that when I have recuperated I will want to make love to her, to touch every part of her, to satisfy my own sensual needs by filling myself up with all the explorations of her that I have craved for the past hour. She knows I will bring her the same ecstasy she has given me.
But she's in no hurry.
She's never in a hurry.
I shudder as I think of that, and think about the next time she will have me at her mercy.
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