The Waiting Game

There’s an instant when the expression in his eyes turns from adoringly playful to speculative intent. That look, as he sideslips from boyfriend to Dominant; hunger turning to command, sparks heat and a flood of wetness in response. My legs part of their own accord, my breath hitches in my chest, my mouth parts in anticipation. Signalling to him my willingness – my eagerness – to be owned and used and taken by him.

He cuffs my ankles, fastening them to either end of the spreader bar so that they are held wide apart. I’m forbidden to come until he gives permission, he tells me, his voice low and calm. Naturally, at this ominous news, I moan and squirm in excitement. It’s going to take a long time, he warns with a smirk. Unnff.

We start gently, his fingers dipping lightly between my slippery folds, stroking and pressing, rubbing slowly, probing and flickering. Pinned beside him, I can only squirm and gasp as he watches my face closely. Every time my excitement mounts, he backs off, grins down at me with cruel amusement. When I whimper and arch towards him, his smirk widens. Calm down he says. It’s much too soon to let you come.

To distract me, he fills my mouth with his thick hard dick, holding my head as he pushes himself to the back of my throat and begins to thrust slowly, deliberately. I hold my breath, swallow, clinging tightly to his thighs while he fucks my throat until I drool and choke. In one smooth movement, he swings round and straddles me, lowering his face to my exposed folds. From this vantage point, he can slide his cock into my mouth and his tongue across my clit simultaneously; before long, the combination of sensations has me teetering on the edge of orgasm.

He senses my shortened breath, my tensed muscles and with a final deep plunge, he dismounts and shakes his head at me. Not yet. My breathing slows.

He’s fucking me with slow, deep strokes; just not-quite-fast-enough to allow me to climb upwards from my plateau of pleasure, pausing when he senses my cunt twitch and tighten. Are you going to make me beg? I ask breathlessly. You can beg if you like he answers enigmatically if you think it will make a difference

Please I moan, please let me come. I’m so close, please. No answer. Please oh god, I’m begging you, please, please. He admonishes me for my greed and presumption, every time you say please, I’ll leave it a minute longer before I let you he explains starting five minutes ago. The authority in his voice, the edge of cruel amusement almost tip me over, I gasp and feel my cunt tighten around him. Not yet. Turn over .

Stinging stripes across my buttocks from the little six-tail flogger. Light tapping of the falls against my swollen labia, harder and faster until I can’t distinguish the sting of each impact from the flare of sexual heat its landing produces.

When he reaches for the lube, he pulls my head up by the hair and down again on to his dick, moving back and forth in my mouth with a languid rhythm. With each moan and squeak of pleasure that escapes from me, a corresponding twitch to hardness against my tongue. By the time he pulls back and parts my buttocks, his dick is taut, darkened with hot blood, at full stretch. He’s working the lube into the tight opening behind my dripping cunt, fingers probing and circling, stretching and pressing until there’s a gape wide enough to nudge the tip of his dick into.

He grabs my right hand at the wrist, tucks it under me. Make yourself come, he commands, as fast as you can and with that, he buries himself in me up to the hilt, grabs my shoulders and starts to ride.

Between my fingers rubbing frantically at my slippery clit and his dick pounding into my arse, I’m clenched and aching with my urgent need to reach the orgasm that’s been denied to me so many times. He’s covering my body with his, arms wrapped around my throat, mouth against my ear, encouraging me go on baby, that’s it, good girl, come for me, come on and it’s too much, suddenly fire sweeps outward from my core and I’m shuddering, shrieking into the pillow, bucking my hips to push him deeper inside me. Oh he says, my abandoned thrashing pushing him closer to the edge, and thrusts harder, faster; his breath hoarse and ragged beneath my gasps and squeals. When he comes, it is with a wordless yell of triumph and abdication, a melting of his body into mine, a hot spurt deep within. He clings tightly to me, our hands locked together, fingers entwined and hearts racing.

Good girl, he whispers in my ear

I love you I whisper back

%d bloggers like this: