“Relax,” he purrs into my ear, and obediently I go limp. It takes conscious effort to loosen my taut thighs, unclench the greedy grasp of hands and cunt; it takes a deep breath exhaled slowly. Of course, the groan of pleasure my compliance elicits from him is enough to jerk me into gear again, squirming beneath him and spreading my legs as wide as they’ll go.
He gives me that look. Stern but amused, teasing and commanding. “Relax. Let go.”
Once more, I assert the self-discipline that’s required for me to slow my breathing, assume passivity. He drives his cock deep within me, slowly and deliberately, watching my face closely for any sign that I might have forgotten my instructions; enjoying my surrender. For a submissive, it turns out I have a lot of difficulty giving up control. He recognised this long before I could bring myself to admit it. I inveigle for restraints because I adore their look and feel; he restrains me instead with my own desire to please, makes me work for it.
As his thrusting hips press me harder and harder into the mattress, I struggle, whimpering and motionless, to be a good girl. To suppress the voice of guilt in the back of my mind chiding me for laziness, to squash the flexing and contracting that habit and assumptions have drilled into my muscles. I release the increments of tension that crept back while I was studying his face, wrap myself in calm and peace.
The words trigger an involuntary clench of my cunt; we moan in helpless unison as he clasps me tight, works himself back and forth in my pulsing heat and wetness.
“Don’t come. Don’t you dare.” he reminds me. “Stop me whenever you need to.”
And with that, he grasps my wrists, shifts his weight and fucks me with long languid strokes, gazing into my eyes and telling me how hard I’m going to come when he finally allows me, how much he’s looking forward to watching; lust and filth and love tumbling from his lips to flood me with fierce joy and aching, yearning need.
It doesn’t take long. Actively relaxing against arousal is an escalating feedback loop; fighting my own desire only feeds it. “Stop!” I gasp “I’m going to-“
He withdraws like a cobra strike in reverse, sits back on his haunches grinning mockingly at my breathless struggle to back away from the edge. When I’ve calmed down enough to open my eyes and unclench my fists, he is building me an altar of pillows; I will drape myself face-down across them and sacrifice my will to his ritual of worship again.
His cock is steel beneath its skin, his fingers digging furrows into my buttocks as he spreads my cunt wide-open and hammers himself into me with calculated ferocity. In my half-kneeling sprawl over the pillows, it is easier to keep my limbs loose, harder to fight off the swelling urgent need to come.
“Please, I-“ I’m so close, working so hard to stay on the leash that my face is scrunched up, my jaw and fists clenched, my breathing shallow and ragged with effort.
“Fifteen seconds. Just hold on for fifteen seconds more.”
It takes every ounce of my will not to give in to the swirling storm of my gathering orgasm. He counts the seconds down- “… Thirteen. Twelve…” while I bite at the duvet and recite the alphabet to myself for distraction.
“One.” he gasps, and yanks himself out of me, drawing patterns on my arse cheeks with the hot spunk pumping from his twitching cock.
I yell, pound my fists and feet on the mattress, unleashing my frustration in a parody of tantrum.
“Relax,” he commands, and I subside reflexively, my limbs and expression smoothing into peace, enclosing the smouldering furnace within me. “Oh look,” he laughs “You’re learning.”
“You’re a glorious, magnificent bastard, and I love you.” I tell him with a smile. “Thank