© Copyright 2013 – Coffee&Kink
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My fingers tap-tap-tap at the keys as I work on the computer. I am naked, except for two pieces of cold metal; the first, the collar circling my neck. The second, the cruel device locked around my sex. These are His rules. Whatever I am doing, unless we have company I am always to be nude at home.
I feel, rather than hear, him come up behind me. I force my focus to remain upon the screen in front of me. He blows air onto the back of my neck, in just the right way to send a shiver rushing down my spine. His hands go to my shoulders and he starts to rub them, gently massaging away the tension I did not even know was there. My skin is so sensitive, my body so attuned to him that even this seemingly non-sexual touch makes me breathe just a little harder.
‘Concentrate, Kitten,’ he murmurs in my ear, when he sees my eyes begin to drift away from the screen and my typing fingers come to a halt. I try to do as he says, but equally I know he is only ordering me to concentrate on my work because he knows damn well that he is making it impossible for me to do so.
He begins to play with my hair. Gently at first, but it still gets to me. Beneath the metal shield preventing me from touching it, I feel my pussy growing wet. It is when he grasps a handful of my hair and tugs, pulling my head back, that I know I am lost. I look up at him, into his eyes, and he smiles wickedly down at me.
“On your knees,” he growls, letting go of my hair. Of course, I do not even think of protesting. I have no desire to. I immediately drop to my knees on the floor before him, my back straight and my head bent submissively. He pets my head. “Good girl. You may look at me.” I turn my face up to him and meet his eyes. “Now. Beg to be used,” he orders. I blush a deep red, hating the humiliation of what I know I must do, and yet loving it.
“Please, Sir,” I beg meekly, forcing myself to keep my eyes locked with his. That’s another of his rules; when I am degrading myself by begging, I must look into his eyes so that he can see I really mean it. “Please use me. Please use your toy for your pleasure.”
He laughs at me. And then he unzips his jeans and shoves his hard cock into my mouth. I suck on it enthusiastically, my cunt growing wetter every moment, unable to get any stimulation. He holds my head and fucks my mouth, slowly at first, and then faster. I close my eyes, listen to his moans, and revel in the joy of giving such pleasure to my owner. It takes only a minute or two before I feel the shudder of pleasure and then taste his come.
I look up at him. Breathless. Desperate.
“Thank you, Sir,” I gasp. He strokes my hair. I hear myself whimpering pathetically, and realise that I am squirming. “Please…” I beg.
“Please what, Kitten?” he asks. There’s laughter in his voice. He knows exactly what, but he is still going to make me degrade myself further by having to say it.
“Please unlock my belt, Sir,” I whimper, my writhing becoming more desperate.
“Is my pet all horny and excited already?” he asks, mocking me. I can only nod and look at him with pleading eyes. “How long has it been since you last had an orgasm?” he asks. As if he doesn’t know.“Four weeks and two days, Sir.”
“And how long did I say I was going to make you wait this time?”
“A minimum of six weeks, Sir.”
“So you know, don’t you, that if I give in to all this begging and unlock your belt, your pussy is just going to be teased and spanked a little and then locked back up?” I nod. I do know this, of course. I know that I will be teased, and that I will beg to come, and that he will tell me no. I also know that each time he tells me no, I will become more turned on and more desperate. That’s the cruelty of this game I both love and hate.
“Get on the bed,” he says. “Spread your legs.” I hurry to comply. He makes a great show of searching for the key, even though he knows exactly where it is. Evil bastard. By the time he actually turns the key, unlocks the belt and eases it off me, I am dripping.
“My, my,” he says as he glides his fingers over my wetness. “Someone is a horny little girl, isn’t she?” His fingers flutter across my aching clitoris, the touch maddeningly light. I buck my hips, desperate for more stimulation. “You asked for this, remember?” he teases. It’s true; playing with denial was my idea. It’s the fine line between adoring every minute, and regretting ever suggesting it, which messes with my submissive, masochistic mind. He rubs me a little more firmly, and then stops and slaps me hard between my legs. I cry out in both pleasure and pain. I am so close, so quickly. So very close. He alternates between fingering my hard, desperate clit and spanking my cunt. Over and over, he teases me almost to the edge and then slaps me just in time to keep me from going over.
I am a whimpering, begging mess. I plead with him to have mercy, to please not tease me one more time, to please, please let me come. He only laughs and orders me to stay still, which he must know is almost impossible. He rubs me harder and harder, and I cannot stop myself from writhing and arching beneath him. I am close. So close. He just keeps playing with me.
“I’m going to come, Sir,” I whisper, “please, please may I come?”
“Hold it, Kitten,” he warns. “You don’t have permission.”
I hold my orgasm back with all the willpower I have, but I know I cannot for much longer. The pre-orgasmic spasms start to hit me. I feel my cunt beginning to clench. My needy clit cries out for the relief that has been denied me for so long.
“Oh God, please Sir, please let me come…”
At the last second, the hand is withdrawn. All stimulation stops, leaving my wet pussy with a terrible ache.
“No, Kitten,” he says, as he retrieves my belt. “Not yet.”
Wow..
