Piss Shy, Part Thirteen
Disclaimer: The content of this story is a little bit harsher and a little more intense than most of the experiences I have written about on here. Please keep in mind that I had safe words – “yellow” for slow down or do less, “red” for stop. The things I did were done willingly and enthusiastically, even when I demonstrated reluctant or fearful behavior. I like to be scared and I like to feel psychologically exhausted, and this experience allowed me to tread some harsher waters. So, I hope you’ll stick along for the ride.
“Ivy,” I heard Flint say from the couch, “get up.”
“No!” I pouted, staying curled up on the floor with my hands over my face.
“Get up, I have something to tell you,” he insisted.
I huffed. “You can tell me down here.”
His hands slipped under my shoulders and he pulled me up to my knees in front of him. Taking my face in his hands, he smiled tenderly and said, “Sir said you could cum tonight. As many times as you wanted.”
The gentle smile curled up into a smirk. WRM started cracking up behind me. I reached up and wiped a few tears from my cheek, barely able to process the total mindfuck that the entire evening had been. “You fucking asshole,” I exclaimed and slapped him.
By now, he and WRM were in stitches, bent and laughing as I started punching him in the leg. “I can’t fucking believe this. You fucker. You actual douche. You total dickbag. I thought I was going to drink piss.”
Grabbing my phone, I sent a text to Sir in all caps that simultaneously thanked him for the crazy emotional rollercoaster and reprimanded him for the crazy emotional rollercoaster. I called him a few choice names. Flint only laughed harder. “Oh, he didn’t know I was going to tell you you couldn’t cum. You probably just got yourself a tally for that.”
Thankfully, I didn’t.