I texted him yesterday telling him how badly I needed it. Denial always makes me a little bit desperate.
“I know you do, dear,” he replied. “But no cumming.”
“For how long?”
“Long.”
I pouted down at my phone. I’ve been busy enough that I can keep my mind off of it, but sometimes I cannot help myself. “Why?”
“Because it reminds you that you’re owned.”
The other day, I was feeling naughty and I called him. He said that he was walking home and I told him that all he had to do was listen.
I talked dirty, rubbed my cunt and told him how badly I wanted him. I miss the way he fucks me, I miss how full I feel and how spent I am afterwards. He talked me on, telling me the things he knows make me squirm.
When I was close, I begged him to let me cum. He chuckled in the way that made me realize I wouldn’t, but he drew it out, making me tease myself while he read a list he had found on tumblr of reasons why orgasm denial is a good thing for girls. Girls, he added, just like me.
Still, I begged.
“Even after I read you that list?” he teased, “after I told you all those reasons?”
I huffed, “it was the same six reasons over and over in different phrasing.”
“They’re six good reasons,” he replied.
So, I’ve been on denial ever since, no cumming at all. Hmph.
I’m being denied right now by Sir.
More info soon. In the meanwhile, I’m spending my time squirming and whining.
Craftsmate discovered how much he liked edging me pretty quickly.
And I discovered just how evil Craftsmate is.
He’s really very good at making me suffer. He’s got the whole rhythm down, the teasing, the getting me justrightthere and then changing the pace. And he’ll shake his head when I beg to cum in that little condescending way and coo, when I thrust up from the mattress, that I must really, really want it.
There I am, squirming and begging, and he’s grinning and laughing. He’s never edged anyone before and he appears to be making up for lost time, because he always manages to do it once or five times when we’re messing around.
And then he tells me to be a good girl and leave it alone.
Jack and Jitters: Part 6
He finished on my face and in my mouth. I barely had enough time to swallow before I was bent over and spanked. He rolled me over and his hand returned to my clit and he rubbed, dragging another two orgasms out of me. By the time the second was about to roll around, I was shaking.
“Think you deserve it?” He asked. It was what he said a lot before I came. We have rules. I have to ask permission. I have to deserve it.
I could barely think straight. I was completely down in subspace. My whole body was a mess of goosebumps and jitters. It was the most intense “sexual” experience I’ve probably ever had and the boy hadn’t even penetrated me.
He smiled and rubbed harder, “I think I want you to cum right now.” I bucked back against him and moaned loudly. There was a smug causality to his face, still. Even as I was in this state, he was completely casual.
“You’re so…I don’t know,” I managed to gasp out, “like you’re just playing with something.”
He chuckled and nodded, “sounds about right.”
I felt myself slipping into an orgasm, “like you’re just handling a piece of property. Like it’s just something you use for…” I trailed off.
“That’s right,” he smirked as I was overcome by shudders. “You’re a piece of property, baby.” I came hard.
He helped me to my feet. My face was still covered in his cum, I was completely in subspace, I barely knew which way was up. He pulled me into him and allowed me to steady myself against him. I sighed into his shoulder as he took my hand, held it up, and kissed it.
A gentleman.
Jack and Jitters, Part 3
The Southern Gentleman reached down, found my clit, and started to rub it. He tugged again on the stockings, pulling my body taut. He was standing up almost completely straight, staring down at me with almost the hint of a smile in his eyes, but otherwise about as casually as one would look flipping a pancake.
“You know, you’re sopping wet,” he said. He ran his fingers down my slit before wiping them on my face. He slapped his hand back down to my cunt and kept going, rubbing my clit hard. Occasionally, I fought. He would just smack my cunt and keep going, staring down at me with a look that was somewhere between severe and completely nonchalant.
He briefly let go of the stockings around my wrists to pull the nightgown over my breasts. He grabbed my wrists once more, pulled them up, and leaned his face down into my chest. The combined attention he was giving my breasts and clit was bringing me close already.
“No,” I tried to close my legs once more.
He smacked my cunt roughly. I cried out. “What did you say?”
“No."
He smacked it again. "What was that?" I huffed and ground myself against his hand. He smacked it once more. "What did you say?” By now, he was standing up completely straight. I was close. My body was trembling.
“Whatever you want,” I moaned out.
“Whatever you want…?"
"Whatever you want, Sir,” I managed to gasp out.
He chuckled, “good answer.” He looked me over and leaned down a bit closer to me, “you’re going to cum, aren’t you?” I nodded. “Do you think you deserve it?” He asks me this question a lot, just about every time I’m about to experience an orgasm. It’s hard. It’s like self-grading. You don’t want to over-inflate yourself and miss out because of your lack of modesty. You don’t want to undersell yourself and miss out.
“I don’t know,” I moaned.
He pulled harder on the stockings that held my wrists and chuckled, “I think you should. Go on. You don’t even have to ask."
I came hard. I would have probably crumpled to the floor if he wasn’t holding me up. It was the sort that involved my entire body, the kind that left me absolutely spent afterwards. I get incredibly tender after I’ve cum and he knows it, so I was a little shocked to feel him still rubbing my clit with the same intensity.
"I’m done,” I gasped out, “come on, I’m done. It…I’m tender. I’m done.”
With this, he smirked and leaned down a bit closer to me. He was grinning wide, almost as if he were about to tell a joke. His accent came out. “Well, I didn’t say I was, baby.”
sexisnottheenemy: Nick & Meredith by Kevin Loreaux