tease – Page 5

Humbled, Part 8

I cannot describe how difficult it can be to sleep unfulfilled like that. Especially when relief is lying next to you, doing nothing to help.

I managed to sleep until some strange hour of the morning where there was no sunlight attempting to come through the blindfold. Attempting to maybe break Switch’s resolve, I started to slide against him just so.

“Go back to sleep, Ivy,” he murmured, not lifting a finger.

I sighed and pressed myself back against him. “What am I doing?”

“Ivy,” he sounded like he was trying to coax a child away from the dessert in the refrigerator. There was amusement in his condescension. “I told you, tomorrow morning. Keep pushing and I’ll make it tomorrow afternoon.”

“Keep pushing what?” I could barely contain a chuckle.

Switch reached around me and pinched my nipple through the fabric of the lingerie, “keep pushing my patience and you’ll be demoted to fucktoy.”

“Demoted?” I feigned shock, “do I still keep my benefits?”

He laughed softly, “you are so fucked tomorrow, Ivy. If you think tonight was rough, you are so fucked tomorrow. Now go to sleep, you little slut.“

Humbled, Part 7

When he had finished with me, Switch allowed me a drink of water and untied my hands. He made me keep the outfit on when I brushed my teeth and got ready to go to sleep. When I came back in to his bedroom, he put my blindfold back on and led me back over to his bed. My exposed ass was still sore when he sat me down on it to tie my arms in front and my legs together.

I still had not gotten off and, while it was not the first time I had slept in his bed tied up, it was the first time he had made me go to sleep without letting me cum. “But, I was a good girl,” I insisted when he made me lie down.

“So?” he chuckled and traced his fingers up my thigh to the lace at the hem of my outfit. I shivered under his touch.

“So, I want to cum,” I pouted, “I want you to untie my legs right now and make me cum.”

I heard him turn off the light and felt him climb into bed beside me. Unlike the last time, he didn’t touch me beyond looping an arm around me and pulling me close. “I said maybe in the morning.”

“That’s too long,” I huffed.

I heard the smile in his voice. “Good night, Ivy.”

Once, I made Switch watch me touch myself.

There were some rules: he had to keep his hands behind his head and kneel, he couldn’t speak unless spoken to, and if he looked at me too lewdly I’d stop and he would be in big trouble.

“You should just be happy Pretty’s letting you watch,” I chided when he huffed.

That made him straighten up in what I presumed was an attempt to gain some favor. “Yes, Pretty, thank you so much,” he stammered out.

I wanted to stay stern, but I just want to giggle when I make him nervous or see him blush. There’s just something about being able to crack someone just the teensiest bit.

I made a show of playing with myself to make it difficult for him. I sat on the bed right in front of him, legs spread, letting myself moan and gasp. I have to give the boy credit, he held still even when I eyefucked the living shit out of him and even when I turned around and leaned back against his chest and touched myself against him.

Unfortunately, I felt a little silly when I kept saying that I was going to get myself off on my own because I didn’t think he was worthy or capable of getting me off and then I wound up not being able to get myself off. I played it off like I was rewarding him when I let him take his hands off of his head and touch me, but I think he may have caught on. I just got myself entirely too worked up. When that happens, I need someone else to ground me, to take over and make me focus when I’m far too wound up in myself and how everything feels to be able to just get off.

So, I guess we both have little exploitable cracks that way.

Trapped, Part 5

It felt like an hour had passed by the time I heard the door opening. I strained to look over my shoulder through the darkness as Switch crossed the room. I heard him suck something through a straw, set a cup down on the table, followed by a bag. I groaned and pulled back on the belts once more. There was no give.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured when I realized he wasn’t about to acknowledge me. “I’m very sorry.”

Switch walked back over to the bed, “I bet you are.” He reached down between my legs. I shivered at his touch. “You’re wet, you shameless little whore. Here you are asking me to let you go, you’re enjoying this.”

I blushed and turned my head away from him. He moved his fingers up to my mouth. “Let’s try this again. Lick it off.” My face was flushed as I licked my wetness from his fingers. “You taste that?” he asked as I did, “that’s the taste of a kidnapped slut who’s enjoying herself.”

Switch reached over to the bedside table and looped a blindfold over my eyes. He knotted it tightly and adjusted it, ensuring that I could not see despite the darkness. A few moments later, I felt the fabric of my panties being forced into my mouth. I resisted a bit, but he managed to push them in.

“Now, I’m sure you won’t mind if I have a bite to eat before I get back to you,” he grabbed my face, shaking my head slightly, “be a good girl and maybe I’ll let you go soon."

Trapped, Part 3

(Disclaimer: The acts described here, despite their forcefulness and my resistance, were entirely consensual. I had a safe word and I could have stopped the encounter at any time if I did not feel comfortable.)

Switch groped my body like he was claiming it, communicating in chuckles and grunts the vastness of the control he wanted. He sneered at my lace bra and the way it barely shielded my breasts from his hands, barely hid the arousal voiced by my nipples.

“Look at this,” he breathed, pushing my shirt aside further. I gasped and tried to shove him off, attempting to push myself off the wall. He grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked, “I don’t think so, slut. I don’t think that’s how this goes.”

He dragged me over to his bed and shoved me up against the side of it. He bumped me with his body, forcing me to bend over as he started to yank off my clothing. My hands fumbled at my clothes, snatched his hands, frantically tried to protect my body.

Switch pulled the off the last of my clothing, my panties, with a rough tug He grabbed me quickly after, throwing me onto his bed and pushing me down on my stomach. The whole while, I fought feebly.

When I saw the belt already looped around his headboard, ready for my wrists, I swallowed hard. He must have seen me, because he placed his hand on the back of my head and shoved my face down into his sheets. In the darkness, I couldn’t tell what it was, but the texture of his sheets somehow felt different.

“Now, hold still, baby. Don’t want to have to hurt you like this,” he pulled my wrists up toward the headboard. I yanked back theatrically. “I want it to be fun when I hurt you.”

Meet Switch, Part Eight

One minute in and he was literally panting. He kept tensing harder to keep from moving. He was soaking precum through his boxers by two minutes. The entire time he was just begging.

I just watched the clock. Intermittently, I reassured him that he was being a good boy, that he was making Pretty so, so proud. I reused phrases I knew worked on me when I was being denied. I used a few unique ones.

“You want to make Pretty happy, don’t you?” I asked him at thirty seconds before time would be up, when he was just about losing it. “You’re so close, don’t fail me now, baby. That would be sad.”

He gritted his teeth and took it. It’s strange to me that in this moment of weakness and submission I figured him to be stronger than I’d ever considered him. It was in how resolute he was being, in how hard he was sincerely trying to please me.

His cock practically hit me in the face when I leaned down and pulled down his boxers. He moved when I put him in my mouth, letting a hand settle in my hair. But, I wasn’t cruel enough to take his reward away. He’d earned it well.

Meet Switch, Part Seven

Eventually, I got a little mean.

I took his clothes off slowly, his shirt first. I licked and bit over his skin. I made him shiver. I told him to be a good boy and hold still for me. I told him not to disappoint me, he wouldn’t want that.

I felt a little absurd. I’m much smaller than him. I have to stand on my toes to kiss him. He can hold me down fairly easily, he can overpower me pretty effortlessly.

I felt even sillier when he called me Mistress. I felt uncomfortable when he called me Ma’am (it’s what SG calls his mother). I felt like a teacher when he said Miss.

And so I took a page from Heart.

“You’re going to call me Pretty. Capital P, proper fucking noun,” I yanked his pants off.

He didn’t hesitate, “yes, Pretty.”

I sat down on his thighs and traced my finger over his cock through his boxers. He shivered. “All worked up, huh?” I grinned.

“Yes, Pretty,” he said again.

I kept his boxers on and started a slow sweep of two fingers up and down his cock. His body tensed, his hands curled into fists. I’m sure it was partially to keep from grabbing me and pushing my face into his crotch. There was something undeniably erotic about that sort of personal restraint. “Bet you want me to take it out, huh?”

“Please, Pretty,” he groaned out. I wasn’t sure if he was using it as my nickname or as an adjective when he added, “pretty please.”

I shrugged, “I don’t know, I sort of like playing like this.” I kept at slowly running my fingers up and down his cock, experimenting with the pressure through his boxers. “Tell you what? Hold still for three minutes and I’ll take your cock out.”

Switch stared up at the ceiling and sucked in a deep breath. It was going to be a long three minutes.

Meet Switch, Part Four

Switch claimed he’d never spanked a girl before. At first, he tended to go a little light. I urged him that I could handle harder. “Really?” He’d ask and then I’d hear the smile in his voice, “awesome.” Somewhere between impressed and inspired, he worked up rather quickly to hitting hard, to the point that I finally pushed one of my hands down to block his.

“You know, Ivy, I’m torn whether or not to move that hand and keep going,” he said. I didn’t reply. I was going to let him explore this.

But, instead, he moved his hand back down to my cunt. “I don’t think you want me to stop. You’re soaking wet.” I blushed as he ran his fingers over my slit, “now, why are you so wet? Only dirty fucking sluts get wet from spankings like this. Look at this.” He grabbed my hair with his free hand and jerked my head up. He brought his fingers in front of my face: they were coated, shining. He moved them back down to my cunt.

I practically cried out when, after teasing over my slit for a while, he finally started rubbing my clit. My gaze became unfocused, I was reduced to a series of “oohs” and moans. He chuckled, “you’re getting even wetter. You filthy little thing.” He kept going, saying things that made me blush, that made me feel simultaneously precious and degraded.

He brought me back into the moment when he slid a few fingers into me. His hands were big, his fingers large and long and imposing. I gasped a bit and lurched forward. Still clothed, still composed – a stark contrast to myself – Switch just pushed them deeper and laughed.

Meet Switch, Part Two

Switch’s natural submissiveness seemed to complement his dominating me very well. He knew what worked. He knew how to tease and how to make me beg and how far to take it. And it really seemed to shine through when one of the first things he really wanted to do was eat my pussy.

And yet there was still a sense of control even in the generosity of the act. He yanked my skirt off and then my panties with an eager roughness. He teased around it for a while, licking and biting my thighs, kissing over the lips. I shook against his face, I whimpered softly when he breathed across my lips, I whined whenever he would get close to my cunt, only to move back away again. The blindfold only heightened the sensations as I begged for him to lick my pussy.

It had started pouring when we left for the night and now the only sounds in the room were my moaning and the rain. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally leaned in and let one long, slow lick trail over my slit. My body lurched against him a bit and I let out a sigh of relief. He could barely stifle a chuckle and I started to laugh a bit as well, knocking the side of his head playfully with my leg to tell him to keep going.

He ate me zealously and refused to stop until I came not once, but twice and was reduced to a gasping, trembling mess underneath him. I barely registered it when he untied my wrists, pulled the blindfold off, and yanked me across his lap.

“Admit that I’m your favorite,” I told the Southern Gentleman last night, teasingly.

He smirked, “shut up and give me your cunt."

I sat back and moved my panties aside, starting to rub my clit. "Nah, I think I’m just going to take care of myself.”

“You,” he said, “and your tight little cunt and your hot little mouth are my favorite.”

“Oh, now you’re just saying that,” I pouted.

“Ivy.”

“I don’t know, the last time I wanted you I didn’t get what I wanted,” I slid a finger in slowly and dipped my head back, “so I think I may just spend some alone time with your favorite little cunt. You can watch.”

“Darling, if I fucked you every time one of us was aroused, we’d never get anything done,” he replied, “and that’s why you’re my favorite.”