The first thing he took away from me was my vibrator. Two weeks later, it was my underwear, then my orgasms, and last week I lost the ability to touch my pussy. Knowing that I wasn’t allowed, that I was in his words, “too much of a needy slut” to be trusted to touch without permission was all it took to get my cunt dripping wet. He liked to remind me of that fact frequently. When I begged, cried, pleaded for permission to fuck myself with his cock, a dildo, my fingers, anything… he had me spread my legs for inspection. He ran his fingers up and down my pussy, marveling at my wetness.
“You’re enjoying this. The begging. And me denying you.“
“Yes… A lot.”
“You enjoy the begging more than actually touching yourself.”
“Yes, bu–”
“You know how much it entertains me to see you writhing and squirming like a desperate whore. You like pleasing me, even it’s degrading, even if it means you suffer. You like being a needy little slut for me, don’t you?”
I was too frustrated to speak. All I could do was whimper and nod.
“Good girl.”
