Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

6 Days – A Lyrical Short Story of Sexual Frustration

Let me start by saying I hate no-masturbating rules.

Let me follow that up by saying my Domme knows I hate no-masturbating rules.

Today is day 5 of her no-masturbating rule.

Day 5 of 6.

5 days.

Do you understand how long that is?

I don’t know if anyone’s ever died of sexual frustration before but I will be the first.

My pussy aches. Literally aches. I didn’t know that was possible. I mean, it’s been sore before, but usually after sex. Not before.

Why before.

I don’t know why I opted for jeans this morning. The crotch presses against my pussy so tightly I’m aware of the throbbing in my clit. Might I mention I’m on a bus.

20 minutes. 20 minutes and then I’ll be home.

And then what? I ask myself. You’ll just get in bed and read a book and not masturbate again? Great solution.

I’m sitting stalk still in my seat. Every movement makes the fabric of my jeans rub against my pussy, as if my whole body isn’t already a ball of fire.

I don’t deserve this.

I mean, I do a little…

I may have called her tits mosquito bites…

Haha I still laugh to myself when I think about it.

And then the bus goes over another bump and it’s no longer funny as I’m jostled in my seat.

Distract yourself. Distract kütahya escort myself with what? With anything. Read a book.

I’ve got one book with me. Her Alien Doctors.

Oh great. Alien porn. Yes. Very good. That will help.

Que eyeroll.

One more day… One more day… One more day…

I have only one thought and no concentration to read… One more day.

All week she teased me with the things she planned to do when I saw her next.

When I see her tomorrow.

Day one she sends me a picture of a new hook in her ceiling. She installed it herself. Such talent.

“I can’t wait to tie your wrists together above your head and whip you with the crop until you’re crying. Then, I’ll get the strap-on and fuck you while you’re standing. You’ll take all 8 inches, and if you come without my permission I’ll have no problem getting the dragon’s tongue.”

Her words ring in my head.

The coming scene is etched in my mind.

How am I supposed to get through the day when all I can think about is being fucked with an 8 inch dildo while tears roll down my face?

I can almost taste the salt.

From my tears.

More people are getting on the bus. It’s getting packed. I get hotter.

Oh calm down, they can’t see your thoughts. I know this yet grow more uncomfortable nonetheless.

Day malatya escort two she sends me a picture of a cane.

A new cane. I’ve never seen that one before.

She also sends me pictures of bruises on her legs.

“Don’t worry pet, I’ve tested it out.”

She really is the best.

“Now if the crop won’t make you cry this will for sure. I’ll tie your hands above your head high enough you’ll be forced to stand on your tiptoes. And since you’re a good pet you’ll stick your ass out for me too, now wont you?”

I recall her text message and think I will. Yes, I will I will I will I will.

Day three and it’s a tail plug. Beautiful soft white fur. Medium silver plug.

“Imagine how this will feel in your ass while I whip you, and cane you. Maybe I’ll release you from the ceiling afterwards and let you lick my boots clean. And if you do a good job I’ll consider letting you come… How humiliating does it feel to be nothing more than a dog crawling around on my floor?”

Her boots…

I remember the way the heels of her boots pressed into my back the last time we played.

Or rather, before we played.

I had knelt on the floor on my hands and knees while she used me as a foot rest.

She ate dinner.

I did my best to be a good foot rest. I hadn’t earned dinner yet.

And when she was done manisa escort she scraped her heels across my back, down to the floor, and called me to sit at her feet. She bound my hands behind my back with soft leather cuffs and as I rested my chin on her knee – on her knee-high boots – she fed me bite by bite.

Oh gosh… Her boots.

Day four I get a picture of the shock collar.

A literal electric dog collar we use for play.

It has a remote.

She straps it to my thigh rather than my neck because the pain is so intense. It hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt.

I’ve felt a lot.

Thanks to her.

“Tell me why we’re doing this. What was it you said to me?”

Mosquito bites… Haha… Every time.

“This is your final punishment pet. I want you blindfolded. Tied to the ceiling. Tiptoes. Ass out. You won’t know when the shocks are coming. You won’t know how intense they’ll be. I can’t wait to hear to scream… I wonder what you’ll do first, beg me to stop or beg me to let you come?”

Stop, just let me come, please. The scene unfolds in my head and naturally, my brain pre-emptively plans how I’ll beg.

One more day… One more day, one more day, one more day…

I’m so wet I can feel it between my legs.

My skin is on fire.

The people around me no longer exist.

Wait.

The people around me no longer exist.

“Ma’am. Excuse me, ma’am!”

I look up to the front of the bus. The bus driver has his head turned back. He’s looking at me.

“End of the line!” he shouts.

Oh crap.

I missed my stop.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32