The first few weeks after I found out that my girlfriend Cora wanted me to deny her orgasms were filled with exploration and discovery. The revelation brought a new energy to our sex life that made me feel some years younger, and even more in love with her. Truth be told, we didn't even practice that much denial -- we were still living busy lives (although admittedly we were fucking a good deal more than usual), and having a new toy to play with didn't mean we wanted to use it every time, so to speak. But this slow unfolding was fun in its own way -- like an advent calendar that you open piece by piece, always anticipating the next discovery.
Between the various constraints, it was actually several months before we made our first attempts at orgasm denial that lasted longer than a weekend. When the opportunity finally arose, it came as a strange side effect of the 2020 pandemic: We both had to take our annual leave, because our employers were careful to avoid us carrying lots of surplus into the next year, but travel was obviously out of the question, as was visiting family for fear of risking their health. Therefore we ended up mostly chilling at home, taking on various long-postponed projects ... and one of those was venturing deeper into Cora's kink.
***
Cora was wearing that extra low-cut top again as she came into the living room. The flimsy sheet of soft black cotton hung lightly from two golden rings which rested just below her collarbones. Showing ample cleavage, it flowed down to cling to her hips and ended just below her butt cheeks. She wasn't wearing anything else, as far as I could see.
I hid a smile and threw out an arm for her to cuddle up to me on the sofa. She walked over with just a hint of exaggerated sway to her hips, the hem of the top riding up her thighs with each step, as if daring me to look. When she reached me she gave me a brief kiss and snuggled in with her head resting on my shoulder ... conveniently placing both her cleavage and her elegantly folded legs right in my field of vision.
I tried to think of a teasing remark about her appearance, but suddenly couldn't think of any, so I just reached for the remote and turned on the movie. It was an action adventure, easy entertainment. Not Cora's favorite genre; she had only agreed to watch it because it had a strong female lead. The strong female lead, naturally, wore a catsuit that left little to the imagination, and the fact that Cora didn't comment on that was one of the many little signs showing that things were not as they seemed.
True to our agreement, she was acting innocently enough, gazing at the TV as if all she wanted to do was watch this movie. But her wardrobe choice carried her true intentions across as clearly as if she'd stripped naked and knelt at my feet. She's a playful spirit, never fully obedient, and I love that about her.
Not that the clothing was necessary -- her arousal was hardly any news.
Cora had been completely at my mercy for four days now, and of course I hadn't let her come. She also wasn't allowed to masturbate, or even to initiate sex. She was to leave everything to me and wait patiently -- or rather, with feigned patience -- until I had a mind to fuck her.
It sounds mean, I know, but that's Cora for you.
When I had first suggested something like this, she had practically banged my brains out in response to show me her enthusiasm. In the aftermath, we had discussed specifics, and then had another go because the idea turned us on so much. Yes, both of us -- I had found my own spin on the concept of orgasm denial, and the rules we had crafted played to that as much as possible. And for Cora, the combination of ongoing sexual frustration with being stripped of responsibility for how matters progressed sounded like her personal submissive paradise. It meant that she could leave the thinking and planning to me and just focus on her arousal, and the ways she said it messed with her mind.
Of course this setup was not without its risks, but I knew a thing or two about how Cora liked to be handled by now. One of the earliest insights had been that for Cora, denial was not so much the space between sexual encounters; it was more like a form of sex in itself. And as with any form of sex, she understandably didn't like to feel lonely. It didn't do to simply edge her and forget about it for the rest of the day; she needed me to stay engaged with her, sexually, in some way, or she would start feeling bad. It had taken a few safewords until we had mastered this balance, but I was confident now that I knew what she needed, and how to give it to her.
The fact that we had now gotten to four days without Cora feeling like she needed to safeword testified to this. It wasn't actually that hard -- occasional touches or comments could do wonders in between fucks, and when did I ever not feel like touching Cora?
One of the best ideas I'd had was to get her writing. Not only was making her write down her thoughts and fantasies a great way to keep up the game when I wasn't around -- it could keep her occupied and stimulated for hours --, it was also a supreme guide to Cora's inner workings. And after some initial shyness, it had turned out she was more than eager to share those with me. Some of what she wrote was beyond my comfort zone, such as chastity belts, or just plain unrealistic; but in my view, her fantasies were not so much blueprints for real-world sex we should have, but rather inspiration for scenes that could belong to both of us. And there sure was plenty of inspiration. Cora's mind was a true well of sexual fantasy, graphic and juicy.
I strongly suspected she was fantasizing now, as she pretended to watch the movie with me. I thought about testing this theory by pausing and asking her what she'd grasped of the zig-zagging plot, but instead found myself enjoying the search for more telltale signs.
She was perfectly still and quiet, her breath slow and regular based on the gentle heaving of her breasts. But when the babyfaced sidekick cracked a joke, she gave no response at all. And after a few minutes she casually bent one knee, causing the hem of her top to ride all the way up until it barely blocked my view of her pussy. Suddenly I was inexplicably curious to find out whether or not she was wearing any panties, and which ones. I stopped myself just short of reaching out and pulling up her ridiculous garment, and grinned to myself when I realized that was just what she was intending.
Not wanting her to know yet that she was getting to me, I began to stroke her hair, scalp, and neck in a show of absent-minded affection. She stayed still and calm, her breathing even seemed to deepen a little. On any other night she would have purred and rubbed her head back into my palm; she was clearly trying not to react, to seem preoccupied.
I tried to put myself in her shoes. She must be phenomenally horny at this point; just a few hours ago I'd fucked her just to the brink of orgasm and then brought her back, and that was just the last time. From reading her fantasies I knew that her breasts would be feeling tight now, with the nipples probably still slightly sore from the last rough handling. Her clit she usually described as a throbbing point of heat between her legs, and if she wasn't wearing panties, I imagined the air would feel cool on her wet pussy. If I were her, I thought, I would feel very tense and impatient, but she didn't seem like it; in fact she seemed very relaxed. Surrendered, perhaps. Knowing that she couldn't, and didn't have to, do anything but wait for me to bite.
Which she probably knew wouldn't take too long. In fact, my penis was already starting to harden.
I drew it out, though. For some silly reason, it elated me to have her waiting for me like this. Maybe I'd spent too much of my life feeling at the mercy of some woman or another, because they always seemed to want me less, and especially less often, than I wanted them. This game we were playing somehow seemed to speak to that hurt, no matter how silly. It made me feel like a rockstar or something, to have her ready at my whim. Taking care of Cora in this way certainly meant some responsibility, but one thing I didn't have to think about was rejection. There just wasn't a question about it: If I wanted to fuck, she was all in -- and
