Denial Slut Learns To Cuck Ch 09

It was Friday, but Blair had called you early this morning to say that she was stuck home. Apparently, Barrett had woken up with a stomach bug and she had to keep him home today. So you and I had the whole weekend to ourselves. It sounded relaxing. It would be nice to just get to keep you to myself for a bit. No humiliation or cucking tonight. Ooh, maybe we could even go out to dinner! I call into the living room while trotting excitedly down the hallway.

"Hey, Sir????? Can we--" I see your face, and I know mine has the "uh-oh" look, you know, the one where I am not sure if I got caught or not? The one where I'm trying to determine whether or not I fucked up? Then I noticed your left hand behind your back.

You seem to be enjoying watching me squirm and wonder. You know that the longer you wait and watch, the longer you remain silent and stoic, the longer you keep a straight unreadable look on your face, I will get more and more nervous. You love to make me fear you that little bit. You know it makes me drip, and you love that I will wait and suffer indefinitely for you.

You begin to smirk. Whatever it is you have planned, I know now that dinner out is not happening. But this cunt has me distracted from any plotting for vanilla time tonight. All with a stare. You've said nothing. Yet you control me entirely. You think about how pathetically easily I mold to your will and feel your cock twitch at how you plan to "mold" me tonight. You decide to go with the slow play.

"So, you had started asking something, fucktoy. What was it you want to see if we can do?"

I gulp and try to regain my composure, metaphorically lift my jaw from the floor, and attempt to remember what I originally came down here for.

"Oh, Sir. It isn't that important. Nevermind." I didn't want to go anywhere but the playroom or the bed at this point.

"Is it for you to decide what is important or not important? I asked you to finish your question." You could see right through my change of interest. You probably even knew I was going to request some activity for the surprise free evening we have. You even knew it was vanilla. I was frolicking for God's sake. I really don't make myself much of a challenge for you, huh?

"Sir, I was just asking if we could go out for dinner since we had a free night, but it's okay." I knew I said too much. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to decide if it's okay. That's for you to determine. My question was just could we go out to eat, Sir?"

You enjoyed my flustered self-correction. "I have already made a reservation for us for tomorrow evening. I knew you'd ask. But I have plans for you tonight, little girl."

I can't help but express my glee at how perfect you are at always coming up with the best ways to spoil me, except of course for orgasms. I don't get those. I run up and hug you. You smile and hug back with your free hand. As I hug you, my arm brushes against your hidden limb, and I feel something very familiar and very personal in your grasp. I know exactly what you have, and it may be the last thing I'd ever want you to find of mine. On complete reflex, I try to take it from you.

You grab my hair and use it to pull me back off of you. I cease struggling and kneel at your feet to show my submission. It happened so fast. I felt the denim cover of my journal and panicked. We had a silent exchange in that moment. You showed me such mercy. You knew this behavior had never occurred before and that it would never occur again. You recalled some of what you read, and you understood why I reacted that way. I would chastise myself enough for both of us. Had I not stopped immediately, you would have had to punishme severely, and you were incredibly relieved that your fucktoy was able to pull herself together expediently. I did make you proud. So vulnerable, you watched me, knowing that all of the memories of what was written in the half-filled journal were rapidly flashing through my mind. I was humiliated, and my mortification turned your cock to stone.

"Come back to me, little one." I look up and notice your veiny cock is rock solid. I can see you throbbing. I make my way to you, crawling seductively, ass raised, pussy out, back arched, until I was just in front of my prize. I opened my mouth, begging to take you inside, looking up at you with my eyes still glazed with tears.

You breathed in sharply. You wanted to ram yourself into my mouth and just hate fuck my throat, but you didn't want to take this too quickly. You were going to show your denied toy how good an orgasm could be. You were convinced to cum so hard that I could almost feel it.

You took yourself at the base and used your cock to slap my slutty little face. Seeing my face as I just dropped into the bliss of subspace, specifically humiliation land, it made you begin to leak precum as you slapped me, only adding to the humiliating effect.

"Do you want this cock? Do you want to milk me dry? Suck every last drop out of me? Give me the release you wish you could have?" You loved to taunt me. You sometimes felt conflicted about saying and doing certain things, because I was your first real life submissive. It was different to be right there seeing the direct effect of your own actions. It was so much more arousing, but you felt the weight of your role more fully.

You unexpectedly shoved your full shaft into my mouth and told me to get busy. Thinking to yourself, you decided to push both yours and my limits some and so you grabbed the journal and opened to a page you had earmarked.

I was giving my very best effort. I wanted you to see how much I truly value being yours and show that my misbehavior truly was not reflective of how I feel about you.

"I'm going to read to you for a change while you satisfy me as long as I please. I've chosen a particularly favorite passage. A particularly humiliating one. Make sure to keep those eyes on me so I can watch you suffer for me."

"Yes, Sir." My voice was weak and muffled by your cock.

"Shh. Keep going. Here's the passage."

You went on to read the following journal entry.

So Sir started talking about the idea of cuckqueaning me. I honestly don't know that much about it, but from what he told me, I have pretty mixed feelings. It seems hot to basically torment me with not being allowed to cum, and even being forced to see him use someone else I think I could be okay with. But the thing where I am made to feel inferior to her, I dunno. It sounds harsh. Like do I get to fuck him anymore, because I dunno if I can give that up. Of course, let's be real. None of this is up to me. I saw this one post on Tumblr and I was so ashamed of how horny I got reading it. It was a task and I even did a modified version of it. Here, I'll even tell you what it said.

"Remember that boy you liked so much? The one who didn't want to date you, who wanted to date that better, prettier girl? Does it still hurt to think about? Good. Think about how great that girl was. Is she on facebook? Check out her photos. She looks happy, fulfilled. So much better than you. Touch yourself. Keep looking at the photos. Look at her smile, her clothes, her body, all of it so much better than you. Rub your little clit and think about how perfect she is. Every time you feel a stab of emotional pain, give yourself a good, hard edge. Fantasise about doing this for her, to please her. Tell her how sorry you are for how disgusting you've become. Edge yourself and beg. Edge yourself and worship her. Keep going until you're numb with edging and your heart is burning. And then? Reward yourself with a good, long, hard cry. Really let it out. See if you can cry away the sexual frustration. You won't be able to, but give it the good old college try. And don't cum. Don't ever cum."

Reading that post made me drip so much. It's so mean, but I kind of want Sir to do that to me. Or something like it, you know? Like, I know if I was supposed to pair edging with the emotional torment, eventually my brain would rewire, right? And the torment would be arousing on its own. Maybe I'd even edge just from the torment. But the idea of crying out my frustration even though it won't help relieve it pretty much caused me to edge on the spot. This definitely goes on the list of things I wish we could do, but scare me enough that I hope he never finds out. How humiliating.

By the time you finished reading this, not only was I moaning from embarrassment and wishing I could go hide, but you were about ready to explode.

"You are not even worth swallowing my cum, you know that right? Blair would have done this if she were here and it would have been so much better." I feel a tinge of that hurt. It cuts, but I know it pleases you and turns you on. You'll cum harder because of it. That is what matters. You pull out and tell me to grab a cup. I do as I'm told quickly and obediently, and just as I arrived back, you are ready to explode. Right...into...the cup.

"Cover it up with some glad press n' seal and pop it in the freezer. Blair will enjoy it when she stops by sometime this week for her fuck.

I slowly began to well up and tried so hard to cry away my frustration. My efforts were futile.

You began to harden again and just grinned.