I laid there shaking and sweating, filling the room with the stench of my utter desperation.
"Let's do something extra special to celebrate your year of denial," he said. "It'll be fun," he said, and I went along with it.
Who am I kidding? Like I had any choice in the matter. Sir always tells me my input matters and may impact his decisions for better or worse, but it never determines jackshit. This is how my life works, and I would have it no other way, yet here I find myself, in this moment, kicking myself for being here, having contributed to making this torture happen.
My task was simple: Do not cum. Easier said than done if you know my owner. I am but a plaything and my very suffering is his pleasure. What I was in for was a mystery to us both, which only intensified the struggle and his cock only stiffened at this realization.
About three weeks ago, Sir instructed me to find as many denial sluts and other subs with interests in extreme teasing. I was given the liberty to use any means necessary to create a guest list of twenty women who were available on my one year anniversary of becoming denied. He wanted to throw a party for me, so he claimed.
I knew better than to whine at Sir, or he might require more potential tormenters for the list. This rare self-restraint wouldn't stop him from expanding the list arbitrarily for shits and giggles though, but why increase that likelihood, right?
I set to my task immediately. I posted on forums, blogs, social networks, even antiquated chat clients that hardly get used by anyone other than programmers and pervs. I begged for sluts who had a vendetta to settle to take it out me instead of their deserving aggressors. I victimized myself to please Sir. By the end of about ten days, I had compiled the requested list, sealing my agonizing fate.
Sir prepared his fucktoy for her celebration by tightening the reigns the week leading up to the party. I was put on complete no touch. I wasn't even permitted privacy for personal hygiene in case wandering fingers lingered ever a second too long. Of course, this served the purpose of humiliating me too, which only made me want to touch even more. Pussy, clit, ass, and tits were all off limits. He wanted me at the pinnacle of my sensitivity by the time the party arrived.
Now, he of course did not change his pleasure routine. My mouth was still fully used to bring him to an explosive orgasm at least twice a day. He made sure to help me appreciate the privilege that oxygen is, and I couldn't make him believe I recognized his generosity. He brought me to the brink of losing consciousness and slapped me back to alertness when he allowed me air. My panic was much more convincing to him this time.
Flash forward to the party. All but one of the women arrived, but two felt compelled to bring friends along, and Sir did not mind one bit, especially since the uninvited women were denial sluts as well. Sir had cleared the largest space in the house where the living room and the dining room meet with a huge archway. It almost feels like one large room. He set the chairs up in the rows of seven in the living room and set all of our supplies and toys in the dining room. The archway is where I was to be restrained.