Denied

I walk slowly down the corridor, my hands trembling as I straighten my skirt and check my hair one last time. I want everything to be perfect. I need to please him. I check the room numbers, my pulse increasing in sync with the numbers. When I finally reach his room, I can barely breathe. My excitement is palpable. My need is visceral. My hunger takes over as I raise my hand to knock.

The door opens and my breath catches in my throat. He says nothing as he opens the door wider and steps back to allow me to enter. I step past him, catching the scent of his cologne and breathing it in deeply. I walk to the small desk, put down my purse and begin to remove my coat. I feel his hands replace mine as he slips the garment from my shoulders. I shiver as the cool air touches by bare arms. I start to thank him, but quickly stop the words as I remember his instruction not to speak. I simply nod my head and smile at him as I turn to face him.

His fingers slide down my bare arms, slowly, deliberately. I tremble at his touch. I look up to find him gazing at me, his intense eyes studying me. I clasp my hands in front of me and fidget nervously. He gently takes my wrists and moves my hands to my sides. His stare penetrates me and I can't seem to look away. I am tempted to lean back against the desk for balance. My legs seem too weak to hold my weight. I lock my knees, determined not to falter as his gaze begins to slowly slide downward. I press my fingertips against my legs, bearing down to stop my hands from shaking.

His eyes move slowly over me and I feel completely exposed. The thought makes my breath stutter. I feel my sex becoming moist, my nipples beginning to plump. His gaze seems to caress my flesh as it passes over me. His inspection seems to last forever. My mind races, my body begins to react, and I fight the compulsion to move. I close my eyes and try to control my breathing in an attempt to relax. When I open them a moment later, he is staring at me and smiling. He knows the effect he is having on me and is enjoying it.

His hands grasp my waist and he pulls me closer to him. I nearly stumble as my legs fail me. I feel lightheaded and dizzy, my nerves wreaking havoc on my body. I take in a deep breath and try to steady myself. He smiles crookedly at me, relishing my plight. His fingers tighten on my waist as he steps back, pulling me with him. When we reach the far wall, he turns me, pressing my back against it. It is almost a relief when my weight falls against the solid surface. He slides his hands slowly upward until they reach my breasts. He squeezes them through the fabric of my dress. As instructed, I am not wearing a bra. The confirmation of this seems to please him. He runs his thumbs over my nipples, making them harder. The touch starts a tiny ripple of pleasure cascading over my flesh. I press my shoulders into the wall, arching my back and thrusting my breasts outward, asking for more. I am denied as his hands slide upward. He grasps my shoulders delicately and turns me. I face the wall, breaths quickening, eyes closing, and I wait.

His hand slides along my shoulder and up the nape of my neck. A shiver runs down my spine. His fingers slide into my hair and I am ready when they close on my locks and my head is pulled back. Ready or not, my reaction is intense. As his other hands slides around my body to my chest, I let my head follow as he tugs my hair back further yet. The feel of his hand sliding up my chest to my throat elicits a soft moan. His fingers tighten gently on my throat and I feel every bit of my strength begin to escape me. My senses become heightened. I feel his breath on my throat and I know that he is watching my face, gauging my reaction. I realize that I have been holding my breath when my lungs begin to clamor for air. I breathe in deeply and am relieved as my lungs are filled. His fingers tighten a bit more on my throat and another moan escapes as I exhale.

He holds me in this position for a few moments more. The moments seem to pass ever so slowly. My body trembles. My pulse races. My sex becomes wetter yet. I want something to happen, if only to break the tension that is building. When he finally releases me, I have to reach out my hands to catch myself. He places his hands on my wrists again and moves my hands higher up the wall until they are extended over my head. The movement brings his body closer to mine and I feel his chest against my back. I press back against him, enjoying the feel of his body against mine. As I press my hips back I am rewarded by the feel of his hardness against my buttocks. I feel his warm breath on the back of my neck as he leans in closer, softly grinding against me. I barely have a moment to enjoy the feel of him before he steps back again.

His foot nudges the inside of each of mine and I step, widening my stance. Another nudge and I step again. I feel his hands on my shoulders and I lean back into his touch. They begin to slide lower. The pace is maddening and I want to tell him to hurry, but I dare not. I scold myself silently for my impatience. His touch moves lower yet, his palms flat against me, his fingers squeezing me every so often. When he reaches my calves, he begins to slide his hands slowly upward again. By the time his hands meet the flesh at the top of my stockings, I am dripping with need. When his right hand reaches my sex, the subtle moan lets me know that he is pleased that again, his instruction has been obeyed. He cups my bare sex and I moan in response.

Without hesitation, his fingers slip deep inside me. The intrusion is so sudden after the torment of his slow inspection that I jerk in response. I quickly recover as his fingers begin to move in and out of me, and I press back against him. My knees bend as I try to allow him better access. I can already feel the wetness growing as he increases his speed. I cock my hips back and press my chest to the wall, wanting his fingers deeper yet. He chuckles softly and I realize what a perfect slut I must appear, desperate for more, offering myself up to him. I don't care. I left the lady at the door.

I feel my sex begin to clench, tightening on his fingers as they move in and out of me. I feel my thighs begin to shake, and I know that if he continues, I will surely release. I remind myself of his instruction not to cum until I am given permission. My abdomen begins to tighten, and I consider begging him to let me cum, but I have been forbidden to speak. The weight of my predicament hits home and I squeeze my eyes shut tightly as I try to hold back. The sound of his fingers wetly plunging into me, the feel of his knuckles pounding into my flesh, the feel of my body closing in on release, makes it that much harder to hold back.

The sudden feel of his hand on my throat makes me gasp. As his fingers tighten slightly I let out a desperate moan, knowing that if he does not stop, I will surely fail.

"Do not cum, Catherine."

His voice is harsh in my ear, his lips so close that I can feel the breath of each word. I feel my chest heave as I take in ragged breaths. I feel my thighs try to close in an attempt to stop him, but the movement only makes the sensation stronger. I fight back a sob, determined to fight back my need, but the battle is quickly lost. I feel the climax growing ever nearer and I know that it is beyond my control.

"Please. Stop."

The words emerge on sobs and sound pathetic to my own ears. Another sob escapes, and I suddenly realize that I am holding myself against the wall, my chest heaving, my breaths ragged, my knees threatening to buckle. I also realize that I am alone. My gaping sex clenches at air, desperate to be filled again. I ache with the need for release. My muscles are taut, waiting for the climax that had been promised.

I feel his hand in my hair again as my head is pulled back. My whimpering fills the room. I think about what he had told me about breaking the rules, and I begin to tremble. The thought of punishment excites me, but that excitement is tempered by the realization that I have failed to follow his instructions. My ego feels suddenly deflated and I feel the heat of shame burning my cheeks. I scold myself for not being able to control my need. The stronger my shame grows, the more tempered my excitement becomes. Where I would normally be aroused by the thought of being spanked, I suddenly feel only the shame of my failure.

I feel him release my hair. His hand moves to the nape of my neck and I feel a slight tug on the zipper of my dress. He lowers it slowly, the movement of the fabric on my flesh sending a shiver down my spine. As he slides the fabric over my shoulders, I lower my hands to my sides. The dress falls away and puddles at my feet. I step out of the dress one foot at a time and move my hands back to the wall. When he grasps my shoulders and turns me, I cannot bring myself to look up at him. He places a finger beneath my chin and lifts my head up until I am looking into his eyes. I see the hunger in them and I feel a sudden urge to step away. Instead, I lock my gaze on his and try to swallow what is left of my pride.

"You know what this means, don't you, Catherine?"

I couldn't speak even if I had permission to do so. I nod my head slowly, never taking my eyes from his. I take a deep breath to steady myself. If I am to be punished, I can at least take it with a modicum of dignity. He smiles at me, perhaps enjoying my failure more than he should. He takes my hand in his and leads me to the bed. When I am standing before it, he places his hand on my back and presses me forward until I am bent over at the hips. I widen my stance for support and rest my weight on my elbows. I close my eyes, feeling the humiliation of the promise of punishment that is to come. And then I recall his words and wonder if he will use only his hand, or if he feels the breach enough to warrant the use of his paddle. I begin to tremble at the thought of being punished so harshly.

My thoughts are interrupted by the feel of his hand landing firmly on my left cheek. The blow takes me by surprise and my breath is expelled in a sharp cry. The next blow lands on my right cheek. It is sharper, the landing sending a jolt of pain through my flesh. The next blow is sharper yet, but it is followed by a caress that immediately weakens the sting. The blows continue, each cheek in succession until my flesh is afire. His caressing helps, but the pain is sharp, and takes my breath. After the final strike, his hand slides over my flesh slowly and deliberately. I imagine that he can feel the heat against his palm. Sensing that my punishment has ended, I allow my body to relax. His caresses are soothing, and I start to enjoy his touch enough for my breaths to slow once again.

His caresses come closer and closer to my sex. I feel my need growing once again, and begin to raise my hips against his touch. The motion of his hand becomes rhythmic and I am lulled by the movements. When I feel something solid pressing against the opening of my sex, I am startled by the contradiction of the touch. The object is hard and cold as it is pressed into my sex. As he begins to plunge it in and out of me, my body responds. I am just beginning to match the rhythm of each intrusion when he pulls it all the way out, leaving me empty yet again. When I feel it pressed against my ass, realization hits and I immediately clench in response. I can't distinguish the sound that he makes, as it is somewhere between a chuckle and a moan.

His fingers spread my cheeks as the plug slides over the ring of muscles, wet with my own juices. My surprise over, I relax a bit. I raise my hips, letting him know that I am ready. The sharp pain that follows tells me just how big the plug is. He presses it in slowly, allowing me to adjust to the pressure. A final sharp pain and then the plug settles home. The ache begins to fade as his hand once again begins to caress me.

Once I begin to relax into the rhythm again, he begins to press against the end of the plug, pushing it into me each time his hand passes over it. The movements start to arouse me, and with each new intrusion, my hips begin to move against the pressure. His free hand moves between my legs and I feel his fingers nudging at the opening of my sex. I raise my hips higher, wanting him to fill me again. It is not long before I am pressing my hips back, meeting each thrust of his fingers. I begin to wonder if he will drive me to the brink again or if he will stop before my control is tested anew. I vow to try harder to control my need this time, but the feel of the plug in my ass makes it that much more difficult. As his fingers plunge deeper and faster, I wonder again if he will stop.