Every part of John's mind and body cried out for release. Somehow, tonight, his frustration and arousal had risen far beyond what he'd experienced so far. He hadn't known it could get this bad. And yet there was still some part of him that felt as if he'd never known pleasure this intense before as well. Before he'd signed up for this "fitness program", he hadn't known that pleasure could be a form of torture. Or that he would revel in it. He felt a piece of himself vanish, a piece that fought to control the situation, control his sexual self. He whimpered softly, his ability to beg diminished greatly in his moment of surrender.
Somewhere in the midst of his thoughts, he felt Cindy's warm breath on his ear. "Are you still there, sweetie? I'd hate for you to miss the rest of this."
Coming back to the moment, John opened his eyes. He saw again the situation of his great pleasure and torment. His body naked, ringed in sweat. Wrists and ankles bound tightly against the bed. His dick, ridiculously hard and throbbing, pointing up in the air. And his wife, naked, beautiful, and the most powerful being in the universe.
Cindy turned away from his face as she saw his eyes regain a sense of his surroundings. "Good, I see you're back. We've so much more fun to have before we're done tonight. Have to make sure you're plenty motivated to meet all those goals. Are you really that desperate to cum, yet? I don't think so. I think after one... hell, let's make it two... dozen more edges you'll be primed and ready to go. Don't you think?" Her voice carried some amusement, but also contained the unmistakable husky sound of arousal.
John choked out a sob, unsure if he could handle 24 more edges on his frustrated, throbbing cock. He was also unsure if he would truly choose not to endure it if he had the option. He had become addicted to the edges, to these moments, to basking in the glow of his wife's control.
Cindy resumed her place straddling his stomach, her hands wrapped softly around his swollen dick. They moved slowly... so slowly... as if they were in a slow-motion recap. A part of John marveled at his wife's skill, so impressively built up over the last six months. She seemed to know just what would drive him crazy... and just what would get him to the edge without crossing it. She also was ridiculously good at keeping him on the edge of cumming, sometimes for minutes on end. They hadn't had any "accidents" in months, her ability to read his body had become like clockwork. He thought wistfully back to when accidents were possible, when he might get a bit of relief even when she didn't choose to give it to him.
As she once again got him to the brink of orgasm, only to pull away, he felt the frustration renew. "Please babe... please let me cum. I'll complete the goals... I just need to cum so bad," he begged her, desperation evident in his eyes as she looked back.
"You asked for this, don't you remember? You asked to sign up for this program. You practically begged me," she said, as her hands resumed their sweet torments. Then she laughed a little, "Of course, you had no idea what begging was really like then, did you?"
John's eyes rolled back in his head as his body tensed to her teasing touches. He thought back to how he had indeed asked for this.
I was so naïve...
he thought, though not with much regret.
It was nearly six months ago. John sat down in front of a large, polished oak desk. It seemed unusually rich and fancy for the office of a fitness instructor. It was not his first thought in that regard since he arrived. It was obvious that whatever else her business might be, it was lucrative. There were no cheesy motivational posters on her walls, no ribbons from races, no discarded sports equipment. None of the things that John might have expected to see. Instead, tasteful antique furniture, oil paintings, and expensive-looking decorations adorned both the office and the rest of the house that he'd seen on his way in.
He sat anxiously, waiting for the instructor to come in. Something about the office felt... imposing. Finally, the door opened, and in walked the instructor. She looked to be around 5' 7". She definitely put the 'fit' in 'fitness instructor'. She wore tiny spandex workout shorts and a sports bra, both appearing too small for her, and making clear her impressive curves. Her brown hair seemed to cascade luxuriously down her bare shoulders. Her lips were shaded with bright red lipstick, and the rest of her face seemed flawlessly made up. John found himself involuntarily staring... she was easily one of the most gorgeous women he'd ever seen in his life.
She walked up to John, who stood to greet her. She offered her hand, which John quickly took. He noticed her toned arms and soft hands, her fingers lingering slightly before pulling slowly away. "Mr. Dilmar, yes? I am Sophia Kent. Nice to make your... acquaintance." John wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but she said this in a way that almost sounded suggestive.
While she turned and walked behind her desk, John's eyes were glued to her shapely ass. John cleared his throat and tried not to stare, "Uh, yes, you c-can call me John." John found that his throat seemed exceptionally dry, and he had some trouble getting his words out. His dick was stirring, and he hoped it wouldn't be obvious.
She smiled knowingly at him. "Very well, John. You can call me Sophia. For now, anyway."
For now? What does that mean?
John wondered.
"I like to know how word of my services get around, so if you don't mind, John, could you tell me how you learned of me and what motivated you to come in today?" she asked, her voice silky and feminine.
John thought for a moment of how much information to provide, as Sophia took a seat behind the desk.
He'd discovered Sophia through his friend Matt, who had recently seemed to make leaps and bounds in his fitness. Matt always been a little large and a lot lazy, so John was very impressed in his sudden change. John had been wanting to work on himself for some time, having attempted several failed workout regimens and diets on his own. So, he asked his friend for workout advice.
To his surprise, Matt's face reddened at John's question. He seemed uncomfortable as he said he'd found a trainer who had really turned his life around. He gave John her business card, and after perusing her vague website, he'd decided to call and make an appointment.
"Uh, well, I've been wanting to improve my fitness for some time... but I've never had much luck with it on my own. And do you know Matt Hargrave? He's a friend of mine and recommended you," John spoke too quickly, betraying his nervousness.
"Ah, yes. I'm intimately familiar with Matt," she told him, making him wonder what exactly 'intimately' meant. "And I don't think you're being entirely forthright with me, John. I asked what motivated you. Fitness is a journey, not a destination. I'm sure that your desire for fitness has reasons, yes? What do you actually want? What really motivates you?"
John hadn't expected a philosophical discussion with a fitness trainer, or to have the depths of his personal desires plumbed. He wasn't sure what to tell her. She noticed his hesitation. "You can be completely honest with me, John. Anything you say here is confidential. I'm not here to judge you."
What the hell, it's confidential,
he decided. "Well... I don't always have the greatest confidence... and I think it's in large part due to my body image. I'm not fat, but I'm no prime specimen either. And...", he blushed a little, "my sex life with my wife could be... better. I think if I was in better shape, she'd probably be more... interested."
Sophia gave him a big smile. It somehow spoke of acceptance and appreciation for his honesty. It, along with her tone, somehow made him feel more at ease. "Yes! Yes, that's better. Now we're getting to the root of the problem. What you're describing, John, is extremely common. Most people want to be more fit, though of course not everyone gives it the same level of importance. But we all want to be fit
