Frustration Pt 05

I woke up slumped on the floor, naked, my cock flaccid, the memory of that incredible orgasm still fresh in my mind. You were still there, lounging on a comfortable chair, legs crossed, one stiletto heel dangling, watching me with a mix of amusement and affection.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," you said.

I shook my head to clear it, and stood up slowly. My groin area felt...drained. That's the only word to describe it. It felt like a deflated balloon. But it was glorious, after weeks of denial and chastity.

"What the fuck happened?" I asked, and seeing your sharp glance, quickly added "mistress."

"Baby, you came like a fucking firehose. It was amazing. In fact, it got me so turned on I had to get my little vibrator in on the action." You showed me a small silver dildo. "Come over here."

I obeyed, my cock hanging limply between my legs.

"Kneel," you ordered. I did, and you extended the dildo to my mouth. "Suck it clean."

"Yes, mistress," I said, and took the slim metal shaft into my mouth. It tasted like your pussy, something I was familiar with from having been teased with it several times. I sucked and slurped greedily, licking the entire length.

"Good boy," you said, apparently satisfied. "Did you enjoy the gloryhole, sweetie?" You locked your eyes with mine, and I stared into your eyes, those deep, dark, slightly uptilted eyes that could hypnotize me in seconds.

I nodded eagerly. "Yes, mistress, very much. It was absolutely incredible. I've never felt anything like it before."

"I told you my friend is very skilled at oral sex," you said. "Was I wrong?" You caressed my upturned face gently with your fingernails.

"No, mistress, no, you were right," I answered. "She was incredibly good."

At this you gave me a small, cryptic smile, and took my chin in one hand and drew my face very close to yours. I could smell your perfume, the same musk that you had worn that night in your dressing room, and it made my head swim a little like it had then. You brought your lips against mine, and before I could even think you had me locked in a deep and passionate kiss. Your lips parted and your tongue coiled into my mouth, probing deeply, delicately tasting me. I returned the favor, and you did not object.

We stayed this way for a while, I don't know how long, before you abruptly broke the kiss, leaving me kneeling on the floor with my mouth half open and my eyes closed. I felt like an idiot, and my face turned red.

"Now get dressed," you ordered. "Zip up that limp dick so I don't have to see it anymore."

My embarrassment deepened, enhanced by the contrast between the kiss and your sudden bitchiness. It left me confused and aroused at the same time.

My clothes were still piled on the floor where I'd left them, and I quickly pulled them on. As I did, I noticed my cock was not quite so limp. I wouldn't have thought it was possible after that monster orgasm, but I was actually getting the beginnings of a hard-on.

Of course you noticed this.

"Looks like somebody else is waking up," you said, switching back into sweet mode. "Good, that means you'll be ready for later."

Later? I thought, but didn't say. The last few weeks had been sheer torment, humiliation, and degradation, and part of me had loved it, had wallowed in it. But now that I had finally been granted the sexual release I had needed so badly, I wasn't sure I wanted to start the game all over again.

You seemed to read my mind as you stood by the door, watching me get dressed.

"You have a decision to make, baby," you said. "Is this it, or are we going to go further?"

I wasn't sure how to respond.

You smiled and moved close to me, resting your hand on my crotch and squeezing gently. I drew in my breath sharply. Fuck, but your hands always knew what to do to me.

"It's OK, you don't have to decide now," you whispered in my ear. "I'll give you until noon tomorrow."

You stood up, hand on hips, looking me up and down.

"If you want to see more of me after tonight, text me and say 'I'm a denial-addicted little man-bitch who can't get enough of his cruel, teasing mistress.' Got it, baby? Anything else, and I'll ignore it and you will never, ever, ever see me again." You blew me a pouty little kiss.

With that you turned, unlocked the door, and were gone.

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Of course, I wanted more. I fucking needed more.

It wasn't even a decision, really, at least not one I made then. It had been made weeks before, in your dressing room, on the night of that first glorious teasing session. It seemed tame now, in comparison to what you'd put me through since, but I'd come to think of it as some kind of kinky honeymoon, a sweet little memory that set the stage for bigger things to come.

I texted you the next morning, and my message was exactly what you had told me it should be. I'm a denial-addicted little man-bitch who can't get enough of his cruel, teasing mistress."

After I pressed SEND, I reread the message, and realized every word of it was fucking true. Every single word. I loved being teased and denied by you, I craved it, I thought about it constantly. I could no longer imagine life without it, and without you. You had somehow known about a need I had, one I hadn't even known about myself: the need to have my sexuality controlled completely by an aggressive, intelligent, and sensual woman. You had filled that need and I had come to depend on you, and what you did to me, like you were air and water. I was lost in you.

These thoughts occupied me while I waited to hear back from you. An hour passed, then two, then three. I worried that I had gotten the message wrong, that I had misremembered what you had instructed me to say. Should have written it down, I thought. Fuck. I knew you meant it when you said I needed to get the message right or I would never hear from you again. As the hours passed that day, it began to seem like that's exactly what was happening. I had fucked it up, and even now you were out with your sexy, stylish friends, having a good time, already forgetting I even existed. I felt a mixture of despair and anger that left me helpless. I fell asleep that night on the small couch in my apartment, watching porn on cable and thinking about you.

I was awakened by the little ping of my phone telling me a text had come in. It was late morning, and I was three hours late for work. I didn't give a fuck, because the text was from you.

"Good boy," it said. "Hope you didn't mind waiting to hear back, baby. I had some other things to do before I had time to think about you. But your message was so sweet! You got it exactly right."

As I read this, I could almost hear you speaking the words in your faux-sweet voice, the one I'd heard so many times before. My relief at getting your message washed away the feelings from the night before.

A minute later another text from you arrived. "10:00 tonite. My place. Make sure your cock is nice and hard when you get here."

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I got there right at 10, with a rock-hard dick, as instructed. It wasn't difficult. The thought of seeing you, of being teased and tormented by you again, gave me a massive erection that lasted most of the day. By the time I knocked on your door it had begun to ache badly, along with my swollen balls.

You opened the door and brought me inside without a word. You had a stern look that made my heart beat a little faster – what did you have in store for me? Without a word you took my hand and led me quickly upstairs and into your bedroom. It was dim in there, lit only by a few scented candles. The sight of the room where previous teasing sessions had taken place made my cock throb even harder with anticipation. A light sweat broke out on my forehead.

Then I noticed a new item, one that had definitely not been there last time I'd visited: a large black padded X-cross, attached to a wide base and placed in the middle of the room. A fifth, smaller arm extended from the "V" of the cross upward, for the victim's head. The arms of the cross were studded with straps, probably two dozen in all, including one for the head. I swallowed hard, knowing full well that I would be on that cross soon enough.

"Strip."

This was the first word you'd spoken to me, and I obeyed instantly. In a moment I stood fully naked in the doorway to the bedroom, erection twitching gently, a small drop of precum already forming at the tip of my cock.

You smiled now, a warm and radiant smile that changed your entire demeanor instantly. My head swam a little, and I trembled slightly as you walked slowly up to me and stood just a few inches in front of my cockhead. You wore a sexy business-casual miniskirt and tight blouse, your hair in waves that tumbled down your back and your lips lightly glossed a pale red. You looked into my eyes, and as your gaze pulled me in, I felt a light, feathery caress on my shaft. Your fingernails gently tickled my entire length, from root to tip, slowly swabbing my precum around my sensitive glans. Your thumbnail found my frenulum and massaged it, making me moan softly with pleasure.

Without stopping the cock massage, you began to speak to me in a soft, sweet voice.

"Oh, baby, we've had such fun together," you said. "So much teasing, so much denial, so much sweet torment."

I nodded, completely unable to speak, the feel of your expert fingers softly working my penis occupying every conscious thought.

"I've got a very special surprise planned for you tonight," you continued, still gazing into my eyes, still smiling, and still massaging. "Mmmmmmm. Want to know what it is?"

"Yes, mistress," I whispered huskily. I was sure it had to do with the bondage cross...but I was wrong.

"Tonight, I'm going to let one of my friends...borrow you," you said with a low giggle. "I'm going to loan you out, baby."

Your fingers gave my cockhead a little squeeze, and I felt your other hand slip around my balls and begin kneading them. "What do you think of that idea?"

I could tell from your expression that you weren't joking about this, not that you had ever joked about anything you said you were going to do to me.

"I don't know, mistress," I murmured, and I wasn't lying. The pleasure you were giving my cock and balls was making it damned hard to think about much of anything.

"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway," you said. "You don't really have a choice." You paused, thinking. "Well, you do have a choice, but if you say no, I think you know what the consequences will be." You squeezed my balls briefly, making me wince.

"Yes, mistress," I said.

"What will happen if you say no to being loaned out?" you asked sweetly. "Tell me."

"I will never see or hear from you again, ma'am. You will forget all about me."

You nodded, pleased. "Exactly right. And for getting it right, you get a little treat."

You knelt in front of me, your beautiful mouth only inches from my purple cockhead.

"Do you want a treat?" you asked, looking up at me.

"Oh, God, yes, mistress," I whispered. You hadn't stopped the cock and ball massage. "So bad."

"Beg for it."

"Please, please, mistress," I said, hearing a whining tone in my voice and being unable to stop it. "Oh, God, please give me a treat. I really need it, ma'am."

You gently stroked one fingernail around the base of my cockhead. I nearly screamed with frustration. "Tell me what you are."

The words flooded from my mouth. "I'm a little man-whore, mistress. I'm a pathetic slave who needs to be teased and denied, ma'am. You own me, you own my cock and my balls and my orgasms." I was breathing fast and hard, wanting so badly to thrust my hips forward and try to fuck your hand. I knew if I tried that, though, you would just leave me humping thin air.

"That's right," you replied. You seemed satisfied, and I hardly dared to hope. You had taunted me so many times with promises of blowjobs and titfucks and handjobs that I didn't really think this time would be any different.

Then...oh fuck, then you leaned forward, lips parted, tongue extended, and very softly and slowly licked around my dripping cockhead. I moaned with delirious pleasure, and my knees almost buckled.

You kept licking, very slowly, around and around the head, over the top, licking up precum, swirling your tongue across my hypersensitive frenulum. You kept this up for several long minutes, prolonging the sweet torment, and I realized at one point that I was speaking, begging incoherently for sexual release, to be allowed the privilege of cumming in your mouth. The tingling pleasure you were sending down the length of my shaft and into my balls was exquisite but agonizingly unsatisfying. A deep ache began to spread in the root of my cock.

Suddenly, with no warning, you sucked the entire length of my dick into your mouth, all the way down to my balls. The swollen head touched the back of your throat. I cried out with surprise as I felt your lips lock tightly around the base of the shaft. The tip of your nose was pressed against my lower abdomen. You purred and hummed, making delicious vibrations. It felt fucking incredible, being buried deep in the warm wetness, your tongue massaging the shaft, your lips sucking at me. The ache changed to a more urgent pressure, the pressure of cum building in my balls and beginning to push up my cock. My eyes were squeezed shut, and I was sweating and panting like a marathoner. My body was rigid. It wasn't quite enough; I needed movement, friction, sliding, before I could reach the orgasm I craved so badly.

But you would not move. You remained still, my cock deep in your throat, buried there like a stake driven into the ground, refusing me the last push I needed. I cried out in frustration.

"Fuck, mistress, please!!" I begged. "Please make me cum!"

Then, involuntarily, out of sheer frustration, I started trying to fuck your throat, my hips thrusting forward. My eyes still closed, I suddenly felt my cock bobbing in the cool air. Your mouth was gone.

"Mmmmm," you purred, standing up. "No cumming. Not yet."

Something between a scream and a moan escaped my lips. Then my knees gave way and I collapsed to the floor. Tears of anguish leaked from my eyes. I couldn't help it.

You stood over me, smiling, enjoying my torture. All I could see of you from the floor were your black high heels and your sheer stockings.

"Get up," you said, becoming bitchy. "Get up off the fucking floor and come over here."

You walked across the room to the cross.

"Stand up against this."

Somehow I found my feet and moved over to you. As you had ordered, I stood with my bare back and ass pressed against the soft black leather of the bondage cross, legs spread, arms up. You fastened each strap up and down the arms of the cross, so I was spread-eagled and naked, my huge erection on full display, pulsing and twitching. You went behind me and pulled my head back firmly against the small vertical arm, and fastened the strap tightly around my forehead. My arms, legs, and head were completely immobilized; I had never felt so totally helpless and vulnerable. It was deeply erotic, and I felt the pressure in my balls swell a little more.

Standing in front of me, you couldn't resist giving my cock a little more teasing with one hand. Scratching it lightly with your nails, stroking it with a feathery touch, caressing it with your open palm – you knew by now exactly how and where to touch me to produce the most torment. I frantically tried to hump your hand, but the straps held me tight.

After just a few moments of this you stopped, and retrieved something out of a dresser against one wall. My eyes widened when I saw what it was – a huge dildo gag, made of two black rubber cocks, one long and the other short and thick with a large head. Without a word, you forced my mouth open and inserted the short side, pushing it all the way in. I felt its veiny barrel-shaped shaft filling the inside of my mouth completely, the bulbous head nearly to the back of my throat. It forced me to keep my mouth open wide. You cinched it firmly into place.

The long end jutted out from my face humiliatingly, and I flushed with embarrassment as you watched my obvious discomfort. Saliva began to leak out around the gag, and I started drooling helplessly. You laughed at this, heightening my embarrassment and jacking up my arousal even more. I moaned around the thick cock gag as I felt the aching pleasure in my groin grow even stronger.

Then, in the final torment, you came up close to my face and slid your lips slowly and sensually around the head of the dildo. You began to give it a blowjob, a real blowjob, the thing you had denied me earlier. I could only watch with mounting frustration as you slid your mouth up and down the ridged length of the huge black rubber dick, eyes closed as if lost in pleasure, little purring sounds coming from your throat. You slid all the way to the end, so only the head was still between your lips, and began to suck on that, deliberately making slurping suction noises. A low whine came from my throat.

This went on for several minutes, and by the time you were done teasing me my entire cock was slippery with oozing precum. I could even feel it trickling down my balls. Then you pulled away with a cruel little giggle at my obvious suffering and pleading eyes.

"Just one more thing," you said, and walked around behind me. A moment later you pulled a band of very dark, thick fabric over my eyes and tied it tightly around the back. I was in complete darkness, which heightened my other senses. Your footsteps seemed louder, the scent of the candles more sensual, the slight movements of air against my tormented penis more agonizing.

You caressed my cock gently with one finger. "I have to go out for a while, babe," you said, and kissed my cheek. Then, you were gone.