How Long Can I Hold On?

The room hums with anticipation. Mine. Yours.

I don't know where you are. I don't know what you have planned. I don't know how long you'll keep me like this, hands tied above my head in a silk restraint as I strain onto my toes to keep my weight from completely hanging from my wrists.

I know you love a surprise. I know you love to see me squirm. I know you love to watch as I try to make sense of the bindings and sensations, guessing at what your devious mind has planned for me and whimpering as the seconds stretch on.

Can you see the tremble of my thighs, the strain of my calves, the heave of my chest, the point of my nipples, the grip I hold on the restraints?

Has my suffering been to your amusement? Or did you leave? Has my squirming and straining and quivering and whimpering fallen upon deafened ears?

The idea of being alone has my heart hammering. I look left and right, as if the blindfold will give way to your smirking face and hungry eyes.

I hear the squeak of the floorboards, much to my surprise. You know which ones squeak and which are silent. You know how to hide your approach so the first touch sends me reeling. You know how to make the anticipation as sweet as the act.

Knowing your eyes are on me, I squirm more. I can feel your gaze running up and down my body, taking in the tips of my toes to the dishevelment of my hair beneath the blindfold.

Have you dimmed the lights? Or am I on full display to you?

I can't help the whimper bursting from my lips as the hum of anticipation becomes tangible. Still not close enough, as if you're seated by the door with the wand bouncing in your hand. I opened my mouth to ask for it when the buzzing shuts off and I'm once again in a void of all sensation other than the tug on my wrists, strain of my calves, and quiver of my thighs.

Another floor board creaks.

The callus of your thumb scrapes against my bottom lip. Your chest rumbles with amusement as your thumb slips past my parted lips and my tongue snakes out to greet you. I feel your fingers on my jaw as you tilt my head up towards you, thumb pressing further back until I'm nearly gagging on it.

"Are you going to be a good slut for me, Princess?" The deep baritone of your voice rumbled my core.

Eagerly, forcing your thumb further against my tongue, I nod.

"Have you been a good girl?"

Again, I nod. I swipe my tongue against your thumb. A promise of what I'll do later, if you let me. As you retract your thumb, I close my lips around the knuckle to try to keep you near.

"Now now," you scold, "all in good time."

Your thumb disappears from my mouth, your grip from my jaw, the feeling of your body mere inches from me.

"Have you been a good girl?" you continue, your words coming from my left.

"Yes sir."

"Do you think you should be rewarded for being a good girl?" Your voice comes from my right.

"Yes sir."

I jolt as something presses to my lips. Not your thumb again, though I'd gladly suck that back into my mouth.

My stomach tightens as you drag the wand across my lips.

"Kiss it," you whisper. I let it cross over my lips once more before kissing it, blessing you with the consent to make me scream. Still pressed against my lips, the wand begins to vibrate. My favorite setting of constant vibration, turned up to the max.

You trail the wand down my body, across each hardened peak of quivering breast, over my belly button, and to the apex of my thighs when it stays for no more than a second before completely leaving my body.

"Please," I whimper.

The loud smack of an open hand across my ass thunders with the stinging pain. I hardly hold back the scream you no doubt wanted to hear burst out. Your hand remains where it reddened the skin, softly tracing circles over the stinging skin.

"Did I give you permission to speak?"

I purse my lips.

"That question requires an answer." I know from the smirk in your voice what is coming next. But I don't brace, I don't clench, I don't take a breath in to prepare myself for the second smack across my ass.

I also don't bite back the scream as your hand makes contact. I don't still the quiver of my spine as you make lazy circles against my skin. I let you watch the reaction of my body clear as day.

"No sir," I manage, "you did not give me permission to speak."

"When do you speak?"

"When you give me permission, sir."

"Good girl."

I try to keep the smile off my mouth as you trace a finger over my bottom lip. You bring the wand so close to your clit, a breath away. I can feel it buzzing in the air above me as the feather light touch of your thumb grazing back across my jaw.

"Beg for it."

"Please sir." It's half hearted, a taunt. You know it.

Another smack, harder. The nerves alight across my ass and up my spine. For a moment, my grip on the silky restraints slips and I sway backwards, against you. The simplest touch of your finger to push back against the movement has me puckering.

Your hand, so close as it slides down my hip to the curve of my ass, then back up, resting just below your favorite hole. So close you skim it as you pull your hand from me, the shivers chilling my nerves leaving with it.

"What do you want, slut?" The word does things to me not even your hand could do.

"To cum, sir."

"You'll need to be more specific about your desires, whore. What does my sex obsessed, dirty slut want?"

You could bring bring me to my orgasm, writhing and screaming, with just your words, and you know it. You know what to call me, how to say it, what to invoke to build me to my peak and shove me off of it.

I'm trying to keep my knees from trembling and moans suppressed as I say as clearly as I can, "I want that wand on my clit and clamps on my nipples, sir."

"And your ass?"

"Plugged, sir."

The pressure of the plug has me gasping, my orgasm on the horizon, like an ocean swell waiting to flood the beaches. I gasp through it, then moan as I pucker around it, adjusting my hips slightly. Your hand on my hip stills me.

Your mouth brushes my ear as the hard contours of your body brush against my backside. A particular hard part of your body pokes at my butt cheek through your jeans. Rough, the material scratches against my sensitive cheek.

"What do you say, slut?"

I swallow the shiver threatening to buckle my knees, still wobbling from the strain of my suspension. "Thank you sir for plugging my ass."

I moan as your warm breath kisses the sensitive curve of my shoulder. "Now about those other two things."

The buzzing returns. You hold it in front of me, your bicep brushing against my side as I attempt to nudge my hips towards it.

If I could turn right, maybe I could force that buzzing toy between my legs where my desire for you pools. I can feel it starting to spread across my thighs as I hold them open.

"Beg."

"Please sir, please put it against my clit. Please sir."

I jolt back into your body, unwavering, as the toy kisses my clit. A shriek stills on my tongue, replaced by a moan, as the toy presses harder against my clit. I would've buckled over, unable to hold myself upright as the vibrations spread through every inch of me, from the tips of my strained toes to the goosebumps rising on my arms still supporting the majority of my weight.

Your other arm slides from my lower back around the curve of my hip, and for a moment, I think you're going to wrap it around me to alleviate some strain from my calves.

But you don't.

The trace of your fingers is a feather touch as it snakes from my naval up to my breast, cupping it softly as the hum of the vibrator mixes with my moans and whimpers.

I yelp as your fingers pinch my nipple, hard.

The heated mess between my legs increases, some of it sliding down my thighs. The wand is no doubt coated in my desire as you rub it slightly back and forth.

With your breath in my ear, the wand pressed against my clit, and your fingers pinching and tugging at my nipple, I don't know how much longer I can hold myself up. How long until my legs shake too much to support my weight and it falls upon my strained arms already shaking? How long until I cascade in a wave of screams, begging, trembling, bucking?

I near that peak, that holy peak you've pushed me to. Inch by inch as your fingers tug harder at my nipples and the toy presses harder against me. My core tightened, buzzing at the same frequency as the toy you hold against me with an iron grip.

Panting, I throw my head back against your shoulder.

"Are you close?" Your voice, so still, as if you don't hold a raging hurricane in your arms, egging it on towards complete destruction. But you don't need my answer, you can tell from the buck of my hips, the whimpers escaping my lips, the quiver of my legs, the desire now rolling down my thighs.

The toy slips against me.

"Yes sir."

"Well?" Your teeth graze the shell of my ear, nearly undoing the tightened knot in my gut begging for release. And I don't know how long I can hold it taught.

"Please sir, can I cum?"

I feel your smirk against my neck. "I don't think you want it."

"Please sir, I really want to cum. Please can I cum?"

Your hum of consideration does nothing for the near explosion between my legs. I'm so close, braced like a surfer awaiting a perfect swell. I can see it, feel it, right on the horizon. So close I'm lost within it as your fingers on my nipple provide the pinch of pain to anchor me in the swelling pleasure.

The toy presses harder. I bite back my scream as the buzzing of my core erupts past my control and my legs buckle beneath me. My arms, shaking like my legs, grasp onto anything to hold the weight of my body.

My backside screams in chills as your body leaves mine, the toy and your wonderful fingers gone from where they tortured me.

"I couldn't-" my voice breaks as realization sets in, but the waves of my orgasm continue to wreck my body. I'm a shivering, blubbering mess as the swell recedes and my swaying body comes to a chilling halt.

Your voice is rough as mine dies. "Did you cum without permission?"

"Yes sir."

I hope I mirror your smirk as the first crack of a cane explodes pain through my ass. I'm in for a long night.

(To be continued)