Shutting Me Up

Nothing's biting, nothing's hurting, so that's all good.

"You know, I wish I could say that this was the first time a date had ended up like this." You look up from your bag and raise your eyebrows.

"You've been tied to a chair before after a date? Really?"

"Oh yeah, really," I glance down at myself, "I wasn't naked that time though. And it was kind of a joke. Wasn't a second date either." You find what you were looking for, and drop something on the table, then step towards me.

"First date?"

"I never let myself be tied naked to a chair on a first date," I come back, "Just... a personal rule of mine."

"Well, this is gonna be fun, y'know. And I think you have a hard time taking anything seriously, so it'll probably be a joke to you anyway."

"I'm taking it pretty seriously right now." I look down again at my dark bush of pubic hair and my flaccid little cock slouching down between my thighs. Aesthetically, I think we can all agree that there is almost nothing to commend about limp dicks. When they're rampant and raging with blood - I can understand the attraction. But when they're all shy and shaking with stage fright... not so much.

This is me saying that I'm pretty bloody embarrassed to be handcuffed naked to a chair in front of you with a soft cock by the way. You, on the other hand, cute as fuck in that semi-cowgirl get-up, have nothing to be embarrassed about. I mean, possibly you had a few too many buttons of your plaid shirt undone while we were out at that Mexican place earlier - the waiter certainly noticed, peering down at the alluring view you were presenting him with. But that's probably necessary, since you seem to be wearing a very small men's shirt that is clearly not designed to contain what you're... uh, packing. Your tits I mean. You probably don't have a choice to be exposing so much of your... gorgeous... anyway.

The jeans are a nice touch too, in that they're just... unfeasibly tight. Seriously, I'm sitting here trying to admire the mouth-watering curve of your ass and all I can think about is how the fuck you got into those things. And the way they follow your cheeks, curving in a little and clearly stretching over that little crack... Oh wow.

Well, shit! And I'm still not getting hard! This is a little embarrassing here. I'm sure you're expecting some kind of 'reaction'. Certainly by past form I'm pretty sure I should be responding. Situations like this are generally like catnip to me, and it's not like your apartment is cold. Maybe it's that astonishing attitude of yours, playful and attentive, but simultaneously utterly unimpressed by anything that's going on around you. Trying to please you looks like a pretty tricky proposition.

Oh, and if you're trying to intrigue me by coming off all cynical and aloof... then I have to say your plan is succeeding magnificently. You seem to have cowed my libido a little though.

"I bet you have a copy of that "Why Men Love Bitches" book don't you?" I joke, lamely, but you just ignore me and head to the kitchen. "Well, feeling a little self-conscious right now," I blurt, trying to make my voice light and carefree. Fat chance of that.

"Well, you're naked, cuffed to a chair and at my mercy," your deadpan voice comes out of the kitchen at me. "I think self-conscious is a pretty mild response."

"Thanks for that," I retort, allowing myself the same dry intonation.

"I think," you appear in the kitchen archway sipping from what looks to be a cup of coffee, "that you talk too much to be a good sub."

"Is that coffee?"

"Yes it is." Your face is utterly impassive as you answer.

"Can I have some? Just a sip?" I can't help the eagerness in my voice. You wait a long time before answering.

"No."

"Oh right, I'm the sub here, right?"

"Well, I thought you were," you raise your eyebrows again as you come towards me. God but you're pretty. "But possibly you're just some naked boy who talks too much."

"Boy? I'm all man, lady!"

"Aw," you touch my cheek and pout affectionately, "that's adorable." I manage to bite my tongue for once instead of answering back. "So," you step back, "what's going on down there then?" I feel completely exposed as you squat down to examine me, still fully fucking clothed and sipping your coffee so very casually. "Is this... restraint? Will power? Because I saw the problem you were having when we got up from the booth after dinner."

"Well..." I start, but you cut me off.

"You know - the massive erection you had." You look up from my still damnably uncooperative cock, and fix me with a divinely condescending smirk.

"I know about the..."

"The one that was... kinda trying to force its way out of the front of your jeans. It was cool how you just acted as if it wasn't there."

"Well y'know, acting like I'm trying to hide something generally makes it more obvious that..."

"Didn't work though, did it?" God, you won't let me finish a sentence! "I noticed, and so did the girl at the register. She gave me a little thumbs up as we left."

"I..." wait, a thumbs up? "Really?" One look at your wicked smile and I know that you're just teasing. I imagine there will be a lot of teasing.

"Look at you, all happy about girls checking out your 'package'. Of course not. She did notice though, and she did make a little face to me."

"What did you..."

"I rolled my eyes and let you drag me out to the car. Anyway, back to your willpower in not allowing yourself to get hard now."

"It's not really will..."

"Shhhh," you press a finger to my lips, it's smells gloriously, maddeningly of rich coffee beans... maybe you'll let me just... suck your finger to get a little of the taste? Oh, and leaning forward so that the aroma of that... what is it dark roast? Oh wow, it smells vicious! "I'm going to test your willpower..."

I think there are four pairs of cuffs. The first pair secured my hands behind my back (and behind the chair back) after I had, bashfully, got naked. There I was, sat on this... strangely sturdy large wooden chair that you have in your lounge, and next you snapped those metal bracelets around my ankles and the chair legs. The cool wood on my bare ass - that was something that really reinforced my position here. And then finally the first pair of cuffs was cuffed to... well I can't see, it's behind me, but I'm guessing you attached the final link to the bar that goes between the rear legs. So my arms stretched back, my legs not going anywhere, and my shy little penis seemingly daunted by everything.

"Test...?" I frown weakly, "What do you mean?"

"Well," you stand up, placing that longed-for coffee carefully on the table behind you, "I'm going to do some things, and if you can keep yourself from getting hard with that iron will of yours, then you'll be rewarded. If you can't control yourself though, and that big, fat, thing comes back again..." I hold my breath, "then probably I'll have to punish you." You shrug and make a face as if those are the rules and you have no choice but to follow them.

"You'll 'probably' have to punish me? You're not that tough a dom are you?" I risk teasing you a little, but you just shrug.

"Well you're a fucking awful sub, so we must be perfect for each other."

I smile, but inside someone's stepping on the accelerator in my chest. Now that I've been told to stay soft I'm pretty sure that I'll have a storming boner in minutes. I hold my breath and feel for my heartbeat - not that I need to, my pulse is pounding in my ears now. I can feel the blood rushing to my crotch in preparation. Great, thanks a lot body. Way to help me out.

Oh, who am I kidding? The punishment will probably be just as fun as the reward.

"Ok, here we go," your voice has a flippant singsong quality to it as you stretch your arms up above your head, lifting your shirt and giving me a fantastic view of your flat stomach. I bite my lip and think of political speeches that have bored me, and the shoddy comb-overs of those who have given them. I'm not just going to give in to this - where's the fun in just letting you win? You grin at my impassive expression and step, step, step - slowly and deliberately until you're standing over my knees, looking down at me past that sensational decolletage. Oh God, politics is for suckers...

No! No, I won't allow myself to just give in like this! I bring my head down, escaping from those hypnotic grey eyes, and start number crunching. How much money I spent on alcohol last week, my taxes, the starting numbers of the great sportsmen of our time... The pressure inside me abates and I get control again. My prick, traitor that it is, is sensitive and ready, but it's still lying dormant at the moment. I can do this, maybe I can even beat you. Then your slender fingers come down in front of my eyes and pop the button of your jeans open with one scornful motion.

Oh fuck, you're standing there, your flat belly right in front of my face, and I can't bring myself to look away as you pop one... two... three... more buttons on the fly of your jeans open (really? You have a button fly on jeans that tight? How is that even possible?). Oh God. Pink. Pink cotton panties it looks like, as you tug the gap in the denim open and give me a peek of what you're wearing underneath.

Something stirs.

You step away and, cocking your hip, you hook your thumbs into the belt loops of those skin-tight pants and start to work them off your hips. And you really do have to work them, they're so tight that you have to wriggle your hips and really push to start them sliding down. But eventually they're moving and you turn, bringing your legs together and bending at the waist so that your pert, perfect ass is pointing right at me as the denim descends.

The sight of the succulent cheeks of your backside coming into view as the jeans slip off - I have no defense against that, and I feel the first actual movement, as my cock responds helplessly. I try more mind control tricks, digging my nails into my palms and trying to remember the James Bonds in chronological order. But I'm only at George Lazenby when I realise that I can see the fucking thong you're wearing, and there's just a thin, pink line dividing those heavenly cheeks.

"I don't usually wear thongs," you say, as if reading my mind, "but every now and then... I think I'll get a chance to put one to good use." You hum a cheeky little tune as you bend further (wow, so limber too!) and push your jeans clean off your rear now. The view from where I'm sitting is astonishing. Your ass just looks so good, and bending down like that frames the tiny pink-cotton-wrapped bulge of your pussy so temptingly between your thighs. And on top of that, the way your calves and thighs are tensed as you continue to work the tight, tight denim down is jaw-dropping.

My jaw drops. My cock rises.

Barefooted you kick the jeans away and turn to face me again. My eyes are locked on those pretty pink panties, eating up every detail. They cover a lot of you at the front, and it's only around the back that they swoop down into your ass in such a dirty, slutty way. The other thing I love about them (you know, if I could only choose two things) is that they look so.., girly. It's an odd mismatch with your cocky, tomboyish attitude the rest of the time.

"To be honest," I try to crack wise to break the hold you're developing over me, "I'm not really all that into thongs myself. But, I guess you pull that one off pretty well."

"Oh, thank you," your voice is prickling with sarcasm, and as you stand there in your panties and tight shirt you point casually to my cock. It points back at you. "You lose, by the way. One-zero to me - I'll keep score."

"I feel like the odds are against me," I sigh, looking down at my twitching prick. Now, I guess I would normally be proud of a showing like this, but who knows where today is leading. "Hey, glad you could put in an appearance."

"Jesus, are you talking to your dick?" You pick up whatever it was that you left on the table and hide it behind your back. "Do you ever stop talking?"

"I'm being pretty damn restrained tonight," I try to shrug, but can't move my shoulders enough, "Is it annoying you?"

"In a good way," you blast me with a smile full of genuine warmth and now I really am speechless. "So, you're not a thong man?" I shake my head. "Do you like... shorts? Like, tight, sexy shorts that would stretch over my ass and really hug these little cheeks?" My dick bobs and I nod in time with it. "Well, I've kinda got something..." you start and bring your hands from behind your back.

The baby blue shorts that you're holding look tiny and very, very soft. In fact, they look like some kind of fluffy, fleecy, downy synthetic material. "I picked these up today - I didn't know that I'd get a chance to use them so soon though!" You sound genuinely excited, but I'm more than a little confused.

"Use them to do what?"

"I read about them in a magazine," you continue, and I'm not sure if you're answering me or ignoring me. "This material is meant to be, like - the officially, scientifically, most comfortable thing to have next to your skin."

"Ok..." it's like you're just having a conversation with me, like there's no sex involved at all.

"Look, feel," you say and bring them up to rub against my cheek. Oh God, you're rubbing your shorts against my face - this erection may never go away again, "See? Feels good, right?" I may have to live with it forever.

"Uh huh," my voice is a little shaky, "feels good."

"So I thought - I bet it'll feel good on a boy's cock!" I look up as you step back again.

"You want me to wear them?"

"No, idiot." The way you say 'idiot' is so spiteful, so how come I can still tell that you're playing? How come the curl of your lip turns me on even more? "I'm going to wear them, and then I'm going to rub my cute little butt against your... ooooh, fat, throbbing prick, and round two is that if you come on my new shorts... more punishments later."

"Oh God," I sigh. I wouldn't bet on me.

You step into the shorts and start to pull them up - putting them on over your panties. "Oh man," you mutter, "they're really tight. They're probably going to stretch a lot and really... cling. Is that ok?" When you glance up there's nothing but mischief in your eyes.

"Whatever..." I gasp, weakly.

"Look, look!" You turn and bend over, arching your back so that your cute little ass just sits up beautifully. And so that I get a completely unrestricted view of that hi-tech material as you pull it, ever so slowly, up and over the pert cheeks of your ass. "Oh..." you groan as if the shorts came with a free orgasm, "that does feel good." You reach back and cup and squeeze your cheeks with no little relish. My body suddenly shudders with some wave of arousal and I rattle my handcuffs awkwardly. "Easy, you can feel too. Just remember to control yourself." Your finger wags at me like I'm a naughty schoolboy.

"I am in control, nothing can sway my mind," I murmur like a mantra.

"That's right," you purr and step right over to me. You turn around, put your hands on your knees, bend a little and bring that tight, soft butt to press firmly against my shaft. Oh wow, that is soft! "Say please..."

"P-please..." I gasp, my head thrown back as my desperate prick gets its first bit of physical contact. The material is lovely, but it feels like the lack of friction will be maddening - like trying to scratch an itch with a ball of cotton wool.

"Not good enough," you giggle, the first time I've heard your laugh get so high and light. You must be really enjoying yourself. "Say: 'Please ass-wank my stupid cock with your space-age wonder shorts.'"

"What?" I squawk, thrown.

"'Please ass-wank my worthless cock with your space-age wonder shorts,'" you repeat patiently.

"Please ass-wank my worthless prick..." I gasp, staring up at the ceiling, taking long, deep, broken breaths, "with your space-magic wonder shorts."

"Ah... almost. Good enough," you shrug, and lean back into me, dragging that so-soft material, wrapped around your firm ass, all the way up my rigid shaft.

"Oooh man," I groan. I was absolutely right - the feeling is maddening. It's soft enough to be exquisite, but there's nowhere near enough friction for me to get off. If you're trying to make me shoot then this could take hours. I wonder if I would still be sane when I finally came... or if it will be possible for me to hold out and actually win this round?

"How is it? Futuristic?" as your butt slides down again, my cock pressed tight into the groove of your crack, it pulls (even with the lack of friction) my foreskin back and I see the first traces of my seed gleaming. When your ass glides back up it leaves a dirty streak on the fancy fabric. I hope you won't mind.

"Yes," I gasp as you start to find a rhythm, your pert, perfect, super-cloth-wrapped ass grinding into me harder and harder, "I think that in the future all sex will be done with, through, or against shorts." I look down, and immediately regret it. The sight of your hips writhing as you work my helpless prick - just humping yourself against it - notches my pleasure up another half dozen steps. Maybe I was being a little too optimistic when I said I might win.

"Still got that mouth, don't you?" you chuckle, "I may have to do something about that." You move back a little further, straddling my lap properly now and putting your hands on my knees to really press my dick back - trapping it between my body and your soft, sexy behind.

"Gah!" I can't comeback with anything this time, as you start to shake your hips and just jiggle that pert little ass fast and hard against me. I feel my sensitive cock-skin being dragged up and down by tiny amounts as your super-soft shorts slip and slide over me.

You pause for a second and sit on my lap, leaning back and twisting your head, pressing your back against my chest and keeping your butt tight on my dick. Without thinking I turn to kiss you, but your hand comes up and pushes my mouth away, then I feel a long wet lick from your tongue scrape up my unshaven jaw and onto my cheek. My dick bucks against you.

"Ooooh," you giggle, "do that again, I felt it!" I struggle to contain myself, but of course I oblige, tensing my muscles and pushing my cock against your pert ass. "Gonna come?"

"I am..." I'm sweating, I feel it trickling down my brow, and my heart is pounding so hard and so fast... "a master of self control."

"These help your self control?" I look down and you're pulling the neck of that tight shirt open again. But at this angle, with you pressed against me, looking up at me, I can see everything: the stunning swell of your breasts, the way they're barely contained by the tiny cups of your (matching?) pink bra, the inviting valley between them.

"Argh!" I cry, snapping my head upwards to break the spell, "I am a master of self control." Fuck, but even with the lack of friction from those soft shorts (I'd much rather have your hot, sweaty flesh against me) you're getting to me, and as you lift yourself back up and lean forwards again, bringing your ass back to my weak-willed but physically willing manhood, I realise that I need to do something drastic.

Your ass starts to jerk me, as good as any hand, and I fill my head with depression, anxiety and news about genocide. I fight the waves of buzzing pleasure that try to dominate my mind with some story about a dog-fighting ring that I half read last week. Who would do that to dogs? What kind of monster...?

This time it works and I feel myself stepping back from the edge. My prick is still rock solid and what you're doing still feels incredible, but I've bought myself a few minutes - I'm not going to spurt my seed up onto your beautiful back straight away.

After another couple of minutes of this soft torture you suddenly start to slow. Still moving on me, you twist and turn slightly, peering down at my prick. You pout, "Aw, I thought you were going to go then! I thought that was two-nothing to me!"