"I think you will like this new game, because you get to choose if you get to cum, and how you get to cum."
So started the latest phase in my girlfriends and my never ending game of orgasm control. She made this statement four months ago, and I listened to with no small amount of skepticism even then. I doubted she would give up the power rush she got from using her body to torment me, and she enjoyed the total control she had since a snug, steel chastity tube took away my ability to give myself pleasure. No, that tiny key that hung around her neck, pointing toward cleavage that I would never see, was far too much of a turn on for her to give it up, in even a tiny way, anytime soon.
We had been together about 6 months, I had been wearing the device steadily for about 3 months. She had been living in my house full time since our second month together, and lately had used our Saturday night "bargaining sessions" as a chance to exert more and more control over how the house was run. She is ten years younger than me, 28, with flowing blonde hair, a short well toned body, and a bust line that stops traffic. It is that marvelous feature that has many men muttering "lucky bastard" when they see us together, not knowing that neither my hands nor eyes have ever experienced what is under that bra. Every Saturday night she attaches my wrists to a collar around my neck, and she unlocks my restrained dick. Generally dressed in a tight tank top and shorts, she toys and plays with me, never touching my aching cock, while discussing "concerns" she has. I generally capitulate to whatever she wants as quickly as possible, knowing that the threat of being locked back up without relief is ever present. It has only happened once, but I can't go through another week like that again. During our last session before the "new game", she thought it would be great if she drove my new BMW to work as she enjoys the convertible top, and her 6 year old Honda is just fine for my "normal" driving. I was horrified, my car is my baby, and held out as long as I dared before fetching her the keys, an awkward process when your hands are attached to your neck. My reward was the usual, she unlocked my left hand and had me kneel on the floor and stroke myself to the brink of orgasm. Only then would she unlock my right hand and award me ten more strokes. My left would pump my dick into my awaiting right palm, a catchall that was to be licked clean at the end. She giggles and claps as I squirt, and mocks the faces and noises I make throughout the process. "You give up your car just to squirt that stuff into your hand?" she mocked. "Men are pathetic." After washing up, I am locked back up to repeat the process a week later.
"I think you will like this new game, because you get to choose if you get to cum, and how you get to cum."
I think you can see why I was skeptical. While she revels in my denial, she taunts me about having never seen or touched her magnificent breasts, and dates other men freely. My only form of sexual pleasure in the time we have been together has been many variations on supervised masturbation. She routinely blindfolds me for long sessions of orally servicing her. So, with some wariness I listened as she rolled out the game.
"It's a point system, if you wear the device for a week, as if you have a choice, you get a point. If you have a point on Saturday night you can cash it in, and are allowed to jerk off. So, every Saturday, you can make that tiny little thing shoot if you want. Sounds easy, right?" I wasn't convinced.
"There is one catch, however. If you have one point, and you are soooo impatient you have to jerk off, you have to pay a penalty. Since I know how much you like women who wear big bras, I thought your penalty should be in kind. If you have only one point, and you insist on jerking off right away, then you will have to wear a bra for 24 hours. Not just any bra mind you, but one like this." From a bag she produced a huge, D cup, red satin bra. The cups were stuffed full with sewn in fiberfill. "See, you have to wear this for 24 hours." I was horrified at the thought of the humiliation of wearing this enormous glowing red brassiere, knowing that I would be captive in my home if I was wearing it. "See, I sewed in these fishing line loops in the back, and the straps cross over, so it can be padlocked on you to insure that you serve out the full 24 hours. You always wanted a set of D cups, that's why you asked me out in the first place isn't it?"