Teeter Totter

I needed some work on my car, and fortunately, my Sir is a dab hand at mechanics. Of course, such a service does not come without a price. My fee is his entertainment while he works. He leads me into the garage where our padded sawhorse was arranged, with a wand vibrator strategically strapped to the surface. A rope is slung from a hook in the ceiling. Cuffs in hand, Sir takes his time before fastening them around my wrists. He knows how much I love the scent and feel of the soft leather. Letting it curl around my upper arm, dragging to my wrist, before surprisingly pulling it away to slap against my breast, then my ass. There is no real pain, just a yelping start at the noise and the faintest heat. We both laugh softly at the playful move. With the cuffs now in place, I straddle the sawhorse.

"Feet flat," he commands.

I settle my feet and straddle the horse comfortably, making sure my stance is well-grounded. He takes note and shifts the height of the horse so I can feel the dormant vibrator nestle between my slick lips. Anticipation and preparation never fail to arouse me. My arms are raised and tethered to the rope; one of my favorite positions to be bound and tormented. I make no attempt to quiet my reaction when he flips it on to test its position. My body betrays me and my hips begin to rock on the toy. I can feel my orgasm building quickly. He moves behind me now, and I can hear him setting something else up, and more work with ropes, but the vibrator has most of my attention.

"I needn't tell you not to cum, correct Little Cat?" he growls in my ear.

I whimper, shaking my head no, but even those words edge me closer to the precipice. "Good girl," he praises.

Sir runs his hands along my body, cupping my breasts, perfectly pinching and rolling my nipples. Just that right edge of pain and pleasure. His fingers dip between my nether lips, finding me soaked, and he carries that slick essence up between my cheeks circling the crinkled entrance.

There is something decidedly evil in his tone of voice as he murmurs in my ear, "You don't think it will be this simple, do you? You are going to have quite the dilemma. Rise up on the balls of your feet. Tip Toe but stable. That's my good girl, just like that."

My calves are tight, and he does something to the rope above my head. I feel cold metal trail down my spine and I sway on my toes. Then, his fingers cold and slick with lube slip between my cheeks. One finger penetrates, then the tip of the second finger. I moan as he gently works his fingers in and out of my ass. Withdrawing, he replaces his fingers with the cold lubed metal. I think it will be a simple plug but I am so very wrong.

The hook.

Not just any hook. This one has three widening gradients. I shiver and mewl so pitifully as he seats the first two bulbs in my ass. His hand caresses me as the other follows the line of the hook to the rope and makes sure the tension is correct. I am immediately and viscerally aware of my predicament:

I am balanced on my toes, my calves aching, I will want to drop down to flat feet.

If I drop down to flat feet, I get access to the vibrator and release the tension in my legs.

If I drop down, the plug will seat fully within me, and the widest part of the plug is bigger than my usual toys.

My clit throbs. My cunt clenches. I jolt from the extra squeeze on the plug. Sir laughs evilly as I squeak out an "Oh no!"

"Oh yes, Little Cat. Let's see how long you stay on your toes. Now, that plug had better not slip from your ass. And when you eventually drop down, you are not allowed to cum until I give permission. I will hold off on clamping your nipples and tethering them to the sawhorse. For now."

I gasp at that final threat. I know he'd pull the chain taut, stretching my nipples tightly and painfully. I would not be able to hold out for very long before dropping down. I can't decide if I want it or not. Of course, this isn't for me to decide. He kisses my shoulder, flicks the Hitachi on (It's just out of reach!), whistling as he begins his work. I take a deep breath, steadying myself but I can't help swaying a little. Each sway shifts the hook. I rock forward, and I'm afraid it will slip out. I really do not want that punishment. I rock back to make sure just enough is inserted and it presses a little deeper. I recoil. It is a diabolical teeter-totter. I can feel the perspiration bead on my skin, smell the grease and metal from the repair work. I can hear him shift to peek at me and chuckle softly as I sway and curse and gasp and sway. All the while, my pussy clenches. I feel my desire slipping down my thighs.

Then it truly begins. My legs tremble. He can't be at it much longer, surely? Clearly, that's a foolish thought. He is going to take as long as is needed for me to drop so the next act of his play can begin. The lactic acid is building in my legs. My arms are tense from holding myself up. Sir pauses in his work, coming to me. He gropes my tits, leaving oily smears that only turn me on more. A generous squirt of lube at the top of my cleft slides down to the plug, and another squirt coats the exposed steel. This is a silent acknowledgment that he knows I won't hold out much longer. He isn't wrong.

One foot buckles. I gasp at the pressure invading my tight ring. I right myself. The other foot buckles, I right myself. I let both feet ease, testing the plug, trying to control the inevitable stretch. My muscles protest. ALL of them. I rise up again, then down. A little more. I am frowning with concentration, entirely focused on my body poised at the precipice of pain, inching toward pleasure. I'm hovering at the midway point, and my body is on fire: arousal is a conflagration, my calves are screaming, my arms and shoulders are tensed to hold my weight, and my poor bottom. It is burning with the stretch, as the widest spot presses deeper. I am not even aware that he has paused in his work to watch my ordeal.

I don't consciously decide to give in, my body makes the decision for me. I can feel my body relax as if accepting defeat, drawing the plug deeper and my feet fall flat to the ground. I cry out at the momentary shock from the wide plug breaching the final stretch, the hook's cool curve snug along my cleft. And the vibrator. How had I forgotten the vibrator?!

My cry turns to a gasp and I cry out again. Suddenly Sir is there, murmuring what a good slut I am, and how I lasted longer than he had thought. He cups my breasts, thumbs flickering back and forth over my nipples. Suddenly he pinches hard, twisting, and captures my mouth for a deep kiss before resuming the flickering. It is a technique that drives me mad. My head cants back and I am shaking. My sway has turned to an involuntary grind on the toy; a movement that maintains a shifting sensation for the hook.

"Go ahead, Little Cat. You may cum. Go on, cum for me. Let me hear you moan and scream. Look at you grinding on the toy. I bet you like that hook now, don't you? You're shaking your head no, but your body clearly does. Maybe you need the wand turned up a notch."

Click.

I howl. The orgasm crashes through my body like a freight train. I am suspended, arms aloft, floating and shaking. Grinding on the toy, I gasp out "Again? Please!" and before I can finish the words he simply says yes. I shake through at least three orgasms before he kisses me again.

"Enough for now. I still have to finish my work and I am not through with your performance. Your permission is rescinded. You are no longer allowed to cum, not until I give you permission again. I think, at this point, the clamps are in order."

With that, he turns the vibrator down and fastens the clovers to my nipples. I suck in a sharp breath once, then again as he draws the chain down to the little hook I hadn't noticed before. The chain hooked, my nipples clamped, he holds up a remote control. My eyes are enormous as I watch him press a button revving up the vibrator. It is as if I've been electrified. My body bows back, pulling the clamps and I scream, but then it's down, almost to a whisper. Not enough! I need more! This is almost worse! Barely restraining a glare and a growl, I watch as he returns to his work.

For the next eternity, I am edged to madness, torn between sensation overload and deficiency. When the vibrator is whisper quiet, I lean back, deliberately pulling on the chain, uncaring at this point that the hook is deeply seated. When the intensity increases, I lean forward, easing the tension, riding the toys, feeling the pleasure build until I am begging for release. Over and over. Time loses all meaning.

Finally, he sets his tools down with a clatter. Before that sound even registers, Sir releases my wrists from the rope, his strong forearm catching me before I topple forward. I hear the zipper of his jeans as he frees himself. A moment later I am cradled against his chest, impaled. His cock is buried in my sopping cunt, the plug jostling and stimulating him through the thin wall of my pussy. And that vibrator. He feels it too, humming through my body. His teeth clamp down on my shoulder as he growls for me to cum. There is no delay, no holding back. I am incandescent in his arms, completely awash in sensation. He fucks as hard and fast as the position allows, swiftly building to his own release. I want it. I want him to flood my cunt with his cum. I want it dripping from me. And so, I beg.

"Please Sir, please cum. I need you to cum, please. I want to feel you fill me, overflow me. Please, please, please let me feel you drip from me. Please can I have your cum? Please!"

My begging is his undoing. With a shout, his cock jerks hard within me, pulsing as he fills me with his cum. My body clenches around him, coaxing every last drop even as a final orgasm wracks my body. He manages to turn the vibrator off, and we shudder through the aftershocks. I can feel his arms shaking. He withdraws with a wet sluice. It's what we both wanted but I blush anyway. There is still that hint of embarrassment at the "dirty" factor.

On unsteady legs, arms supporting each other, we stagger into the house, laughing when we stumble. Somehow, we manage to arrive at the bathroom unscathed. Steam from the shower begins to billow while I help strip him of his clothes. Our kisses are tender and sated, laced with residual passion. We take our time washing and drying each other. I stretch out in bed with the promise of a massage very soon, but first, we cuddle. These are the moments of true bliss: when we are replete and at ease in each other's arms, enjoying a well-earned drink and basking in the afterglow.