Before leaving the room she stated directly, "Strip and get on the table." So there I was, waiting; for what seemed longer than it actually was, I'm sure. On my back, naked, nothing really to look at, grateful the room was warm as this night was cold and windy, and me, with a full, quivering erection.
When the door opened I think I jumped off the paper covered table. She said nothing as she walked to my side, snapped on the latex gloves, wrapped one hand around my cock and began a deliberate stroking of it. Full, firm strokes that were intended to excite. She watched me with a cool uninvolved expression as she handled it. And handle it she did. No break in her stride, for minutes on end. As the feeling intensified my breathing became short, and shallow. "Concentrate on your breathing, slow it down." I did as she said and after a few moments; "Yes, that's it, deep breaths, slowly now. Much better. You will be able to handle so much more this way. I want you to take more, much more." Then she added with a chuckle "For a long, long time."
I did what she wanted as she did what she wanted. I struggled to maintain balance as her incessant stroking moved me to higher levels of excitement. Some times I would tense up, she told me to relax. Some times I would lose the breathing pattern, she told me to regain control.
When she sensed I was at the edge, she would stop, wait then start again. As we traveled together to the edge and back her expression began to change; from the early essentially emotionless look to one of amusement, brightness in her eyes grew. She enjoyed this, enjoyed the control, and enjoyed my struggle. Me, I was easy to read. I was submitting. I was becoming tuned to her, taking pleasure in obeying her. I wanted to do as she said, wanted to accept what she wanted me to accept...the longer she stroked the deeper the submission.
Her tempo would change from time to time but generally became slower, more delicate. As she learned about me she was able to stay closer to that edge; so close I would respond with nothing more than a touch. It was agonizing, but agonizingly good.
Then the questioning began.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Tell me more."
"Describe your feelings?"
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Are you mine"
"Give yourself to me"
"Worship me"
"Whose cock is this?"
And on.
And on.