The Toy Closet

Tags: BDSM, Fsub, Bondage, Edging, Forced orgasm

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Over the sound of the music playing in my ear buds comes the uninteresting sound of the Alexa timer. A lacklustre alarm noise, which manages to be both boring and annoying at the same time. The type of sound that Marvin the Paranoid Android might choose for an alarm clock.

In this context though it puts me slightly on edge, in anticipation of what is to come. I stand slightly straighter, moving against the chains that hold me in place,

I can't see him, but I know he's there. I can just barely feel the reverberation of his footsteps on the wooden floorboards. A faint click as he presses the button to silence the noise. Miniscule changes in the movement of the air, prickling the hairs on my arms, as he moves to stand in front of me. The muted sounds of the room get quieter still as he takes up the space. Under the blindfold I can make out the bright lights above me and then just shadows beyond, but I can feel all these things.

He's gentle with me. Sometimes our games are more physical. Not that this game isn't physical or intense. Fingertips brush against my lips, very very softly at first, but becoming firmer as his thumb pulls gently at my lower lip and I open my mouth just slightly wider. He doesn't often gag me these days, because he likes to hear how I respond.

He traces down my chin to my throat, spreading his hand to hold my neck, on the top of my collar. Just holding me like that. No pressure applied, no choking or squeezing. He's simply demonstrating his claim over me with his actions.

This subtle touch makes me yearn to be kissed. The affection is there, but there's a very deliberate absence of the display of that affection. It's part of the torment, part of the fun. He chooses to deny me minor things, and to enforce for me intensity in other things.

His fingers continue their downward progress. Over my collar bone and between my breasts, pausing eventually on my stomach. They stay there, lingering to remind me that this too is his choice - where he touches me. As if I needed reminding.

And then, just as so many times before, the buzz of the wand starts up. A low thrumming sound that immediately has me bracing myself.

Straining upwards on the balls of my feet pulls the chain on my collar taut. Behind me the chain is attached to a ring embedded in the wall, leaving me just a couple of inches of movement. My ankles are wrapped in wide leather cuffs, and each is attached to the spreader bar that keeps my legs splayed wide. My wrists are cuffed in the same fashion, and held apart by 30cm bar that rests against my ass - the bar wide enough to keep my hands apart, and ensure I cannot release myself from them.

The first touch of the wand has me urging my hips forward, but my movement is limited by the toy inside me. A solid, plain dildo. It's a blank tool with no ridges or vibrators, meant solely to open me and hold me in place. With each touch of the wand I unwittingly slide myself up and down the toy, by just a couple of inches at a time, never fully on nor fully off the length of it. Enough to maintain some excitement, but not nearly enough to satisfy.

He enjoys holding the wand in place while I squirm, my hips buck, and then watching me lower myself back onto the toy. Unsatisfied and frustrated. I don't hear myself, but I can feel the groan I let out each time. And he begins again. Over and over. Stimulated more each time. Closer to the edge, but never too close. He chooses. He decides this for me. We both like it this way.

The alarm goes off again while the wand is pressed against me. He instantly withdraws it, and I know that's my lot for another 5 minutes. I've been measuring the pauses in his torment by the length of the music playing in my ears. He has me wait about 5 minutes each time. Enough time to cool down, to metaphorically step back from the edge.

This time is different though. He hasn't turned the wand off. I can sense it still down between my thighs, even though it's not making contact. I can sense some movement, and then he reaches behind my hips with both hands. He's clipping something around my waist, some sort of strap. As he steps back the wand swings down, pulling on the strap, and landing with a bump about mid thigh level. He reaches back once again and adjusts the strap, and all I can feel is the slow rise of the wand, gradually creeping up my thighs until it nestles against my vulva. Secure and snug, but not pressing too hard. At once my heart rate starts to increase again.

His face is in front of mine now. I can feel his breath. His lips are about to touch mine. That anticipated kiss that I longed for, and then forgot, is drowned out by the wand. Instead of kissing me he simply says "Enjoy. I'll check on you when the alarm goes again."

And now he's stepped back now. He turns off the lights, and softly closes the closet door with me in it.

He hasn't said that I can cum, but I don't know now if I can hold on for the next 5 minutes. I'm already sweating and straining, and it's been barely 30 seconds.

And in mere moments I am wholly lost. Edged and denied for too long now. Closed in my closet, with no prospect of escaping this fate. I cannot prevent this, and the orgasm wrecks my body in wave after wave. But the wand continues buzzing, and my body continues responding. Beyond the door he must surely have heard the groan I let loose.