Ups And Downs 1

You could come from a stiff breeze, from a light touch, from your dress being pulled off too quickly with how bad I've been teasing you all day. From the moment I woke up it's been a constant stream of dirty messages, detailed descriptions of all the things I want to do to you, bulleted lists of all the ways I want to degrade you, pictures of the the bulge you cause in my boxers. It's been hard to think straight for the past three hours, hard to think straight for the past two, hard to draw a full breath for the past thirty minutes because the one unbreakable order I gave you for the day is: "No coming without my permission."

Now I have you, tied spread-eagled to the bed. The last thing you were able to do as a free slut was strip-tease your way out of your dress and panties, panties you begged me to wear because the amount your cunt is dripping was already down to your ankles. In my benevolence I agreed, and am now glad I did because of how fun it was to watch you try to pull them off without coming. The feelings of the ropes on your wrists and ankles almost sent you over the edge as I tied you down, but I paused just long enough after each limb to leave you clinging on the edge of control. Spread out before me, cunt glistening, I smile so wide my cheeks hurt and you have to take deep breaths when you see the look in my eyes.

"Do you remember the rule, slut?" I ask

"No coming without permission, sir," you reply, quietly, voice shaking slightly

"That's right, and now we're going to test that rule," I reply.

You're barely able to get out a questioning "Sir?" before I start roughly fingering your clit, your cunt's own wetness letting me glide across the nib like silk. Your body tightens as you try to keep control, and when you are able to breathe out all I hear is "Pleaseletmecumsirpleaseletmecumsirpleaseletmecumsirpleaseletmecumsir!"

I pause my fingers for a moment and ask "Oh, you want to come, slut?"

"Yessiryessiryessiryessiryessiryessiryessir"

"Well, you've been such a good girl..." I move myself over you and stare right into your eyes, and say "COME for me", plunging two fingers deep into your cunt on the word "COME."

Your back arches, and there's a brief silent scream before an incredible wall of sound escapes you as the full day's teasing comes crashing down on your pussy, up your spine, and into your brain, which shatters and reforms and shatters and reforms more times than you can count. You notice me pulling out my fingers and moving to grab something by the side of the bed, coming back with a Hitachi, which I have turned up to the highest setting.

"In fact," I say, hovering the vibrator over your still-throbbing clit, "You can come as much as you want," and with that I push the head of the Hitachi right onto your clit, causing another orgasm instantly and triggering a wave that lasts quickly pulls you under, deep into headspace. In the brief moments of lucidity you're able to cling to you, you notice that I have turned away all the clocks in the room, and you have no sense of how long you've been coming. Time has no meaning, only measured by the fact that at some time, what feels like years in the future, I pull the vibrator away.

As you lay there panting, I smile and say "That was fun, but let's go back to the way things were." Staring straight into your eyes with a face of granite judgement I say "No coming without permission, slut", turn the Hitachi to low, and apply it back to your cunt. You don't know where you find the control, but you manage, holding back the orgasm that wants to break free.

Your breathing is irregular, but you manage to wheeze out "Please... sir... come... please... sir... come... please... sir... come..." You have no idea how long you've been begging, and those three words are your entire vocabulary at this point. You're so far down the well you don't even know what will happen when you resurface.

Finally, my voice sounds out through the fog, my eyes swim into view, you hear me say "Come for me, slut" as the Hitachi kicks back into high and your clit explodes.

Counting the orgasms I'm forcing out of you would be pointless - how do you count the sides of a circle? You lose yourself in the pleasure and the pain, utterly unsure where the line of one ends and the other begins.

At some point I pull away the vibrator, some point beyond the event horizon of your conscious thought, and you don't even notice that I've untied you until I'm curling you into a ball and sliding my arms around you.