Hannah Forever Single Ch 08

Hannah Forever Single -- Chapter 08

"Do you want me to cage your cock?"

Hannah was interrogating me in the aftermath of a long edging session capped by a ruined orgasm. I was bound spread eagle to the four corners of her bed by straps. It started as a simple story-telling session. We often told each other stories about our past bad sexual experiences -- part confessional, part therapy. She had been sharing how her manipulative ex-boyfriend set her up to have sex with his friend and his girlfriend.

Hannah sat over me, still playing in the cum that had poured out of my cock and gently feeding me from her fingers as she asked her questions.

Not only was I on a high from her delicate massaging of my prostate and the aching for release of the ruined orgasm, but also, I was now under the rules of our dominance sessions. She and I agreed on code words for the sessions. If she said, 'Queen' then I was to follow her every command until I heard her say, 'Jack.' I could always say, 'King' to end the play, but so far I'd banished that word from my vocabulary.

But part of her deviousness was that she didn't just use her dominance to make me perform tasks, she used her time to ask me questions. And while we were in session, I could not lie or hesitate. I had to tell her the truth.

Her first question had been, do I want her to fuck other men? I answered 'yes' but given my history, it was an extraordinary confession. My ex-wife, Chelsea, had slept with my (former) best friend Rick. I had been telling Hannah my stories of how they made me their cuckold and how much I craved those acts. But as Hannah helped me learn, it was not the cuckolding so much as it was the submission that turned me on.

For Hannah and me, the stories and the sex play were healing rites of a kind. She helped me to understand my role in setting up Chelsea to cheat on me so that I could be submissive and to hide my need behind a lie that I was the victim. Yes, Chelsea was cruel, but I needed to be accountable for my participation. It had been a fucked up marriage and I suffered, but Hannah helped me to recontextualize my suffering and to embrace my kinks without self-judgement and with full consent of all parties.

So, Hannah asking me if I wanted her to fuck other men was a major turning point for me. I loved fucking her. I relished eating her pussy after I came. Hannah got off on my submission. She enjoyed cum play with me. One of the last pieces of the creampie kink would be the addition of another person -- outside our... partnership. (We didn't call it 'official.' Neither of us wanted to marry again. She joked she was 'Forever Single,' but I wanted nothing less than to be hers forever, no matter the label.)

But I trembled at the possibility of her bringing other men into her life. Could they please her more than me? Would they take her away? I couldn't lose Hannah, not now. She was not only gorgeous but also she was so caring, funny, and didn't judge me. She was perfect for me.

But I was also perfect for her -- a man who could be her willing property and toy, who would allow her to replay her own power-dynamics trauma and reclaim her sexual power and agency. Others might have entertained her sexually, but she told me I was the first she trusted, truly, to not hurt her.

The trust went both ways. Because she repeated the question, "Do you want me to cage your cock?" Adding, "You know there's no wrong answer here. We can have fun without it."

I wholeheartedly said, "Yes, Hannah. I am your property to do as you wish."

That made her beam.

"I love you so much, Johnny." This time she stuck her messy fingers in her own mouth, giving a thoughtful pose meant to tease me. I watched the thinning cum slide down her palm and along her wrist. I strained against my straps, unable to keep myself from desiring the taste.

"You're so cute. And ravenous, my little cum slut." She touched my cheek, leaving a slick print there. "That's why I wonder if you need me to find more suppliers."

My heart skipped. I felt my chest tighten. The other men. My eyes ran down her body. She wore her brunette hair in a pixie cut that gave her a punk rock vibe. She had a lithe body from years of dance training. Her dark eyes and light-brown skin hinted of an island paradise somewhere. Her breasts were tear-drop shaped -- not too large, just enough to overfill a hand (if I could just reach.) She had light brown areolae. Her stomach was smooth and I could see the strength of her abs when she twisted or bent. But she wasn't so lean that she looked like a bodybuilder. Her long legs met at my place of worship. She kept her brown pubic hair closely trimmed. I liked it like that -- enough to remind me she was a grown woman, not too much to impede what I craved. She had her pussy pressed against my abdomen now, but I pictured her light-brown labia spreading just outside the cleft of her vulva, her pink clit round and pressing the hood away slightly to let me wrap the tip of my tongue around it and nurse it like a nipple.

"Hey, my eyes are up here," she said.

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"My loyal subject," she purred. "So, we will need to get you a cage. Nothing but the best for my pet. At least we won't have to pay for a large one."

I groaned. She smirked.

"You know you're not small, right?"

"No, ma'am."

"But you like it when I pretend you are."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is that because you like big cocks?"

"N- no, ma'am."

"Then do you want me to fuck men with smaller cocks?"

"No."

She laughed. "Men never do. I wish I could undo thousands of years of indoctrination, but here we are. Fortunately, for both of us, the perfect cocks for me are..." She circled her hand loosely around by growing erection. "Thicker, and..." She stretched fingers just past the tip of my erection, "Longer, than this. So, win-win, right?"

"Yes. Yes, please."

"Do you want to watch them fuck me, my pet?"

I hesitated. Not because I was unsure, but because the excitement was building in me and I felt overwhelmed by the desire.

"You don't have to say it," she said. "Your lie detector is telling me everything." She gently stroked my erection. "That's why I'm glad you decided on a cage, because I hypothesize men will feel less intimidated to fuck me if my pet is... harmless? Also, I strongly suspect from your stories that part of your kink is the jealousy, the competitiveness. The way you stood by while Rick seduced your wife, in a way, was like spotting him ten yards in a footrace. You bet you could make your wife come harder even after he'd fucked her."

"Wow, Hannah, that's..."

She raised her eyebrows as if to say, am I wrong?

I changed the subject. "An experiment, then?" I said.

"Yes, you know I'm all about the research." She bent over to kiss me and slipped her wet labia along my erection. "We'll just have to run the experiments and see what pops... up."

"I..."

"Yes, my pet?"

"I don't want to risk losing you," I said.

She looked at me with what I can only describe as love. "I know. I know, and I want you to know that I'm asking not because I'm unsatisfied with you, but to understand what

you

need." She stroked my face. "I don't even know if it's something I can do. I hope you understand that the reason I can be this way with you is because you've earned my deep trust. I would choose us every time."

She kissed me.

"There are other risks, though," she said, "for both of us. I would need partners who I know are safe for us, who will play like us, and who are content with us as we are. I will not risk losing you either."

I looked at her with awe. I was so deeply in love with Hannah. I trusted her, too. Here she had me tied to her bed in the wake of a ruined orgasm, my cum cooling around my cock, and the emotions running through me were like a warm hug after a hot cup of cocoa by a fireplace.

"So," she moaned. "Are you also willing to wait for me to find the right one? Do you understand we might never find the perfect playmates? Would

this

be enough?"

"I need nothing more than you, Hannah." I meant it.

She hugged me. "I believe you," she said. "I also know that this." She tapped my forehead. "That your wiring is addicted to something more. I don't want you to ever feel that you'd have to satisfy that craving outside of our partnership. Although, maybe one day you will wean off it." She smiled at her joke. "But that would be OK too."

Then she pressed her hips closer to mine, finding my cock against her vulva. "But I can't deny that I also am addicted to the image of you lapping cum from my pussy. When you were servicing Kelly for me... Whew. That was so hot. And I can only imagine how hot it would be to see the expression in your eyes when another man enters me. When he fills me. Stories aren't enough. Probably." She moaned. "It's just an experiment to run."

She ground against me. She purred in pleasure and gave me a wicked look. "One thing I've proved through research is that when a man has a ruined orgasm, he becomes instantly hungry for a real one."

I shivered under her. I pressed with my hips to grind back against her. She pulled back slightly, frustrating my effort.

"I always wondered," she said, "How hungry a man could be after

two

... ruined... orgasms."

I cried, "No. Please."

She nodded, smiling wickedly.

"You're my toy. My experiment. And I'm... curious. But you have a safe word." She paused and when I finally pushed back against her, she went on lightly brushing her pussy against my cock. She used the strength of her body to paint me with feathery strokes of her pussy along the base of my aching shaft.

"Do you want to come, Johnny?"

"Yes, please. Oh, please!"

"Do you, Johnny?

Really

, Johnny?" Her strokes were bringing me so close. I could feel my prostrate tighten. I could feel my nuts pull tight against my body.

"Or... now be honest, Johnny. Do you want me to ruin you... again?"

My face went white. I felt a tingle across my skin. Weakly, I said, "Please."

She smiled. "Please let me come, or...?"

"Ruin it. Please." I groaned.

"Good boy." She smiled, and I felt the fluttering grow lighter. I felt my body tense, then she lifted off me and I shook as the orgasm died away and I felt pulsations through my groin. I felt the cum pouring out. It was like a water balloon popping, soaking me all over. I groaned loudly.

"Oh! So much cum, Johnny," she said. "Good boy deserves a treat." She pressed her pussy down in the growing pool and slid it around. Then she straddled my face and set herself down over my open mouth.

"Mm, Johnny. You're so eager. Yes, you made such a mess. I can feed you like this for a long while."

"Mm hmm," I moaned into her. Yes, I thought, keep feeding me this. Keep treating me like this. I don't care if I ever have an orgasm. I just want to please you, taste you, worship you. She was right. The second ruined orgasm only made me crave more. I remember very little after that. My mind became incoherent with lust.

*

Hannah threw herself into the mission of finding a playmate for us. Of course, she and I both had our jobs. She worked with her online clients, showing off her body and playing out fantasies for the camera. I had my internet security consults. Still, she found it amusing to tease me with updates on her search.

"I met a man for coffee today. He was handsome, tall. A thick... head of hair."

"Oh?" I tried to be casual about it, like she was searching for a new pet, which in a way she was.

She said, "I don't know if he's your type, though."

"What's my type?"

"Oh, I think you like them bossy."

I shivered. Damn, she struck a nerve that I didn't know I had.

One Friday night, as I was coming out of my office, I heard Hannah talking.

She said, "I'm looking forward to it," as she came down the hall from the living room. I could see the phone in her hands and noticed her earbuds, so I realized she was on the phone.

I stalled in the hall as she sauntered toward her bedroom. She wore only a red lacy thong. She stopped in front of me.

"What should I wear?" she said. She listened while she looked me in the eye. She laughed. "No, I can't wear what I'm wearing now."

I noticed her nipples were erect. With her free hand, she brushed one areola with the back of her fingers.

"Yeah?" she said. "Oh, yes, I love dancing. I know just the outfit." She looked at me coyly and bit her lip. "Don't." She laughed into the phone. "Save it for the date. I've got to get ready. Bye."

She lowered the phone and stood in front of me, waiting. Her smirk was a challenge. I pulled her into me and kissed her. My hands stroked her bare back and slid down to her ass, squeezing. I let them drop to the back of her thigh and slide up between her legs. Just as I touched her lips, she pulled away.

"What's gotten into you?" she said. She tried to restore her nonchalant smile, but her breathing was heavy, her eyes were shining, and I could feel the wetness on my finger that had barely brushed her pussy where the strap of the thong split it.

I put that finger into my mouth. She stifled a shiver.

"OK, Johnny," she said, "Enjoy that while I go get ready." She stepped around me and I turned to watch her walk down the hall toward her room.

"Who is he?" I said.

She called back without turning to me, "That's on a need-to-know basis." Then she went into her room and closed the door behind her.

I went to the kitchen. I had been hungry and thinking of making dinner, but now I couldn't think of food. Plus, I knew it would be for one. Who was she seeing? It was definitely a date, and she was excited. And I knew she was excited before she had caught me eavesdropping. It was him. She didn't say it was a man, but I knew. It was something in the tone of her voice that told me.

Although, maybe that was part of her game? She could have been planning a night out with a girlfriend. But would she have added that she loved dancing? No, that was a message for someone new.

I fidgeted and fussed for an hour. I was in the living room, pretending to dust, when she came out of her room.

She wore a long black coat. Her legs flashed through the opening. She seemed to expect me to be where I was because she stopped and turned. I saw a flash of red light under the coat.

"This is for dinner," she said. Then slid the coat off her shoulders on the floor. "And this is for... after."

She wore a red mini-dress with sequins that shimmered in the light. She would be the jewel in the center of the dance floor, commanding all the attention. The deep V of the neck exposed the inner curves of her breasts that swayed slightly as she completed her turn. Perhaps she had a little tape to keep her nipples under cover. Perhaps not.

"Would you?" she said.

"I would," practically salivating.

"No, silly," she said. "Would you mind picking up my coat?"

I gave her side-eye as I went over and picked it up. I stood behind her as I draped it over her bare shoulders.

"You are so damn sexy," I said.

"Let's hope." She turned to me and looked into my eyes. "You've made things harder for me." I smiled, and she said, "Not that." Then she looked down and smiled, "Well, yes,

that

, of course. But my task is going to take time."

She stepped close to me. She turned her head slightly. Her tender lips were glossy and red. "I may have to go on a lot of dates to find the right man..." She let me lean in to kiss her, but pulled away. She slid her hand down my body and across my crotch. She patted my erection through my pants. "The right man, for both of us."

"Tonight, I feel like a queen," she said. The code word. I shook as I realized I was under her command again just as she was leaving. She turned and walked to the door. She waited for me to open it for her.

"I don't know when I'll be home," she said. "But don't think you can sit here and jerk off imagining what I'm doing."

She stepped out. In the dark behind her, I imagined all our neighbors watching, listening.

She said, "Don't you dare come while I'm out." I shook my head as she walked away. She called back, "But keep your phone close."

I watched her until she got into her car and drove away before I closed the door.

I was alone now. The silence in the house felt suffocating.

After about half an hour I received a text from Hannah. She must have arrived at her destination. It read, "Stop what you're doing and edge yourself. Reply when done (not done.)" There was a wink emoji.

She was right to have proscribed me from jerking off because I'd been fantasizing the whole time; I was already on edge, so to speak. I rubbed my cock through my pants and it was only a minute of light stroking before I knew I had to stop. I texted back. "Finished (didn't finish.)"

"That was fast. Disappointed. Five more."

I groaned. I waited for another text or some other instruction, but it was clear. I needed to edge myself five more times, and I'd have to stretch them out (I know) so she wouldn't be disappointed. I went to my bedroom, stripped, and laid in bed. With some lotion, I slowly worked my cock, copying her gripping technique to keep staving off the peak. It took most of an hour to get through all five.

I texted her three emoji: a stop sign, an eggplant, and a thumbs up.

An hour later, I got a text back. "Again."

My heart raced. Again? Like one more time? Or another cycle of five? Could I take that? I thought about what had happened in her two hours. She wouldn't have looked at her phone during her conversation, which meant she had gone to the bathroom or was ready to leave. That meant the conversation was fun, and she lost track of time.

I realized that the edging gave me something else to focus on so I did another cycle of five, and extended that to an hour and a half. I texted her back with a "whew" emoji.

About half an hour later, she texted, "GB."

Good boy

. Fuck, that made me want to come so desperately. Even the fact that she texted just two letters made me realize she was too busy to bother with words. She was having a great time. She was spinning and bouncing on the dance floor. This was her element. I'd only been dancing with her once and it was amazing to see her. The way she lit up. She'd be relaxed. Maybe a cocktail or two. But she'd sweat those out quickly. Her skin would shine and her smile would beam. She'd maybe catch his eye and look away. Then she'd look back. He'd lean in...

OK, stop, Johnny. I found myself panting. I got up to walk around the house. My erection bounced as I walked. I jumped in a cold shower.

When I got out, finally flaccid again and able to breathe, my skin stinging from the cold, I noticed my phone had an alert. I grabbed it and saw it was a text from her. It was fifteen minutes earlier. I panicked. I opened the phone, fearing I'd missed her telling me she was coming home and to get ready and now I was already behind.

It read, "Again."

No! I rubbed my neck. I couldn't take it. It was so late. She knew it would take another hour. Was she extending the date? Was she going back to his place? Were they fucking right now? Would she? On a first date? Was it that good? Was

he

that good?

I squeezed the base of my cock. I calmed my breathing. That was one and it only lasted seconds. I would have to really calm myself if I was going to get through these next four without an accident.

Thankfully, she didn't expect a response right away. I went back to my room. I counted them off one at a time. Four more edgings. Fifteen for the night. I waited after the last one, hoping that maybe she'd text she was on her way back. Fearing she'd add another set. Or worse, not reply at all because she was preoccupied.

I texted her back a skull emoji.

Nothing. I waited a few minutes and texted again, "I meant you're killing me. In case it wasn't clear. I didn't... you know."