Minutes, hours. Does it even matter? What matters was the excruciating denial that I was being put through. It was torture, it was painful but somehow it was exquisitely pleasurable. I have no understanding why but what I do know is that I definitely do not want it to end.
It was confusing but I wanted more needed more no matter how torturous it would be. Because the delicious pleasure that I was receiving would always outweigh what my mental and physical state was going through.
I was on all fours on the bed, body shaking, arms and knees trembling at holding this doggy position for gods know how long, but it wasn't the tiredness that was causing this. No, it wasn't, it was a girl called Joy. A delicious minx that has me wrapped around her little finger. I have no idea how I became this addicted to her, she has taken my tiny spark of submissiveness that I did not know I even had and blew it into a flame that engulfed me.
I was left in a constant of arousal with no relief and she has taken that and used it to fuel my submissiveness to such a degree that I was losing track of who I was. As she said the previous night; I was being shaped, broken down and molded into what she wanted me to be. A servant, slave, something to be used for her and her only.
I shuddered again as I felt her finger slide down from the base to the tip of my twitching hard-on. The constant denying of release has caused my straining dick to turn a shade of purple, it felt unbelievably hard and was extremely sensitive. I let out a longing moan, when I felt her finger leaving contact.
Oh my god, oh my god don't stop don't ahhh.