His orgasm was like Christmas, long for the waiting and gone too quick. If it had been left to him, it would've been one long day of having her spread out as a buffet while he cuddled, nuzzled, fucked, teased and touched every part of her, rolling her over every hour to access a fresh tapestry of soft skin. But it hadn't been left to him. His "release day" was arranged by her. Not executed by her, but it was her plan he followed.
They would see a show, she explained, a play, a comedy show, but not a movie. Movies were too easy. It would be some type of event where they needed tickets at a proper theater and they got to dress up. There would be dinner, drinks and dancing. He chose where for the dinner and drinks, and he paid. She chose how long they danced.
She took it easy on him and didn't torture him too much.
That was followed by their stroll down the river walk, where he told her how special the place had become to him. Special? Jim had long since started behaving as a romantic, but this was a little different. The river walk, the spot around the bend where lamplight flickered, which had since been fixed much to his dismay, was where he had first felt an intense passion for her. It was the place where he realized that her "hands off" policy was driving him to want her like never before. He even called it the spot where he fell in love with being in love with her.
She glowed the entire time. She couldn't stop smiling. She couldn't stop hanging on to his arm. She gave him every kissed he reached for and offered more. At the end of the evening, she offered her body to him, and he devoured her, the first time quickly, barely making it more than a minute, but after a short recovery, he took her again and again until he couldn't take her anymore, until she was so droopy-eyed that he felt guilty asking for another go.
He spent the rest of the week free of rules. He didn't have to stay with her at her apartment. He could touch himself as much as he liked. He indulged. Some. He indulged on Monday night. It was hollow. The pornography was still there, still titillating, and he had no problem making it work, but it wasn't her. She had somehow become so much more intense than anything he could dream up. She was what he wanted in his mind and in his heart.
He'd never before considered what his heart wanted when his hard-on made requests.
At the end of the week, he smiled at her, meeting her at the front door, dinner warm in the oven and renewed his offer of having her move in with him.
She blushed and replied, "Let me think about it."
His grin was an ear to ear presentation. "You do that. I'm clear headed. I jerked off twice this week." He grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her willingly into his embrace, burying his nose in her hair and kissing the top of her soft head, feeling her melt against him. "I know what I want, and it's you."
"Maybe you're not clear enough though. It's only been a few days."
He peeled her off of himself and gazed deep into her eyes. "You can keep making excuses, but I know how I feel and you won't convince me I feel any other way."
She frowned, shook her head. "Maybe you just want it because you're still thinking about the game."
"I want it because I love you."
She shook her head again. "But if this is all about our little game--"
"I think we both know it's more than a game, Ella."
"But this way you could play more, every day. This more than a game thing we're doing, I'm not sure where it's heading."
"I do."
Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing with concern. "You do?"
He nodded. "Yes. I've been looking it up online. There's all kinds of names for it, but the short answer is you take charge of the relationship, of me, and I behave like a good boy and give you everything you want and generally make you feel happy and loved and special, which you are. You are very special."
"But--" she tried.
"I want you to be happy, and you figured out a way for me to make that happen. I don't know how you figured it out, if it was that Divine Tantra site or what, but you being in control of me is exciting and intense and I love feeling like I'm some, uh, worshiping slave pampering his goddess."
Her blush deepened.
"Ella, you've wanted this. You've been working on it, and so have I. This is working. We're happy. The only time I'm usually happy in my relationships is in the first six months, then everything gets boring. I get boring, and selfish and lazy. I mean, for a guy, once you've got the girl, what's left? Your job is done. But with this I feel like every day is a new adventure. I mean, taking care of you even got a little routine, but I was truly happy doing things for you. In fact, it even excited me, turned me on. The other day I almost passed out because you dropped your wet towel on the floor in the bathroom and didn't say a word about it. You just expected that I would pick it up. It was like a mental orgasm. I was under your thumb, wrapped around your little pinky finger, doing what you wanted without you so much as asking or even having to order me. I was in heaven. I want more of that, but, um, I forget, this isn't about what I want. So, I'm asking: What do you want?"
It was a lovely speech.
He was earnest. She couldn't deny that. She was having doubts. Why? He was right. Things had been amazingly good between them, but going forward meant continuing to notice that she was changing and she wasn't sure she liked the changes. Going forward meant letting all the qualities that were usually reviled in women come to full blossom. Bossy. Bitchy. Mean. Using her feminine wiles, her sexuality to manipulate him to her own end.
Did she truly want to be that type of person?
When he hadn't an orgasm for a couple of weeks, he couldn't resist her or even tell her she was being too bossy, too mean. The harsher she was, the more he loved it. It would be up to her to keep a lid on that.
Would he become less than a man to her? He hadn't so far, but he had become somewhat childlike, always looking for her approval, always looking to please her. By the end, she wasn't doing much, she admitted. A smile here, a friendly little pat there. Her role consisted of her sitting on the couch and bouncing her heel in front of his face, watching him kneel, and giving him instructions in a soft tone that made him shiver with excitement.
On the other hand, she'd never been so turned on in her life. She'd gone from feeling that her libido was too low to thinking about sex every ten seconds. She was practically a man.
Every ten seconds, Jim on his knees. Every ten seconds, smiling because he was texting her. Every ten seconds, Jim gazing up at her begging to serve her.
"Jim, I'll think about moving in with you, but for now, we'll continue the way we are."
"The way we are right now?" His face displayed concern.
She patted his face. "It's your choice, but if you choose to go back to our 'game', I'll be honest with you . . . there will be no end date."
He blushed. He went pale. He licked his lips.
She couldn't be sure, but she thought she felt his erection pressing into her.
"And," she continued, "there is the little matter of your frequent touching."
He nodded, head bowed. "Okay."
"I'll give you until Monday to decide, but if you decide yes, then we'll need to get measurements."
He swallowed. "Measurements?"
She nodded. "Can you guess what for?"
He nodded, his face tight, his lips white. "Yes."
She raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Is it . . . a chastity device?"
She smiled. He had been doing research. She patted his face and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "You're such a good boy."
* * *
