He felt his eyelids growing heavy. It would be so easy to blink right now, so easy to give in and let her win. He couldn't, though. He had to resist. With enormous effort, he forced his eyelids to open wider.
"It's so hard to keep your eyes open." This time, her tone was sympathetic. "Your eyelids are so heavy, and it would be so much easier to just close them and rest. Wouldn't that feel good, my darling, sleepy boy? Wouldn't it feel so good to submit to your mistress and stop playing this silly game?"
It would, he acknowledged. It would feel so much better to just close his eyes and give in. He swayed on his feet slightly. It would feel so good to rest -- he was so tired. He hadn't realized how tired he was until his eyelids grew so heavy... No! He had to resist her! He had to resist his mistress and stay awake, no matter how hard it was.
Something was getting hard. Specifically, something below his belt. Without breaking her gaze, he adjusted himself. At least, that was the plan. A quick grab turned into slow, steady strokes. How had that happened? He didn't devote too much thought to the question -- it felt too good, even through his jeans.
"It's getting hard for you to think," she said softly. This was true. Especially now that something else was getting harder by the moment. It was as though someone had poured molasses all over his brain. The sticky substance was interfering with the gears, making it harder to turn them, harder to process his thoughts. "You don't need to think," she reassured him. "Just keep looking into my eyes."
His shoulders sagged slightly in relief. He didn't have to think anymore. It was too hard, anyway. All he had to do was look into her eyes -- her beautiful eyes that were a mixture of browns and black. Her fascinating eyes...
"You don't have to keep your eyes open, either," she suggested. "After all, if you're not thinking, you don't need to keep your eyes open." It was a reasonable suggestion. He wasn't thinking, because it was too hard. And if it was too hard to think, it was too difficult to keep his eyes open. His eyelids closed, but he could still see her eyes before him.
"Ah, my darling, sweet, silly boy," he heard her say. Her voice sounded as though it was coming from a great distance. "You lasted 46 seconds. That's a new record for you. I don't know why you insist on this silly game. If I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted to lose."
He felt her warm, soft hand take his free hand (the one that wasn't slowly stroking himself). "What should your penalty be for losing this bet, again?" She put one of his fingers in his mouth and began to suck. He let out a moan.
"Feels good, doesn't it, my silly, sleepy, submissive boy?" she asked.
"Uh huh," he murmured.
He couldn't see it, but she smiled widely. "Oh, it does. Because it feels very good to submit to your mistress. And I'll figure out some way to remind you of that." She paused to think, then snapped her fingers. "I've got it! You are going to spend at least the next half-hour finding ways to pleasure me, all while repeating your new mantra: I can't resist my mistress." She took his hand (the other one was still stroking himself) and led him to her bedroom.
A sleepy smile spread across his face. She was right, he couldn't resist her. And he loved it.
