Still blindfolded, still bent over and bound to the leather chair, Hayley waited for him. The taste of his come was still there, still strong, on her tongue and in the back of her throat. She savored it, just as she did the wet feel of his come in her tender asshole. The cheeks of her bottom were sore, both from his hand and her wicked, wooden hairbrush. Her nipples were so damn tender she could feel the air move when the central heat kicked on. She’d wanted to feel completely owned, to be his, beyond a doubt. Mission accomplished. Reinforcing this, multiplying it even, was that she still hadn’t come, the need inside her towering and massive, threatening to crush her.
Her emotions swung wildly as she waited there, draped over the chair. No orgasms for twelve days, and she’d now been edged more than sixty times, not to mention being spanked and plugged and teased. At times, she was certain that he was going to let her come, that no one could be that cruel, and the sweet anticipation made her giddy. Then her emotions would swing the other way, down to where she was certain that he wasn’t going to let her come, and she would be on the verge of tears. She remembered his little comments about her going a month without, how he seemed to be joking. But was he?? Part of her wanted the denial, wanted him to keep pushing her, keep challenging her, keep demonstrating who owned who. He was probably sensing this, her willingness to go further; he seemed to know her better than she knew herself.
He’d come the night before and twice today. The unfairness of it should have angered her, but instead it made her happy. She loved that her body had turned him on, that she had pleased him, by giving herself to him and by choosing the chair. She was not being punished; she was getting what she craved and needed. She was his, to do with as he pleased, which was everything she wanted. The more wicked the things he did, the more she felt his.
Another drop of his come dribbled out of her and down the inside of her thigh. She hadn’t heard him in a while, had no idea where he was or how long he’d left her there. She tried to be good. Tried to wait for him, wondering how long it would take for his cock to get hard a third time. But then, when her emotions had fallen back into a valley, she couldn’t bear it any longer. Her voice very quiet, she dared, “Sir, please.”
A moment later, she heard his footsteps, closer and closer. Would he be mad? Disappointed? His hand touched her back, running up and down her skin. His touch, his attention, was such a relief. His voice kind, he asked, “What was that, baby? Are you asking to be untied?”
“No Sir. Just…please.” It was so hard to ask, to risk his saying no, to show her need. Asking for sex, for his cock, seemed much easier. “I need your touch. Just your touch.”
Gently, he lifted her head and kissed her. “Okay, good girl.” Another kiss. “Do you want me to play with you? Do more wicked things with my naughty and owned slut?”
“Yes, Sir. Please.”
He said, “Okay.” Then it started, again.
###
It was driving her crazy, but it wasn’t going to make her come. She so needed to. The desperation filled her, and she had never needed anything like she needed this. She would do anything to come, and she truly meant anything.
“Sir, please, I can’t…”
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t come this way. Please.” The vibrating plug was in her ass, on the medium setting. Then he’d introduced her to a new toy, a little vibrating egg. That was now in her pussy, the two vibrating against each other, sending wicked shivers through her entire body. Fuck she needed to come. He knew she needed her clit rubbed (or licked!) to come, was just doing the most wicked of edges ever. He was such a bastard.
He asked, “Are you asking me to touch your clit?”
“Oh God, yes. Please yes. I’ll do anything. Please.”
“But you’ll already do anything for me, won’t you my slut? You’re owned.” Bastard. But he was right about that. What could she offer when she’d already given him everything? He asked, “Are you sure you can’t come this way?”
She started to answer, but he interrupted her with two of his fingers. They pressed deep into her snatch, surprising her. He pulled out the vibe, which should have been a relief, but strangely her snatch missed it, wanted it back. He stuck his fingers back in deep, causing her to cry out. You agreed to this, crawled to the chair like a little slut, begged him to use you, she reminded herself. Yet she knew deep down, the answer would always be the same, that she would always make the crawl to the chair, always choose his wicked games.
His fingers moved around inside her, the tips pressing against the walls of her pussy. God, it made her feel owned, no way to close her legs, no way to stop him, like he was inspecting her, inspecting her pussy, turning her inside out. Why did she love giving herself to him? And the wicked, wicked things he did? Was it simply that she loved his attention? She did so like to please… Hayley knew a great deal of it was trust, that she’d known him for so long, knew that he was a good man, that he’d always cared about her. It was like he’d known her dirty little secrets all along, knew who she really was, and still wanted her.
He said, “It should be just about there…”. His fingers kept searching through her wetness, she had no idea for what, running up and down the back wall of her pussy. It felt good against the vibe in her ass. Then she gasped, loudly.
Still using his weatherman voice, he said, “That’s it. It always feels a little different…”
It felt weird. It felt good. It felt more weird than good. What the hell is he doing? He kept rubbing that spot with his two fingertips, rubbing it in circles, just like he did with her clit. Then it felt more good than weird, but still plenty weird. Her whole body started to tremble, like the beginnings of an earthquake, started to shake hard against the ties binding her wrists and ankles. “Sir, please, oh God.”
“You’re not going to come, are you? Nothing is touching that little clit I own. I thought you couldn’t come without rubbing your clit.”
“Oh God, oh My God, OH MY GOD.”
“And you wouldn’t come without permission, would you? It might be March before I let you come again…” That wicked comment pushed her right to the wicked edge.
Loudly, she asked, “Please, sir, pleasepleaseplease, may I come?”
“Come for me, my slut. Come hard.”
God, the words she’d so longed for. She still doubted she could come this way, but her whole body was shaking, shaking hard, the chair rocking with her. So, so close. She was making the odd little noises, gasps and snorts and little yelps. Desperate didn’t even cover it anymore. She felt liked she’d die if she didn’t come, if he stopped now. The two weeks of being teased, being edged so many times, the wickedness of the train ride and being over the chair for hours, it had filled her with the Mount Everest of needs. It was a giant balloon, filled far too full. It needed to pop, needed to explode. She needed relief.
He got impatient. “Now would probably be a good time to stop. Perhaps I was wrong…” That thought, of being edged yet again, pushed her over the edge. It started deep within her pussy, and spread out from there like ripples across a pond, down her legs to her straining toes, up her spine to her pounding heart and panting lungs. She cried out, “Yes, yes, yes,” her cries getting louder and louder, filling the room. She came. It was insanity, the balloon filled with propane, popped with a match. If she’d had any choice, it would’ve been too much, far too intense. The yes’s turned into something more primal, a half moan and half scream, low and long and loud. Her whole body shook, the chair shook. She wanted to please him, wanted to be a good girl, so she did let go, let it rumble through her body, on and on. It was pure bliss. Unreal. She nearly passed out, it was so intense.
He wasn’t done.
His fingers disappeared, which seemed a prayer answered. Then she felt the little egg vibe back against her pussy. “No, please no, God no.”
“What word was that? You’re not supposed to use that word, are you?”
The vibe was between his fingers. He guided it in, found the same spot, pressed the vibe against it.
“Fuck. Please, no. It’s too much. Please, dear God.”
In an instant, another ripped through her, like being shocked, it was so intense and so quick. She hadn’t stopped coming from the first orgasm as this second wave hit. He moved the vibe around in tiny circles, but always around that spot.
“Hayley, I think we’ve found your G spot. I’m thinking you’ll become close friends. I can’t wait to watch you try to find it with your fingers, or maybe a vibe, on your knees, your red ass high in the air, as I watch from behind. It’ll be another way to edge you.”
The fingertips left her pussy, left the vibe there. For a second she relaxed, hoping she'd have a moment to come back down to earth. Then his very, very wet fingertips found her clit.
“Oh, no. Sir, please, no. God, it’s too much.” She wanted him to stop, begged him to. His fingers rubbed his clit. “Bastard,” slipped out of her lips. She couldn’t believe she’d said it.
He laughed. “I thought you wanted me to rub your clit. And didn’t you want to please me? Did you think that would be easy?” His voice was calm, like he was being the most reasonable man alive, discussing the electricity bill or the weather.
He was none of that, he was a bastard. She said it again.
Another wicked laugh. “I want to see how hard you can come. How hard you can come for me. I want you to come like you’ve never come before. Please me.” The fingertips rubbed in a slow, wet circle, dancing with her clit.
Every nerve ending was alive and screaming into her mind. Yet her clit had been abused, suffered all of those edges, and it hadn’t had any relief. The vibes were still going, no relief in either her ass or her snatch. “Sir, may I, please?”
“Oh, now you want to come? Wouldn’t a bastard stop now?”
“Oh, God, Sir, I can’t stop. Please Sir, may I? Please-please-please-please…”
“Would it be better if I stopped right now? Started your edging again? Wouldn’t that be a good way to start off a month without?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Oh God, no, please, I’m begging you.” She was on the verge of tears, trying to hold it off.
“Come, my slut. Now. Come on my fingers.”
There was nothing like being told to come, being ordered to. Another one ripped through her, more like the crazy-intense orgasms she was used to after he’d denied and teased her, the ones she craved. God it was lovely, wonderful, like nothing else on earth. Pure and heavenly.
While she was still spasming, his fingers disappeared, which was a bit of a relief—she’d wondered if he was going to rub another out of her. The vibe disappeared; she was so wet it spilled out of her and she heard him drop it to the floor. Then she felt something else against the opening of her pussy. She wanted it. She arched her back, tried to spread her legs wider. “Please, Sir. Please put it in. Please fuck me. Fuck your slut hard.”
She felt his hands grip her waist. He pushed his cock all the way in, one big slide until he was deep, pressing up against her sore bottom. He slid out, then in, harder this time. Bent over like she was, the head of his cock was rubbing against the same spot his fingers had found, which was super-fucking sensitive. He fucked her hard, grunting, his hands holding her tight in place. With the plug still vibrating and filling her ass, she felt so full with his cock inside her. Her pussy and clit were still vibrating from her orgasms, and his cock felt so good. She felt so owned, so helpless, so like his fuck toy, to be used however he wanted, used hard. She loved it.
“Fuck me Sir, fuck me harder. Come in me, please, please come in me. Fill me up with your come.”
She loved turning him on, with her body and with her words, loved feeling him respond to her, loved the feeling of him inside her, loved pleasing him. And her pussy was still all nerve endings, fully alive and as wet as rain.
It was a hard fucking, his body slamming into hers, moving the chair. “Oh baby, your ass looks so good, with the plug and your red cheeks. And your pussy is so damn wet.”
“Oh, yes, fuck me. Fuck my snatch. Please come in it. Give it to me.”
He did. His grip tightened at her hips, and he fucked her even harder, like he was the desperate one and hadn’t come in far too long. “I’m coming.” He came in her, hard by the sound of it, as he kept pumping.
“Sir, please, may I?”
“Come, my slut, come with me. Now. Or it will be a month.”
Why did having to go longer and longer without coming turn her on so damn much? Though she didn’t understand it, it clearly did. The thought pushed her over the edge, her fourth orgasm in minutes, and also her fourth in two weeks. And still his cock pumped in and out of her, his body slapping against hers. Finally, he was emptied, his come in all three of her holes. That was ownership.
He collapsed on top of her, his body covering hers, his cock still in her snatch. His breath was hot and ragged against the back of her neck, both of them breathing hard. She felt a little stunned, a little in awe of what had just happened and the intensity of it. And fuck it felt nice to have come.
They stayed like that a long time, savoring the moment, a moment she didn’t want to end. She felt owned, cared for, completely his.
Perhaps three or four minutes later, his cock still in her, he reached down and started undoing her right wrist. When he was done with both wrists, he gently pulled her up, held her tight against his body. His soft cock slipped out. None of her muscles were happy. They all cried out, each vying to be the loudest, her calves, her thighs, her spanked ass, her shoulders, even the arches of her feet. Her pussy and asshole were their own special kind of hurt. It was a wicked soreness, one she liked. As he untied the blindfold, he said, “Keep your eyes closed, things are going to seem crazy bright.”
He was right about that. After much blinking, when she could see again, she turned her body, to look up at him and kiss him. He said, “You’re smiling like a fool. You enjoyed that.”
She realized she was smiling, couldn’t stop. She nodded. “I loved it. You came in every one of my holes. Owned each one.”
That made him smile and earned her a good kiss. “You are amazing. Such a good girl. Super good girl. My super girl.” Then he whispered in her ear, “I’m very proud of you.” That filled her heart, made it expand in her chest, like it wanted to burst.
One hand in the middle of her back, to make sure she didn't fall, held her in place as he bent down and untied her ankles. The first step was the worst, and she would have fallen, but his strong arms were there. He half carried her to the bathroom, sat her on the toilet as he ran a bath. When he turned around, she was on her knees in front of him, her tongue and lips licking his cock clean. That earned her another Good girl.
When she was done with her slut work, he helped her into the bath. The hot water felt unbelievable to her skin, easing all the strained muscles. He bathed her, taking his time, soaping down every inch of her body, whispering sweet nothings to her.