“Call me. I want to hear you beg.”
His voice is calming like the sea, but equally dangerous. I’m weak when I hear him. He takes all my anxiety away.
I call him and I close my eyes.
“Please can I cum?”
“I’m not sure you really want to,” he says. I pout. “I’m not really sure I want to either,” I say. I’m already edging. After two months into denial I’ve become scared of cumming. Staying needy and wet is safe, familiar. An orgasm feels scary. But I’m really desperate. He can hear the wand and I quietly moan.
“Come on. You can get closer than that.”
I get closer and closer until I think I can’t hold it anymore, and he pulls me back. “Control your breathing. If you go over now, you’re ruining it.”
I whine, but pull back a little.
“Maybe I should just ruin you anyway.”
“Noooo, please, I want to cum.”
“What you want isn’t always what’s best for you.”
I want whatever he wants. If he tells me to stop now, I will cry but obey. I’ll do anything for him.
I get to the edge again. I get louder and more desperate and I start to beg again.
“Hmm, that’s better. Stay here for a bit.”
“Please, please, please let me cum, please Sir.”
“Shh, be quiet, I’m writing an email.”
I don’t know if he’s serious or not. The idea of him multitasking while making me beg turns me on and also annoys me. I don’t know how to feel. I go quiet.
“Stay on the edge,” he warns. “If you lose it, we’re stopping.”
I edge harder again. I get closer but try to stay quiet. It’s harder to go over like this. I’m not as close as I should be but I beg quietly, struggling to control myself and struggling to edge hard like this too.
“Good girl,” he says. “Cum for me now.”
But I’m not ready, I’m not close enough, and I panic. I press the wand down hard but he can hear that I’m not there yet.
“Come on. I told you to cum.”
I whine and moan. He can hear my desperation, I know he can, and I can hear the enjoyment in his voice. I’m scared he’ll take it away again. I think he did it on purpose.
“Don’t you want to cum? If you don’t, we’re stopping.”
He starts to count down from 10. It scares me but also helps me.
When he gets to four, I finally go over, and I scream. I haven’t cum in nearly two months. I’ve ruined every single time I’ve gone over. I don’t stop this time, with his voice in my ear. It’s amazing and entirely overwhelming. My clit isn’t used to this anymore. It hurts.
He stops counting. “Is that you cumming? Good girl.”
I cum hard, and as soon as it ends I want to cum again. I’m both grateful and scared when he tells me to turns the wand up to maximum.
I moan and scream and cry while he keeps talking. Good girl. Yes, this is what I wanted. Don’t stop. Harder.
I can’t respond, only scream, but I love everything he says.
I have three… maybe four orgasms. I nearly choke. I cry and try to stop. I beg him to let me stop but he tells me I can cum more. It hurts but it feels amazing.
When he finally tells me that’s enough, my heart is racing. He says sweet, loving things while I try to recover.
Finally, happy and pleased and thankful, I purr: “thank you, Sir.”
“You’re very welcome, sweetie.”
I love cumming. I want to do it again.
Wonderful, and very accurate account, well done sweetie.
But as for cumming again, wasn’t it the fact that it’d been two months that made it so good?