SHORT STORIES 4 #2
She did not stop. She rode him harder until he broke, pulsing deep inside her, four days of held tension leaving him in hard, helpless spurts. After a few breaths she lifted off and told him to slide down. He did, gladly, and cleaned her with his tongue while their mixed wetness filled his mouth.
She fell asleep quickly. Miles stayed awake longer, uneasy. He had warned her. She had not stopped him. Still, the rule had been permission, not merely a warning. The gray area bothered him.
The next evening he brought it up.
"I was thinking the same thing," Diana said. "You told me you were close, and I kept going. So no punishment this time. But do not treat that as a precedent. Next time, if I have not clearly allowed it, you hold back. Or you deal with the consequence I choose."
"Yes, Mistress."
Relief loosened his shoulders. Curiosity kept his pulse high.
Nothing else happened until Friday night.
Again she let him eat her until she came, harder than before, thighs trembling around his ears. He expected nothing for himself so close to Sunday's session. Then she moved down the bed and took him into her mouth.
He hardened almost at once. She sucked him with slow patience, then sat cross-legged between his legs and stroked him with her hand.
"Tell me when you are close."
Minutes later: "Close."
She kept going. "Tell me when you are seconds away."
Ten or fifteen seconds later he breathed, "Now. Right now."
Her hand left him. He opened his eyes. She was watching his face.
"Where are the dice?"
"Downstairs."
"Then pick a number between one and six."
"Four."
She circled the base of his cock with finger and thumb of one hand and slapped the shaft four times with the other. Not hard enough to hurt in any real way, just sharp enough to jolt him. Strangely, the need to come did not fade. It deepened.
"Now pick a number between seven and twelve."
"Eight."
"All right."
She gave him eight strokes so slow and light they were almost imaginary. Each one teased him toward a peak he could not reach. When she stopped, he was shaking.
"You did not really think I would let you come this close to the session, did you?"
"No."
"But you hoped."
"Yes."
"You seem unsure."
Miles swallowed and tried to put the truth into words while his cock twitched between them.
"Of course I want to come. But I also like being left like this. It is a dizzy feeling. Almost like being high. Addictive. Coming is wonderful, but it is brief. When I am denied, I get hard every couple of hours. I think about you constantly. It is not the same as just not having sex.
If sex is impossible for some ordinary reason, the want goes quiet. If the only reason is your decision, the tension keeps building. That is why I asked you to control this. I still want to make you come. I still want to hold you.
Feeling you next to me while I am hard and unfinished makes it stronger. I love when you bring me to the edge and stop. Part of me wants to give in. Part of me wants it to go on."
While he spoke he had been staring at the ceiling. When he looked at her, her fingers were between her own legs. His confession had affected her. She rubbed her clit and said, voice low, "So deep down, you do not really want to come at all."
"I do. But only when you let me."
She gripped his cock hard and stroked him several firm times. "Then beg me. Beg me not to let you come tonight, or any night, until I decide."
He hesitated only long enough to feel the full weight of the request. Then the submissive part of him, the part that had started all of this, opened completely.
"Please, Mistress. Do not let me come tonight. Do not let me come until you want it. Keep me like this. Use me for your pleasure. Make me wait."
She listened until she was satisfied, then released him and lay down beside him. "Eat me again."
He moved between her thighs at once. She was extremely wet.
The second orgasm took longer, but when it hit it was deeper, almost silent, her hand tight in his hair.
Afterward they lay together with his still-hard cock nestled against her ass.
Miles tried to remember the last time he had made her come twice in one night and failed. Years, at least.
Near midnight he kissed her shoulder and whispered that he loved her, that she was making him happy in a way he could not fully explain. She said she was happy too and reached back to squeeze him a few times before letting go. He turned over eventually, still aching, and slept.
Sunday's formal session was excellent even by their standards.
Diana came hard enough that Miles felt proud and wrecked at once.
Near the end of the hour he was tied spread-eagle on his back.
She stood over his face, one knee on either side of his head, and stroked his neglected cock with maddening patience while he stared up at her open body.
"Do you want to lick my ass, slave?"
"Yes please, Mistress."
"Do you deserve it?"
"If it pleases you."
She lowered herself until she was inches from his mouth. "Have you come since I last allowed it?"
"No, Mistress."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"And you have not touched yourself in a sexual way since Friday?"
Miles's breath caught. Friday night, after she fell asleep, he had almost wrapped his hand around himself in the dark. He had stopped before anything more than a few guilty strokes against the sheet. Almost was not nothing.
"I... started to," he admitted. "After you fell asleep Friday. I stopped. I did not come. But I touched."
Diana went still above him. For a second the room held only the sound of his heartbeat and her breathing.
Then she laughed, soft and delighted, and the sound poured heat straight through him.
"Good boy for telling me," she said. "Bad boy for needing to tell me. We will settle that properly after you roll the next number. Because this game is about to stop being gentle."
She lowered the rest of the way and let him taste her while her hand kept him hard and denied. When the hour ended, she freed his wrists, kissed his mouth, and pressed the dice into his damp palm.
"Roll," she said. "Then we talk about consequences."
Miles's fingers shook as he shook the dice. Whatever number came up, he already knew the next stretch would not be like the first ones. Diana was no longer testing whether she could control him.
She was deciding how thoroughly she wanted to.
The dice left his hand and struck the bedspread.
The dice settled on the bedspread: a six and a five.
Eleven.
Miles stared at the number as if it might change if he blinked hard enough. Diana picked up both dice, turned them so he could see the faces again, and set them on the nightstand like evidence.
"Eleven days," she said. "Counted back from next month's Sunday session. That means your free window ends sooner, and the controlled stretch lasts longer. From the marked day forward, you do not come without a clear yes from me. Not a maybe. Not a moan. A yes."
"Yes, Mistress."
"And then there is Friday."
Miles swallowed. "I stopped."
"I believe you. That is why this is a consequence, not a crisis. You asked for control. Control includes what you do with your hands when I am asleep."
She sat on the edge of the bed, still naked from the session, calm in a way that made his stomach tighten.
"New rule for this cycle. If you touch yourself for pleasure without permission, you tell me the same day. If you almost come without permission, you tell me before you finish the sentence in your head. If you break either rule and hide it,
the game pauses and we talk as husband and wife before anything continues. Clear?"
"Clear."
"Good. For Friday's slip, your consequence is simple. For the first three restricted nights, you will make me come at least once with your mouth. You will not ask to come during those nights. You may get hard. You will stay hard. You will thank me when I leave you that way."
Heat flooded his face. "Yes, Mistress."
"Outside those rules, we are still Diana and Miles. Work. Dinner. Bad television. I love you. This only works because of that."
"I know."
She leaned in and kissed him, soft and ordinary, then harder, until the session energy and the marriage energy braided together again. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright.
"Mark the calendar. Then take a shower. You smell like sex and nerves."
He laughed, shaky, and obeyed.
The free days before the eleven-day mark passed in a strange mix of normal life and private voltage.
They cooked, answered emails, argued lightly about whether to repaint the hallway.
At night Diana sometimes draped a leg over his and did nothing else.
Sometimes she put his hand between her thighs and used his fingers until she came, then rolled away with a satisfied sigh while his cock stayed untouched and furious.
On the last free night, she allowed him fully.
She put him on his back, rode him until she finished, then told him he could come.
He lasted barely a minute after permission.
Afterward she made him clean her again, slow and thorough, and whispered, "Remember this feeling. You do not get it back until I say."
He remembered.
The restricted stretch began on a gray Monday. Diana left a note under his coffee mug before work:
Mouth only for me these first three nights. No asking. Be good.
Miles read it twice, folded it, and put it in his wallet like a secret.
Monday night she came home tired and sharp-eyed.
She showered, put on a robe, and sat on the couch with her legs open over his lap while a cooking show played muted on the television.
Miles knelt on the rug and licked her until her composure broke.
She came with her hand in his hair and her heel pressed between his shoulder blades.
When she finished, she looked down at his obvious erection tenting his sweatpants.
"Thank me."
"Thank you, Mistress."
"Good. Water the plants. I am going to bed."
He watered the plants with a hard-on and a grin he could not quite hide.
Tuesday was similar, except she made him do it twice.