Making Up For Lost Time

I slide my hands down his chest, covered in rubber and lube. I check the chains securing his hands to his upper thighs. A gentle tug on each one. A whimper from him. My slick hand slides against the latex, across his stomach, down his legs, everywhere but that gorgeous hard cock.

I carefully kneel in front of him. I’ve been edging him for hours with the e-stim. Tied tightly to the chair in the living room. Gas mask on for most of that time. He must be exhausted. It’s terribly mean of me to make him stand for this.

It’s been two weeks. Two very long weeks. He’s been traveling, and we’ve had to satisfy ourselves with long phone calls and text messages. For two weeks.

I lick my lips and slide my mouth around his cock. At first I just gently tease him with my tongue, but then I slide my lips back, all the way to the tip, before greedily swallowing him up again. He gasps and moans.

I eventually flick the switch to the estim, bringing it back to life, a wave of current running through his balls as my mouth slides up and down his cock. Every now and then a hint of teeth graze his overly sensitive skin and he moans and shudders. He pulls at the chains holding his hands against his thighs and squirms. I go down all the way, the tip of his cock hitting the back of my throat, before smacking his ass and pulling off of him entirely.

“No moving, slave,” I growl.

He whimpers. “Sorry, mistress.”

I swallow his cock again and turn up the estim. It’s suddenly almost too much for him to handle. His cock stiffens and I know if I don’t ease up he’ll cum.

But I don’t let him. I ease up on my assault and let him come back down from the cliff edge of orgasm. I do this to him five more times.

I shut off the estim entirely, removing all of it, before I finally get up from my position on the floor. My knees are sore. I’m sore and tired, but so proud of my rubber boy enduring what I’ve put him through. Of what I still plan to put him through tonight. I’ve missed him dearly.

I take some water in my mouth and pass it to him. It’s the closest we’ve come to kissing all night, and it’s agony to not ravage his mouth. He greedily drinks up the water and I give him more in this way until the glass is empty.

I guide him to the bed and help him lie down. I remove the restraints from his thighs and lock his hands to the top of the bed, then secure his feet to the bottom.

I grab the bottle of mint lube and generously apply it to his cock, causing him to gasp. “That’s so mean,” he whines.

I slip my had around his throat and lean in close to his ear, my breath hot against the latex hood encasing his head as I chuckle. “No, it’s not, slave,” I say,”but what I’m about to do will be…”

I straddle his hips and slowly slide down on his cock. He gasps and whimpers. The cold of the minty lube, the stretch of his cock in me after two long weeks, almost makes me gasp. His hips rock up to meet mine and I don’t admonish him for moving this time. No, I welcome it.

I ride him hard, pausing frequently to tease him, frustrating him even further. He’s so close now that it wouldn’t take much more. And finally, finally I give in. I let him give in.

He cums hard, buried in me, shuddering with pleasure. He gasps for breath. It’s all over. All the torture is over.

But it’s not. I have to restrain myself from moving to unbuckle his restraints, from removing the latex mask and gently kissing him, stroking his hair. I’m not finished with him just yet.

I do unlock his hands from the top of the bed. I take the chain I had used and wrap it around his neck, securing it with a lock, transforming it into a snug collar and leash.

He freezes. He wasn’t expecting this. “What are you doing?” he says in his more normal voice, just beginning to slip out of the submissive persona he was inhabiting a minute earlier.

I have to reassert my authority, inform him that he’s still my rubber boy. I clamp a hand down over his mouth. “I’m not done with you yet, slave,” I growl.

He swallows hard and nods before I remove my hand. I crawl up his body and straddle his head, a knee on either side. I reach behind me to grab the makeshift leash and I tug up, pulling his face into my dripping cunt.

I barely have a chance to utter my orders — “clean up that mess you made,” I command — and his tongue is already hard at work.

He gets off easy this time, though. I’m so wired from the last several hours that it doesn’t take much effort for the first waves of an orgasm to come crashing down on me.

It’s been two very long weeks, and we’re just beginning to make up for lost time.

In the Moment

M and I talk about writing stories. Recounting past exploits and imagining future ones. We send each other snippets of fantasies, and talk for hours about what we plan to do to each other. Or, even more dangerously, what we want done to us. They say the largest sex organ is the brain, and we certainly don’t ignore that.

It’s difficult, though, to remember the details. It’s hard to recall and put into words exactly what was happening the night before. So many of the details blur together, only a few very specific things standing out in stark relief.The thrill as he tightened the straps on my arms, pinning them behind my back. Closing the Kali’s Teeth around his hardening cock and snapping a lock on it. The sweat dripping onto my face as he fucked me on the floor. Brushing my hand over his tender nipples, captured by clover clamps. Begging for more, begging to be punished. There’s so much between these snapshots. Lust and fear and trust and the desire to push ourselves, and to push each other.

He comes home from another business trip, this one longer than anticipated. I’m dressed up and waiting for him, restraints ready, mask over my head, on my knees. The anticipation nearly kills me as I hear the key turn in the lock, waiting for him to set his bags down and shove his hard cock in my mouth.

Another night I replicate the “science experiments” I ran while he was away. But this time he restrains me and takes the control box, tweaking the settings, adjusting the speed and intensity of the electricity. In no time he has me begging for mercy.

I do the same to him another night. Zipped up tight in the sleep sack, chained to the bed. I take the box into the other room, playing with the settings to remind him I’m still there, giving him a jolt now and then. But I want to watch him, and I want to push his buttons, so I end up sitting on the floor by the bed, adjusting the settings, eventually making him come.

For a long time, neither of us felt the need to use our safewords. We had them, but rarely uttered them. Lately, though, it’s almost as if we’re daring the other to say it. Trying to push each other into crying “red”. It’s a boundary that we need to push, but we’re pushing it together.

No Sleep Tonight

We swore we were going to be good. It was late when we got home, and even later by the time we crawled into bed. Weeks of sleep deprivation had tapped our energy reserves and we’d been running on fumes. We should have known better.

Talking in the dark, the heat of our bodies radiating against each other, we took turns pushing each other a little further away from any innocence that night. At one point, his hard cock pressed into my lower back as I fought to not touch him. It was a slow, dangerous simmering of desire.

I finally twisted around to face him. I swore I would be good tonight. Anything that happened would be his doing. He was the one who had to be at work in the morning.

His head dipped down to capture my mouth in a deep kiss and any semblance of control I had left cracked. My hand ran up his chest to his shoulder, pushing him back against the bed so I could slide on top of him, pinning him against the mattress.

But we didn’t fuck, even though we wanted to. After kissing and grinding and teasing, some modicum of reason crept back into our brains. “We shouldn’t do this,” he breathed heavily.

“I know.” My head dropped to his shoulder with a sigh, “We need to sleep.”

I rolled off him. Settling back into the bed, I took a deep breath and tried to clear away the fog of arousal with little success. My right hand eventually slipped between my legs and was immediately slick with fluid. I was mostly annoyed. We needed to sleep badly, but my body had other things clearly in mind.

“I’m really, really wet,” I said. He just chuckled. After a pause, I continued: “Would you mind if I…”

“If you want.”

My fingers easily slipped into place, slipped into a rhythm. I started off slowly, quietly, almost imperceptibly. After a minute or two of laying in the dark, I propped one of my legs up and quickened the pace of my hand, a sigh escaping my lips.

He shifted in bed next to me, closing the gap between us, his body brushing against mine. He now knew I hadn’t been bluffing in my intentions.

His arm slipped behind my neck and I expected his mouth to find mine. Instead his hand quickly slipped over my mouth and held tight, while his other hand grabbed my unoccupied one and brought it to his cock. My fingers wrapped tight and began stroking him while my other set of fingers pushed harder and faster against my clit, slipping back and forth. I took a deep breath through my nose before he pinched it shut for a few seconds. I exhaled in a rush, and sucked air back in quickly before he did it again.

Trusting him with that level of control gave me a rush, and suddenly I wanted to get off immediately. I tried to keep pace with both of my hands as he continued to control my breathing. But after a few frustrating minutes, my hands stopped and his hand fell away from my mouth.

“I can’t come,” I admitted. I was close, but I just couldn’t quite reach the edge. I was hitting a wall.

He paused, the gears turning in his horny brain, coming up with a solution. He got up and straddled my chest, pushing his cock past my lips and teeth and deep into my mouth. One hand pinned the arm that had previous been stroking him, while the other dug into my hair and pulled gently.

“I left a hand free for a reason,” he breathed.

I whimpered and began to suck him while digging my fingers into the hot, slippery skin around my clit. Saliva began to build up, making my mouth wet and inviting. He thrust gently, tugging on my hair. His cock pushed in deep enough to temporarily stop the flow of air, forcing me to time my breath with his thrusts. Several times I had to pull back, allowing him to slip entirely out of my mouth, and take several large gulps of air.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said with a dangerous growl, pushing back into my mouth.

It was finally enough to make me come. My body convulsed, the orgasm tearing through my exhausted muscles, fogging my brain with a flood of hormones.

He had slipped out of my mouth, and shifted to kneeling on my left side, giving me a brief chance to come down, to catch my breath.

His cock was still hard as I moved slightly to face him and he pushed back into my mouth. The angle was awkward for me to move much, and he had all the control over the depth and pace as he fucked my mouth. I sucked, flicked my tongue, and offered hints of teeth. Eventually I slipped my damp hand around the base of his cock, adding to the pressure and friction. His balls were tight against his body. He was close.

He came with a grunt and a whimper, his come running over my tongue and pooling in my cheek. I sucked gently, swallowing carefully and running my tongue over his softening cock to capture anything that might have spilled. He comments about my extraordinary cleanup frequently, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint.

He fell back on the bed with a sigh. I kissed his hip and ran my hand over his stomach.

“This is really bad.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Really, really bad.”

So much for sleep.