“I’d like you to punish me, please.” I stood in the doorway to his office.
He swiveled in his chair. “Why? What have you done?”
I tried not to blush, and I think I failed. “Nothing, I just… want to be punished.” I could definitely feel the flush crawling up my cheeks. “Please.”
He looked at me, considering. “Shouldn’t you be on your knees to ask for something like that?”
Of course.
I dropped to my knees on the floor, studying the wood grain as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
“I’m waiting,” he said, dragging his fingers lightly through my hair.
I bit my lip. “Please punish me, Sir. I need it. Please.”
“Hmm. I don’t think I’m in the mood to punish you for nothing.”
I looked up at him, unbelievably. Surely he wouldn’t deny me this?
The look on his face both reassured me, and made my heart race. No, he wasn’t going to deny me this.
His fist clenched in my hair, making me cry out. “Crawl to the bed. Kneel there and wait for me.” He punctuated the last phrase with a sudden shove, spilling me onto my hands.
The wait probably wasn’t long, but it felt like it. The anticipation seems to dilate the seconds, and each of my breaths came shallow and frightened. He walked in and began to unbutton his shirt, in that way that said he knew exactly how he would affect me. The man looked like sex, and I appreciated the view. A low moan, barely audible, escaped my lips.
He slithered onto the bed, on his back, so I could watch the long lines of his body move with his liquid grace.
“Come here,” he said, drawing my body over his, so that I straddled his face. “You don’t have permission to cum.”
I felt my eyes widen, and my throat was suddenly dry. “No…” I started, but my words were lost as he trailed his wet tongue across my pussy. I shuddered, already feeling my muscles start to shake. It had been so long, so much edging, that my pussy always seemed to be swollen and needy and wet. Each lick was its own special torture; each gentle, teasing caress pushed me closer and closer to that forbidden orgasm. “Please no,” I begged. “Please, don’t. I can’t.”
“Can’t what?” Lick. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me eat this sweet, desperate pussy, and don’t cum. There’s nothing for you to do.”
I was too close already, and I felt my cunt clench. I tried, really, I did. But his incessant, slow torment of my most sensitive place, so long denied for him, wound me tighter and tighter. The lines of his muscles contracted as he reached back to keep me in place, and I watched the V of his hips tease from beneath the waistband of his jeans. “Please, I’m going to cum, please,” I pleaded.
“You know you don’t have permission to cum.”
“IknowIknowIknow,” I moaned, clenching my eyes shut. “Fuck, but I can’t… Please, I’m going to…”
“Mmm hmm, I know.” He sucked my clit between his lips, and I hissed in pleasure. “You can’t help it, but I love watching you struggle. You try so hard to be my good girl, but your pussy is so needy, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir. Please. Please don’t do this to me.”
Even as I said it, my mind and body warred. He was right, of course. I was so close, desperately close.
“How long has it been?” he asked.
I knew that he knew already; hell, he had watched me edge every day – and usually multiple times a day. “A month.” My legs quivered as I said it, helpless against the onslaught of his talented tongue.
“A long month of edging, of keeping yourself on the brink for me. How do you think I should punish you, when you finally lose control?”
All my thoughts seeped away, overshadowed by my effort to keep my forbidden pleasure at bay. “I… I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Lick. “Did you really come into my office today, looking to get punished, and have no idea of what you wanted? Surely you must have been fantasizing about something.”
I clenched my teeth. Our conversation in the office felt like a thousand years ago. Yes, I had wanted to be punished, wanted him to hurt me, but I hadn’t wanted to actually break one of his rules to do so. And especially not one as central to our dynamic as cumming without permission.
The thought of it iced my veins, even as he continued to push me closer to that awful and beautiful inevitability.
I did not like disobeying.
“Maybe we’ll use the cane. Or would you prefer the loopy johnny?”
My insides clenched at the thought.
“Oh, you liked that idea.”
I imagined the deep welts across my ass, the sound of my own screams, the feeling of abject helplessness underneath the power of his strokes. I imagined the pain of it, and I moaned and drug my fingernails into my palms. “Please,” I begged.
“Please, what?” He swirled his tongue around my clit.
I felt the first piece of me break, inside. “Both. Both, please. Please both. Hurt me. Punish me.”
He took one more tiny lick, before dragging his teeth over the sensitive underside of my clit. I felt my eyes flutter, and I screamed my orgasm into his mouth. There was nothing, nothing, except for the unbearable pleasure of his mouth on my pussy, that sweet release that I had been so long denied. Each heady contraction seemed to go on and on, and I rode my climax until I was a shivering, panting mess on top of him.
He flipped me over and held my wrists above my head as the orgasmic aftershocks jerked my muscles. The roughness of his jeans against my skin was almost too much, and I writhed underneath the weight of him.
“You naughty girl. I told you not to cum.”
I blushed, the sting of failure clawing through my chest. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
He smiled at me, and it was a dangerous smile. “You will be.” He reached down into the bedside table and brought out an alligator clip with a red wire attached to it. He opened and closed it in front of my eyes, and the metal teeth, to me, seemed sharper than they normally did. “Where do you think this should go?”
My eyes felt like they were showing too much white. I shook my head.
His smile widened, looking predatory. “Open your legs.”
I felt my breath come in short, staccato gasps, but I spread my legs for him. Even knowing what was about to happen, I couldn’t help but obey.
“That’s it, good girl. We need to punish this clit for cumming without permission, don’t we?”
The first tear trickled down my cheek. “Yes, Sir.”
His fingers found my clit, and pulled it taut.
Even that small movement made me shiver with pleasure all over again. “Do you feel guilty for your orgasm?” he asked.
Did I feel guilty?
I thought about that. He forced me, gave me no choice. He forced that orgasm out of me.
But did I feel guilty about it? Even if I couldn’t have stopped him?
Yes. Yes, I felt guilty for orgasming without permission. I wanted him to punish me. The mind fuck was real. “Yes, Sir,” I whispered.
He laughed, a deep rumbling bass that promised pain. “Such a good little slut.”
He let the sharp metal clip bite into my most sensitive flesh, and I screamed and bucked. It was excruciating; it was like my clit was being bitten into two. I screamed and I cried while he watched me with that wicked grin.
My vision blurred, light wavered around me. I thought he reached down and retrieved a small box, plugging in the other end of the red wire. There was a click of a dial, and white hot pain erupted between my legs. I couldn’t think, there was nothing to think, except the unrelenting agony centered along the place that had brought me so much pleasure only moments ago.
Reality fuzzed and distorted, and I must have been screaming, but had no sense of it. My existence narrowed down to the overwhelming burn of electricity between my legs.
Just as quickly as it had begun, he switched it off. It took me a moment to focus on him again. My cheeks were wet, and my throat hurt.
“That was level two of ten.”
I felt my eyes bulge. Two? Of ten?
He smiled down at me. “You are so beautiful when you’re terrified, do you know that?”
He laid a light kiss on my lips, and let my wrists go. “I’m going to let you sit here and think about what you’ve done.” He took out his phone and showed me the app. “I can control the current from here. I want you to scream for me. Show me how much you want your real punishment to begin.”
I couldn’t draw a full breath, my lungs refused to inflate. My mind refused to process the words he was telling me.
My real punishment?
He attached the restraints to my wrists and ankles, and attached them to the bed posts, so I was spread open and vulnerable. I struggled, because that’s what you do when you’re tied spread eagle, and watched as he took out the cane and the loopy johnny, laying them neatly within my vision.
He leaned down to give me another kiss. “Now, tell me when you’re ready.”
I almost protested, but he hit the button on his phone, and I had no more thoughts but the scorching pain.
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