“You cum six times a day?”
“Yep.”
No matter how outrageous it sounded, my mind was already spinning, calculating, imagining load after load in my mouth… on my face…
Images of being plastered with cum, that needy bukkake princess, flashed across my brain.
“Sometimes more.” He sat back, looking pleased with himself.
I gave him the look that that deserved. “No fucking way.”
He shrugged.
Still, the possibilities… made things low in my body tighten. “I have an idea.”
“Oh?”
I licked my lips, wondering if this was really a good idea. Fuck it. “It’s a game.”
“I like games.” He leaned forward. “How do we play?”
I took his hand and lead him into the bedroom, to the dresser with all the toys and restraints. I found both pairs of cuffs and the hitachi wand. “Do you want the wand, or do you want to just use your mouth?”
“You haven’t told me what we’re doing yet.”
“Hardly an oversight. Tongue or hitachi?”
He considered. “Tongue.”
A shiver ran down my spine, and I grinned. “I like you.” The wand went back in the drawer, and I handed him the cuffs. “Here’s the game: you tie me up, something relatively comfortable. Legs apart, so you tease my cunt with that talented mouth you have.”
“I like. Go on.”
I looked up at him and blushed. “Edge me. Keep me on the edge. Make me desperate, willing, eager.”
“Uh huh,” he said, a smile crawling across his face.
“And for each load I can convince you to shoot in my mouth, I get… let’s say ten seconds to cum at the end of the day.” My cheeks felt hot, and I sucked on my bottom lip.
I watched his eyes settle on that tiny movement, and some perverse part of me was ridiculously pleased.
“Cumulative addition, of course,” I added.
“Of course.” His fingers came up to trace along the line of my lip. “And what if I don’t cum in your mouth?”
It was suddenly so very hard to think. “Um, well. I guess… I guess I’ll just not, um, have as much time.”
He pushed his fingers into my mouth, the violation criminally sensual. “And what happens if I don’t cum in your mouth at all?”
I shuddered, thinking of spending the day being helplessly teased. Brought to the edge, over and over, with his soft tongue and sharp teeth. The thought alone was enough to make me clench and moan around his fingers. I swirled my tongue around and pushed my head back. “I need your cock in my mouth. Please.”
He reached around to place a small kiss on my jawline, right below my ear. “I haven’t even started yet, and already your begging is so sweet.”
Four hours later I had moved past questioning my own sanity, and had settled merely on promising myself I would never suggest a game ever again.
A thin sheen of sweat covered my body, and my muscles shook slightly. I could feel five loads of cum drying on my face, dripping ooze down the contours of my cheekbones.
Not a single fucking one.
He took another tiny lick across my clit, which felt swollen to monstrous proportion. Every screaming nerve ending seemed to sever another synapse in my brain. “Please. Please, please, please cum in my mouth. I need to cum, I am losing my goddamn mind. Fuck, please.”
Another lick, softer this time.
I groaned and pulled at the restraints, close to tears.
He stood up, gloriously hard again. It was hard to even appreciate how impressive this truly was, because all I could think of was getting his cum in my mouth. A flutter of optimism blossomed under my sternum, and I opened and stuck my tongue out to meet him. “Please. Please… I need it.”
“Do you?” he asked, stroking himself so tantalizingly close to my lips.
“Yes!”
There was a gleam in his eyes that should have scared me, if I had had the wherewithal to notice anything but the tip of his cock dripping precum. “Maybe I should make you beg for this load on your tits, or on your stomach. You want to beg me to leave you a needy little mess? I’ll let you try again next week.”
The prospect of spending an entire week like this sounded like agony. Tempting agony. “No, please.”
“No? Or please?”
I was so past parsing these difficult questions; I closed my eyes, feeling my pussy involuntarily clench. I felt the truth of my body. There was an aching need, deeper than the blissful torment of his mouth, to submit to his control. To let him control me, edge me, torture me… exploit me.
Fuck, I wanted it.
I watched him quicken the pace of his strokes. “Please,” I said, my voice breathy.
There must be something wrong with me.
His smile was positively predatory. “Tell me how much you like being my little edge slut.”
All the words in my brain seemed to collect in a pile, only to be blown away by the breeze. They fluttered away on my imaginary air currents, each frustratingly out of reach. “I want…” I started, rolling my hips as much as the bondage would allow. “Please. Please… I love being your needy little thing.”
“Mmm hmm,” he said, his hand flying over his cock. “Go on.”
I blushed and my cunt convulsed; the mindfuck was real. “I like when you make me edge.” My clit throbbed. I’m sure that if I were allowed just a tiny, tiny rub, I could send myself into orgasmic oblivion. I thought about this deep, mind bending need. “I like when I’m a dripping, desperate slut for you.”
He took the growing drop of precum and rubbed it around the head of his cock.
My mouth watered. “Please,” I whispered.
He pushed his cock between my lips, and a hopelessly eager noise escaped my throat. More and more he filled my mouth, the stretch of my jaw a delicious pain. I relaxed my muscles and felt him breach my throat.
I could almost feel the orgasm I was going to have. It was going to be sublime, with his tongue and teeth and lips finally sending me crashing over the precipice.
He took long, deep strokes in and out of my mouth, as he wound his fingers through my hair and used it to lever himself harder and faster.
The gnawing ache in my body — an ache he had put there, and carefully cultivated today — flared and burned to life, as he used my throat for his pleasure.
I could feel my pupils dilate, as I fell further and further into the spiraling rawness of subspace.
I did like being his edge slut.
The desperation, the eagerness, the willingness felt good.
I wanted him to use me, violate me. Strip off every pretense of propriety and see how truly deep this fissure of depravity ran, inside my mind.
He pulled out, suddenly enough that my lips still held the little o shape. He worked the slippery throat slime over himself, inches from my open mouth. “Tell me,” he rasped. “I want to hear you say it.”
My eyes felt impossibly wide; everything looked much too bright. My thoughts undulated between needing to cum and needing to submit. The eternal question oscillated between need and desire, craving and aching.
I knew what I was going to say. My cheeks flushed.
“I want you to keep me like this,” I whispered. “I want to be your needy little edge doll. Make me edge until the only word I know is ‘yes.’ Let me be the eager fuck toy I was meant to be.”
“Fuck!” he groaned. Ropes of thick cum landed across my forehead, and I didn’t know if I wanted to scream or rejoice.
Rivulets of cum ran into the corners of my eyes, and even the burn of that felt good, right. I watched him through increasingly blurred vision, work to catch his breath.
He leaned down to kiss my lips. “I like your games.”
Photo by Dylan Sauerwein on Unsplash