She makes me want it
I was edged out for over a week. That morning, I edged for what must have been an hour or more, then cooked us lunch and brought it to your work, where you teased me occasionally, stopping briefly by the back room where I worked as you finished your shift. Going home, you teased me again, standing in the parking lot by our cars before we left. God, you were so alluring.
I don’t remember how it began, but I know you had focused on my manners, making sure I replied to your approving “Thank you” with, “You’re welcome, mistress.” You made me choose the title, which I did sheepishly.
I had brushed my teeth, anticipating my mouth being used. You noticed while you kissed me, your hand stroking my cock, and you got up to go the bathroom. You told me to keep touching myself while you got ready, and as I heard the water running I thought about how much need I had to keep stroking myself so wantonly.
I remember the anticipation of submitting to you shot my nerves up, messing with my arousal somewhat, and I considered safewording to ask you to hold me close until I stabilized. But by the time I heard you open the door, the nerves were gone and I was a mess of arousal as you entered. I feel so sex-addled just from the thought of you — don’t you know? I’m sure you do.
You started scrolling my posts as you stroked my cock again, and you must have hit the post about the vibe. It kinda worked on my dick; it was an insanely strong sensation, somewhat torturous but in a wonderful way. But I think you got tired of it, and I didn’t mind when your mouth descended onto my shaft instead.
Eventually you started finger fucking my mouth while scrolling; alternately making me suck your fingers, and masturbating yourself while you scrolled. Each time your fingers returned to my mouth, I got to taste your arousal and hope to earn your pussy on my tongue. You smeared your arousal on my lips, and it thrilled me how you enjoyed my devoted use as your toy to defile. You had me alternately edge myself — which was easy — and lie still with my hands at sides while you masturbated — which was much harder.
Eventually, you noticed that I was thrusting into the air, and I clarified that it was the sensation of pressure from my underwear. But you asked if I would still thrust without it, and I didn’t know. “Let’s find out, shall we?” With that, I had to remove my underwear, and we soon discovered that I thrusted regardless. I only got more needy when you discovered this and mocked me for such a pathetically needy display. Do you know how hot you are like that? I could only thrust more.
Eventually, you finished scrolling, and told me to grab the ring gag. I wanted it tight (it helps it be more comfortable when it’s held securely in place) so you strapped it onto my face, then began to finger fuck my mouth. I imagine it’s moments like these where it shows in my eyes — moments where I realize what I’m doing, and it hits me that I shouldn’t do this, that I would never let anyone do this… but then I’m aware that not only are you doing this to me, but I want you to do it. I need it. I think you saw; it made you bold, and you looked so exquisite in your power.
Next, you gave me a choice: I could kneel and go down on you, or I could lie back and have you sit above my face as I ate you out. The ring gag remained in, so any hope of modesty was gone. I knew I wanted you riding me, and soon you were pressing your pussy into my jaw from above. I asked if I could edge while licking you, and you encouraged me.
I hit the edge quickly and had to back off, but you kept riding my tongue. My jaw was held open, your pussy sliding over my chin, and I felt your slick juices coating the lower half of my face. I felt filthy, used, and blissfully focused on my task and my disheveled appearance. You looked magnificent. I loved it.
It turned out I got both outcomes anyway, because next you had me go down on you. I was rewarded by you holding me close into your chest. The ring gag came off, and after a brief rest, you grabbed the vibrating dildo and had me fuck you with it.
You started slipping into begging me, but I was so firmly in subspace that I wouldn’t have taken advantage of you if I tried. Besides, I wouldn’t have dared, nor did I want to be in control.
Instead, I found it easy and a relief to focus on my task — one in which I felt competent and certain in my abilities. I knew your body well from dominating you, and now I centered myself in building your pleasure, putting in my best efforts possible. You smiled and praised my eagerness. You told me I was more than just a toy in the way I was so devoted.
“What do you think that would be?”
“Your pet?” I wasn’t sure, but I hoped so.
“Yes,” you kissed me, “Yes, my pet. Thank you.”
I kept forgetting to say “you’re welcome” in my bliss, so you had to prompt me again, chastising me lightly.
When you had recovered, you took the dildo out and had me clean it off with my mouth. I retched as you shoved it as far back as I could take it, enjoying my efforts to take it. Then you poked it into my cheek, so it bulged out embarrassingly. I felt so humiliated, and you giggled at how it looked. Adorable. Then you licked the bulge in my cheek. My dick twitched with the humiliating attention as you licked me again and covered my cheek in your saliva.
Finally, you asked me if I would get on all fours. I recall being surprised; I didn’t think you’d have me do this. I wasn’t sure where to go or how to position myself. Having you tell me which way to face, and correcting me on my positioning, made me feel more controlled and secure. I began to feel at ease despite the novel position. You didn’t instruct me how to kneel, but I parted my hands and knees, and looked straight ahead how I had instructed you to in this position.
Then you leaned back and lifted your leg, and I inhaled with newfound humiliation as your feet propped to rest on my back. I almost cried out at the unfairness — how I hadn’t yet done this to you; how I wasn’t your footstool; oh god even now, it just feels...
It felt so wrong. And I felt myself growing hard. I kept shifting, finding it difficult to stay still: I wanted to hide; I wanted to look to you for guidance; I wanted to hold a position I imagined you wanted yet you hadn’t even told me to be in; I wanted to burrow into your chest for safety; I wanted to be good and be the source of your arousal; I wanted my cock stroked; I wanted to be owned. I was a mess of desire and you leaned back, hands propped behind your head as you rested your heels on me and observed your devoted, obedient pet.
You alternated between resting, and reaching out to stroke my skin, explore my mouth, and jerk my cock. Holding out your hand for me to fuck, you edged me by slowly moving your hand away until I was off-balance and desperately thrusting the air to try to reach it. As you encouraged me and I finally reached for you, you relented and moved closer to reward me, wrapping your fingers and descending along my length as I groaned in ecstasy.
You played a similar game with your kisses, coaxing kiss after kiss, yet pulling away slightly each time until I was almost falling over to reach your lips. I whined, and you encouraged me playfully until I got close enough to demonstrate my eagerness, and you rewarded me by closing the rest of the distance. I remember being so impressed at your creativity, and how completely you made demonstrate my submission to you. Even now, I don’t know what drove you to own me so completely, but I loved every second of it.
When you finally laid me down on the bed to edge me, I knew I was close to cumming. I warned you and you pulled away, teasing me with an edge. The next time, you pulled away later, and I had to fight myself to hold back my orgasm. I wanted to cum, but I knew you weren’t intending to give me release. Besides, with your hand released from my shaft, I knew the orgasm would be ruined — present, but dissatisfying and only making me needier.
It was then that you revealed your plan, asking me to consider if I could go until the following day. When I ascertained that you’d fuck me again tomorrow, letting me cum, I agreed, and you went to edge me again. This time, again, you pushed me just past the edge. However, even though I tried to hold it back, you wouldn’t stop. I began to panic, when suddenly you revealed your true intentions, smiling with cruel love. “Cum all over yourself for me, baby.” I painted my entire torso with my arousal, built up from the past week.
Looking up at you, you looked beautiful, serene, glowing, and I felt the endorphins slam into me like never before. I was yours, I knew it, and you nodded in reassurance as you let me cuddle into you, even disheveled as I was. Soon you cleaned me up, held me close, and reaffirmed me about my status and value to you. You thanked me for my submission and I thanked you back, then replied, “Your welcome” with surprising ease — the roles had been dropped. Equals and partners once more.
I giggled, effectively high as I settled back into my body and nuzzled into you. I floated in your arms and the warm afterglow of the experience, still replaying all of the past few hours in awe. I knew I was lucky to be able to share this experience with you, and as I lay there, I treasured how safe and secure you make me feel. Thank you for always making sure I know my place in your heart.
