Teased and Denied

Her back arched and she keened with pure, unadulterated need as pleasure racked her prone body. Panting and pulling fitfully against her restraints, she offered herself to him, the coiling tension surging deep within her core poised to break at any moment. She was so painfully, desperately close.

It had been weeks since he had last allowed her to experience any kind of relief. She thought it might have been a month, but it was so difficult to tell - he wouldn't let her keep track, and the days and weeks had bled into one another as she had become progressively more desperate for the release he withheld from her. The ache intensified with every passing day as he found new ways to make it worse, until it became a constant fixture in her life. 

After a week or two, they had fallen into a routine. She woke up each morning before him and promptly crawled under the covers to take his cock in her mouth, gently sucking and licking until she felt him stirring. She would feel his hand on the back of her neck, and then she would begin bobbing up and down on his cock in earnest, keeping her lips wrapped around her teeth to avoid scraping them against him and angling her head so that his cock rubbed against the roof of her mouth with every stroke, flicking her tongue rhythmically over the glans and head as he liked. He wanted her mouth in the mornings, not her throat. She would cup his balls with her free hand, squeezing and rolling them as she worshipped his cock, her grip tightening as his cock throbbed in her mouth, signalling his impending release. Often he would tease her at this point, commenting on the copious wetness glistening between her thighs or how much of a slut she was or telling her that he might never let her come again as she moaned with vicarious pleasure, the hum of her need vibrating against his cock inevitably sending him over the edge. He would hold her head in place, groaning and thrusting as he took his pleasure from her, flooding her warm, wet mouth with the proof of it, claiming her. Knowing that her satisfaction was forbidden to her only made his own even sweeter. 

She was not permitted to swallow until he allowed it. She would hold it in her mouth, the taste coating her tongue, sometimes for as long as fifteen minutes. Then he would allow her to swallow it, or open her mouth and let it drip from her lips, sliding over her chin and down her neck to paint her breasts in streaks of creamy drool. She would not be permitted to wipe it off. She would wear it all day, to remind her that he had marked her as his.

Then she would do her chores, with all three of her holes plugged, on all fours wherever possible. He would inspect her work when she was done, and only then was she permitted to edge. She usually did her first five edges of the morning with her fingers, rubbing her clit in circles and moaning around her gag while he watched her. After that, he would remove the plugs and allow her to lie with her legs spread on the sofa beside him while they watched TV or he played video games. She was only permitted to play with her nipples during this time. He would reach out his hand casually and rub her to the edge whenever he felt like it, often not even taking his eyes from the screen while he tortured her. He didn't need to look at her to enjoy her whimpers, her shaking limbs, the thickening scent of her arousal. 

 She was dispatched to make food or fetch him things throughout the day. Sometimes he made her exercise while he watched. Sometimes he would fuck her bent over the sofa, his cock buried deep in her ass or her pussy while she concentrated on holding back her orgasm. He never touched her clit when he fucked her like this, which helped a little, but it still took a great deal of effort for her to remain on the right side of the edge. The hardest part was when he came, filling her to the brim with hot stickiness that trickled out of her for the rest of the day, a constant reminder of the fact that he had used her as his fucktoy and left her denied. He always made her edge with her legs spread wide for him after he had fucked her, wanting to reinforce that orgasms were for him alone, while she should only ever ache in frustration and unfulfilled need.

In the evenings, he would set her different challenges. He had made her complete thirty edges by humping a different object every time. He had made her edge with her tits pressed up against the window, asking her questions about how she would feel if a passerby noticed her. A few nights each week he made her exercise, setting her fifty reps of squats on a dildo, fifty sit-ups where he stood in front of her and she had to touch the base of his cock with her lips every time she sat up, and fifty burpees with her nipples clamped. He wanted his slut to stay fit.

Every night he would hold her tightly in his arms in bed, his legs between hers to keep them apart, his hands gripping her wrists so she could not touch herself in her sleep.

She had never been so consumed with the desire for an orgasm in her life. Today - finally - he had promised to let her come. He had tied her to the bed as soon as she had finished her chores and begun teasing her, first with his fingers, then with his tongue, and now with a vibrator. He had showed no signs of letting her come any time soon, clearly enjoying bringing her to the edge over and over again, until the edge was all that existed for her - that, and her now unbearable need to come.

This was as close to true madness as she had ever been, and it was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever had the pleasure to behold.

"Oh, fuck… please!"

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, he kept her teetering on the edge instead of giving her the earth-shattering orgasm she knew she would have, if he would just press a little harder on her clit.

"Oh, no. Not yet. Just stay right there for me baby. Right on the edge… oh, you're close, aren't you? So fucking close…"

His smile was wicked. He enjoyed mocking her.

"Please!"

Her pretty face twisted, her lip trembling as she held back tears.

"Awww! Do you want to come, baby?"

She whined with frustration, 

"Yes… please. Please let me come! I need it, Master. "

He chuckled, and the sound of his derisive laughter drew a fresh trickle of desire from her fluttering pussy. 

"I suppose I did promise, didn't I? Go on, then. Come. Come for me, you greedy little slut."

She tried, thrusting her hips upward towards the vibrator in an attempt to get more contact, but he held it just far enough away that she could not feel the full force of the already weak vibrations. He had chosen the lowest setting deliberately, knowing that it would be enough to keep her hovering on the edge without allowing her to tip over.  He'd promised to let her come, but he hadn't said anything about making her come. If he had given her his permission and provided a way for her to do so, he could hardly be blamed if she couldn't manage to get there in time. That was her failure, not his.

"I - I can't! But I'm so close, Master! Please, can you - can you turn it up a little bit?"

He was unmoved by her fractious whimpering and writhing. His merciless expression, shaded with the glint of a smirk in his eyes, only made her pussy throb even harder. He was so cruel sometimes.

"No. This is more than enough for a slut like you. If you're as desperate as you say you are, you should be able to come from this in… oh, I don't know. About ten seconds, maybe? So let's see if you've been lying to me, shall we?"

She barely had time to stammer an incoherent protest at the unfairness of this before a strangled moan escaped her lips, pulled from deep within her throat as he allowed the vibrator to bounce gently on her dancing clit, pulling it away and bringing it back ten times.

"Pity. Maybe if you weren't such a lying slut, you'd have been able to come. Apparently you didn't really need to. But you really wanted to come today, didn't you? How long has it been now?"

His question startled her from the fug of desire briefly.

"W-what?"

He raised an eyebrow, holding the vibrator aloft.

"How long has it been since the last time I let you come?"

She thought hard, uneasily realising that she could not remember.

"I, umm… three weeks? Four?"

"You can't even remember the last orgasm I gave you? Seriously?"

She panicked as annoyance flickered across his face.

"I don't - I don't know. I'm sorry. It's so hard to remember things when I'm like this. My brain goes all fuzzy."

He laughed coldly, turning the vibrator off.

"Well, it couldn't have been all that special to you if you can't even remember when it happened. I'm a little bit hurt, actually."

She shook her head frantically.

"No, I remember it! It was amazing. I just can't remember exactly when it happened."

He grinned triumphantly.

"Well in that case, you'd have no way of knowing whether it was four weeks ago or four months ago, would you?"

She shook her head again, stubbornly clinging to what she thought she remembered about her last orgasm.

"It definitely wasn't four months ago."

She was certain it hadn't been that long. Surely it hadn't been four months - had it?

"But how do you know?"

She was flustered now, beginning to doubt her own mind.

"I - I don't. But -"

He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her.

"Shush. No buts. It's OK baby. I understand. Coming just isn't that important to you."

She started crying, finally realising what was happening.

"No! No, please! It is! I want to come!"

He stroked her face, the tenderness of the gesture mediated by the cruel glint in his eyes. 

"It's OK, honestly. You don't need to pretend to make me feel better. Although I'm a bit annoyed that you lied to me, even if it was for a nice reason. You'll have to be punished for that."

She tried to argue as the tears stained her flushed cheeks, her eyes wild with emotion.

"I wasn't lying! I swear!"

He wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed, stilling her with his grasp.

"Quiet, now. You've made your feelings very clear - don't try to justify it or explain it away. I don't want to hear any excuses. I'm not going to force you to pretend that you want to come for me."

She took a deep breath, trying to overcome the sobs bubbling up within her chest.

"Please, Master…"

He raised an eyebrow, keeping his hand on her throat but relaxing his grip.

"Please what? If the next words out of your mouth are 'Please let me come' I'm going to be very angry with you."

She swallowed shakily, her voice thick with tears.

"Please, Master… will you keep edging me?"

His crooked smile broke wolfishly across his face, and he turned the vibrator back on.

"That's better. You love edging, don't you? That's what you really want."

He lowered it until it was hovering tantalisingly just above her twitching, pulsing clit.

"Y-yes, Master. Edges are my favourite."

He kissed her forehead, wiping her tears away.

"I wish you'd just said so in the first place. We could have avoided all this nonsense. But I think you've had enough for today."

Abruptly, he turned the vibrator off, bending over her to return it to its drawer in the nightstand.

"What?"

Her frantic disbelief stood in stark contrast to his calm self-possession. He stood, pulling the toy box from under the bed.

"No more edges for now. You've had enough. Maybe you'll have been good enough to earn an edge in a few days."

She thrashed as much as her bonds would allow, tears pricking at her eyes again.

"Master, please! This isn't fair!"

He stood over her, coolly observing her despair. It was hard to keep his face relaxed when all he wanted to do was roll her over and pound her tight little ass like a wild beast, but he didn't want to give her even that pleasure. He would have to hold himself in check. It was for her own good.

"I think it's very fair. You want edges instead of orgasms from now on, so you won't get them as often. They're a reward, not a right."

She wailed and writhed, unable to cope with the thought of going without being touched. She needed it now, like she needed air. She needed to edge.

"But… but I need to touch!"

He laughed, and once again the sound of it went straight to her pussy.

"Oh, there'll be lots of touching. I'll still tease you a lot. You just won't get to edge every time. Then when I do let you edge, you'll really appreciate it. Eventually your body will learn that the edge is as far as it can go, and we won't need to worry any more about accidentally giving you an orgasm that you don't really want - you'll forget how to have one. Won't that be lovely?"

He extracted a few items from the toy box, setting them on the bed at her feet. She could not see what they were, but even if she had been able to, she was too overwhelmed by the prospect of being denied for weeks, months - perhaps even years - to give them more than a passing thought. 

"I think an early night will do you good, baby. Let's get you tucked into bed, all nice and cosy."

She cried quietly, offering no resistance as he checked the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed, ensuring that they were loose enough to allow the blood to keep moving without being so loose that she could get out of them easily. In case of an actual emergency, there was a pair of safety scissors within easy reach, and he would have a webcam on her at all times while he was out of the room.  He was always a little bit nervous about leaving her tied up like this, but the risks could be managed with sufficient safety precautions in place. In reality, she would be on her own for no more than an hour or two before he came to bed, even though she would feel like she had been there for hours, and he would be watching her intently for most of that time.

She moaned as he slipped a vibrating egg into her sopping pussy, the low setting enough to tease her without allowing her to get anywhere near the edge. For good measure, he worked a small princess plug into her ass, wanting to heighten her feelings of fullness without risking an unauthorised edge. The vibrations from the egg in her pussy reverberated against the steel invader buried in her ass, amplifying her frustration without providing any hope of relief. 

To keep her legs spread wide against any attempts to rub her thighs together in pursuit of some sort of relief, he secured a spreader bar between her legs, buckling the stiff leather cuffs around her thighs. He hoped she would get used to sleeping like this after a few nights spent in such strict restraints - he anticipated that it would be required much more often, until the risk of an accidental orgasm had been significantly reduced through careful and thorough conditioning.

"There we go! All nicely stuffed and trussed and tucked in for a nice, restful night's sleep. There's just one more thing before I leave you to it, baby. You see, lying little sluts have to be punished. I hope you didn't think I'd forgotten."

He squeezed a long stripe of toothpaste on to his finger, letting her see it as he moved his finger down to paint her vulnerable clit in a thick coat of icy fire. His cock stiffened as her panicked whimpers turned to muffled shrieks when the toothpaste started working, torturing her already tender clit into a state of unbearable frenzy. He would have to fuck her mouth when he came to bed himself. 

"Sweet dreams, slut. Do try not to soak the sheets too much, won't you? If I see a wet spot in the morning, you'll be cleaning it with your tongue."

With that he left her, the door closing behind him with a resounding click. In a fleeting moment of clarity, she ruefully recalled telling him that the idea of gaslighting turned her on. Apparently he hadn't forgotten. Nervously, she wondered what else she could have told him and forgotten about.

If you liked this post, you might like my book. 

All The Way Down: A Denied Wife Disgraced is out now. 

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