How Long Can I Hold On? Pt. 02

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


Sir didn’t give me permission to cum, but I did it anyways.

The emptiness of the air feels like needles against my skin, from the soles of my feet to the peaks of my nipples, standing at full attention, to my palms as they struggle to grip the silk restraints.

A single drip travels over the curve of my thighs and to the inside of my knee. The air chills it, chilling me, tightening my core, and perking my nipples even further.

After the first smack in response to my orgasm, taken without permission, the room went silent. Was it the silk straps holding me in place or the fear of where your cane would land next? Would I move if I weren’t completely at your mercy? Run?

We both knew I wouldn’t get far even if the ropes were gone.

I flinch at the next impact, but it’s soft, almost tenderly. Hardly makes me move.

A cheeky reply sits on my tongue, but I swallow it back.

You’re playing at some game, wanting me to relax into the protective grip you place on my hip. You’re waiting for me to sway into you, feel the brush of your chest against my back and the curve of your cock against my rear.

I resist the urge to bend into you. Resist the urge to fully give myself, the last shred of control I have over my movements, by stilling my legs into the ground. My knees protest at the stretch, stomach groans, arms quiver.

Do you see how much I’m struggling? How badly I ache, for release and for you?

Your hand trails, smoothing out the goosebumps, over my waistline and then down my spine. I’m sensitive, you know that. My knees buckle, back arches, teeth grind.

I sway, right into you, before reclaiming the small control I have over my legs. You smirk, knowing this can’t last long. We’re both amazed I’ve held on this long, that I haven’t begged you to lower my arms just enough to put my feet flat against the ground.

I want to. The plea is on the tip of my tongue as I press onto my toes to relieve the ache in my wrists. I switch between them, pressing onto my toes and allowing my weight to swing my from wrists until the pain is too great, my pussy too wet, my core so tight I fear you’ll only have to simply breath in my direction to have me unraveling once again.

Tears gather in my eyes beneath the blindfold. A few traitorous tears leak down my cheeks.

“Please sir.”

That smirk fills your voice as you flick away the tear reaching my chin. “Please what, slut?”

“Please can you let me down, sir?”

Another smack of the cane, this time against my left thigh. I sway to my right, my ankle buckling beneath my weight. Your hand steadies me, but only for a breath. Then my movements are my own again. Wild, uncontrolled.

“Why do you want to be let down? You look so pretty, hanging from the ceiling like my own little doll. And you’re doing such a great job of holding yourself up.”

“Please sir, I can’t hold on any longer.”

Your finger drags from my left hip, down to my clit where you pinch for only a breath, and to the right hip, a ghost of a touch that has me biting my lip to prevent the özbek escort moan threatening to alert the neighbors to our activities. Then it goes up, right to my breast. You hold your finger a hair under my erect nipple.

I try to press my chest into your touch only to feel you retreat.

“You came without permission, slut.”

I should apologize. I don’t. “You were too good, sir.” My left knee screams under the weight of my body as the cane cracks against my left thigh. I scream with it. I swing too far and shoulders scream as my full weight pulls at them.

A rapid round of three hits from the cane lights my thigh on fire. I’m gasping as you step back, my legs no longer able to hold.

Are we both wondering if I’ve hit my limit? How long have I been tied, dangling from the ceiling like useless rag doll?

Your hand rubs over the tingling skin where the cane no doubt left a few marks. “Would you like to rephrase that?”

I swallow down the anticipation as if it were a rock lodged in my throat. If he’d have called me a name, I’d swing towards him, try to entice him to touch me. His tone, as hard as his cock has been against my ass, leaves no room for attitude. And yet I want to. So badly.

To push, see what I can earn with my sharp tongue.

Still, I try to settle my breathing and calm the emotions raging beneath my goosebumps covered skin. “I’m sorry I came without permission, sir.”

“You’re a greedy little whore.” Avoiding my nipple, your hand walks up my breast, over my collar bone, and onto my neck.

“Yes sir.”

“Why can’t you cum without permission?”

Your fingers dance across the hallow of my throat. I stretch into your touch with a soft whimper. “Because I need to learn control, sir.”

Your palm flattens against my throat but fingers flay outwards. “And?”

I can’t steady my breath or my heart. Can you heart my heart thundering in my chest.

The crack of the cane against my thigh feels like lightning striking up my core. I try to hold the scream, but it comes unadulterated and loud.

You chuckle.

Our neighbors definitely know that is it not just another relaxing night.

“And?” You repeat, voice hoarse and deepened with the same lust pooling between my legs. “Why else can’t you cum without permission, slut?”

Straightening my neck, I cock my head as if I can stare through the blindfold into your stare. As if I could meet your eyes, as if I ever would. Your fingers press into the side of my neck. A warning.

A promise.

“Because it’s your pussy, sir.”

I hear the cane hit the floor, the hallow sound echoing off the wooden floor before it rolls away. Your hand dances across the marks left by the cane, soothing them with the faintest of touches and alighting the tingles running straight to my core.

I gasp as your hand tightens around my throat, fingers pressed into the sides. A little whimper follows, encouraging your fingers as they keep the nerves on my thigh alive.

“Are you going to be a good girl if I let you mecidiyeköy escort down?”

“Yes sir.”

“Are you going to cum without permission?” Your hand wraps around the back of my thigh, pulling it up above your hip and taking a bit of my weight onto you. The relief coursing from my wrists to my ankles is nearly enough to send me over the edge again.

But I won’t let it.

“No sir.” Your other hand pulls my leg up over your hip so I can lock my ankles together despite how they scream with the movement. I arch into your chest, taking more weight from my wrists. Another whimper, this one followed by a full body sigh taking the breath from my lungs.

Pressing my hips into yours, I hold as much weight as I can off of my arms as your hands creep their way from my rear, after a quick squeeze, up to my arms and to my wrists. With as much energy as I have left in my back, I push up to relieve the strain on the silk ties so you can release me.

Your low chuckle tickles my collar bone, causing goosebumps to scour my skin.

“Please, sir?” I ask, wriggling my wrists.

I yelp as your lips touch the underside of my jaw before relaxing into your touch, the cocoon of your arms and chest as your fingers begin to work at the ties. Relief ticks away at my resolve as I eagerly anticipate the release in my arms.

Your hands stop.

I grin, ready for the pure bliss of my shoulders falling to my sides.

But they don’t.

They remained within the same grip of the ties.

Pulling my head back, I try to find his eye line despite the blindfold as panic rises from my gut. Warmth pools in the opposite direction. “Sir?”

You nip at my ear as one of your hands drops to my ass and the other clasped the back of my neck, holding me as captive against you as the ropes held me in the air. “I just can’t let you down, slut. You look too pretty hanging by your wrists.”

“Sir, please?”

“Beg for my cock.”

You adjust, pressing your entire length against my aching pussy. Jeans gone.

I arch further against you and ground down into you, relishing in the moment of pleasure pulsing up from my core. Your hand is instantly on my hip, pressing me back from you as you scold me softly. “Now now,” your lips brush against my jaw, “be a good slut and beg for my cock.”

The excitement and courage flutters through me as your hand smacks into my ass, trapping your dick into the warmth of my lust. It’s slick enough your cock moves with ease against me despite the strong grip you hold onto my ass.

“Please sir, please can I have your cock?”

You hum in my ear.

“Please sir, I really want your cock in me. In my wet pussy. Sir I’m so wet for you, please fuck me with your huge cock.”

Your chest leaves mine for a moment as you realign yourself at my entrance. Fingers brushing through the pool between my legs.

“Please sir,” I beg, voice losing its muster as I rest the majority of my weight on your hips and lean back into the bindings around my wrists.

Softer, your voice feels like a hug as azeri escort it engulfs me, “good girl.”

And then I’m filled completely with your cock. The stretch causes me to gasp as I try to adjust around you, but there’s no need. I’m more than wet enough for you to creep back and slam into me.

Again and again and again, your cock slams into me. I’m begging again, not for an orgasm but for more. More of you within me, more pain as your hand kneads and smacks my ass, more of your teeth leaving their marks on my neck, more of your fingers twisting and pulling my nipple.

My core tightened. I feel the orgasm coming as my hips thrust in rhythm with yours. Rushing at me like a raging river coming to sweep me away.

“Please sir,” I barely manage the collision of our bodies fills the room, “please sir can I cum?”

Your only response is a shake of your head.

I drop my head to your shoulder. I can’t hold onto it much longer, keeping it from wrecking my body in pleasure and pain as you take whatever you want from me. Everything from me. The last shred of control I hold onto, waiting for you to tip me over the edge.

“Cum with me, slut. Cum hard.”

And I do. Shuttering and screaming and crying out as your thrusts don’t lessen but deepen until your final grunt explodes in me and we’re both left a quivering mess.

Your breath settles against my neck as you press the lightest of kisses against the curve of my shoulder.

“What do you say?” Your voice is rough, your chest heaving.

Mine is too. I don’t know if I can speak, if the words will leave my throat or if you’ll hear the remaining scraps of my orgasm as it pulses between my legs and up my spine. My head remains on your shoulder, as I have no strength left to pick it up. If your hands didn’t hold onto both of my thighs, they would dangle beneath me.

“Thank you-” I gasp, chest heaving, “for the orgasm, sir.”

“Good girl.” Another kiss against my collar bone sends me shivering and quivering, pushing away from you with my hips. “Do you want to be let down?” you whisper, voice so much softer than it had been. Like a warm breeze.

“Yes sir.”

“Lock your legs around my waist.”

You make quick work of the bindings, so quick that I wonder how I’d suspended from them for so long. My arms drop, unlocking and aching as they do, onto your shoulders as you retake my weight with two firm hands under my ass.

Silk remains around my wrists. I give them a curious tug.

My back hits the soft comforter of the bed, and it bends beneath my weight.

The blindfold slips off. I blink to adjust to the low light.

Your devious face remains above me, those wild ideas of yours flittering in your eyes. They seem to threaten me, dare me.

I hold up my hands, shoulders shaking, to see the silk ties still wrapped tightly around them. You reach up, grabbing the silk connecting my hands and pushing it above my head to where another clip winks at me with the same devious intentions you have in your eyes.

I snap my gaze back to you as my legs fall to the bed on either side of yours, knees shaking.

My spine goes rigid as you pull a bag from the bedside table. “Did you think we were done?”

I swallow loudly as you pull the first clothes pin from the bag and hold it up for me to see.

“Oh we’re not even close, baby.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir yanıt yazın