So... a certain former tumblr, known as Denied and Dripping, wrote me a New Years themed story and suggested I post it on my tumblr for others to enjoy. Here it is! Please like and/or reblog but do not alter the text.
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All year long youâve been waiting.
Every month youâve been suffering, aching and dripping â desperate for a release that wasnât going to come⌠much like you. Every month youâd been reduced to a whimpering, squirming pile of nerves. Every erotic thought sending jolts through your body, concentrating on your swollen pussy. You wanted nothing more than to grab a vibrator and make yourself cum. Hell, it didnât even have to be a vibrator. Fingers. Dildo. Grinding on a couch arm. You craved the ecstasy of release. You craved the gushing feeling of an orgasm washing over you⌠but it was denied to you for twelve agonizing months. That was the deal, after all â youâd even signed a contract putting me in control of you and your orgasms for the next twelve months. For one year, I owned you.
Iâd given pet names to each month. Reminders of the year-long sentence you were serving. A year of being my orgasm-free pet. Cute little names to make sure you didnât forget the torture you were going to endure. Not that you could. Not when your pussy drooled uncontrollably down your legs by the second month. Not when you could barely feel your pussy lips because of your swollen clit by month five. Not when every beat of your heart sent your pussy into throbbing convulsions by month nine.
Juicy January was first. The warmup month. This month was only to make sure your pussy was well-lubricated for the coming year. I would sit you on my lap every night, spreading your legs with mine and tying your hands behind you. I didnât want you interfering. I would whisper all the filthy, dirty things that were in store for you during the upcoming year. I would nibble your neck and drag my beard stubble along your shoulder as my hands absently played with your nipples. Iâd pinch and tease, tugging them gently. My hands would roam up and down your sides as I talked all about how much I wanted to bury my face between your thighs. Iâd drag my nails along the inside of your legs, stopping just shy of your pussy⌠but I wouldnât touch it. Not the lips. Not the clit. Nothing. This month was about building the anticipation. Making you want the torture even though you knew it would be bad. After the first two weeks, we needed to put a towel under you. Your pussy would cream at just the thought of your daily âlap timeâ. You begged, mewled and whined for any stimulation on your pussy⌠but no, I wouldnât grant it to you. I even showered with you to make sure you kept your fingers from wandering⌠and used the water to my own evil ends.
Frustrated February was the first bit of contact your pussy received. Your hands were tied behind you still, to keep you from defending your helpless pussy from the tortures I had planned. You were stretched out on the bed with the towel under your hips as I teased your pussy lips with a soft makeup brush. You had two sessions â one in the morning to get your pussy primed for the day and another just before bed to make sure your dreams were filled with erotic thoughts all night long. Valentines Day brought a special alteration to the deal â the first time my tongue touched your pussy. I tied you spread-eagle and licked and sucked just your outer lips for two whole hours. With everything youâd endured the previous month, this was too much for you to take. After fifteen minutes, you begged me to let you cum. When I wouldnât, you begged me to stop until I had to gag you. With no choice but to just lie there and take it, you suffered beautifully for the whole two hours. By the end of it, you had tears running down your face from desperation. The rest of the month seemed almost merciful by comparison as I resumed tormenting your swollen outer lips with the delicate, fluffy brushes.
Month three was Merciless March, and this is where your torture was truly going to begin. Every day I slipped a dildo inside you and fastened it there was a rope harness. Every step you took tormented your pussy. Every subtle shift of your hips reminded you that you were filled because it brought me pleasure to see you squirm. Whenever you were home, you were forbidden to wear shirts â which left your breasts on display for me. I would pinch, suck and tease them whenever the mood struck me, which kept your pussy leaking and dripping down your thighs. When I wasnât teasing your swollen, achy nipples I would dress you up in a shiny set of nipple clamps. Some days, just to be cruel, I would hang weights from them. Other days I would use the clamps like a leash as I pulled you to your knees before making you service my cock while your pussy throbbed around the dildo.
You came up with the name Agonizing April for month four. Your pussy was visibly swollen and red â three months of torture having taken their toll. Every morning you woke up and had to change the sheets if you rolled off your towel⌠and even some days when you didnât. Your pussy creamed nonstop â a delicious reminder of the suffering you were enduring. I decided to make sure it lived up to its name. You were forbidden to take off the nipple clamps during the day, and were instead forced to wear your bra over them. A constant reminder of my ownership over you. Furthermore, your pussy was off limits again this month â no touching at all. I made sure you got your âfillâ of me, though. Every night you were bent over the bed with your hands behind your back and a gag stuffed in your mouth as I plowed your tight little ass, making sure to fill you with cum every night before plugging you and sending you to bed horny, desperate, denied and (although youâd never have said it out loud) secretly loving every minute of it.
Maddening May was the first real moment you realized how much trouble you were in. After a month of having your ass fucked to the point of soreness, you thought you were in luck when I told you that your ass was getting a break. Instead, you were mercilessly gagged and tied down to the bed while I slowly fucked your pussy every night. You werenât permitted an orgasm. You werenât even permitted an edge. I would spread your pussy and make sure your poor, denied clit got no contact. It hadnât had direct stimulation since your Valentineâs Day licking. If I thought you were getting close, I would either pinch and tease your nipples while letting my cock throb inside you or Iâd start madly tickling your ribs, ass, inner thighs or feet until you were far enough from the edge to where I could start thrusting again. Every night. An hour each night. You were fucked and tickled to the point of delirium and unable to even beg for mercy. Every night I would pull out and cover you with my cum â another reminder of your slavery to me. You cried and begged for an orgasm when I took the gag out, but I would only shush you and remind you that you still had seven long months to go.
Joyless June was the next month on the calendar. It was joyless, but not for me. This was the month I showed you the beautiful new chastity belt Iâd purchased for you. Real steel, not the cheap leather one you thought I would buy. This one left no room for you to get any stimulation to your pussy. As I turned the key, sealing you inside, I instated a new rule. From this point forward, it wasnât your pussy any more. I owned the key. It was MY pussy. Any time you forgot that and asked to touch âyourâ pussy, you would be punished. Severely. This month was about MY pleasure. Every night you would kneel in front of me and torture your own nipples while begging to suck my cock. If you begged well enough, I would grant you the pleasure of making me cum. If your begging was insincere, you were tied with your arms behind your backâmy favorite position for youâand roughly ass-fucked until I filled you with my cum. You were then plugged, spanked and left to contemplate your situation. Left to ruminate on how to beg better in the future as your pussy flooded the chastity belt.
Jeering July. You were unlocked for the first time in a month and I told you that my pussy was going to get all the attention it had missed for the past month or so. Every day I would tie your ankles to your thighs, forcing your legs apart and binding your wrists to a collar around your neck. Naked, spread and humiliated, I would rest in you in my lap and spread my pussy lips. We were halfway through the year and apart from Valentines Day, Iâd ignored your clit. This was all about to change. With a ballgag firmly between your lips, you were allowed to scream and writhe in frustration as I used a long, stiff feather on your defenseless clit. Every day for two hours at a time, you were tied and tortured while I relaxed on the couch. Every time you ruined a feather with the copious amounts of wetness, I teased you and reminded you that those feathers werenât being thrown away. They had a use⌠you just didnât know what it was yet. On the last day of the month, though, you learned what I had planned. You were hogtied on the floor in front of me while I showed you the homemade featherduster Iâd made from the dozens of feathers youâd ruined. Your pussy juices had dried on them, making the feathers even more firm and stiff â a fact you realized when I spent almost eight whole hours dusting the soles of your bound, toe-tied feet while a low-power vibrator buzzed away in my pussy. After that, I told you that it wasnât just your pussy â I was laying claim to your clit as well. It was now MY clit.
August came⌠or, as you came to call it, âAwful Augustâ. You thought having attention on MY clit was bad last month, this month made it a thousand times worse. You were spread open every morning as I licked and sucked my helpless clit to the edge as many times as I could within an hour. After that, you were on no-touch for the rest of the day until the evening when I did it again. After that, you were bent over and fucked in the ass until I released my pent-up frustrations by filling you with cum again. You were forbidden to touch my pussy at all â I even followed you into the bathroom to help you shave, making sure your puffy pussy was left bare and defenseless at every opportunity. A few times, we played a thrilling game where I pinned you down in the tub, teasing and massaging my clit while the water rose. More than once it passed your face, forcing you to hold your breath as I edged my pussy for entertainment. Other times Iâd bend you over the tub, holding your head down while I roughly fucked your ass or slowly fucked my pussy until you were on the screaming edge. Every night, you fell asleep with your hands tied to your collar and the vibrator in my pussy reminding you of your submission. Your owned state. You were mine â and you werenât cumming until I said so.
Up next was Suffering September. I reminded you that there were four months left in the year â this one and three more. Devilishly, I also informed you that it was my goal to make you suffer as much in these three months as I had during the rest of the year. You cried and begged me for mercy, but I had none. My pussy was going to ache like it never had before. You were edged four times a day for an hour per session and never with the same tool twice in a day. Some days I used a vibrator. Other days I licked and sucked my agonized clit until you were screaming and bawling. You had to be tied downâfor your safety, of courseâbecause you tried to thrash and fight with aroused fervor. Every session ended with your face covered in tears. You couldnât wear makeup unless you wanted to look like a trashy whore that had just been face-fucked. After every session, you were belted to keep your wandering hands from my sopping wet hole. If I didnât lock you up, you kept trying to touch yourself â even subconsciously in your sleep. I couldnât have that. I wanted you wet. Needy. Desperate. Willing to do anything⌠not that you hadnât been that way already.
The favorite month of orgasm denial fetishists descended upon us with the first day of Locktober. You were going to endure it the same way every other chastity fanatic did â locked in your belt and on no-touch for thirty-one agonizing days. Of course, even though I wasnât going to unlock you, I wasnât going to let you off easily either. If I couldnât play with my pussy, I would lay claim to your breasts and ass. Some days I bent you over the couch and tongued your asshole until you were sobbing into the pillows, pussy juice leaking out of the chastity belt and down your thighs⌠and then Iâd lick that up too. Other days Iâd spend time licking, biting and sucking your sensitive nipples or sliding my cock into your cleavage. Taunting you. Teasing you. Reminding you that fucking your breasts was just as good as fucking your pussy. Why should I ever unlock you except to torture MY pussy? MY clit? I could spend the rest of my life fucking your ass, breasts and mouth and never even need your pussy. The more I talked about it, the wetter you got. You humped the air in desperation. You begged. Pleaded. Whined. Sobbed for mercy⌠but you got none. You were MY slave, and I was going to make you suffer.
No-Vember is another month all denial enthusiasts know about. While I didnât keep you in the belt, I made sure you were well aware of your predicament. Two months to go. Every day I increased your edges, licking my denied clit every morning and evening until you were a desperate, wet mess. You tried to tell me you couldnât take it, but I ignored you. If your begging got too loud, I gagged you. You didnât have choices anymore. You were a slave. You were MY slave. You existed to be aroused, teased and denied. Your whole purpose was to bring your Master pleasure, and if your continued denial did that then you were going to have to accept it. Nothing you could say or do would change my mind. I told you this one afternoon as I slid my cock into my pussy, fucking you slowly so as not to push you over the edge. I loved your denial. I loved having you as my slave. If it was up to me, it would NEVER end. I punctuated this statement by producing a new set of nipple clamps â this one with three ends. Your eyes bugged out as realization flashed through your mind. I clamped your nipples and then used the third end to pinch my clit, holding the hood back and leaving the little button exposed. After fucking you until I came, I pulled out and used a delicate paintbrush to tease my clit for another hour until your eyes rolled back and no coherent sounds came from behind your gag.
Desperate December was the last month of the year. Surely you could make it. You were desperate. Horny. The whole house smelled of your pussy and you were ashamed to leave. Even the slightest bit of motion caused your pussy to flow down your legs. When you did leave the house, I made you wear thigh-highs and a skirt. No panties. The chilly breezes of December tickled my pussy like the fingers of a gentle lover, eliciting such lovely moans. I also forbade you from wearing a bra, leaving your nipples to harden in the cold. You were such a delicious sight that I couldnât help fingering you in public at every possible opportunity. In the car. While grocery shopping. A few times we used a remote vibrator. A few times I sent you to run errands with your chastity belt holding a dildo firmly in my pussy. Sometimes both. By Christmas you were a wreck â unable to focus on even the most mundane of tasks. All it took was a snap of my fingers for you to sink to your knees and open your mouth. My hand on your shoulder was enough to make you weak, submissive and obedient. It was perfect.
New Years Eve was upon us. A time when most people were rejoicing and planning their resolutions for the year to come. You only had one thing on your mind. An orgasm. You were aching for me to make my pussy cum. Once the year was up, after all, youâd fulfilled your contract. You could also tell from the evil glint in my eye that I had plans for you this evening. You knew I was going to make you suffer.
Your hands were cuffed over your head to a pull-up bar I kept in the doorframe. I admired your taut, helpless body as I used a pair of sharp scissors to cut your clothes off you. You wouldnât need them tonight. I smirked as I threw them away, showing you a piece of paper. It was a contract â just like the one you signed in January. This one was for two years, not one. I put it on the table along with a pen, licking my lips as I turned to you. We still had several hours until the New Year. I wanted you to beg me to sign it. Beg me to untie you so you could sign your life and pussy away to me for two more long, torturous years. At first you balked at the idea, but when I knelt down and started licking my clit, you changed your tune. At first you tried to resist, shaking your head back and forth as you looked at the clock. Eight hours until New Years Day. If you could just resist, you wouldnât have to sign. That was the deal.
It only took four to break you. Four hours of spreading my pussy lips and keeping you on the razorâs edge of an orgasm. Four hours of your brain drowning in sexual chemicals as you hung in the doorway like a tortured sex doll. Your body was covered with sweat, your hair sticking to your face as you rasped and pleaded with me for mercy. I told you to beg. To sing that sweet song for me. And sing you did â you sang like a songbird, pleading for permission to sign the contract. To give that sweet, wet pussy to me for two more years. To give yourself over to any devious torture I could imagine.
I made you wait until the ten minutes before I unchained you and walked you over to the table. I put the pen in your hand and began to finger my clit slowly, keeping you right on the edge. I slid my hard cock into you from behind, bending you over the table as I nibbled your ear. I told you how much you would regret signing the contract. How evil I was going to be. Some of the new tortures Iâd come up with. If you signed it, youâd find yourself in a world of neverending torment.
You scrawled your shaky signature on the line without a second thought, pleading with me for an orgasm as my hand curled around your throat. I forced you to look at the clock as it counted down, keeping you on the edge until the last ten seconds.
As the clock struck midnight, I cruelly jerked my hand away and grabbed your wrists to keep you from finishing what I had abandoned. You screamed in futile rage, struggling as your orgasm was snatched away from you, your pussy spasming frantically. I had struck the edge so perfectly that your body had almost succumbed to a ruined orgasm, but not quite. I had stopped in the nick of time.
I leaned in as you cried and sobbed, still feebly struggling. âSuch a pity,â I whispered in your ear. âThe contract you signed back in January granted me full and complete authority over your pussy⌠but never once said I had to give you an orgasm at the end.â Your eyes widened in shock, horror and despair as I twisted your wrists behind you and pinned you over the couch. You could feel the cold metal of the chastity belt sliding around your waist and screamed for mercy. You humped the air, your pussy dripping on the floor as I locked the belt in place with a cruel laugh. âNo mercy for you, little slut,â I growled as my hard cock entered your ass. âNow, shut up and use that hot little ass to make me cum.â
You cried and sobbed in helpless desperation as I began to fuck you, tears running down your face as your hands were pinned in the small of your back.
It was going to be a long two years.
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