So Close, and Yet...
This is my favorite way to wake up my Darling. I love hearing the confused sounds and turning from moans to whimpers as the realization hits him, and he utters his dazed "Oh, God..." This is when he is most vulnerable, feeling his soft cock come to life inside my warm, wet mouth.
It had only been a few hours ago that I had teased him mercilessly without offering him release. He had fallen asleep, twitching, while I spooned him, whispering my programming into his susceptible mind. And now, just a few hours later, the process starts again.
He is following his instructions so perfectly that even with my lips wrapped around his throbbing member, his mind won't permit him to reach the edge. My tongue gently stroking his frenulum with each time I take him fully into my throat. His orgasm no closer than it was last night.
He begs for mercy, mindlessly grinding his hips but unable to find the edge that will offer him sweet relief. His sweet, needy mind is barely able to comprehend the pleasure that he is experiencing. But his subconscious mind knows how deeply he is pleasing me as I moan on his cock each time my own orgasm hits me.
He can't help but to please me. It has been so deeply conditioned into him that my pleasure always comes first...
...and his orgasm is so far off now, a distant memory, and a fading hope.
Even in his unconscious state he could sense it was returning.
The pleasure.
The searing, inescapable pleasure.
Pleasure that only built, yet was never released.
Pleasure so pure, so unrelenting, that it would eventually evolve into sweet, exquisite torment. This was his fate that he now so willingly embraced.
Mere hours ago his body had been pushed to its limit, feverish with arousal, aching from pent-up longing, and shaking with its need for release. Yet when he was finally granted the mercy of sleep even though his body ached and quivered his mind was open and receptive.
Strangely, his sleep was no longer filled with dreams of sweet orgasmic relief, but rather with the sound of her mesmerizing voice. Guiding him, refocusing him, giving him purpose.
So, when he was now again drawn from sleep by the pleasures of the soft warmth of her mouth he surrendered to her.
Again.
Although he was unable to suppress his soft, agonized sounds of aching desperation they both knew they were not sounds of protest or complaint.
They were the sounds of acceptance. Of the satisfaction of knowing he was fulfilling his ultimate purpose... serving her pleasure.
And now after her soft mouth and skilled tongue had crafted his member into a masterpiece of swollen, dripping desperation her body moved forward. With a soft triumphant purr of lust she impaled her tight creamy softness down upon his aching steely hardness, claiming him as her own.
As her hips began to slowly roll, undulate, and writhe, using his desperation to bring herself to orgasm after orgasm, he gazed up at her as if she were a goddess.
While she basked in the glorious pleasure of release he was instead clinging to the sound of her voice, every word carefully chosen to send him sinking deeper into the abyss of her inescapable control that bound him to her.
And while her moans of pleasure filled the room he knew he would remain trapped on the plateau, so agonizingly close yet never able to crash over the edge. Instead his pleasure was now in the sound of her voice... in his surrender to her.
And as he floated helplessly in a daze from the mesmerizing sound of her voice he would have it no other way.... blissfully unaware of the tears of frustration welling up in his eyes from his body's sweet, erotic suffering.
Soooooooooooooooooooooo...EXACTLY...........this...this..thisss
