Prompt: person tries to hold it in for as long as possible, but when they realize they canāt for even a second longer, āØforced denialāØ. Iām picturing bad position like pinned to their car seat by the seatbelt or another person but Iām sure anything would be phenomenal.
āI-I don't think I can hold it back any longer,ā I grunt, blowing out a string of short, sharp pants as I fight against my body's natural urge to push.
āAre you feeling like you want to push?ā
I sit perched up on our bed, leaning back against your chest as your legs bracket my body on either side. As my contraction builds, I inhale deeply and try to keep my mind focused on my breathing and not on the massive waves of pressure that wash over me. āItā¦ ohhh, it's really coming. Oh God, I feel it.ā My thighs tremble with effort as I squeeze them together, drawing a small, disapproving 'tsk' out of you.
I'm fighting a (rapidly) losing battle, and we both know it.
"Now, now, love. No cheating."
Your hands pry my knees apart, and I snarl and thrash in protest. The head has cleared my cervix and is sitting so low in my pelvis. Too low.
Pushing is no longer a want, but a necessity.
"Holy shit," I gasp. I understand the 'bowling ball' comparisons nowā the sheer width of the head, so heavy and solid, that's beginning to grind down through my birth canal takes my breath away, and a sort of animalistic noise is all I can manage as I'm finally sucked under. The baby isn't waiting any longer. I bear down, gritting my teeth as I squeeze my eyes closed and curl over my heaving belly. "ffffuck."
"That's it," you coo into my ear. "Very good, baby. So good. You're really bulging, hm?" I nod frantically as I continue to push, my toes curling against the rumpled duvet as I try to scramble into a better position. The head is sitting right behind my furled slit, and a part of me is almost shocked that it doesn't shoot right out.
"Oh, my poor love," you continue in that soft, sweet tone, reaching down between my legs to ghost the tips of your fingers over my red-hot lips and throbbing clit. "I wish that I could do something for you. But you know that you didn't ask."
My eyes snap open, gaze frantic and wild as I watch you cup your palm over my bulging cunt. "Let it out!" I shriek, beads of cold sweat welling up on my flushed skin. "P-Please, baby. I didn't mean to!" Unable to hold back, I push again, shoving uselessly against the force of your hand. The baby squirms as the crown of the head meets your palm and lingers for a moment before it retreats back into my canal, ripping a distressed wail from my throat. "It's coming! I need it to come! Oh my God, just let it outttt. Pleasepleasepleaseā."
You shush me. "Don't beg, baby," you admonish. "The rules were that you ask for permission to push, or you face the consequences. I'm afraid that these are the consequences."
Another contraction slams into me, my body desperate to expel the weight in my pelvis, and I howl as I try to get free. "Hnnnng!" A small sliver of slimy wet hair is surging forward, peaking out from behind my spread lips. "Fuck, it's right there! It's burninggg!"
"I'm sure it is, sweet thing. I can feel how open you are. Your pussy is gaping for me, all nice and slick. I bet the head would slide right out, wouldn't it?"
"Mmmph, mhmmm," I sob. "D-Dont you want that?" My hand trembles violently as I claw at the sheets. "You said you... fuck! You wanted, hoooo, to be the o-one to deliver it."
"Very true." Your voice is stern. Matter-of-fact. "But in order for that to happen, you need to be good and do what you're told."
As the vice grip of the contraction begins to release, I suck in a cleansing breath, nostrils flaring as I inhale the primal scent of sex and sweat and birth. My knees fall open a little wider, and then wider again when I hear your approving hum. "I-I need to push, baby." In comparison to yours, my voice is small and thin. "Please let me push. God, fuck, baby. Please! Please, I'm sorry."
My cunt burns, and I whine pathetically as I struggle to push the head out. No matter how hard I shove and push and struggle, the head doesn't emerge any further, making it clear that the birth (whenever it may occur) is entirely in your charge.
"Pleaseee. It burns so bad, baby! It's going to rip me apartttt!" I continue to babble, head thrashing from side to side as my desperation grows. "It's comingggg! Fuckfuckfuck, gotta push again!"
Your response consists of little more than a kiss on the top of the head. "And what do we say?"
"Holy fucking- PLEASE! Can I please push?!"
"You know," you say, staring down at my gaping cunt as it opens into more of an 'O' shape and gives a glimpse of the mass of the head slipping free from my lips, "I think we're finally starting to get somewhere."
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