#no touch

[catsbeaversandducks]

"no"

By yuki_illust19

[doorknobinmyayuss]

When your man is having a no-touch-day so you gotta pull out the backup

[builtforhispleasure]

I was a little sad last night and struggling with the weight of denial. Before he started denying me, it wasn't uncommon that if I was feeling blue, he'd tell me to touch my cunt and make myself come so I might feel a little bit better.

I wanted that last night. I wanted to be told to reach down and stroke my aching cunt, to tease out my pleasure nice and slow before finally spilling over into an indulgent, luxurious orgasm and drifting off to sleep. But I'm not allowed to touch myself, I'm not allowed to come, and he wasn't here to touch me, so instead I just had to sit with the intensity of denial.

Not necessarily fun sexy denial, the kind that makes for good blog posts. But real denial. Real sacrifice.

As I yearned, I thought about him being here tonight, holding me and talking to me as he slowly circled his finger around my clit...

"So... tell me about last night. What were you thinking about?"

Between whimpers and gasping pauses as he pushed and pulled me on the edge of orgasm, I'd tell him that I just wanted to touch myself. That I'm usually so grateful for and excited by him being the only one to touch me, but that I just... wanted it. And it was hard to lay in bed, legs carefully splayed wide so I wasn't tempted to even press them together to feel something, and vividly imagine snaking my hand down between my thighs and touching myself. And that it felt heavy.

"I'm sorry it was so hard. I remember how sweetly you'd thank me when I'd let you soothe yourself on tough days with a comforting selfish little orgasm. And I know it's been so long since you were allowed to feel any of that.

"But... it's so beautiful to me how much you wanted it and how heavily you felt the weight of what you've ceded to me. I want it to burn inside you, to leave you no doubt of who owns this cunt. I want you to know that not just when it's fun and exciting, but when it's hard. When it's real. When you feel the scale of the sacrifice I've demanded from you and what you've given up for me. When you really want it, and you know you can't have it — because it isn't yours. It isn't for you.

"Every ounce of your desperation, your pathetic desires, your greedy slutty hunger, your aching need, your manipulative pleading — all of it is for me. All of you is mine. And I'm not giving any of it back to you."

It was hard to fall asleep.

But it wasn't until this morning that I fully realized that there was nothing stopping me from touching myself last night. No chastity belt, no shock collar. I wanted it so badly, so deeply, but it literally didn't even occur to me that I could just... touch myself.

Instead, as I fell asleep, I let my fingers dance across my tits, teasing and pinching my nipples, rolling them between my fingers, and I drifted off with my legs spread wide and my hands right where they belonged.

[hon3yyluvz]

Imagine Sir. Pentious with the no touching rule.

Sir Pentious fumbles his wrench out of his hands when you enter his workshop with just your nightgown on, the soft skin of your legs revealed, only for his eyes.

His breath hitches when you slowly stride towards him, arms outstretched to embrace his body. He stumbles back, averting his eyes and drawing them back to your body with a nervous smile on his face, sweating a little at the desiring expression on your face.

He felt a little guilty, wanting for you so deeply just because you bit your lip and smiled at him. It made him feel not only guilty, but a little dirty. It took so little.

— "N-now now dearest! Don't be hasty now! You- I- Y/N.. I am.. rather busy at the moment! M-must be.. are you hysterical?!.. | don't-you-"

He swallows thickly when your fingers run up underneath the backside of his long black locks, caressing the back of his head gently as you push your body flush against his.

The feeling of your frame flustered him even more. He shudders when you push him against his desk, accidentally tipping the quill and ink over, staining his hands and the blueprint paper on his workshop table.

— "Come on.. you've been at that all day. You need to take a break."

— "W-well.. what if I loose my train of thought?! I- I had something going here I-"

— "Oh hush, your plans are-."

The plans lay ruined by ink, stained beyond vision. Your hands slip down, allowing you to effectively wrap your arms around his neck.

— "They'll be back."

— "Wha-"

He stutters, looking back. He doesn't get a chance to fret over his blueprints before you drag him in, gripping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you before your lips meet his.

He melts into the affectionate gesture, gripping the desk behind him with a whimper and closed eyes. He grew so flustered, blushing face and shaky hands.

It was so easy to work him up. He was just so sensitive to everything. Touch, emotion, flirtation.. no matter what it was he reacted so nicely to it.

— "Y/N-M..-You-mm.. mpfh.."

He tried to protest through your kiss, wanting to fix his work; but he knew he'd never be able to focus again now.

Panting and small sounds filled the room, his gasps and whimpers overlapping with the sound of tongue meeting tongue.

His hands lace themselves around your waist, shakily pulling you closer. He tried to keep his composure, but the lower your hands went, the further his brain went from his head.

He felt all nervous and fuzzy. The growing arousal in his navel had caused a small mess in his trousers. He was straining against his pants already.

He clung to you, trying to pull you in as close as possible. So when you took his hands off you, he opened his eyes in confusion.

— "Keep your hands to yourself. No touching."

His jaw dropped slightly. His lip quivers when he process your works. He was apprehensive to nod. For him, half the aspect of sex was being close. That and.. well. It's 1888 in London, what do you think?

He swallowed thickly, apprehensively resting his hands on the desk. He looked away, nodding.

— "I-If you say so I suppose.”

You smile sweetly before pulling into a needy kiss, sloppy teeth and tongue. It was the kind that always riled him up the most, oh you wanted him to know there were consequences to overworking yourself.

He whimpers softly, hands shaking and cock twitching in his pants.

He watches in embarrassment as you undo his cravat and discard it elsewhere on the floor, kissing down his neck. Your kisses were wet and intimate. You left mark after mark on his neck, and by the time you were done, he was trembling with tears threatening his waterline.

He was breathing heavily and shakily. Then, you decided to trail your kisses down his chest while your hands caress his waist on the way down.

He watches in horror when you get down on your knees and lick his cock over his trousers, letting out a small whimper with his shaky exhale.

He grips the edge of his ink stained desk so hard it caves a small bit trying to not tangle his hands in your hair in order to ground himself.

He leans his head back in order to try and aid in his predicament of having to keep his hands to himself when you unbutton the hem of his trousers.

That goes out the window when he feels his trousers fall to his ankles.

— "D-dearest.. I don't- I know you said- said not to touch.. but-I don't know if I can do this!."

— "What, you don't wanna behave for me?"

— "W-well I-"

— "You remember what happened the last time you didn't behave?"

He shuddered, quieting down immediately. It was hours before he'd cut last time. It was agony. Then once he finally did come, you'd made him cum another four times in a row before he'd used the safe word.

So yes. He was going to listen, and keep his hands to himself.

His pretty dark strands fell backwards and flown beautifully onto his desk, the ends of his hair becoming as messy as his hands.

He cries out softly when your lips finally wrap around the tip of his cock, circling your tongue around the head.

When you hold his hips with your hands and lick around his tip once more, his hand covers his mouth while he whines softly when you take him in. He gasps and shudders, gripping his hair tightly with both hands and pulling tightly.

— "Hah.. Y-Y/N.. s'sensitive, it- you-ah!-"

He chokes on a sob whenever your head pulls back and your tongue drags along the sensitive underside of his cock. He tries to rest his hands anywhere but you.

Usually he'd be gripping your hair or shoulders. Sometimes he'd even reach under your chin and caress your face. Now this time though.

Without being able to use his hands it just felt so.. so empty.

Usually he wanted to feel close to you because, mainly he loved you, but mostly because it distracted him from the pleasure a tad, so it wasn't so much he couldn't handle it.

But now he felt all of it, every last bit of it. He writhed under your tongue, moaning in short whiney sounds.

— "Ah! Hah!- ah!-m-mnn….Ah! Y-Y/N..! I can't, can't even- slow down-a-allow me me moment!- I-"

The sounds were a wide range of vocals, everything from high to low and rich to sharp. How pretty was he?

His hands shook as he tried to muffle his sounds with his hands. The two of them were clasped over his mouth, eyes closed and head tossed back.

You bobbed your head up and down consistently, having his brain fuzz out every now and again. He trembles as the coil in his gut tightens.

— "I-y-you know-g-gonna!-"

You hum softly in acknowledgment, the vibrations of your voice crawl up his spine, causing his to choke on a sob, releasing an almost pornographic sound as he came.

He had snapped off a piece of his desk earlier, so he had a splinter in his hand, a headache from yanking on his hair, and the blissful feeling of an after orgasm.

He whimpers as you pull off him, wiping your lips clean of his cum. When you stand up with wobbly pained knees, you brush his messy hair from his face, kissing him lovingly.

His hands grip the sides of his pinstripe top. He sighs in relief when you finally grasp them, and guide his palms to vour waist.

He whimpers, not in need—but in relief as he grips you tighter than he ever has before. Tears stain his cheeks, the desperate tongued kiss with the taste of him still in your mouth was lingering in your minds when you pulled away.

— "You did so well for me sweetie."

— "T-thank you."

He was always so well mannered. Even if he had just been throat deep in your mouth.

Best believe that was the clingiest and softest aftercare of your life.

\|________________________________________|/

So.. who wants that aftercare scene?.. or do you whores want the edging? You do don't you. I know bbys. Mama bee will deliver if we desire.

[sayorithot]

me: man am I really so needy that im aching for it?

my bladder i forgot to empty:

[jessica-xtreme-slut]

Follow the whip with your tongue and then kiss my ass. And keep your hands behind your back, the physical reaction will happen either way👆

[justlovesasusaku]

I think in Sasuke Retsuden, it's not just that Jiji was going to touch Sakura hair, I think it was in general that Sasuke doesn't like people touching Sakura. I mean if you read the actual novel Sakura rolls her eyes, and if you read the manga she sighs.

This seems like common occurrence with him. I wonder how many times during their travels(the blank period) he blew their cover, because someone was attempting to touch her at one point.