Orgasm Control

It's five in the morning when he nudges me. I moan a bit, then shift my weight. He nudges again, this time more insistently. "Get yourself wet for me," he says. "Wake me up when you're ready for my cock." He rolls over and seems to ignore me. His breathing becomes deeper as he relaxes back into a snooze. I am irritated. The morning air is cold, and I want to go back to sleep. I want to tell him to go to hell. But I don't. I remember that this is what I signed on for, and I stifle any initial impulse I might have to curl into a fetal position under the warm comforter, and even though I'm not in the mood, I stretch out flat on my back and begin to finger myself.

My body resists, and I urge it to respond. I lightly tickle my clit with feather strokes, hoping to arouse some passion, but it's not forthcoming. I try to fantasize, but my mind resists as much as my body. A feeling of panic set in as I realize I can't comply. I begin rubbing in earnest, hoping to force a response from my body. A sense of failure creeps over me, a feeling that used to be all too familiar, and I revert to fearing what he will think of me if I can't come. Will he think I'm frigid? Defective? unresponsive? I don't want him to see me struggle, reaching, grasping for an elusive orgasm. How wanton must I be to fight so blatantly, so visibly for an orgasm?

And then I remember. In this relationship, I have no ego. How I appear, what I fear he thinks of me is of no consequence. If he wants to see me struggle, he will see me struggle. It's what I agreed to. His pleasure and comfort is my top priority, even in the face of my own discomfort. He wants a wet pussy, and even if I have to humiliate myself to give him a wet pussy, he'll get a wet pussy. The thought of making myself wet for him and not for myself is arousing and comforting. I spread my labia and continue to rub my clit, no longer worrying about appearing desperate. Desperate is how he wants me. He loves me desperate. I dip my finger into my pussy and find myself wet. I briefly wonder if he really is sleeping or if he is listening to the squishing noises I make as my palm glides back and forth across my now wet vulva.

I continue rubbing my clit and lean my face into his neck. It's easier than saying it aloud in the quiet room. "I'm ready for you," I say. "I'm wet." I await his response, not stopping my rubbing.

His voice is froggy and deep with sleep. "How close are you to coming?"

"Not close," I say. "About a seven." It's understood that ten is coming. Sometimes, he will only fuck me at nine.

"Wake me when you are close. I like you hungry."

Those words inspire me, and within seconds, I tell him, "I'm at nine, now."

"Keep yourself there for two minutes. Don't even consider coming." He rolls over and again appears to ignore me. I breathe deeply, keeping myself on the edge, concentrating on maintaining my level of arousal. It would be easy to think of other things, to stop wanting it, but I know he might at any moment command me to come. I know what happens if he commands it and I fail. I won't be allowed to come for at least ten days. That thought almost pushes me over the edge, and I ease up the pressure. I estimate the two minutes, as neither of us has a stop watch, and I tell him, "It's time."

"How close are you?"

"Nine."

"Good. You're a much better fuck when you are hungry for my cock. Do you want to come today? Or do you want to go to work like a hungry slut?"

"I want to come."

"Thinking with your pussy again, I see. If you're a good enough fuck, I'll let you come. Don't stop fingering that pussy. I want you hungry for my cock."

I'm struggling not to come now. I'm amazed that mere moments ago, I was struggling to get aroused. This is the power he has over me. I breathe deeply, relaxing my pussy muscles, making myself limp and passive, which is what he wants this morning. I feel my arousal drop to an eight, and I quickly correct myself, rubbing faster, right below my clit, where I can get more intense stimulation. As I approach orgasm, I back off and stroke my labia, waiting for instructions. I keep this pattern up for a few more minutes, poised to stop all stimulation or come, whatever the command might ultimately be. He rolls over on top of me and thrusts his cock, hard with a morning erection, into my wet pussy. He grimaces. "Don't you dare come without permission." It's said through clenched teeth.. I pull my arm out from between us and stop stimulating myself. I relax my pussy, lax and passive beneath him, simply letting him thrust in and out, not responding, as any movement on my part will make me come. "I like you like this. A passive little fuck toy. Who is this pussy wet for?"

"You."

"Who gets pleasure from this wet pussy?"

"You."

"Good girl. Now, I want you to grab my cock with your pussy. Make your pussy tighter for my cock." I try, and almost immediately go over the edge. "You can't clench without coming?" I feel exposed that he can read me this well. He stops thrusting, raises up on his forearms and looks straight into my eyes. A wave of submission, a combination of fear and comfort, washes over me, starting in my chest and ending in my belly. "Surely you aren't suggesting that I wait for you while you gain control over your pussy?" I freeze. I'm no longer afraid of punishment. I'm afraid of disappointing him. His pleasure is my priority. I clench my muscles around his cock, then bear down. I clench again and push erotic thoughts out of my mind. I draw up my knees, as I know it's more difficult for me to come without tension in my legs. My legs are bent, my knees gripping his torso, my pussy clenching his cock, alternating with bearing down, enhancing his pleasure. "Yeah, that's it," He says. "Milk my cock with that pussy. You're a wet fuck for me. This pussy is for my pleasure."

He thrusts in and out. I shift so that he's not pressing against my clit. I'm still aroused, but not so close to coming. I move with him, as I know he likes the way that feels. "Ah, that's it. Be my fuck toy. I like you like this, hungry and milking my cock." He's pistoning in and out of me. If I think of how his thrusting makes my belly rise and fall, I'll feel contractions that mimic orgasm. I ignore my belly. I ignore my clit. I simply focus on his pleasure, clenching around his cock, then bearing down on it, trying to be the best fuck I can be for him. "Tell me what you are doing," he says. He knows I've made the transition from wanton lust to passive fuck toy, but he wants to hear it out loud. Wants to hear the power he has over my mind and body.

"I'm trying to be the best fuck I can be."

"Why?"

"Because I'm your fuck toy. My pussy is for your pleasure."

He saws in and out of my pussy. "God, I love you like this. Denying yourself for me. So wet and hungry. Such a good fuck toy." His body becomes rigid, and he thrusts once more, shooting into me. A couple more thrusts, and he's done. He withdraws, leans his head down and kisses my belly. "So beautiful when you are like this, so wet and frustrated." He strokes my belly, down past my smooth mound, and inserts two fingers into my pussy, and presses his thumb down on my belly. He grabs my pussy and shakes it twice like he owns it, then removes his fingers. I'm still puffy and swollen, but not as close to coming as I was. He leans his head down and licks my labia, sucks gently on my clit, then sucks it into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it for no longer than two seconds.

His mastery over my body has me responding immediately, and he chuckles. He knows he could make me come with a flick of the tongue, a crooked finger in my cunt, or a pinch of the clit. He reaches both hands up to my nipples and rolls them between his thumbs and index fingers. I moan and thrust my hips up. He continues as I grow more and more aroused. I can't come like this, with no genital stimulation, but it makes me so hungry, so wanting. I breath heavily, almost panting, and he continues rolling my nipples, tweaking them, pinching them. "You may touch yourself, but do not come." I eagerly reach both hands down to my pussy, one on my clit, the other pulling on my labia. I groan, he's got me close again, and I want so badly to come. "Please may I come?"

"You really don't sound very sincere. Are you sure you want to?"

"Oh, god yes. Please let me come." I continue pulling on my labia, but I've stopped fingering my clit.

"On your knees on the floor." I immediately comply. I scramble off the bed and onto the cold floor. "Your pussy got my cock all wet and sticky. I think it needs to be cleaned." He stands above me and I reach to put his cock into my mouth. "Did I say you could use your hands? I only want your mouth touching me. Put your hands behind your back."

I clasp my hands together behind my back, which thrusts my breasts forward. I lean in and suck his now softening cock into my mouth, bathing his cock in my saliva, using my tongue to clean the slime from his cock. It's both our juices, and I'm so aroused, I like the gamey taste. He reaches down to roll my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers again, and I moan around hi cock. My clit is throbbing, and I want to come. I need to come.

"Are you still at a nine?" I continue cleaning his cock, but look up and nod.

He doesn't stop stimulating my nipples. "Good," he says. "You may touch yourself, but don't forget your priorities."

I grab at my pussy with both hands, so focused on his cock that my hands are clumsy. He notices and is pleased. "How close are you?"

"A nine."

"Good. Get over here and rub that pussy on my leg. I want to see you humping my leg like a bitch in heat." He squats just slightly, bending his knees to give me a decent surface. I scramble to a standing position, and straddle his leg, pressing my wet pussy against his thigh, sliding up and down, the hairs on his thighs rubbing against my clit. My own thighs grow fatigued as I squat down and rise up. I rub against his thigh without embarrassment, thinking only of being able to come. I'm panting and starting to whine. I'm on the edge. It's harder in this position, but, oh, so much better. "Please may I come?" He arches an eyebrow and moves his leg away from my clit. I groan. "Please, please let me come."

The eyebrow goes up again. I realize what he wants to hear from me, and I don't hesitate. "Please may I grind against you? I'm a bitch in heat. Oh, God I need it. I just need to rub against your leg." He nods, and I scamper to his thigh, rubbing and clenching for all I'm worth, holding onto his torso, grinding my pussy against his thigh, and I feel the first spasms. I gasp, and my legs tremble. I continue rubbing, spasming, contorting as I come. I'm so out of control, my legs are trembling, and I can barely support my weight, but I keep thrusting against him. I see him smirk, satisfied. I come again, a whimper being forced out of my throat. This is what he does to me. He owns me.