Waiting for Him to Come
Ladyvet
I wake up with a start, my nightmare of being buried alive still
frighteningly real. The muscles in my shoulders and thighs ache and my nipples
sting. I try to close my legs and sit up but I can't move! I panic, fighting the
tight restraints on my wrists and ankles until I realize where I am. The hot,
sweat-soaked leather of the rack beneath me is familiar, reassuring. My body is
stretched to the limit, arms pulled straight out above my head, legs spread as
far apart as the "wings" holding them can go, exposing me, leaving me totally
vulnerable. I try to guess how long I've been in restraint but I can't. It could
be a few hours or much longer. The room is so well sealed that no sound or light
penetrates it. The nearly complete lack of sensory stimulation sharpens my
senses. I listen to the sound of my breathing and savor the smells permeating
the warm, moist air; leather, wood, sweat and musk. I flex my muscles and tug
against the restraints to work out the cramps and wait. My desire burns like a
low-banked flame. I fantasize about Him lying on me, holding my wrists above my
head, our bodies moving together until the flame grows uncomfortably high and I
have to force myself to stop thinking about it. I may have a long wait and time
stands still when He's not with me.
The door opens. Bright light dazzles my eyes. He stands silently in the
doorway, watching me. I look at Him over my sweat-shiny breasts, tortured into
sharp cones by leather thongs attached to my rings, pulling them toward the
ceiling. An alligator clip bites relentlessly into the stretched flesh just
below each ring. He holds up a glass, smiles, takes a sip and walks slowly to my
side. I watch sparkling beads of moisture run down it and suddenly realize how
thirsty I am. I wish I could lick my lips. I press my tongue helplessly against
the ball gag and stare longingly at the glass.
"Is My little bitch getting thirsty?" He takes another drink, swishes
the amber liquid and ice around and smiles.
I nod and mumble "Yes, Master" unintelligibly against the gag. He
removes an ice cube and rubs it over my parched lips. Most of the water trickles
down my cheeks and chin but a few drops seep around the gag straps and into the
corners of my mouth. I plead with my eyes for Him to free my mouth and give me a
sip. He places the glass next to my cheek on the rack, teasing me with its cold
wetness and pops the ice into His mouth. He glances nonchalantly at his watch
and smiles.
"No, it hasn't been very long. You aren't really thirsty yet." He rubs
his finger tips over my distended breasts, then presses down on them, stretching
my nipples still farther. I groan and fight to raise myself a bit. He lets me
struggle for a while, then takes pity on me. I nod gratefully, acknowledging His
mercy when He removes the thongs. He leaves the alligator clamps on to bite my
nipples. He doesn't want to spoil me. He fishes out another cube and slowly
traces it over my lower lip and chin, down the hollow of my neck and between my
breasts. It leaves a trail of cold flame behind. My nipples harden. The little
teeth in the clamps bite deeper. He moves the ice slowly around my breast,
circling closer to my nipple until He finally touches it. The clamp suddenly
feels like it's electrically charged, sending little shocks into my nipple
wherever the ice touches. He pulls my ring upward, stretching my breast into a
sharp cone again, setting it on fire. I struggle to raise myself off the rack to
ease the pain. He just pulls harder until I settle back to accept my torture. He
holds the ice against my nipple. It melts quickly, sending a little rivulet of
cold down over my breast and ribs. He does the same things to my other breast.
The tingling radiates from them into my stomach, then lower. He removes the
clips, bends over me and takes my nipples alternately into his mouth, sucking
gently, rubbing his tongue over their tips above the rings. My arousal and
thirst burn with equal intensity in my consciousness. I tilt my hips, begging
Him to caress me and rub my cheek against the cold, wet glass. He places the
nearly melted cube in my navel and takes another from the glass. He squeezes
this one just above my mouth, letting it drip slowly onto the ball. I finally
collect a little moisture in my mouth and struggle against the gag to swallow.
He spreads me with His finger tips, presses the cube against me and
slides it, a second, then a third inside me. The ice burns wherever it touches.
He forces them deep with His fingers. I tighten around His knuckles, trying to
hold Him inside me. He withdraws them slowly, then runs His cold, wet finger tip
lightly up and down the insides of my thighs, not quite touching my labia. I can
feel each beat of my heart in my nipples, womb and clit. I can't lie still. I
thrust upward and try to rub against His fingers. He touches my clit for an
instant. I continue to move helplessly, searching desperately for His hand. I
need to come so badly I don't care how severely He'll punish me afterward. I
can't help myself and He knows it.
"You don't learn, do you?" He demands. "You're always trying to come
without permission." He plays with the strap securing my wrist. Maybe He'll free
my hand and allow me to masturbate. He loves to watch me make myself come,
always in tight restraint, so I have to struggle to do it. It humiliates me to
have Him watch me do what no one else has seen, to expose my most intimate
secrets. I hate myself but I beg with my eyes for Him to let me do it. I'm
suffocating with desire.
He frees my right hand. I hold it away from my body, obediently waiting
for Him to give me permission to touch myself. He pulls my labia apart, exposes
my clit and moves the tiny ring in it back and forth with a finger tip. The need
to have His hand inside me is more than I can bear. I touch the back of it with
my finger tips. He pushes my hand away and slaps my swollen mound.
"Never touch Me without permission," He snarls. "Put your hand back over
your head, bitch! You don't deserve to have Me finger you!" He restrains my
wrist and laughs as I tug desperately against the restraint. He blindfolds me.
I'm glad because it hides the tears of frustration which threaten to flow at any
moment. I don't want Him see me cry. It proves my inner weakness.
He opens the door and speaks to someone! Their footsteps approach my
bound, naked body. No one could imagine how I've degraded myself in the month
we've lived together or the things I let Him do to me! I struggle futilely and
shake my head, pleading with Him not to let a stranger see my humiliation. He
binds my chest to the rack with a wide leather strap just below my breasts. It's
so tight across my ribs I can barely inhale. He fumbles in the wet hair at the
back of my neck and unbuckles the gag. I try to force it out of my mouth with my
tongue but the ball is too large. He lets me struggle with it for a while, then
He tugs on the straps. Pain flares through my jaw and cheeks as I force my mouth
open wide enough to allow Him to pull the ball past my teeth. I close my mouth
gingerly. The pain slowly subsides. It won't help to plead with Him to make the
other person go away. My secret isn't a secret any longer. I resign myself to
the unwanted presence. I suddenly feel like I'm dying of thirst. I lick the
condensation from the side of the glass.
"She's lovely spread out like this," a woman's voice says from the
darkness. I feel incredibly vulnerable. Who is she? How much does she know about
me? Her presence makes me feel even more naked and compromised.
"I can't work with these clamps in my way. I have to take them off."
Each one sends a sudden burst of intense pain through my nipple as the little
teeth pull free of the tormented flesh. Soft fingers massage my nipples,
replacing the ache of the clamps with an ache of a different kind. She cups and
molds my breasts. "Nice and firm," she comments as she fondles me. "Her nipples
nice and big and pale." Something cold splashes over my chest. The pungent
stench of alcohol fills my nose. I'm suddenly a little girl again, sitting in
the doctor's office, awaiting a dreaded injection. The fear it calls forth is
deep rooted, instinctive. For me, it is the smell of pain without pleasure.
"Such lovely white skin." Her voice is different now; softer and lower.
A pointed fingernail traces lines on the outer edges of my breasts. "I'm going
to do it from here to here."
"Yes, cover them," He agrees. An angry buzzing sound is quickly followed
by a series of sharp needle pricks in the outer curve of my left breast. I panic
and scream, squirming helplessly against the unyielding leather straps. "Make
another sound and I'll put the ball back in," He warns coolly. I bite my tongue
and suppress the urge to scream. They make small talk as she works. They
obviously know each other well. I'm suddenly struck by how little I know about
this man to whom I've surrendered my life. I wonder whether He used to fuck her,
or if He still does. I become aware of her sweet, musky perfume through the
smell of the alcohol. I wonder whether they're nude, fresh from His bed. I can't
see anything so my imagination runs wild. Does she let Him do to her what He
does to me; things I couldn't have imagined a few weeks ago which I now not only
accept but crave? I try to put it out of my mind. I've surrendered myself to Him
completely. He can do whatever He wants to.
The pricking advances slowly over my entire breast, except for my nipple
which she saves for last. The pain is much more intense as she works on it. I
dig my nails into my palms and bite the inside of my cheek. She stops and asks
Him to rub her shoulders. I silently pray "please, God, let it be over."
She purrs "thanks, Hon. That feels wonderful!" Then she giggles and says
"Oh! Don't get me started if you expect me to be able to finish this!" She sighs
deeply and begins again, working slowly through my cleavage and across my right
breast. Once again, she saves the nipple for last, letting me anticipate the
pain. This time it stings so badly I moan. He rubs the ball gag against my lips,
reminding me to keep silent. The humming and needle pricks finally stop. She
swabs me with alcohol. My chest feels like it's covered with red hot steel wool.
"That's it!" Isn't it beautiful?"
She pats my stomach and says approvingly "A perfect subject. Her belly
is so nice and flat," she emphasizes the last word "and smooth and her skin is
just like satin." She toys with my pubic hair and comments "nice and soft." I
feel like a dog being judged at a show. She acts like she owns me! Why is He
letting her? I almost say something, then think better of it. I'm in no position
to object. She touches the inside of my left knee and traces a line from just
above it to the same place on my right one, spreading me as she draws her nail
across my labia. I gasp and squirm as her finger tip penetrates me before moving
slowly and deliberately on. She pinches my labia tightly together. "I want to
ring her now." What is she talking about? I'm on the verge of screaming again!
"Later," He replies. "I'm not ready. I'll need her until you're back to
normal."
She sighs. "Yes, I know how You are! You need a toy! I'll put up with it
and make do. It won't be that long now." She cups my chin and presses her lips
to mine. I try to turn away but she holds me more tightly, digs her nails into
my cheeks and whispers "this is just the beginning, Emily! Enjoy it while you
can!" against my mouth. Her tongue slides between my teeth and brushes mine,
then she releases me. "It's hard on a bitch to be in heat and not get enough,
isn't it?" She drops something on my stomach, pats me between my legs then packs
up her instruments. The door opens. Her footsteps recede.
He calls out "Relax and make yourself at home, Linda."
She laughs and answers "I intend to! My back and legs are killing me!
I'm so tired of it. I can't wait for it to be over. I'm going to soak in the hot
tub for a while, then take a nap. Wake me up when you're ready. And David," she
adds in a husky whisper, "It's been a long time. Save some for me Don't keep me
waiting too long." I try to visualize a woman to go with the name and low, sexy
voice. Is she younger than I? Older? More beautiful?
"It won't be long now and you'll look and feel better than ever after
you have it," He says and closes the door. She's pregnant! Is it His? Oh, God
how I wish I could at least see her. It won't do any good to ask Him what's
going on. If He wanted me to know, He'd tell me. He frees my right wrist. I want
to tear the blindfold off to see what she's done to me but I don't dare. I
gingerly touch the thing lying on my stomach. It's an open ring about a quarter
inch thick and an inch in diameter. It's halves are hinged at one end. One free
end is sharply pointed. The other is hollow.
He lets me hold it for a minute, then takes it away and says "you'll
have plenty of time to play with this later." I can't imagine what He's talking
about. He seems to read my mind and laughs. "Don't worry about it now. You'll
understand soon enough!" He frees my hand and puts it between my legs. I press
it tightly against my pubis. The moist hair is slippery under my palm. He hasn't
given me permission to masturbate so I hold my fingers obediently away from
myself. The ice has long since melted away inside me, leaving white heat in its
place. I want to put my fingers inside and rub my swollen G-spot but I can't
without His approval. I ask permission to stimulate myself. He ignores my
request and stretches my labia. A mixture of water from the melted ice and my
lubricant trickles out over my anus. His hands brush my outstretched fingers as
He attaches clamps and tightens them until they pinch. I fight the urge to grasp
His hand and move against it.
I don't because He would only make me wait longer for being so impudent.
He pulls the clamps outward and ties their thongs to rings in the sides of the
rack, stretching me, holding me open. He's never done this before. The warm air
feels cool against the wet, burning tissue. My gaping openness makes me feel
incredibly vulnerable and hot.
"You may rub your clit until I tell you to stop," He commands, then adds
offhandedly "but leave your cunt alone. You're getting too loose." He's
responsible for that but He blames me. He fists me so hard that He's stretched
me. He uses both hands sometimes, up to His wrists. When He makes love to me
now, He's rough, not gentle like He was at first. I miss the tenderness but I
need satisfaction even more and the more I get, the more I need. Maybe He's
saving the tenderness for Linda. I rub the hard point of flesh in little circles
that my hips soon mimic. "That's it, you cock teasing bitch," He snarls. "Show
Me how you did it after driving Me crazy on a date and telling Me 'No!'"
Damn it! I wish I hadn't told Him about that! I think back to the times
I couldn't even wait to get my clothes off before I started, skirt pulled up
around my waist, rubbing myself through my panty hose and praying my room mate
wouldn't come in and catch me. I didn't tell Him that I often did it before our
dates as well to keep myself under control. I finally agreed to move in with Him
when I couldn't stand to wait any longer. Being a virgin at 27 (I never thought
oral sex affected virginity) was a strain before I met Him; He made it
unbearable.
I rub harder. The feeling intensifies. "That's it, bitch!" He says as He
strokes Himself. "Show Me how you did without cock for so long!" I loathe myself
while I'm doing it but I can't help myself. I have to come so badly I can't
think of anything else! I dig my heels into the rack and pull as hard as I can
against the unyielding ankle restraints in a vain attempt to pull my knees up a
little. It's so hard to come with my legs stretched straight out like this!
He finally pulls my face toward Him. I open my mouth. He fills it with
His hardness. I close my lips around Him, sucking gently, swirling my tongue
around. She's probably much tighter than I am (although not for long, I think
gleefully, picturing her with her knees high, feet in the stirrups, screaming,
stretching and straining to deliver a hopefully large headed infant) but I know
I can do this better than anyone He'll ever be with. He's so hot He can't wait
for me to bring Him to a climax gradually the way I usually do. He grabs Himself
and pumps His cock rapidly, carelessly hitting my chin with each stroke. His
first jet splashes my cheek and fills my eye with thick, stinging come. He
places himself in my open mouth and coats my tongue and the back of my throat. I
suck hard and swallow greedily, trying to quench my thirst with His salty, spent
passion. He commands me to stop playing with myself. We both know I can't. I'm
so close! My need is overpowering! The clamps hold me open, gaping, exposing my
engorged inner lips. I touch them. The need to have something inside me is
suddenly overwhelming. I finger myself frantically until He pulls His still-hard
cock from my mouth and pins my hand over my head. I plead and cry while He
restrains it. He ignores my frantic pleas and the pelvic thrusts I am powerless
to control.
"Your disobedience and lack of will power are unbelievable."
I nod my head and whisper "I'm sorry, Master. Please make love to me."
"You want more stimulation? Very well!"
I do my best to hold still as He presses the skin around my clit,
exposing it. I feel cold metal against it, then the clamp closes in a burst of
excruciating pain. I bite down on my lip until I taste blood to keep from
screaming in the hope that He won't use the ball gag again. He only leaves the
clamp on for a moment but it seems like eternity. The pain is quickly replaced
by even stronger desire. I almost come from the sensation when He puts the
clamps back on my nipples! Almost, but not quite. If He'd only enter me now, I'd
come immediately.
"I suppose you're anxious to take a look...?" He removes the blindfold.
I blink away my tears and stare at my reflection. Ornate black script covers my
breasts, defiling their whiteness, nearly obliterating the delicate pinkness of
my nipples: Linda's Slave Bitch. I stare at it until He turns off the light and
closes the door, plunging the room into total darkness. The image of my ruined
beauty burns brightly in the blackness. Despite everything, my need is
undiminished. He lit a fire the first time He restrained and made love to me
that nothing can extinguish. Just the thought of having sex in restraint is
enough to make me wet. I lie open and empty, waiting for Him to fill me. He
won't return until he's ready for another orgasm, hopefully inside me. The
clamps on my labia are driving me crazy. I know I'll be able to come when He
makes love to me. I always do, over and over, even as He commands me to hold
back. His salty come makes me even thirstier than before. I try to lick the
glass again. It tips over, falls and breaks, spilling its precious contents on
the floor. I imagine her mocking laughter in the shattering glass. Damn her!
She's keeping Him from me! Is He holding her, kissing her soft lips, pressing
Himself against the hard roundness of her (their?) pregnancy? Or lying next to
her, sweating against her back, taking her from behind to avoid her bloated
belly? I picture Him moving in her, rubbing her clit, massaging her milk-heavy
breasts and start to cry in rage and frustration. Mine are on fire. The clamps
bite down relentlessly, focusing my attention on my ever-mounting desire. My
clit feels like it's twitching! I can't stand it! I scream and buck my hips and
fight the restraints until I'm too exhausted to do anything but cry. Oh, God!
How long is He going to make me wait?
