He leaned over the chair, his left hand holding mine in the chair arm while his right stroked the dowel up my thighs. “Have I ever told you that what you just did is one of my most favorite fetishes? The way you just lifted to the dowel to try to chase the masochistic pleasure in your mind away since you won’t be getting relief? It’s my favorite game to deny orgasms for a week or more until my submissive comes to me begging me for the cane with tears in her eyes because the torture is preferable to the maddening edging. Imagine it Tuesday. Imagine all that fiery lust inside you that I can build up with you and imagine how desperately you would bow to me and beg. Imagine coming home when I’m so casually reading or watching something and you’re burning alive and the only mercy you have hope for is for me to torture you.”
Oh, I could imagine alright. He had been complete hell when he’d edged me over a three day period, making me hold vibrators to my pussy until I was crying. He hadn’t done that lately with my living with him, but I couldn’t keep from reacting to the dread and high octane lust it gave me just thinking of it.
He laughed, grabbing me to lick my face. “No more orgasms until I say otherwise. Since it’s this time of the month, the first little bit should be a nice, easy start to your denial. I want to see you break for me, Two. I want to see you an insane animal for me.”
I moaned but went still so easily, thinking of how he’d given me an out to cry, even around the pride that made me hate my own gender. God, I loved him. But more to the point, I trusted him with my life by that point. I knew it would be a horrible trial, but I also knew that every game we played, no matter how long, always ended up being worth it.
————
Not even three days later, I thought I was already insane. The first day of my period I was bleeding too badly to play much but it was the only day like that, which he well knew. So he used that day to torment me with commands and so soon after his very effective torturing I would obey them and turn heated for him, thinking of his threats and what was in store for me. The second day was a little less of a respite day. He had me stand in the bedroom where he tied me in my boy shorts and held a vibrator over them. He had me fitted with the cock gag and one command and that was to not cum. And the worst part was it wasn’t actually a hard command to follow. He used a mercifully low setting and it was over clothing so I had enough control especially after his previous denial training periods. But it was effective, a low humming tease of pleasure that I readily fell to after all of his torment on my overly receptive body. In the way of his usual use of me as his pain slut, he didn’t speak to me, didn’t give me any other commands past the one. I went to bed restless.
And the third day was when he upped his ante. He woke me early to shower with him and in the shower was when he used my asshole, placing his hands over mine against the wall and growling his reminder in my ear. “Don’t cum.” I moaned at that, the soreness having left my body, and pleasure was fast in its assault. It rose like a storm, my sexuality hating even small two day breaks from his sex. I was more than ready to ride him to an anal orgasm, but his command held me fast, and I whimpered pathetically instead while he filled me with cum. He dragged me from the shower only to paddle me, but that was so gentle that it only fed me more hot arousal. He left with a satisfied look in his eyes while I shook and shivered. “I want you to go to the room after I leave and hold the vibrator to your pussy for ten minutes. Make sure to get up early to get ready for work and do it again for another ten minutes.”
I stared at him in horror even while my mouth opened and said the words, “Yes, master.”
He was smiling sadistically when he left and he gave me one last terrible thought to consider. “Once you stop bleeding, I can start fucking your pussy while you’re in denial, have fun eating it out, and then we can really watch you spiral to hell.”
I moaned in dread, shaking and wondering what game I had gotten myself into. It was as if Satan had leaned over me and purred out his idea of the worst kind of torture for a damned soul and I had agreed to it. I ended up calling Ivory before I even left, just to hear his voice and to beg him for something to distract me with. There was deep pleasure in his words at the sound of my desperation. But he still didn’t hurt me. He fucked my ass again as soon as I got home and then again before we went to bed, leaning down to whisper, “I’m going to need to use you all the more for this. God, it turns me on to watch you suffer.”
And he did. He woke me up again in the morning to use me and in the shower I whimpered it out. “Please strap me, master, please.”
He laughed in disdain. “No, because that was a pathetic excuse for begging. Hold the vibrator to yourself for two twenty minute sessions instead of ten since that was obviously too nice.”
I started crying. Denial was true hell. What was worse about it? His casual use of me without my own pleasure being allowed at all made me so fucking hot to think about that it alone would have made the denial hell. My masochism reveled in that type of use and if this was a head fuck, I would have been able to get off from the thought alone. And even worse? His dick turned so fucking hard at the sound of my misery and he growled with delight. “Get to work after I leave and I’ll know if you disobey, little slave.”
After that I was definitely going insane with it. I edged myself obediently while sending him the video I knew he would want. Then edged again before work and when I left I was antsy and whining, throwing myself into work like before. This time he called me during lunch, purring cruelly in my ear. “I can’t inspect my little cunt at the moment so I want you to message me and describe how badly that pussy aches.” I did. I messaged him with begging and pleading.
“Please hurt me!” I threw myself at his knees that night and he laughed, placing his boot on my head to make me bow lower.
“Good girl. That’s more like how my slave should beg me. It’s a pity you already ruined it this morning. No, and you can try again tomorrow. In the meantime, that turned me on.” He lifted me and bent me over to chair again, fucking me so violently I would have cum three times if I’d been allowed to. Instead I took it, shivering and whimpering when he whispered menacingly in my ear after he came, “Good little fucktoy. And that’s what you are right now. Your pleasure doesn’t matter and it’s mine that does, isn’t that right, little slave?”
Heat and fiery arousal sizzled through me at those words but he knew that and it’s why he said them. “Yes, master.”
God, I felt like a slave. I woke up to his touch the next morning and my head was bowed in terrified defeat. We both knew my bleeding was over. He took me to the shower again, his eyes eager and intense and I knew what was coming. It was torture when he fed his cock into my pussy and he prolonged it with soft, horny growls in my ear, stretching me deliciously since I hadn’t taken his cock in a week. I whimpered with each inch and shuddered around him when he was seated as far as he could go. “Don’t cum.” He snarled it like an animal. “Don’t you dare.”