Not for long, of course, as I’m sure You remember, Sir. It wasn’t long before Your hand drifted downward, once more pinching first one, then the other, of my fully erect nipples, making me arch my back with the pleasure of it. You did this for what seemed like hours, Sir, teasing me ever so gently, going back and forth between them, watching me carefully as you built up the fires of my arousal once more.
You began to pinch them harder, Sir, filling your hand with each breast in turn, squeezing and massaging each one, observing me as if I was part of an experiment You were conducting – which I suppose I was. You began giving my breasts little slaps, alternating that with Your ongoing treatment of squeezing and pinching them.
All the while completely ignoring my poor, desperate pussy.
I quickly gave up all pretense of control – not that there had been much left anyway – and began to writhe in earnest, moaning and babbling through my panties and begging You with my eyes.
But You showed me no mercy, Sir. Thank You, Sir.
You brought me to the very edge of orgasm, my back arched and my hips involuntarily thrusting, a scream trying to force its way past the panties in my mouth.
And then You stopped.
You folded Your hands in Your lap and again You simply watched me thrash and moan and whimper on the bed. You only touched me once during the next several minutes, and that was when You took a tissue from the box on Your bedside table and used it to gently blot away the tears that were leaking out of my eyes, leaning down to kiss me on the forehead once more as You did so.
And then, when You decided that I had sufficiently settled and regained control of myself, You began again, Sir. You ran Your hands all over my body, slowly, molding my flesh as if it were soft clay. You caressed my arms, my face, my breasts, my stomach, my thighs, my shins and even the soles of my feet – everywhere but the one place I would have given anything for You to touch. Then You worked Your way back up again, more slowly this time, massaging me even more deeply.
It was torture.
It was wonderful.
And then You rested one hand on my abdomen, the tip of Your middle finger resting lightly on my clitoris, and with the other You plucked the panties from my mouth. You began stroking my clit, delicately, as You leaned down, looking deeply into my eyes, and said only one word:
“Beg.”