Cora’s first day of orgasm denial

Have you ever had a secret desire you were dying to reveal to your partner? Something so powerful, and so important to you, that you were hungry for it even in the middle of a happy and satisfying relationship? But you weren’t sure how they would react if you told them; you feared that they would find you weird or too demanding; that they wouldn’t understand. You felt guilty, like you’d be asking for too much. And so you kept it inside, but never very securely, like an air bubble under water that’s perpetually trying to come to the surface? Do you know this state of dreaming, of longing, of trying to work up the nerve to ask for what you want?
This story is for you. It’s the story of how I told my partner about my most powerful kink — and what happened afterwards.
At the time, I’d been dating Nate for about a year — a wonderful year, full of laughter and games and music and stargazing. I was happy with him in every way, and I knew that he felt the same way about me. I had blessed the stars that brought us together when, shortly after we had first begun dating, I found out that this man I had been falling hard for was also kinky. We’re both switches, who enjoy sexually dominating as well as submitting to our partners. This double compatibility gave us all kinds of fun angles to explore. We had both come into the relationship with a little bit of experience in bondage, but soon we were trying stuff together that we had never done before, our creativity growing along with the trust between us. After a year, we had acquired a drawer full of sex toys and bondage gear, had a ton of fun together, and were still crazy about each other.
Nate’s idea of kink was pretty physical. He was a sucker for bondage — the look and feel of chains and ropes and leather, the sense of power, or else of helplessness and being held in place. He was quite the challenge to tie down, because he would throw himself against his restraints and fumble at any knots he could reach, and wasn’t fully satisfied unless there was honestly no way he could escape. Out of bonds, he could be a relentless top, who used his superior strength and size to control me, and did not grow tired of using my body for his pleasure. His vibrant physicality, whether he was writhing in bondage or pushing me into the mattress, frequently left me breathless.
And I loved it, loved every part of the sex we were having, but I still found myself craving more.
As a teenager, left alone with unrestricted internet access and too much time on my hands, I had devoured heaps of erotica about curses and mind control, incubi and sex pollen, and alpha/beta/omega dynamics, alongside what I considered ‚normal’ BDSM fiction. For the first few years, I thought that I just liked a lot of stuff. But over time, I began to feel that all my preferences were somehow connected by an underlying pattern that I couldn’t quite name even to myself. It had something to do with losing control, that much was clear. Something about that made my breath catch and my clit swell.
Naturally, I dipped my toes into bondage as soon as I was old enough, which allowed me to surrender control of my body to others, and delight in accepting their surrender. I loved both roles equally well; since it was most of all the idea of power transfer that I chased, it didn’t much matter to me which end of the rope I was on. Ultimately, though, my desire ran deeper. Tying my partner up was not enough; I also wanted to tease them till they cried. I wanted to be made to cry, and beg, and toss all reason into the bin. In fact, as long as there was teasing and begging, I found I didn’t care so much about the bondage itself.
Masturbating, or rather: teasing myself to such fantasies, I found out that when I got myself worked up almost to the point of orgasm, but then stopped, and if I repeated this a few times, I would become incredibly horny, and my eventual orgasm more intense. I pushed my own limits, four, five, six times per session; it was hard, and usually beyond my self-discipline, but whenever I managed to keep from coming for a while, the pleasure was overwhelming. The web taught me that the term for my new-found indulgence was edging, and inevitably introduced me also to orgasm denial — basically, self-induced sexual frustration. It was perfect.
From the first time I read about denial, I was hooked. The concept took over my fantasies, and ironically I came hard thinking about it, over and over, before I ever managed to actually engage in any serious denial. It was the logical continuation of my practice with edging. I simply had to go longer, and find ways to go about my day unnoticed with my pussy on fire. But it was fucking difficult, and usually I would end up back in bed within the hour.
However, on the rare occasions when I resisted the temptation for hours and days on end, I found that my state of mind became gloriously altered. My priorities became warped, with sex, masturbation, fantasy, and porn suddenly and persistently at the top of the list. My attention became fixated on the smallest of sexual cues around me. People looked better, and I found myself lusting after strangers on the street. Half an hour could go by unnoticed while I stared out the window wrapped up in a fantasy. I felt hyper-sensitive to even the touch of my clothes or blankets; my skin tingled and my whole body felt flooded with energy, dominated by my glowing clit.
I loved all of it. It was the closest I could get, or needed to get, to being cursed or subjected to sex pollen or what have you. I felt wild and out of control, feverish with the secret I was hiding from everyone. And whenever my preoccupation became seriously inconvenient, it was only too easy to quickly relieve myself, and reap a massive orgasm as a bonus.
One glorious time, I made it to just over a week without coming, despite edging every day. But that remained the unrivalled record — most of my attempts failed within an afternoon. I had fun anyway.
The trick was to keep myself stimulated — that was the difference between enjoyable denial and a simple dry spell. Sometimes, I would wear a dildo inside my panties as I walked around, enjoying its movement with every step and even more turned on by the rottenness of doing so under everybody’s unknowing eyes. I also devised other, subtler ways I could keep myself excited by sitting and moving in certain ways, and, of course, fantasizing all the fucking time.
Needless to say, I fantasized heavily about somebody else taking charge of my denial. Left to my own devices, I could rarely muster up the discipline for any length of denial that deserved the name. When, during edging, I hit that last plateau, where every touch was potentially too much, where I knew that the only way to keep from coming would be to stop … I couldn’t stop, because it just felt too good. So each time, I convinced myself that I could surely make it this time, if I just went really slow and soft and thought of something else at the same time. It never worked. When I’m that horny, it’s almost impossible not to come; the lightest touch can be enough to send me over the edge, when all I want is to stay just this side of it.
I needed someone else to play along; to encourage, to demand, even to punish me if I gave in to the need to come. In particular, I imagined often how it would feel not to know when it would stop. To know I didn’t have control over it, that I didn’t have an easy way out. That I had no choice but to remain horny and frustrated. The idea was thrilling, although intimidating.
All of this preceded Nate by several years, but the fetish was still very much alive throughout the first year of our relationship. I couldn’t easily indulge myself anymore, because he would have noticed me being all riled up for days. But I thought about it no less. I deeply longed to finally turn my fantasies into reality, but couldn’t work up the nerve to tell Nate how I felt. There seemed to be so many reasons against it: He might feel freaked out; he might find it pathological, or greedy. He might question why I was only opening up now, and if that meant I hadn’t really enjoyed myself in bed with him so far. He might hate the idea of taking responsibility for me in the way I imagined, and resent me for asking for too much of his time and energy. It was already more difficult for him to make me come than the other way around, and I felt like it would be ungrateful to ask for extra effort then. Even if he were willing to try it, I was afraid to fall on his nerves by being noticeably horny when he wasn’t — the lack of focus and the fucked-up priorities that I enjoyed so much would certainly be annoying to deal with for any partner. It seemed like a very selfish thing to ask him for permission, and even his support, to engage in.
And so, I didn’t tell him what I longed for. But I was never able to stop craving it, either. It was in my head more often than not when I would rub one out. Sometimes when we fucked, I would pretend that he would not let me come, right until the last second when he did. When we were apart for a day or two, I would pretend that he was denying me orgasm until we met again, and when I would arrive at his doorstop my panties would be soaked. If he noticed anything unusual about those nights, he never questioned it.
Most suitably, we were having sex when it happened. He was holding me tight, leisurely petting my pussy the way he often does to get me off after we fuck. I love this position; love how I’m so close to him but he’s still got control over me; love his breath on my neck; love feeling just a little helpless when he holds me firmly. I was enjoying myself whole-heartedly in his arms.
„So baby,” He said quietly next to my ear. It was unexpected, because we didn’t usually talk much during sex — another thing I secretly regretted. He immediately had all my attention. „You said you’ll do anything I like tonight.”
I turned my head to look at him, surprised. I had said that, for sure, but I had kind of thought we were done with that. He’d just had me in all his favorite positions, wearing an outfit that he picked for me. It had all culminated in me riding him, one hand squeezing lightly around his throat the way he likes, until he shot his load in me.
At that point, these kinds of deals tended to expire.
„I did,” I said, a little cautiously, but curious. I loved it when he told me what to do in bed, and was eager to please.
He was quiet for a moment, and then said, without preamble, „Tell me something new you want to do in bed.”
What? For a second I thought I’d misheard. It must have been my wild imagination again, letting me hear what I wished to hear. Because this would be too easy, right; I’d been trying for weeks and months to work up the nerve to make my confession, and now he was just … asking me?
„Uh …” I decided to bluff. „What makes you think there is anything?”
„Please,” He said, in that confident way he has, and kissed me on the temple. To be fair, it wasn’t the first (nor the last) time that he had seen right through me. He prides himself on being good at reading people, and I usually tell him he’s too full of himself, but secretly I have to admit he kind of is great at it. Especially at reading me. „You’ve been dropping hints for months. But you never actually told me.”
Oh man, and here I had thought I was being so stealthy. I wondered for how long he’d known, and why he hadn’t asked me sooner. Probably he had wanted to let me ‚take my time’. That was exactly his style. Patient bastard.
I felt foolish. And exhilarated. I really really didn’t want to talk about it, but I really really wanted to. And if he was asking, he could hardly blame me later for telling him, could he? It wouldn’t be quite so egotistical to ask now. Would it?
„Uh …” My mind was wheeling, unprepared for this development. What could I say, out of the blue like this? I could hardly come out with the whole complicated truth, after all. It wasn’t even something that I would necessarily want to do in bed, as he’d asked. Not what he had in mind. In a second, I was self-conscious again.
My mind went blank, and the fact that his hand was still between my legs, rubbing slow circles, wasn’t helping, so I blurted out the second-most important secret instead of the most important one.
„Dirty talk!”
At once, I felt both relieved and like I had messed up a one-of-a-kind chance. It wasn’t wrong what I’d said … In fact, Nate talking dirty was also a major feature in my fantasies, although a bit less compelling than my desire for orgasm denial. He had such a drop-dead sexy voice, especially when he was aroused and it dropped a few bars, and hearing him say anything sex-related always gave me weak knees. Unfortunately, he did it only rarely, and sparingly even then. He was never really a person who talked too much.
„You mean like calling you names?” He asked, still stroking me slowly.
„For example…” I conceded, but not really, though. Once again, anxiety overtook me. It would be too hard to explain what I had in mind. After all, I didn’t like all words, only some of them; much of the ‚dirty talk’ in porn made me vastly uncomfortable, and I certainly didn’t want him to talk to me like that. But how should he know the difference? What had I gotten myself into? Why the fuck had I thought that this would be easier to talk about than the other thing??
„Okay,” He said, pondering, and apparently oblivious to the turmoil in my head. „So what would you like me to call you?”
Fuck. No, name-calling was actually really not what I had meant. That was actually very dangerous terrain. So many ways to go wrong. Why hadn’t I started this off better? I felt like the conversation was slipping through my fingers at an alarming pace, jogging towards who knew what end.
I did have to say something now, though. A little dazed, I selected the one name I was reasonably comfortable with, and told him I thought I’d like ‚slut’. Even so, speaking it made me cringe in embarrassment.
Nate was evidently stunned into a surprised silence that lasted several agonizing seconds. Then he snuggled closer around me, and murmured in my ear, „Well, that should be easy. Because you are such a slut for me.” He ran his fingers through my wet slit as if for emphasis.
…?!?! Fuck! My brain stuttered for a moment, and I swallowed involuntarily. I honestly could not believe what was happening. Nate had never said anything like that to me before, and now he seemed immediately so confident about it, and god I hadn’t been wrong about how it would affect me. Suddenly I desperately wanted him to go on and tell me what a slut I was, and while he was already at it, also tell me what a fool I had been not to confess to him from the start. The man to whom that voice belonged seemed to be able to handle anything.
Taking a big breath, I said, „It’s not just about calling me names, though. In fact, it mostly isn’t.”
„I’m listening.” His hand moved to my chest; the focus was now clearly on the conversation, rather than getting me off.
“Well … it …” I was getting really flustered now. My face was probably glowing beet red, and it was a good thing that he was holding me so close I didn’t have to look at him. Even so, I was fighting the urge to curl into a tight ball. „Calling me a slut is just … a shortcut? The shortest way to say what I want to hear. Not necessarily the best.”
“So … you want me to call you a slut, but in more words.” He sounded confused. “Like what, baby? What do you like to hear?”
His voice was soft, both seductive and comforting. Words pushed themselves on my tongue in response to his question, longing to be spoken by this golden voice. They were words I had whispered at night when I masturbated, or thought to myself during sex. But at this moment, I couldn’t pick any, and I certainly couldn’t get them through my windpipe, which seemed to have shrunk to half its regular size.
„Come on,” He said, kissing my cheekbone affectionately. “If you tell me, I might just do it.”
„I want you to tell me … what I need. Make me admit it. Tease me for it.”
Nate slid his hands over my breasts slowly and sensually, punctuating his words with squeezes. „So what do you need?”
He was clearly aware that this was not just a meta conversation; by talking about it, we were already right in the middle of it. Confessing these things — with his attention on me, his interest telling me it was okay to confess — was turning me on massively.
„Sex,” I breathed, but I already knew he wouldn’t accept that as an answer. It wasn’t difficult enough to say. So I carried on, half whispering through my tight throat. „Lots of it. Hard. Dirty. I need to get fucked. … And to come … That’s what I want you to say.”
“That you’re a slut,” He summarized, finally understanding.
“Yeah. And that … you like it. I hope. That’s important. It’s only fun if you like it.” My already quiet voice trailed away most pitifully.
He hugged me really tight at that. “Don’t worry,” He said, and I relaxed into his hug, just as he added with a devious undertone, „I love that you’re such a slut.”
Once again, my breath caught in my throat at the unexpectedness of it. It was like something straight out of my fantasies, but so much better because it was really Nate saying it to me, and I still couldn’t get a grip on this situation. „I see you get the idea,” I said shakily, with a bit of a nervous laugh as an afterthought.
I could hear him smiling into my neck. “So that makes you wet, huh?” His hand returned — finally — to my pussy. „Good to know.” The touch felt completely different than before; even I could feel how much wetter I’d become. My clit was glowing hot and begging for attention.
As he began to give it just that, he asked, „But isn’t that embarrassing?”
I loved him so much for asking, for caring, for bothering to understand. Even though it was damn hard to explain.
“That’s … kind of the point.”
„You like to feel embarrassed?”
“… Yes.” Immediately memories of terrible ‘humiliation porn’ came back, and I hurried to clarify: „But only about sex. Please don’t call me stupid or ugly or fat or whatever. That would hurt.”
He thought about that for a while, quietly rubbing away at my clit, which gave me time to process what had just happened. It seemed unbelievable that, just like that, I had confessed my secret. Not all of it, but half of it, and some more he was probably piecing together by himself at that very second, great people-reader that he was. I felt shocked, proud, humiliated, accepted, loved, in love, excited, and wary, all at once. It was a dizzying caleidoscope of emotion, and in the middle of it all I was buzzing with arousal. My mind was running away from me to all the things we might do in the future, to all the possibilities that were opening up. Fantasies were rapidly replacing each other in my mind, as if a floodgate had been opened.
Before I knew it, I was almost ready to come, with the familiar mixed feelings that always brought. On one hand, my body was shouting for release. On the other hand — damn, I felt amazing. As if I was supercharged, energy pounding through every cell in my body. It was ecstasy. I didn’t want it to be over.
In this drunken haze it suddenly occurred to me that I could confess this too, right now. My biggest secret. My heart was thumping wildly as I thought this over, like a first time bungee jumper standing in front of a cliff wondering if they should really jump. But was that …? Could I really …?
„You probably like to beg too, don’t you,” He suddenly said, interrupting my reverie. For a moment, I felt disoriented. Where did he get that from? Ah, yeah, the humiliation. He thought if I liked to be embarrassed, I must enjoy begging. Well, he was right. I nodded.He squeezed my nipple and whispered, „So beg for it”.
Fuck, it was so good to hear him say that. I could actually feel my eyes rolling upward behind my closed eyelids, and moaned, my breath quickening beyond its already fast pace.
The submissive in me wanted to please him and obey. The fetishist in me wanted to enthusiastically affirm his every effort towards what I had asked of him.
Only … I’ve always sucked at lying. I just can’t bring myself to say something I don’t mean, even when it would be in my best interest. And the truth was that I really, absolutely didn’t want to come right then. I wanted to beg — god, I wanted to beg my heart out to him — but I didn’t want to come, and what else should I beg for? If only I knew he wouldn’t give in! To be able to beg all I could, without restraint, without any risk of winning … A new, potent wave of arousal surged through me at that idea.
„Please …”
„You can do better than that,” He says nonchalantly.
Suddenly the words were there in my head. Oh, fuck. I tested them, whispering and moaning them in my mind, completely enthralled. I remember thinking that I could probably come to this, just repeating this like a mantra in my head. But surely he didn’t want to … I had already asked for so much today …
“You promised to do what I want. And I want to hear you beg.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and jumped.
“Please don’t let me come!”
Time stopped. I couldn’t breathe. I could practically hear his confusion, and my heart hammering in my chest. This was the moment I had tried, and failed, to imagine so many times. It felt completely, absolutely surreal. Nate certainly had no idea what a bomb I’d just dropped, but I felt lighter for it already. I had jumped. The stone was rolling down the hill. Whatever would happen now was out of my control to prevent anymore.
“You … don’t want to come?” He asked finally, clearly bewildered.
I never want to come, was the first thought that flashed through my lust-fuelled mind. But that was obviously false, and wouldn’t do right now, so I choked out, „Not yet … please.”
“Why?”
There it was: the big question, that I didn’t even really understand. And how on Earth do you explain a fetish to someone who doesn’t have it?
In some corner of my heart, I was actually disappointed that he didn’t magically just get it. Despite my carefully managed expectations, some part of me had maintained the absurd hope that, once I confessed to him, he would tell me that he’d always felt the same way. Like it had been with bondage. As soon as the foolish feeling surfaced, I scalded myself for it. Of course this was not the same thing. This was too weird. This was all me, and now I would have to find some way to explain.
“Because I like this.” My face felt hot as if in a fever. “Needing it.” I’m normally quite talkative, but now all I could do was press out the shortest sentences, as if every word weighed eighty pounds. My chest indeed felt constricted as if by tight ropes. I felt the ridiculous urge to get up and run far away. From his bewilderment, and the judgment that would follow, and the awkwardness that would follow that.
„More than you like to come?”
I could only nod. My hand reached down and grabbed his, straight from my crotch, and squeezed it hard. Although I had no words to express it, I needed him to understand the importance of this moment, how much I needed him to be tender with this secret.
He squeezed back, and kissed me on the side of my neck all the way up to my hairline, small, soothing kisses that told me I was understood. I was loved. Slowly, I relaxed, and let go of his hand.
For a moment I wasn’t sure if we should continue having sex, or if we shouldn’t better turn on the lights and have A Talk, but Nate made that decision for me when he seamlessly placed his hand back on my aching pussy, and my worries were soon replaced by pure-all-encompassing lust. He moved his fingers in circles, alternately speeding up and slowing down with a stedy firm pressre which, added to my existing arousal and the raw openness I was feeling, had me whimpering in no time. It came to my mind that he was probably trying to get me close again on purpose, although I just asked him not to let me come, and that thought turned me on even more.
It became difficult to focus on anything else. My hips and my mind were locked in a strange dance, torn between leaning into the pleasure and trying to evade it. I knew this dance well, but to experience it with Nate was a whole different level of hot.
„How close are you, baby?” He murmured. He was short on breath, too, I noticed, and it sounded so sexy. Was he enjoying this too?
“So close,” I admitted, finally desperate enough to speak my mind without filtering. „God, yes, I’m so ready. It feels so good. Babe, please … It’s too good. I can’t control it anymore. You’ll make me come. Please … don’t!”
„Are you sure?” He drawled, pulling me closer, pushing my legs apart wider, working me without mercy. „Because it seems to me that you really need it.”
And I did. I had to stop moving completely, try to relax my muscles, because if I ground back into his hand I was going to lose it for sure. And my resolve to stay still was deteriorating fast.
„Please,” I gasped, „Please stop … please …”
At that moment, it suddenly no longer seemed to matter what he would do. It was as if I wasn’t even begging to get a particular result; he would do what he thought best, and I was more than happy to surrender to him. I was begging just because I wanted to, because all these words and desires had been locked up for so long and were now breaking their way out of me in a great wave of surrender, honesty, and relief. And once they were out in the open, I couldn’t get enough. It was intoxicating, begging him for this crazy thing I craved so badly, finally admitting to it. It felt like salvation, in truth. Yes, I was a complete pervert, but it was okay. It was good. If Nate didn’t have a problem with it, I liked being a pervert. That was just the right kind of humiliating.
He lifted his hand off of me, and laughed softly at how my hips immediately came alive, bucking and chasing his touch. „You can’t make up your mind, can you,” He chided, and wound around my side to kiss me on the mouth. It was an awkward angle, but the kiss was full of warmth and playfulness, and I kissed him back with all my heart.
He let me take a few breaths, then went right back to rubbing my oversensitive nub. It felt insanely good. I was no longer thinking anything, fully surrendered to the sensations and to him. For a minute, he took it slow, allowing me some time; then, with no warning, he picked up the pace again and within fifteen seconds I was teetering on the edge of orgasm once more.
„Do you want to come now?” He asked cheerfully.
My „no” sounded a lot like a sob this time; my hands were curled into fists at my sides.
„Alright,” He said, „Suit yourself. But I do.”
With that he let me go, and instead wrapped his hand around his penis, which I was surprised to see was hard again. Next to the jolt of arousal I always felt when he touched himself in front of me, the sight made me happy: I figured that if Nate was horny now, then he must have found something to like about the situation we were in.
Nate didn’t mess around. With a strong, determined grip, he brought himself in a straight line all the way to a second climax. He was usually shy about letting me watch him, and did it very rarely, even though — or perhaps because — he knew I found it incredibly hot. But there was nothing shy about him now, despite the blatantly lecherous way my eyes roamed his body.
I imagined him jizzing in my face, or on my tits, gloating about how he could come and I couldn’t. Damn, I liked that idea; we would have to try that sometime. But for now, I was more than content just to watch Nate’s hand, and Nate’s face, to desire him with every fiber of my body, and love him with all my heart.
He looked me in the eyes while he came, as was our custom whenever one of us got themselves off during sex. A single groan escaped his lips right as he was tipping over, and I think I moaned with him, so wrapped up was I in watching. Then he closed his eyes, enjoying the aftershocks and softening visibly into the mattress.
I leaned in and kissed him gently, smiling at him when he opened his eyes again. He smiled back, turned on his side, and let me snuggle up to him in a reversal of the position we’d spent the last half hour in, pressing more soft kisses to the back of his neck and just below his ear.
For a while we lied there in silence, enjoying each other’s quiet company. My mind became still and peaceful, content as if all my wishes had already been fulfilled. Even my arousal began to burn down to a bearable glow inside me, and in fact, I felt suddenly very sleepy.
Eventually, Nate stirred, and yawned. “Hey, I think I’m about to fall asleep,” He said, adorably stating the obvious. “Do you … I mean, are sure you don’t want to…” He gestured awkwardly down my body with a self-conscious grin that contrasted starkly with the intense sexual confidence he’d displayed just ten minutes before.
Strangely, I was experiencing just the opposite effect. In the relaxed, contented state I was in, I could have talked to Nate about anything. It was just him and me, right. We were in love. All was good. All the worries that had been spooking around my head for the past months suddenly seemed silly and transparent, and his sudden shyness seemed adorable and only made me love him more.
“I want to, eventually,” I told him. “But I’d really rather wait until tomorrow. I feel incredible and I wanna keep feeling this way a little longer. But of course, that’s only if you’re willing to put up with the state I’ll be in.”
“What state?”
“Well …” I winked. “I might be just a little more sex-obsessed than usual.”
A huge grin spread over Nate’s face, putting a naughty twinkle in his eye. “Oh, you bet I want to see that,” He said. “It’s a done deal. No backing out now. Don’t you dare getting off secretly while I sleep or something!”
“Promise,” I laughed, and wrapped my arms around him ready to sleep, thinking, As if I would ever.
The morning after my girlfriend revealed to me, after much coaxing on my part, her secret desires, I woke up before her and sat alone on the balcony, remembering our conversation. Cora had told me some strange things, and I had a feeling that I didn’t quite understand them yet, but it was plain to see that they were very important to her, and so I tried.
Sipping my morning coffee, I went over everything I had learned the night before. Cora had told me that she wanted me to talk dirty to her more. From this I had guessed correctly that she liked to be made to beg during sex, and she had clearly enjoyed being pushed to say things she was uncomfortable saying. That much I could understand. It had been easy to find the right words when I didn’t have time to second-guess my intuition, and watching her squirm in reaction had been pretty fun.
Then she’d told me that she somehow got off on being embarrassed about her sexuality. This gave me something to chew on. I’d gone to Catholic school, and being made to feel bad for my sex drive was something I resented deeply. I had struggled for years to overthrow the restrictive view of sex I’d been raised with, and was happy to be finally — for the most part — free of it. Why Cora would want to bring that back into our relationship was beyond me, and in fact made me uncomfortable. It seemed to call into question the sex positive attitude I had always loved about her.
On the other hand, last night hadn’t exactly felt negative in any way — quite the opposite. On second thought, perhaps this was just like enjoying BDSM: After all, just because I liked to tie her up and use her sometimes didn’t mean I supported sexism, or any form of violence. It was just play. Apparently Cora had found a way to have fun with the restrictive rules I’d been forced to live with as a kid, and when I thought about it like that, the idea sort of pleased me. What better way to defy nun Alberta and her ilk than to get off on their warnings about getting off? I briefly imagined a young Cora in Catholic school, getting wet every time she was lectured on chastity, and grinned. Yeah, I could get on board with that.
Which left the other thing, the one she’d admitted last and yet seemed to care about the most. It was also the part I found the most perplexing.
When her body had clearly been ready, Cora had asked me — no, begged me — not to let her come. I could have understood if this was just about making the sex last longer; surely that was something most people did. But she hadn’t wanted to come at all, preferring to go to sleep unsatisfied. Apparently she enjoyed the frustration — and that just blew my mind. I’d had my share of dry spells as an adult, not to mention the multiple times I’d tried to quit masturbating as a teenager because I was ashamed of the habit, and the agonizing four months when I’d been dating Veronica Rye in high school and we’d fooled around passionately but never gone beyond second base because obviously that had to wait until marriage. Blue balls aplenty had ensued, and never had that been the slightest bit enjoyable.
Maybe female biology was different, though. Contemplating this, I went to the kitchen and logged onto my laptop.
When Cora stepped into the kitchen an hour and a half later, her hair still a tangled mess, I was several websites more educated, and more confused than before. I closed my laptop when she came in, somehow not wanting her to see what I’d been reading, and rose to kiss her good morning.
Maybe I was imagining things, but I could have sworn that she felt different than usual. The way she kissed me back, the way she pressed her body against mine, the look she gave me.
But she didn’t make any overt reference to last night, and neither did I. I pretended to read the newspaper while she made herself breakfast, sneaking glances at her when she wasn’t looking. It was like I was seeing her with new eyes that morning, that made her look somehow more beautiful, more precious, and more mysterious. This little woman in my kitchen continued to surprise me, and I felt immense affection for her, and wonder that she happened to be my girlfriend.
I made up my mind then, while she was eating her cereal, that I would do whatever I could to fulfil her wish. It was, really, an honor that she had told me. In fact, I suspected that she had been trying to do so for months, but hadn’t found the courage despite how much she clearly wanted it, and that thought made me somehow even more committed to making her happy. So what if it seemed a little strange.
Having seen how insecure she was about this new kink, I knew that Cora would never make the first move in this situation, rather waiting for me to show interest. So, I put away my paper and stepped behind her, putting my arms around her where she sat. I ran my fingers lovingly through her messy hair, down the nape of her neck, and under the neckline of her t-shirt. She purred and leaned into my touch. Underneath the fabric, my hands wandered over her bare shoulders and came forward to caress her braless breasts.
Her nipples, always a good indicator of how frisky she was feeling, hardened under the first passing touch.
“So”, I said softly. “Still horny?”
Cora tipped her head back a bit to rest against my sternum. “Yeah.”
Encouraged, I trailed my hands further over her body — over her arms, her shoulders, her face, her breasts, her stomach, her breasts again. She arched her back just a little, pushing the deliciously soft mounds into my hands. Her legs, usually crossed when she sat at a table, now rested side by side and a little apart, allowing me to eventually reach down and rub between them over her clothes. This drew a sigh from Cora, who spread her legs a little wider. Exploiting this new access, I drew my fingernails up her inner thighs, ending again in a slow, firm rub over her crotch. I knew without checking that if I were to push my hand into her pants, I would find her pussy wet and wanting. Inside my own pants, my dick perked up in interest.
“I’d like to take you right back to bed and fuck you,” I told her truthfully. “But I’m afraid we’d be late.”
She looked up in evident confusion, and only after a few seconds her memory returned. “Oh crap! I’d forgotten all about that!” There was such a clear ring of disappointment in her voice that I grinned at her, although I could also think of plenty of things I’d rather do right now than attend our friend’s birthday party. To be honest, I had also forgotten that over my internet research.
“It’s going to have to wait until we get back,” I said. “But you might actually enjoy that, won’t you?”
She blushed very prettily at that, which I took as a yes. I hadn’t been sure about this, actually. Online I had found everything from people saying they liked to be edged for a couple of minutes to people saying they liked to forego climax for weeks on end. Cora hadn’t yet given me any indication of where she fell on this spectrum, but apparently a day out with friends was well within her limits. It might be harder for me, actually, to be out with a horny Cora, given how turned on I was already becoming just from touching her over her clothes and seeing how willing she was.
“How long exactly are you planning to keep this up?” I asked her, helpfully thumbing her nipples that poked insistently through her shirt.
“I don’t know,” She replied sheepishly. “I’ve never done this with somebody else.”
“But you’ve done it before?”
“Yeah.” She glanced up at me. “I’ve tried to see how long I could go.”
“And?”
She was quiet for a moment, perhaps afraid that her answer would freak me out. To be honest, I was a little afraid of the same. Finally she said, “I’ve gone about a week. But we totally don’t have to do that!”
A week. What the fuck. I’d gone a week without masturbating too, many times, but not for fun. During those times, the goal had been to think about sex as little as possible, not at all if it could be helped, because that was the only way to make not wanking bearable. (Of course, eventually, this plan had always misfired and I’d ended up with my dick in a sock again.) Somehow I had a sense that that was not how Cora had spent her week.
I felt a little overwhelmed, but also curious. When I looked down at Cora’s face, although it was upside down, I could see that she was anxious, trying to decipher my silence. I bowed down to kiss her, and gave her an upside-down smile when I pulled away again.
“You’re going to have a lot of explaining to do,” I told her. “I’m not gonna lie, this is totally new to me and I don’t really understand it, but I want to try it with you if it makes you this horny.”
Her smile widened and she shook off my arms to get up. She looked so happy and relieved and excited and shy all at once; it made her very pretty. “You’re awesome,” She told me and hugged me tightly. “I’d love to explain later. And I know I’ll enjoy this birthday party,” She added with a wink.
That wink was such a clear warning that I jerked off very quickly and quietly in the bathroom before we left, not wanting to take any chances.
***
It turned out that this had been a good idea. Whenever I looked at Cora that afternoon, and whenever we touched in an outwardly casual way, I wondered how she was feeling on the inside, and was reminded of the night before. It became almost a guilty pleasure, looking at her and feeling oddly proud that I knew her secret, and that I had such a kinky girlfriend in the first place. She kept throwing me mischievous smiles and glances, and touched me often, clearly wanting me to take part in the fun she was obviously having. One of our friends commented on how sickeningly happy we seemed together, and we laughed knowingly along with everyone.
It was a fun afternoon, all in all, but when we came home I was happy to be alone with Cora again, able to shove her against the door and kiss her the way I had longed to, my knee squeezing in between her legs. She responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around me and pulling at my hair as she kissed me back, and for a while we stood there in our own apartment fooling around like teenagers at a party.
“I take it you had fun, then?” I asked her finally, withdrawing a little with a smile.
“Oh yes,” She grinned, and tried to draw me back in. “You were amazing.”
Me? What had I done to deserve that compliment? Nothing, as far as I was aware.
Cora must have seen my confusion, because she explained, “I kind of assumed you’d forget about my … situation … and just act normal the whole time, and leave me to be naughty all by myself.”
That was pretty much what I had intended to do. To hear that I hadn’t been acting ‘normal’ was a little concerning. “Do you think anybody noticed?”
“No,” She reassured me. “I don’t mean it like that. Just — the way you looked at me and touched me sometimes, you know? I liked that. Made me feel not so weird. But I’m sure that only I could tell there was anything … off. You heard them, they just thought we were a happy couple in the honeymoon phase.” She winked happily.
“How wrong they are,” I laughed, and kissed her again.
Cora made no attempt to hide that she would have liked to jump right in bed with me, but I reminded her that she had promised to explain more. Bubbly and happy as she was right now, I thought she would have an easier time telling me things that might be quite awkward to explain, and so I thought the moment suitable for the talk that was clearly in order.
So, we sat outside on our balcony with two beers and I prodded her to tell me more about her kink. At first I didn’t ask many direct questions, still not wanting to give away that I had done some reading on my own, but as the conversation meandered on, and Cora made such an effort to soldier the awkwardness, I too jumped over my own shadow and asked her whatever was on my mind.
In this way, she confirmed my suspicion that when she engaged in what she called orgasm denial, she did the opposite thing from what I had done as a teen — instead of suppressing sexual thoughts to limit the frustration, she teased herself on purpose to intensify it. I was very relieved when she told me that she didn’t expect me to go without orgasms too, although she hurried to add that if I ever felt curious, she’d be more than thrilled to deny me. (I refused that offer very easily. If that day would ever come, it was definitely far away.) In fact, she said that it would turn her on especially to know that I could come when she wasn’t allowed to. I laughed — after today, I thought that would be rather an easy wish to fulfil.
When I asked her to explain why she liked to be frustrated so much, she got flustered and seemed at an honest loss for words. The best she could do was say that she just liked being horny, and she liked feeling naughty, and if she was horny for a long time then she felt extra naughty and so it became a spiral. I understood at the very least that it was definitely a sub thing, although she said that she was sure she could still top me for periods of time while she was on denial — a game within a game, so to speak.
The more she talked, the more it seemed actually quite reasonable to me, and I became more comfortable about the whole thing. The conversation began to turn to the practical side of it all — how long we should deny her, how safety communication would work, what might be challenging. She said she could definitely work and stuff even when she was totally out of it, and even seemed to find the concept of being horny at work sort of hot. But she admitted that it might not be the best idea, since her work now involved actual responsibility, unlike the student jobs she’d had when she was first experimenting with denying her own orgasms. Therefore we agreed to start small, and keep it to weekend days. Cora even said that it didn’t have to be that much, necessarily; simply hearing me say she wasn’t allowed to come already did things for her, and would probably do so even if the ‘denial’ realistically only lasted half an hour.
I could see that Cora was getting seriously worked up, and I couldn’t blame her — all this talk of fucking was turning me on as well. So, when there no longer seemed to be anything urgent to discuss, I picked her up and carried her to our bedroom, which she took with a lot less giggling and a lot more kissing my neck than usual.
I laid Cora on the bed and undressed her, loving how pliant she was and how readily she responded to every touch. When I pulled down her panties, I could actually smell her arousal, and a look at her soaked panties confirmed that impression. I looked up at her with a grin as I ran the tip of my index finger through the full length of her wet slit. When I reached Cora’s clit and her hips twitched in response, a sudden idea came to my mind.
I bade her close her eyes and dug out the small bottle of stimulating gel we kept in our nightstand. Once rubbed into the delicate skin of my penis or her clit, the gel created a warming sensation and left the skin especially sensitive to touch. Sometimes we used this to give a little extra spice to manual sex, but Cora’s revelations made me think of another use for the product.
Returning to Cora on the bed, I squeezed a few drops of the gel onto my finger, which I then proceeded to rub gently onto her clitoris. I knew that the gel would only start making its presence known after a few moments, though she was sighing and squirming already under my touch. Only when I pulled my hand away did she seem to realize anything unusual; she opened her eyes and gave me a wide-eyed look. I only replied with a grin, and a kiss, before amicably telling her to kneel next to the bed and suck my dick.
I sat on the edge of the bed, with Cora settling in between my legs. My erection was eagerly tenting my boxers, straining towards her face as she nuzzled it briefly through the fabric. Then she pulled off my underwear — looking criminally eager — and lowered her soft, warm, wet mouth to my cock.
Fuck, that feeling never ceased to amaze me. Blowjobs had never been in short supply in our relationship; Cora had a thing for them, which I supported happily and often. But still, having a woman’s lips wrapped around my cock felt special to me – especially dirty, and especially good. Perhaps my Christian upbringing again.
I let the pleasure take over as Cora swirled her tongue around the head of my penis, then drew it into her mouth for a few shallow bobs of her head before letting it pop out again and repeating the process. With closed eyes I told her how good she was making me feel. It seemed the most natural thing to do, and only when she hummed contentedly around my cock I remembered that she had actually asked me to talk dirty to her. Well, if it was this easy, I could definitely do that for her.
When I’d had enough of her teasing, I wound my hand into her hair and urged her head further down onto my cock. She took the hint and started taking it deeper into her throat, sucking on it each time she came up. Guiding her gently with my hand on the back of her head, I asked her, “What about you? Is your pussy hot and needy from the gel?” She hadn’t completed her nod when I added, “Or is that just from sucking my cock? I know how horny that makes you.”
The look she gave me at that was absolutely picture-worthy, a mix of petulant indignation and intense arousal. She was acting a part, I knew, but it was plain to see that she was more serious than pretending. I made an internal note that pointing out her obvious love of blowjobs was definitely a good button to push. I’d always had a feeling that Cora was somewhat proud of this inclination, which she seemed to think gave her bonus ‘good girlfriend’ points. But it seemed that pride had a flip side of embarrassment, probably over being so exceptionally slutty or something.
I was beginning to get the hang of this side of her, I noted smugly to myself.
Come to think of it, this was a good moment to bring in her other kink, if only in a small way.
“Well, enjoy it,” I said. “I’m not going to let you come at least until after I’m done. And that might take a while. There are a lot of ways I want to fuck you tonight.” I wasn’t lying about that; the long afternoon out with a sexually frustrated Cora had given me lots of ideas for what to do later. I just wasn’t sure how far we would get when she was already getting me so worked up with her mouth.
When I reminded her that she was not to come for a while yet, I felt her fingers dig into my hips and heard her muffled moan in response. Apparently it was true what she’d told me earlier — just knowing she was denied orgasm was already half the fun for her, regardless of the actual timespan in question.
She had one hand around the base of my cock, holding it steady while she moved slowly up and down on it. Occasionally she raised her gaze to mine, which was locked firmly onto her. Damn, I fucking loved it when she looked at me like that. I could literally see her devotion, and her desire, in her eyes, stoking my lust — and a little bit my ego, too.
Too soon, I knew I needed to make her stop or the night would end right there, contrary to my intentions. So, the next time she withdrew for a moment to wipe her mouth and look up at me, I took a loose hold of my penis, shielding it from her.
“Well done,” I said, bending down to kiss her. Cora rose on her knees to meet me halfway in a wet, greedy kiss. I took the opportunity to play with her breasts a bit, and she moaned into the kiss and arched her body into my hands wantonly.
I broke the kiss so I could watch her face contort in pleasure while I circled her nipples with my thumbs and rolled them between my fingers. When Cora was really riled up, as she clearly was tonight, playing with her nipples could yield almost the same results as rubbing her clit — short of making her come, a caveat that now came in handy. She was gripping the edge of the bed with white knuckles; her head was thrown back, and her hips were thrusting uselessly in the air.
Yet when I released her tits and told her to sit back on her heels, it took her mere moments to kneel motionlessly at my feet, looking up at me in a facsimile of calm obedience. The only things that betrayed her state of mind were her hard, reddened nipples and her smouldering eyes.
It occurred to me while I observed her that I was looking at the image of a perfect submissive, awaiting orders. It hadn’t taken any bondage or rough handling to get her to fall naturally into this position; only words and a day’s worth of sexual frustration. Unlike the day before, there had been no overt agreement that she would do whatever I wanted tonight, but it was clear as day that she would. I didn’t really grasp the connection yet between this new-found compliance and orgasm denial, but my erection throbbed at seeing my sexy girlfriend in this state of subservience.
Usually when she was like this she was tied up and relatively immobile, which put limits on how I could use her. Not so tonight. I really could have whatever I wanted from her, and I wanted to play through all the possibilities. The ideas popping into my brain were sending pangs of lust to my loins. Some were things I’d never seriously considered before, but that seemed suddenly realistic in the face of Cora’s brazenness.
To buy time as my mind raced through the options, I told Cora how sexy she looked while I looked her up and down. She smiled, waiting patiently for me to make up my mind.
And I had made up my mind, really. I was only debating for a moment if I really wanted to ask her this. It seemed somewhat inappropriate, new territory in a sense. But looking down at her it was so clear that she’d be game for anything I suggested right now, and so I gave myself a push.
“Would you like me to lick your clit?” I began.
Her answering nod and “Yes, please!” was so enthusiastic that I couldn’t help but chuckle. Then for a moment I worried that she’d feel hurt for being laughed at, but she showed no signs of it, and I figured it was probably as effective a way as any to humiliate her.
“You don’t mind if I laugh at you, do you?” I asked her, wanting to make certain. “It’s just so cool to see you like this.” I smiled at her, and rubbed my hand affectionately over her neck and behind her ear into her soft, long hair. She closed her eyes and pressed back into the touch until I withdrew it.
“No,” she said. “You don’t mean it in a cruel way. I’m glad that … you enjoy me.”
“Oh, I enjoy you, alright,” I said with another grin and kiss. Then I sat up and looked down at her playfully, taking a stealthy breath before making my request.
“So you want me to lick your pussy,” I picked up the thread. “Show me just how you’d like me to do it.” With that I raised my feet to the edge of the bed and leaned back on a bunch of pillows, giving her access to my most private parts. Once again I grabbed my penis in my own hand to leave no doubt as to what I meant for her to do.
We didn’t do this very often, and in all honesty I still felt rather skittish about it. It also felt amazing, though, therefore I let her do it. Up to this moment, whenever she had rimmed me it had been with me tied up and her in charge, which relieved me of having to admit that I wanted it. But I was excited to try it this way, and after all I hadn’t cleaned myself up earlier for nothing, so I braved the moment of awkwardness in which she processed my instructions.
It didn’t take her long, and she didn’t hesitate for a second. Diving in with similar enthusiasm as she’d shown in blowing me, she began with circling flat-tongued licks over my perineum and inside my crack, which very quickly led the tip of her tongue to brush against my asshole. Pretty much immediately I was moaning and gasping. I couldn’t see her face obviously, so I closed my eyes and focused on the feeling as she licked swirling shapes over the sensitive rim, alternating periods of soft and gentle caressing with more insistent assaults during which she would squeeze the probing tip of her tongue inside the hole.
Absent-mindedly I began to stroke my erection along with her ministrations; the familiar feeling of masturbation made the still foreign pleasure she was dealing out somehow more bearable. It was a while before I thought to talk to her again, and all I could think to say was urging her on. It mostly wasn’t even sentences I was grunting out, just words and phrases, but more often than not Cora answered with lustful noises of her own, and so I kept going.
Miraculously, I managed to sit up and move away before I came. My pulse was jogging along and letting go of my cock felt almost painful, but I was determined to last at least a little longer. As I pulled Cora up onto the bed to stretch her long legs on either side of me, I thought that if I were her, I’d be enjoying this very feeling of forgoing orgasm, the heaviness and pressure in my balls and my complaining cock. It didn’t seem completely outlandish when I thought of it that way, although how on earth she could withstand this for a week, I found impossible to understand.
While I pondered this, I pulled Cora’s hips up onto my lap with my knees wedged half underneath the small of her back. Gripping her sides, I lifted her up just a little, both to make my rigid cock more comfortable and to bring her closer to my face as I bent down to eat her out.
Loosely adhering to her choreography from earlier, I began by applying broad licks and open-mouthed kisses on her pubic bone and around her clit, and then circled my tongue around the swollen nub for a while before licking directly across it. I also copied her method of alternating between softer and more focused licking, which found its echo in the rise and fall of her cries. She wasn’t ever silent, letting me know with the pitch of her voice when she was getting close. Each time I backed off and reminded her that she wasn’t allowed to come, to which she responded more or less theatrically with clenched fists, heavy swallowing, and, eventually, some cursing.
Finally I told her, “Tell me when to stop; you absolutely mustn’t come,” and went in for the last round. Letting go of all caution, I licked, kissed, and sucked at her clit until she pushed me back by the shoulders, crying out as she did. “Stop,” she gasped belatedly.
I took a moment to lie down next to her with one arm draped across her heaving chest, kissing her temple and cheek. When we were both breathing rather normally again, I asked, “Do you want to keep going?”
“Fuck yes,” She responded in a low, hoarse voice that sent me chuckling gently again.
“Good, because I think it’s finally time to fuck you. Just one more thing …” And with that I picked up the bottle of stimulant again, winking at her.
I applied another generous portion of gel to Cora’s clit, rubbing it in very gently until she was moaning again underneath me. Only then did I pull her up into a kneeling position and fumble in the nightstand for a condom.
As I finally slid into her tight hole, I was glad I’d taken such a long time to eat her pussy for my cock to calm down somewhat, or I would have come right then. Reveling in the sensation of her soft walls engulfing me on all sides, I asked her how it felt for her.
“Good,” She said, and although she said it in a needy porn star kind of way, I decided it wasn’t good enough, and I would teach her better.
I pulled out, but left my dick hanging between her legs, lightly touching her still when I moved. “That’s not enough,” I told her, reaching out to fondle one of her nipples again, and ignoring the wanton way she wriggled her ass and cunt back towards me. “I want you so ready you really need my cock in you.”
“I do!” She whined, but I paid her no heed, continuing to roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger and squeeze her swinging tit. Despite how much I was yearning to bury myself in her cunt, I was darkly enjoying this; having her whimpering and writhing in front of me, pressing herself against my erection as if she could push herself onto it. When she tried to use her hand to push it in, I pinned her wrists above her head and switched my teasing to the other breast.
After a minute of this, both of us breathing hard, I let her up and positioned my cock back against her hole. “Are you there yet?” I asked her, amazed to note how deep and booming my voice had become.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Say it.”
Cora whimpered again and arched her back invitingly. “I need you inside me!”
“You need my cock inside you,” I corrected, but gave it to her anyway, having run out of patience.
“How does that feel, slut?” I asked when I was fully wedged inside her, really hoping she would say the right thing.
“Fucking incredible,” She moaned, and yeah, that was definitely good enough. Groaning in relief, I finally began to fuck her the way we both wanted it.
I went deep and hard straight away, and having had ample preparation, Cora put up no defense; each time I bottomed out inside her she moaned loudly, and she was meeting every thrust with one of her own. She was bracing herself with both arms extended against the wall in front of her to keep my slamming hips from shoving her forward; her head and chest were on the mattress, face turned sideways so I could just make out the carnal pleasure on her face. Her back rose in a steep curve to offer her cunt to me for fucking. It was a sight made for gods.
I reached around her waist for her clit, still more than wet enough, and she practically howled.
“You still can’t come before I do,” I told her breathlessly, “But I admit it’s getting damn close. Make me come, baby.” And with that I stopped moving.
She certainly tried. In this position she couldn’t move very much, especially since she had to keep her hips angled firmly backward so as not to accidentally hurt my penis while she labored on it. But what she couldn’t deliver in depth she tried to make up for in speed, wriggling her hips back and forth at a crazed pace that I knew from the outset she wouldn’t be able to keep up for long. Predictably, she faltered after a minute, but still kept pushing back in irregular, exhausted thrusts, trying desperately to get me off.
It was kind of fun, watching her try so damn hard, but I took pity on her and repositioned us so that she was riding me — always a great position for us. Cora visibly gritted her teeth, and threw herself into the task, bracing herself on my chest as she ground down on my cock. This position allowed her much more range and thrusting power, and I knew almost immediately that this was going to be it for me. I grabbed her hips and thrust back up into her as I began to come, needing to be as deep inside her as possible.
The orgasm was massive, leaving me incoherent for several long seconds as I pulled her down on top of me and held her tight.
***
After a minute of gooey, delicious peace, Cora asked, “Can I come now?”
I let her go so I could look at her. She looked thoroughly fucked, flushed, sweaty, her hair a complete mess. I tried to emphasize with how she must be feeling — pretty much like I’d been feeling up a minute ago — but found I couldn’t quite imagine it, relaxed and satisfied as I felt.
That lack of empathy, we would later discover, is a lucky phenomenon. At that moment, it made me grin at her, evilly delighted by her failure to achieve the same orgasmic bliss that I had.
“I thought you didn’t want to come,” I said. “You said you like being horny.”
Cora had very obviously not expected that response. I could see the shock on her face. She didn’t know any more than I did if she was liking where this was going.
“Please?” She tried, somewhat half-heartedly. “I got everything I wanted, it was incredible, but now I really need to come.”
“Do you,” I said, coolly, watching her face with intent.
“Yes!” Cora cried. “I can’t go to work like this, you even said so! We said only weekend days …”
“You have to work tomorrow morning,” I replied, gesturing to the clock on the nightstand, which showed only 8:03pm. “There’s a lot of time left until then.”
Cora stared at me in disbelief for several seconds. Then she plopped down onto the mattress, exhaling deeply. “Oh my god, Nate.”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck.”
I grinned smugly to myself. Then I let her think about it, feeling more than content to just lie there and wait. I didn’t worry about going too far; Cora had a safe word, and she’d used it before. I trusted her to stop me if she needed to, as we had discussed only hours earlier. She just needed some time to be clear on what she was feeling.
When she looked at me again, she was shaking her head in smiling disbelief, her eyes sparkling in that way I loved. “Son of a bitch,” She said, and we laughed together. Apparently I’d done exactly the right thing.
***
The rest of that evening passed in an example of domestic bliss. We showered, cooked, had dinner, watched a movie. Cora was exuberant, joyful, almost as if she were high. She showered me in affection, and I returned the love. There were some sexual innuendos and teasing caresses on my part, but mostly we were just happy and in love.
After the movie, it was already very late and I was feeling sleepy, so I asked if it was alright if we waited for Cora’s release until the morning. Having had several hours to calm down, she agreed, only asking me with quiet concern if I was getting annoyed with the responsibility already. I told her no, I was only tired, and all was well.
And yet, when we were cuddling naked in bed together, both knowing that she was, despite our agreement, still horny for me, I could feel my own desire waking again. Tired as I was, I decided I would try to sleep anyway, and looked forward to the morning.
***
I woke up what felt like only minutes later with a raging hard-on. A look at the clock told me I’d slept for two or three hours; it was pitch-black outside the window. Cora was dozing peacefully next to me.
I tried to remember what I’d dreamed, but couldn’t; it must have been a rare sex dream, though, to make me wake up feeling like this. I tried to fall back asleep, but memories of the last days inserted themselves in the space of the dream, and then fantasies about the morning. There seemed to be no hope of calming down my desire, short of jerking off.
I reached down and wrapped a hand around my hard cock, but even as I delivered the first strokes I thought of Cora’s face in the morning when I told her I’d masturbated next to her that night, and thought better of it. ‘Sex-obsessed’, she’d said? I decided to test the truth of that.
So, I started kissing and caressing Cora’s sleeping body. She stirred almost immediately, but seemed disoriented; I gave her time while I continued my caresses. I reached over to cup her breast in my hand, and she allowed me. I massaged her breast until the nipple was tight and erect, then let my hand trail toward her pussy.
Cora is a sleepy-head. She usually can’t be bothered to do anything for the first half hour after waking up. But it didn’t take much that night to get her all ready to go. Her pussy was already wet when I started, and by the time I climbed in between her legs to enter her, she was mewling and shivering beneath me, encouraging me as if she’d been the one to wake me up begging for sex. In my sleepy mind I thought that this fetish of hers apparently meant I could really have her whenever I felt like it, and that only made me hornier.
Cora looked as innocent, and yet as sexual, as … well … imagine a sex angel, maybe. Her face was serene, her moans quiet but constant. Every thrust and every touch elicited some reaction from her, although she remained rather passive; I might have thought she were dreaming, but her eyes were open and she was whispering my name. It was beautiful to see her enjoying herself so freely, seemingly without any filter or pretense. Not that I had anything against the disciplined submissive or the loud whore from last night — far from it — but this side of her was wonderfully intimate, and I felt a sort of protective devotion welling up inside me.
Suddenly, in what sounds like a contrast to those feelings but actually seemed to flow naturally from them, I really wanted to see Cora come. Make her come. I told her so — no filter for me, either, in this magical hour — told her that I was going to make her come right now, while I was making love to her. She said, “Okay,” and we smiled because it was a little funny, and then I licked my thumb and brought it to her clit while I continued to slide with slow, determined strokes in and out of her.
I didn’t normally do that because it was an awkward positioning of my hand, because I couldn’t get it right or couldn’t pull it off for long enough to actually get her to climax, but none of that seemed to matter in this parallel universe. Cora was easy. It was as if everything I did was perfect for her, as if her pleasure just flowed from my hands and my loins and my mouth. Getting her to the edge of orgasm was the easiest thing, and then I just needed to catch up myself, which in turn took only a few breaths.
When I knew I was close, I whispered in her ear, “You can come now,” and bore down on her clit with pressure and speed for the first time since waking her. She began to spasm almost immediately, letting out a long, high-pitched wail; I could feel her vagina convulse around my penis, as if designed to egg me on. Two, three thrusts later, I was coming too, releasing the tension I’d been holding into her welcoming warmth.The first few weeks after I found out that my girlfriend Cora wanted me to deny her orgasms were filled with exploration and discovery. The revelation brought a new energy to our sex life that made me feel some years younger, and even more in love with her. Truth be told, we didn’t even practice that much denial — we were still living busy lives (although admittedly we were fucking a good deal more than usual), and having a new toy to play with didn’t mean we wanted to use it every time, so to speak. But this slow unfolding was fun in its own way — like an advent calendar that you open piece by piece, always anticipating the next discovery.
Between the various constraints, it was actually several months before we made our first attempts at orgasm denial that lasted longer than a weekend. When the opportunity finally arose, it came as a strange side effect of the 2020 pandemic: We both had to take our annual leave, because our employers were careful to avoid us carrying lots of surplus into the next year, but travel was obviously out of the question, as was visiting family for fear of risking their health. Therefore we ended up mostly chilling at home, taking on various long-postponed projects … and one of those was venturing deeper into Cora’s kink.
***
Cora was wearing that extra low-cut top again as she came into the living room. The flimsy sheet of soft black cotton hung lightly from two golden rings which rested just below her collarbones. Showing ample cleavage, it flowed down to cling to her hips and ended just below her butt cheeks. She wasn’t wearing anything else, as far as I could see.
I hid a smile and threw out an arm for her to cuddle up to me on the sofa. She walked over with just a hint of exaggerated sway to her hips, the hem of the top riding up her thighs with each step, as if daring me to look. When she reached me she gave me a brief kiss and snuggled in with her head resting on my shoulder … conveniently placing both her cleavage and her elegantly folded legs right in my field of vision.
I tried to think of a teasing remark about her appearance, but suddenly couldn’t think of any, so I just reached for the remote and turned on the movie. It was an action adventure, easy entertainment. Not Cora’s favorite genre; she had only agreed to watch it because it had a strong female lead. The strong female lead, naturally, wore a catsuit that left little to the imagination, and the fact that Cora didn’t comment on that was one of the many little signs showing that things were not as they seemed.
True to our agreement, she was acting innocently enough, gazing at the TV as if all she wanted to do was watch this movie. But her wardrobe choice carried her true intentions across as clearly as if she’d stripped naked and knelt at my feet. She’s a playful spirit, never fully obedient, and I love that about her.
Not that the clothing was necessary — her arousal was hardly any news.
Cora had been completely at my mercy for four days now, and of course I hadn’t let her come. She also wasn’t allowed to masturbate, or even to initiate sex. She was to leave everything to me and wait patiently — or rather, with feigned patience — until I had a mind to fuck her.
It sounds mean, I know, but that’s Cora for you.
When I had first suggested something like this, she had practically banged my brains out in response to show me her enthusiasm. In the aftermath, we had discussed specifics, and then had another go because the idea turned us on so much. Yes, both of us — I had found my own spin on the concept of orgasm denial, and the rules we had crafted played to that as much as possible. And for Cora, the combination of ongoing sexual frustration with being stripped of responsibility for how matters progressed sounded like her personal submissive paradise. It meant that she could leave the thinking and planning to me and just focus on her arousal, and the ways she said it messed with her mind.
Of course this setup was not without its risks, but I knew a thing or two about how Cora liked to be handled by now. One of the earliest insights had been that for Cora, denial was not so much the space between sexual encounters; it was more like a form of sex in itself. And as with any form of sex, she understandably didn’t like to feel lonely. It didn’t do to simply edge her and forget about it for the rest of the day; she needed me to stay engaged with her, sexually, in some way, or she would start feeling bad. It had taken a few safewords until we had mastered this balance, but I was confident now that I knew what she needed, and how to give it to her.
The fact that we had now gotten to four days without Cora feeling like she needed to safeword testified to this. It wasn’t actually that hard — occasional touches or comments could do wonders in between fucks, and when did I ever not feel like touching Cora?
One of the best ideas I’d had was to get her writing. Not only was making her write down her thoughts and fantasies a great way to keep up the game when I wasn’t around — it could keep her occupied and stimulated for hours –, it was also a supreme guide to Cora’s inner workings. And after some initial shyness, it had turned out she was more than eager to share those with me. Some of what she wrote was beyond my comfort zone, such as chastity belts, or just plain unrealistic; but in my view, her fantasies were not so much blueprints for real-world sex we should have, but rather inspiration for scenes that could belong to both of us. And there sure was plenty of inspiration. Cora’s mind was a true well of sexual fantasy, graphic and juicy.
I strongly suspected she was fantasizing now, as she pretended to watch the movie with me. I thought about testing this theory by pausing and asking her what she’d grasped of the zig-zagging plot, but instead found myself enjoying the search for more telltale signs.
She was perfectly still and quiet, her breath slow and regular based on the gentle heaving of her breasts. But when the babyfaced sidekick cracked a joke, she gave no response at all. And after a few minutes she casually bent one knee, causing the hem of her top to ride all the way up until it barely blocked my view of her pussy. Suddenly I was inexplicably curious to find out whether or not she was wearing any panties, and which ones. I stopped myself just short of reaching out and pulling up her ridiculous garment, and grinned to myself when I realized that was just what she was intending.
Not wanting her to know yet that she was getting to me, I began to stroke her hair, scalp, and neck in a show of absent-minded affection. She stayed still and calm, her breathing even seemed to deepen a little. On any other night she would have purred and rubbed her head back into my palm; she was clearly trying not to react, to seem preoccupied.
I tried to put myself in her shoes. She must be phenomenally horny at this point; just a few hours ago I’d fucked her just to the brink of orgasm and then brought her back, and that was just the last time. From reading her fantasies I knew that her breasts would be feeling tight now, with the nipples probably still slightly sore from the last rough handling. Her clit she usually described as a throbbing point of heat between her legs, and if she wasn’t wearing panties, I imagined the air would feel cool on her wet pussy. If I were her, I thought, I would feel very tense and impatient, but she didn’t seem like it; in fact she seemed very relaxed. Surrendered, perhaps. Knowing that she couldn’t, and didn’t have to, do anything but wait for me to bite.
Which she probably knew wouldn’t take too long. In fact, my penis was already starting to harden.
I drew it out, though. For some silly reason, it elated me to have her waiting for me like this. Maybe I’d spent too much of my life feeling at the mercy of some woman or another, because they always seemed to want me less, and especially less often, than I wanted them. This game we were playing somehow seemed to speak to that hurt, no matter how silly. It made me feel like a rockstar or something, to have her ready at my whim. Taking care of Cora in this way certainly meant some responsibility, but one thing I didn’t have to think about was rejection. There just wasn’t a question about it: If I wanted to fuck, she was all in — and grateful. That was a fucking blast — and a huge turn-on, too.
We were a couple of scenes into the movie when I decided to step it up. Nonchalantly I reached over with one arm and dragged Cora’s top down off the boob that was closer to me. If she’d looked slutty before, we were now in the league of adult magazines. To my amazement the sliding fabric, or the exposure, had already sufficed to get the nipple to stiffen, and it sat pink and round on the peak of her white breast.
Cora was still playing the undisturbed, so I decided to break her act. With my thumb and index finger, I grabbed her nipple and squeezed, then gently rolled it back and forth. I continued the assault until Cora finally made a low groaning sound and closed her eyes, upon which I immediately pulled my hand away, rightened her clothing, and pretended to return to the movie, leaving her to think that this had been just another tease, just like the countless others she’d had to endure during the last days.
She was breathing faster now, and her body against mine seemed more tense. She didn’t open her eyes again for several seconds. Again I imagined how she must be feeling — the glow between her legs now fanned to a glaring heat — and how she was probably pleading with me in her mind to continue. Having long forgotten the movie myself, I revelled in the feeling of power, and prolonged it for as long as my own growing desire allowed me.
It wasn’t very long. Just a few seconds later, without any preamble, I said the words I’d been holding ready in my mind, carefully selected just for Cora’s palate: “You can suck my dick now if you want.”
I was sure Cora appreciated them for their coolness, but they were barely spoken before I turned my head and winked at her to counter the seriousness of my tone. Cora was finally looking up at me with a bright smile and her twinkling eyes. We’ve always been able to have whole conversations with our eyes, which has come in handy for example during dinners at my parents’ house, and those now made up much of the subtext to our game. Hey, I wanna play. Alright, let’s go!
Cora’s pretty brown eyes darted down to my lips, and I indulged her with a deep kiss. As soon as I pulled back, she was all business, unzipping my pants and tying back her hair with a hairband she must have kept close in anticipation. I helped her by kicking off my pants and boxers, and Cora wasted no time in bending down to swallow my cock. I noted with amusement that she seemed to make sure her head didn’t obstruct my view of the TV. Not that I wanted to watch the stupid movie while I was getting head; but I kept it on anyway, for scenery. I had an inkling that Cora probably liked it that way. Blowing one’s boyfriend while he watches TV is, after all, total slut behavior.
In reality, I swatched her, my sexy oral slut. She was kneeling next to me on the sofa, so we couldn’t make eye contact. Her hair was thrown over one shoulder, leaving her neck and face visible as she bobbed up and down. Her eyes were closed the way they usually are when she gives head; I knew it was because she was giving herself over to touch, enjoying the feeling of my dick on her tongue and lips. It was written all over her face how much she loved doing this. Watching her expression of blissful abandon as she serviced my stiff member was a massive ego-boost in its own right, and an added turn-on on top of the wonderful sensations.
Wrapped in pleasure, I tried to think about where we might go from here but found it hard to care. What she was doing to me felt so good, and really, this was all I wanted right now. I could just let her do this for however long I chose, however long I could take; she certainly wouldn’t object. She’d enjoy every second, swallow my come without a blink, and then keep right at it to try and get me hard again unless I actually told her to stop.
The thought made me groan and fist my hand in her hair. It was a tempting course of action … but didn’t Cora deserve a little more action for how well she’d played along today?
I hadn’t gotten anywhere with this contemplation when I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked over, and before she knew it I had Cora locked in a firm grip and pinned her to the sofa. She yelped, evidently surprised.
“I’m sorry!” She said breathlessly. “I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t even know I was doing it-”
“Oh? Well you should really know by now that you’re not allowed to touch your pussy without permission,” I growled, sounding reasonably pissed off even though I was really mostly concerned with how my sensitive dick was poking into her belly.
“I’m sorry,” Cora repeated, looking honestly chagrin.
I completely believed her that she hadn’t done it deliberately — she often masturbated while giving me oral sex; so much so that her body was probably used to it. It was kind of hot that she’d gotten so into sucking my dick she’d forgotten the rules she loved so much, and of course it was fucking hot that she needed to touch herself over blowing me in the first place. But while I didn’t mind per se, I felt like I couldn’t just let this go unanswered. Cora liked having rules, and if I just let her do whatever she wanted what was the point of them?
“And I was just thinking that you deserve a reward for how good you were today,” I said.
“Oh no, please-”
I shushed her. I’d just had an idea.
We had never talked about what would happen if Cora broke a rule — a huge oversight, now that I thought about it. Somehow it had just never seemed a likely possibility given how much I knew she wanted to comply. So I was unprepared to handle a situation like this. But from somewhere in my subconscious I had a flash of intuition, and just decided to run with it. She could safeword if she wanted to, after all. And somehow I was fairly sure she wouldn’t want to.
“Kneel on the floor,” I told her. She looked confused, but obliged. I sat up straight on the edge of the sofa, looking down at her. My cock was standing up awkwardly between us, glistening a little. God, I wanted her to go back to sucking it … in a minute, I told myself.
“Take off that fucking shirt,” I ordered next, “You damn tease.”
She pulled the offending item up over her head, revealing her sweet pale torso in one elegant motion. My gaze immediately dropped to find that she was not, in fact, wearing any panties, and was then drawn up to her lovely breasts, which fell into place and jiggled a bit as soon as the shirt released them. A bright red hickey adorned the side of her neck in reminiscence of a recent romp, and the sudden loss of her clothing was causing goosebumps to show on her arms and her nipples to harden again. She looked up at me with an unreadable expression, waiting to see what I would do.
I told her to turn around and bend over with her head resting on the carpet and her juicy ass presented to me. This was usually the gateway into sex in Cora’s favorite position, but if that’s what she was expecting now, she was quite mistaken. I was looking to humiliate her, not reward her — well, inasmuch as that was possible with her particular inclinations.
“Now rub your pussy,” I commanded, placing just enough strictness in my voice to make clear that this was meant as a punishment, not as sweet relief. She hesitated, so I added, “What’s the problem? A moment ago you were so eager to rub it.”
As she slowly and gingerly repositioned herself on one hand and reached between her legs, I struck her lightly across her right butt cheek with my flat palm. Cora gasped in obvious surprise, but she didn’t protest, so I gave her a smack on the other cheek and warned her not to stop masturbating.
We fell into a pattern, her rubbing at a fairly slow speed and me spanking her ass with almost gentle hits. I wasn’t aiming to hurt her; Cora doesn’t do pain, and much less would I use it as a punishment. But occasionally she likes some very mild spanking, just for the symbolism I guess, and symbolism was just what I was going for.
“Did you want to get off?” I asked her in between hits. It was so easy now; I could just summon this kind of dirty talk without thinking about it. Usually I said such things to her in a tone closer to endearments, but I found that all it took was a small change in my voice to make them come off as chastising instead. “Did you think you’d get away with that? Oh right, you weren’t thinking anything at all. Just blindly following your slut urges. Rub faster.”
Cora complied, and started moaning quietly into the carpet. I, too, increased my pace and my power a little, listening carefully for any changes in her voice that would let me know I was going too far. But she sounded decidedly lustful rather than pained, to the point that I was wondering if this was really any punishment at all. It was fun, though, watching her ass jiggle on impact, so I found I didn’t really care.
My inexperienced palm began to tingle uncomfortably after a while, so I had her turn back around and face me sitting up, still on her knees and still frigging herself. She was staring up at me with wide eyes, her expression getting more and more desperate each time I told her to go faster. We weren’t exactly at superspeed yet, nothing she couldn’t handle normally, but with the state Cora was in, it was probably getting damn hard for her not to come. She would try to slow down occasionally, but I wasn’t having any of it, keeping her constantly on her toes.
She looked incredibly hot, kneeling at my feet and rubbing her clit like that. I just had to take myself in hand and start jerking off to that sight, perversely delighted by the way her tongue flicked hungrily over her lips when her eyes darted down to where my fist closed around my cock.
“Eyes up here,” I told her, smiling coolly despite my own condition, and she looked back up with her pupils blown wide.
Despite the amazing view before me, I ended up mostly staring straight into Cora’s eyes, somehow ensnared by something I found in them. Her gaze bore into mine with breathtaking intensity, until eventually it began to flicker and glaze over in intervals. She was insufficiently stifling one moan after another, and I, too, was grunting softly myself.
“Faster,” I ordered again. She grimaced and opened her mouth to talk back but I interrupted her. “Too bad. You are not allowed to come and you are not allowed to stop. Practice some restraint.”
So she bit down on her lip, evidently concentrating hard, and kept going. It was just her index finger now, moving across her clit in tiny, rapid motions. I’m no idiot; I knew she was probably faking out at this point, moving her finger the wrong way or in the wrong spot whenever necessary — and we both knew there was no way I could see that from up here. But that was fine. I wanted the show. I wanted her to push herself as hard as she could, and I had no doubt that she was doing just that.
I wished I was filming this; Cora looked like such a goddamn slut and it was glorious. I almost could have laughed out loud at myself for the dumb rule that she shouldn’t touch herself, when it made me feel this way to watch her do it. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to cum on her face and tits, or if I wanted to grab her head and pull her mouth back onto my cock, because then I wouldn’t be able to watch anymore.
So, I waited until the very last moment, my eyes locked with hers; then I barked out “Now come”, and reached for her head. She leaned in immediately, knowing exactly what I wanted from her, and started sucking my dick for dear life. She took it straight down deep, and just for effect I pushed her the littlest bit deeper; she swallowed around me and I was already past the threshold the first time she came up, sucking hard as she went. I thrust back into her mouth and groaned loudly as I shot what felt like a big load down her throat. Meanwhile Cora was also making loud, albeit muffled noises; I knew she’d be screaming the roof down if her mouth weren’t full of my cock and my cum. That thought sent another aftershock through my body.
I milked us both for every last drop, and then I pulled her up on the sofa and wrapped her in my arms. I felt completely dazed; it was difficult to form a single clear thought. Cora was soft and warm and perfect in my arms, though, and I loved her a lot.
“I hope you didn’t enjoy that as much as it seemed,” I murmured into her hair. It smelled like coconut. “That was for punishment.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Cora broke into a loud, long, unrestrained bout of laughter; a sound of complete happiness that I was glad to hear even though it was a bit too loud for my current taste. She couldn’t seem to calm down, her torso shaking in my arms.
„That’s what happens when you break my rules!” I tried to talk over her, half indignant, half smiling. „Your denial is over! Deal with it.”
This drew another fit of laughter from her, and this time I found myself laughing along.
“Don’t worry,” She said eventually, in between giggles, “It was terrible. So, when can we do it again?”