the sweet taste of... anticipation

Trussed up, and secured to the wooden bench (knees to elbow, wrists to neck-collar, ankles bound), Mrs T pants even more rapidly now as I slowly introduce the cold steel plug into her well lubricated arse-hole. It occurs to me that these are almost the sounds of childbirth – the rapid intake of breath, the long expulsions, and all the whines, and moans, and near-cursing as the muscles stretch, and ache.

“Fuck!” grits Mrs T, as the fattest section of the plug passes into her.

“Fuck!” she groans, as I turn the cold steel to settle it ‘home’.

Lube rolls in big ‘tears’ over her perineum and mingles with her juices, which almost bubble now from the neck of her cunt and flow down her thighs. Because she does not have permission – yet – she fights the urge to cum. Her clit, clearly protruding from the folded flesh, visibly twitches. I lower my face, purse my lips, and blow a little chill of breath across it – almost an act of cruelty under the circumstances. There is something animal in the sounds, not quite rising out of her throat, as she continues to resist the inevitable orgasm.

We are one hour into our ‘lesson’ and I have to admire Mrs T’s growing capacity for self-discipline. Forty minutes earlier she had been on her knees, back arched, wrists fastened to her ankles, and enduring a tit-spanking that would have sent her over the edge only months earlier. Her cunt-wetted nipples, fat with arousal, darken with each stroke of the fine-fronded whip, and already, a little pool of her juices forming on the wooden floor between her knees.

Thirty minutes earlier: her hair in my fist and three fingers lodged almost too firmly inside her cunt, Mrs T begs to be allowed to cum. Instead I fuck in the mouth with those same fingers.

“You dirtied them, you clean them,” I scold as she almost gags.

Twenty minutes earlier: on all fours on the bed, my cock sliding under her, and over her. Tip teasing between the neck of her cunt and the slackening knot of her arse. Her back is filmed with sweat, and her ribs heave to catch her breath as my shaft glides across her clit… if only fleetingly. She would have cum then, in that moment, if I had let her.

I did not.

Now: trussed and plugged, her flesh quivering, Mrs T is all… anticipation. To heighten this effect I tie some black silk over her eyes. I tread softly now. By the tilt of her head I know that she is straining to hear exactly where I am in the room. She is hoping that I am reaching for the crop – which I am – but she cannot be sure. This is part of it… the not knowing. This is what makes such moments so… exquisite. Mrs T, perhaps unconsciously opens her cheeks as though inviting the blows she is almost praying now will fall very soon on her willing flesh.

I do not strike her inner thighs as she hopes, but merely swish the crop in the air, close enough to her cunt so that she can feel the draft of it. A deep moan escapes from her. It is the sound of something wounded almost. Because she is not certain that the crop will be used I instead delicately trace the tip of my cock along the softest part of her inner thigh, rising almost to where she most swollen. The tone of her moaning alters. And because she now anticipates that I will slide my cock into her, I strike down with the crop on the heel of the butt-plug.

The moan extends into something closer to a screech as I strike again even as I press my cock into her… at last.

One hour earlier Mrs T had (almost politely) asked me to fill her with cum. Her eyes had shone then, as she had stepped out of her underwear and she had spread her cunt-lips to show me how aroused she was.

“Please… fill me with cum… as I cum…” she had said.

“Fill me and make me cum again… and again… please,” she had said.

Now, my stomach pressing against her plug, my thighs pressing her thighs apart, and my cock plunging, hard now, deep now, into her she cums, and not once. Even before I spill into her she is has spilled over me… and not only once, and keeps spilling even as I fill her up, so that she… overflows with our mingled juices.

Some moments… are surely worth waiting for?

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