My Apple Watch buzzes to wake me. I blearily lift it to turn off my alarm, only to find that it’s ten minutes before the alarm is set to go off. What woke me up was a message from Daddy. *Edge yourself three times,* the message says.
I grunt, only halfway awake, but reach my hand down obediently. There’s a bit of stubble on my pussy, I’ve been waiting to shave it for our date tonight. Our first date in a week. My first chance to orgasm in nearly two. After thirteen days of denial, my pussy is wet before my fingers find it, sliding between my lips to find the clit. I breathe a satisfied sigh as my fingers find it.
The watch buzzes again. *Where I can see it,* he texted me. I obediently kick the covers off and rotate in the bed, laying in it sideways so the webcam on the nightstand can see between my smooth legs to the little pink slit. I reach for the lightswitch by the headboard and turn on the overhead light, blinking in the sudden brightness before I get back to my task. Daddy doesn’t text again as I spread my labia and start rubbing my clit in full view of the webcam.
It doesn’t take long for the first edge. My thighs are trembling after only a few moments, my clit growing and firming up under my touch. Before Daddy took ownership of my orgasms, I’d usually rub one out before I got out of bed in the morning, then another one when I got home from work, and a third one before bed. Sometimes a few more along the way, quick little moments of pleasure stolen in the work bathroom or on a kitchen chair while dinner is in the oven.
It physically hurts to pull my fingers away when I’m so close. I look at my watch, waiting for my heartrate to go down. The edge isn’t over until I’ve cooled off to under 80bpm again. These watches are how Daddy keeps me in check, now that I’m not allowed to orgasm on my own. If my heart rate goes up and I’m not at the gym, I can expect a video call to make sure I’m not stealing an orgasm from him. Daddy isn’t kind to thieves.
The second my heart calms down, my fingers are back. I flick my bean a few times, biting my lower lip, and plunge two fingers into my soaking pussy while I’m still reeling from the aftershocks. I curve my fingers up, aiming for my G-spot. The pressure there is almost enough to make me squirt, especially when I lightly touch my clit with my free hand, making tiny little circles of the glans clitoris with two fingers. The texture of my fingerprints is an overwhelming amount of stimulation when I’m in this state.
I have to pull my fingers out quickly or I’ll go over the edge. I let out a loud, frustrated breath as my clit aches for attention, my empty sex clenching for something to fill it. I wonder for a moment why I ever agreed to this stupid idea. A part of me loves this. A part of me hates it. But I keep doing it, keep denying myself, in the hopes that Daddy will take care of me the next time we meet, even though he hasn’t promised that. He could give me one tonight. He could give me twelve, he could torture me with orgasm after orgasm until they hurt and I’m begging him to stop. Or he could keep me denied for another two weeks. I never know.
The only thing I am certain of is how badly I want this. My finger is back as soon as the second edge is over, this time squeezing my clit between my thumb and pointer finger. Just a light pinch, a little stroke, a little pressure. I can feel the walls of my pussy clench and quiver, yearning for Daddy’s cock.
Maybe tonight it will be his fingers around my clit. Maybe it will be his mouth, or a vibrator. Imagining all the things he could do to me makes my toes curl almost as much as the actual act of masturbation. If I’m lucky, he’ll use my orgasm to milk every last drop of cum from his big, hairy balls, then he’ll eat it out of me, lapping his tongue over my clit until I climax again hard enough to send his seed squirting out of me.
The thought of that almost sends me over the edge. I stop abruptly and stand up, thighs trembling. My clit feels like it’s on fire, as hot and engorged as it’s ever been. I look directly in the camera, an indescribable expression of pain and pleasure and desire an and frustration on my face. The look of denial.
I change over from my nighttime watch to my daytime one in view of the camera. *Good girl*, comes Daddy’s text, followed a few moments later by a photo taken under his desk of his fat cock jutting out of his nice slacks. The juxtaposition of something so vulgar surrounded by class, his wrist-thick uncut dick framed by the classy walnut wood of his heavy, expensive desk and the quality silk-polyester blend of his trousers, puts a wicked smile on my face as I get up to take a cold shower. It’s 7 a.m., only thirteen hours until I get to taste that magnificent cock again. At least if I’m lucky.
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**Next scene will be with both characters! Please let me know if you think that she deserves some release, or if good girls don’t cum ;)**
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/vh6dxg/denying_myself_for_daddy_part_1_of_delayed