My desired Saturday morning [MDom/Fsub] [BDSM] [Overstim] [Edging] [Bondage] [Everyday life]

Both characters are in their twenties. I haven’t decided on an exact number, but one of the rules for this subreddit is that ages much be specified, so voila.

You wake up early on a Saturday morning; an unusual occurrence given how exhausted you tend to be at the end of your work week. You check the time on your phone, still an hour and a half before your alarm goes off. You roll over to look at your Dom, who’s fast asleep. You think about waking him up, but you know he’s had a busy week. He needs the sleep. “I’m going to get in trouble for this…” you think to yourself. He knows you have trouble sleeping through the night and insists on waking him up when you can’t sleep, but you still feel self-conscious about being a burden, no matter how many times he tells you otherwise. No, let him sleep.

Instead of laying in bed, restlessly waiting for him to wake up, you decide to keep yourself busy. You head downstairs and make your way to the kitchen, thinking about what he may want to eat today. Looking through the fridge, you see a large piece of salmon the two of you had bought the last time you went grocery shopping. Knowing it wouldn’t stay good for much longer you pull it out and start working on a marinade for it, intending to have it for supper later that night.

With the salmon prepped you check the time again. Still an hour until your alarm goes off. You decide to get started on breakfast, mixing some pancake batter and letting it sit until he’s awake. Satisfied with your preparations for the day, you trot back upstairs to your room, intending to snuggle in quietly and nuzzle into his shoulder until he’s awake. Things, however, don’t go as intended. As you walk in you jump to notice him staring at you, head propped up on one hand, his muscular arm and chest sticking out from under the blanket.

“Where were you?” He asks. God, you love his morning voice. Low and ever so slightly raspy, plus you think it’s cute when he’s still sleepy. Your mouth hangs open slightly as you draw a blank, just focusing on how his neck moves when he talks. “Where were you?” he asks in a firmer tone, any hint of sleepiness suddenly gone. The shift snaps you out of it and you stumble over your words. “I.. uh- just downstairs!” you manage to squeak. “Oh… that’s odd,” he begins. “I didn’t know you could make it downstairs while asleep.” he says in the tone he uses when he’s pretending to be genuinely confused about something, but is clearly mocking you. “I… I wasn’t-” he cuts you off. “There’s no way you woke up early, because I’ve told you many times to wake me up as well if that happens, and surely you wouldn’t disobey me.” Fuck, he’s doing it again. Of course he is. What do you say to that? There’s no right answer. He’s forcing you to walk yourself into trouble. “I- I- no, no I wouldn’t!” “So now you’re lying to me?” God damn it. Of course it was a trap. It’s always a trap. “No!” You cry out. “No I wouldn’t lie to you!” you exasperatedly exclaim. “So you didn’t wake me when you were supposed to, then told me you didn’t disobey me, and now you’re saying you didn’t lie? Little girl, something isn’t adding up.” Fuck! ‘Little girl.’ you love how he manages to be so intimidating and condescending, yet so sweet at the same time. Stuttering, you try to respond “I… I’m Sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to I- you- you just looked so peaceful and cozy and I didn’t want to wake you! I’m sorry Daddy!” you look at him with the most submissive eyes you can make. He gets up and strides towards you, seemingly getting taller with each step. As he gets closer and closer you try desperately to appeal to his sweet side, shrinking down and making yourself look small and innocent. “Please Daddy…” you say softly as he towers over you.

He runs puts his hand around your waist and quickly pulls you towards him. You instinctively raise your hands and place them on his chest, arching your back as you look up at him. His other hand runs over your back, causing the oversized shirt you’re wearing, his shirt, to ripple as his hand makes its way to the back of your neck and weaves itself into your hair. He runs his fingers through it a few times softly, making you think he may let you off the hook with a warning and a kiss on the forehead, but of course that was wishful thinking. On the 4th pass, he tightens his hand into a fist and clutches your hair, pulling downwards, forcing your already arched back to lean even farther. You gasp, loving when he makes that sudden switch from tenderly holding you to making sure you know your place. Staring into your eyes, he begins scolding you. “Just because that rule was put in place for your benefit doesn’t mean you get to ignore it.” He shakes you slightly as he finishes his sentence, tacitly demanding your response. You whimper, then give a few small, rapid nods. “What do you do when you wake up in the night?” he questions, taking a step forward, causing you to stumble back. “I…” you don’t respond. So turned on by being so easily held still and moved around, so turned on by him towering over you, so turned on by his voice, you barely even register his question. He shakes you again, taking another step forward. “I asked you what you do when you wake up in the night!” He snaps as though he’s running out of patience. You know he isn’t, you know he’s calm and calculated, enjoying every step of his plan, knowing how much each small detail ruins you. Even knowing this, however, you can’t help but be terrified by his impatience. “I wake you up! I wake you up, always! I’m sorry!” He takes another step. You jump as you realize you’re pressed against the wall, having lost all track of your surroundings, all track of anything other than his eyes staring into yours. The hand that was around your waist quickly finds its way to your throat. He squeezes with his strong fingers, causing you to gasp and sputter. “Mmm, you love that, princess.” you nod excitedly. “Such a needy little slut for my touch.” The hand that was in your hair untangles itself. He places it on your stomach and pushes against it. You gasp as the sudden rush of blood from your stomach to clit makes it throb that much harder. “Aw, what’s wrong? I haven’t even touched you yet. Don’t tell me you’re already dripping.” Oh my god, his condescending tone… how it ruins you. The way he teases you, the way he always knows exactly what you’re thinking, exactly what you’re feeling… “We both know if I dragged a finger along you it would come back soaked.” He sees your eyes getting more desperate with each sentence that escapes him. “Oh, I know you love when I call you out on how easily I make you drip.” Finally you can’t take it anymore. You need more, you need him to touch you, you need him to spank you, you need him to bend you over and destroy you. But he steps back. He let’s go of your throat, takes his hand off your stomach, and steps back as you gasp for air, sinking to your knees, a desperate mess. “No! No please!” you plead, almost crying. “Please I need your hands on me please Daddy!” but it’s no use. This is your punishment. You’d love anything he does to you. He knows this is how to really keep you in line. “Your pancake batter smells good,” he remarks, then walks out of the room, leaving you on your knees, dripping, desperate, and denied.

After sulking for awhile, you begrudgingly make your way downstairs. He has already gotten the frying pan out for you and has started setting the table. You walk over to the stove, making no effort to hide your frustration and disappointment. You drag the pan across the counter as you move it onto the element and turn the stove on. Over the scraping sound you were making you didn’t hear him walking up behind you. He grabs your shoulder, sliding his hand under the hem of your shirt, digging his nails into you. Your wince is quickly replaced with a gasp as he again grabs your hair and wrenches your head back. Standing directly behind you, he’s able to look down into your eyes as you lean back and look up at him, thanks to your large height difference. “That’s enough of that.” he snaps. “Unless you don’t feel like cumming for a while.” That gets a reaction. Your demeanour immediately shifts as you abandon any attempt at brattiness. “No! I’ll be good!” He lets go of your hair and spins you around, lifting you up onto the countertop. He wraps one arm around your waist, the other around your shoulders. “Good girl” he says softly, then promptly leans in for a deep kiss. You throw your arms around his neck, loving the taste of his lips, never wanting him to let go. After a long moment the butter in the pan starts to sizzle. “Looks like you should get started,” he whispers into your ear, kissing your neck one last time before pulling away and helping you off the counter.

Throughout the frying process he remains planted firmly behind you, arms around your stomach, head resting on your shoulder, kissing your neck whenever it’s safe to do so. When the last pancake is done and you’ve turned the stove off he grabs the plate stacked with them and carries it to the table. You grab the maple syrup, the only thing he didn’t put on the table when setting it, and trot along behind him. He pulls out a chair and sits down, watching you as you begin to do the same. As you’re about to sit down, however, he stops you. “What do you think you’re doing?” Unsure what you’ve done wrong, you respond in a questioning tone. “…Sitting down?” Clearly not the right answer. “Come over here.” He says curtly. You obey, doing your same happy trot you always do when he calls for you. As you come around the table he snaps, not looking at you, and points at the floor next to him. You kneel beside him. “Good girl,” he praises you, still not looking your way. He pulls the chair out next to him and turns it sideways, then places your plate on it. He hands you your cutlery, then grabs his own. He starts eating, ignoring you on the floor at his side. Once he finishes his first, he grabs a pancake with his hand and puts its on your plate for you, pouring syrup on it shortly after. You look at it, but you know better than to start without permission. As he makes the first cut into his second, he gives you permission to start, which you do. The meal goes on like this until he’s decided he’s had enough. He pretends not to care whether you’ve gotten enough and simply cuts the meal off when he’s done, but he knows how much you eat and made sure you got what you needed. Still, you can’t help but be aroused by the feigned disregard. He brings your plate to the kitchen for you, along with all the others. He quickly rinses them and puts them in the dishwasher, leaving the pan for you to wash later. Staying put on the floor where you were told, you wait for a signal to join him. It comes in the form of a whistle as he makes his way back upstairs, you closely following behind.

Halfway up the stairs he turns around and picks you up. You giggle, throwing your arms around him and burying your face in his chest. He carries you up the stairs, through the door to your room, and closes it with his foot. He walks over to the bed and puts you down on the edge of it. You lean back onto your hands, pushing your chest out, wiggling side to side slightly to make your tits bounce a little. He walks over to the dresser and lays a few things across the top where he’ll be able to easily reach them, then walks back towards you with rope in both hands; some red, some black. “Arms up” he says as he puts the rope down next to you. You smile widely, giddy with excitement, and obey. He grabs your shirt and pulls it up and over your head, taking it off of you. He takes a moment to admire your tits, made possible by the fact you never wear a bra under his shirts. You squeeze your arms together and again wiggle your chest, loving how he looks at you. He takes a knee on the floor in front of where you’re sitting and runs his hands from your hips, up your sides, to your tits. He massages them softly, pinching your nipples, pulling on them, then leans in and starts kissing your stomach. You run your fingers through his hair and giggle loudly as his lips tickle their way up your body. He leaves a hickey on your chest, then another on your neck, and finally rises back to his feet as his lips meet yours, leaning over you, forcing you to lean back onto your hands to keep upright. He pulls away and walks back to the dresser, bringing a few things over to the nightstand and carrying a pair of nipple clamps in his hand. Without a word he opens the first one and you eagerly lean forward for him to place it. You whimper as the light pain of the clamp takes hold of you. He promptly places the other on the other side and pulls the chain linking the two together. You let out a soft moan, desperate for him to use you. With the clamps in place, you feel yourself already almost dripping. You’ve always been incredibly sensitive anyway, and now with him? You don’t stand a chance. He knows you better than you know yourself. He knows exactly what to do, exactly what to say, at exactly what time to absolutely ruin you.

He grabs your legs, lifting them onto the bed and turning you around as he throws them to the other side. He swiftly grabs your arms and pulls them behind your back, wrapping a red rope around both forearms such that each of your hands is grabbing the opposite elbow. He loops the rope around twice, ties a crude knot, then passes one end of the rope to either side, looping it around your upper arm just above your elbows, then around your wrist and opposite forearm just below the elbow, and finally the two ends rejoin in the middle where he ties a much more secure knot. He puts you down on your back, pulling your short shorts off you, and grabs your left leg, holding your ankle to your thigh while wrapping one of the shorter black ropes around it. Unable to straighten your leg, he begins work on a much more intricate tie, after which he removes the original rope and repeats the process on the other side. He takes a step back again to admire his adorable little sub, tied up and helpless. Her beautiful, giddy smile beaming as she overflows with anticipation and excitement for what’s going to be done to her next.

You can see his bulge growing in his shorts as he looks at you, thinking about all the ways he could use you for his pleasure. After a long pause you hear a determined exhale as he strides over to the dresser. He lifts up 2 gags, a red ball gag, and a ring gag. He dangles them in front of you. “Choose.” He says quickly. “Ball gag please, Daddy!” you say as you open your mouth wide. He tosses the ring gag aside with arrant disregard and places the other in your mouth. He lifts your hair up as he fastens it behind your neck. You immediately feel the drool starting to pool behind it. “Such a good little whore,” he says, seeing the puddle you’ve already made on the bed. He tugs on the clamps again and you arch your back to match him. You moan into the gag. “I love hearing your muffled little sounds.”

He grabs a wand and a bullet vibe from the nightstand, then sits down next to you. He puts the wand on your clit, but doesn’t turn it on. You jump at the touch; you’ve been desperate for him to touch you since he had you pinned against the wall, and now it’s finally happening. He circles it around slowly, his other hand massaging your tits around the clamps as he smirks at you deviously. “Oh, you poor little thing… you must be dying for me to make you cum…” you nod and try to beg through the gag, with no success. He continues slowly circling the vibe on your clit, still not turning it on. The feeling is so agonizingly frustrating. Finally something’s touching you, but it’s so torturously little stimulation. You need more. You want him slamming into you, not teasing your clit. You try to wiggle your hips, desperate for more pressure, but he pulls the vibe away. “Ah ah!” he taunts. “You wait.” you throw your head back in frustration and groan. Not a good idea. He puts the vibe down and moves his hand from your tits to your throat, then slaps you across the face with the other. “Excuse me? You feel the need to complain? I can stop right now and leave you a dripping, empty, mess all day if that’s what you’d prefer.” You vehemently shake your head no and try to apologize through the gag over and over, but it’s all just jumbled garble. “That’s what I thought.” He says, taking his hand off your throat, going back to teasing you with the vibe.

It feels like hours pass, but it was probably closer to 10 or 15 minutes. Finally he turns the vibe on. It’s on it’s lowest setting, but after being teased for so long it feels like being hit with a tsunami of stimulation. Not expecting it, you writhe against the restraints for a moment before settling into it and trying to grind your hips against the vibe, whimpering and moaning quietly as you do. He grabs the bullet vibe and slowly drags it up and down the outside of your pussy. You try to beg for him to put it in, but are again foiled by the gag. “You don’t learn very quickly, do you?” He asks, mocking your attempts, but loving them all the same. He runs it back and forth, letting your dripping pussy soak it, then smears the bullet across your torso and starts all over until you’re gleaming with your own wetness. Finally he slides it inside you and turns it on on it’s lowest setting. As he does, he turns the vibe up to the next setting, 2/10. You start to quiver a bit, feeling yourself already needing to cum. Between the clamps, the ropes, the two vibes, and your sexy, muscular Husdom looming over you, you could explode on command. Noticing your not very subtle shaking, as well as your muffled begging, he speaks again. “How long were you up for, hm? An hour?” you shake your head. You know where he’s going with this, and you know it’s going to be torture. “Two hours?” you shake your head again. You try to mutter “Less,” and he seems to understand despite the gag. “Hour and an half?” You nod, but far, far less excitedly than the previous times. “Hm.” he looks at the clock. 10am… “You can cum at 11:30” before you can protest, he turns both the vibe and the bullet up a couple settings, and you have to stop yourself from releasing immediately.

He keeps turning the vibes up at regular intervals. It’s been 30 minutes and the bullet, which only has 6 settings, is on max. The wand is at 7/10. You’re so sensitive that every time he brushes his hand across your glistening body it feels like you’re being struck by lightning. Every so often he hooks his fingers under the skin just above your clit and pulls it towards your chin, stretching your clit as he pushes the vibe hard into it. You almost scream every time, hearing him laugh at you. “You better not cum!” he taunts. You shake your head woefully, ever a good girl.

By the time an hour has passed there’s a massive puddle on the bed between your legs. Every ounce of your strength is being devoted to holding back your building orgasm. The clamps, which originally caused a dim throbbing in your nipples, now have them in searing pain. The ropes dig deeper and deeper into your skin as you struggle, seemingly getting tighter with every move. The wand has been on max for 10 minutes already, and god knows if you weren’t so hellbent on obeying your husband you would’ve cum 10 times by now. As the time winds down and you only have 15 minutes left before you can cum, he turns both vibes off, taking the bullet out and putting the wand down. You sigh loudly, your whole body relaxing as you’re able to think about something other than holding back. But it doesn’t last. Before you know it, he’s down between your legs. He slides 2 fingers into you, planting them under your gspot, curling, uncurling, curling, uncurling in place, not moving in or out, just constantly applying pressure as he pushes towards the ceiling. His tongue follows quickly after, swirling around your clit. Fuck! This is so much worse! The toys are intense but they’re just toys; this is him! His strong fingers, his delicious tongue, his muscular, veiny arms holding you down… Fuck! You scream into the gag, utterly exhausted, overstimulated, sensitive beyond belief. He only becomes more merciless as you get closer and closer to 11:30. His fingers speeding up, his tongue pressing harder, at one point he even bites your clit and runs his tongue over it between his teeth, all while you flail against the ropes, doing everything in your power to wait just a little longer.

“11:29” He says aloud. You brace yourself, knowing you’ll almost certainly pass out from an orgasm that’s been built up for this long, with this intensity. Counting the seconds in his head, right as the clocks about to change, he pulls his fingers out of you, takes his tongue of your clit, pulls his shorts down, and slides his cock into you. “Cum!” he orders you as his head slides over your gspot. You scream, shaking violently, squirting around his cock as he slams it into you. He wraps one hand behind your shoulders under your neck, the other grabs hold of your left side. His massive hands reach almost from your belly button around to your spine as he clutches you, using his grip for leverage as he tears you in half. Every time his cock hits your gspot another wave of pleasure crashes over you, sending spasms throughout your exhausted body. The orgasm doesn’t stop. Your stomach convulses as your clit throbs so hard you think it might burst. The ceiling starts spinning, everything seems blurry and out of focus. Nothing in your head other than the need to keep cumming. Utter bliss takes you as consciousness is fleeting. “Let go. Let it consume you.” He whispers in your ear, and you pass out. It doesn’t last, however. You’re woken up by the next wave hitting you like a freight train, which only serves to make you pass out again. Over and over you slip in and out as you forget everything in the world other than the man on top of you. After… time… Who knows how much time? Who cares how much time? He unfastens the gag and throws it aside. Your drool pours of your mouth. “Than- Thank you! D-Da… Daddy thank you!” is all you can get out, completely overwhelmed. “You thought you were sensitive when you were being edged?” he asks, a devious look in his eye. “Everything has only been heightened.” As he finishes his sentence he grabs the chain connecting the nipple clamps and rips them off you. The immense pain it causes, combined with the still raging orgasm, makes you pass out again. All while your pussy clenches around his cock. He slaps you awake. “Beg.” “Daddy…” you say weakly. “Beg me to fill you up.” You’re so tired, so sore, so weak, but you want nothing more than to be a good little cumslut for him. “Please Daddy! Please fill me up! Please! I need your cum inside me Daddy please!” He groans as he speeds up, pounding your little pussy harder than you ever thought possible. “PLEASE!” you scream with an animalistic fury. “Please fill your babygirl to the brim Daddy I want your cum so badly please!” with that, he pulls you against him tightly. You feel him swell inside you as he breeds you. You moan loudly, so incredibly pleased with yourself for being his good girl, claiming your ultimate reward as he fills you. He stops, his cock still buried deep inside you, and lies down on top of you. You continue quivering violently, your orgasm still ongoing, but weaker now that he’s stopped. You spasm periodically as it dies down, until finally he pulls out of you, his cum spilling out of your pussy. He scoops up what he can with his fingers and puts them in your mouth. You lick them clean, sucking on them for as long as he’ll keep them there.

He starts untying you. First your legs, then your arms. As soon as your limbs are free you throw them around him, clinging to him, more in love than you’ve ever been. “Thank you. Thank you Daddy” you repeat, over and over, still delusional with pleasure. He rolls onto his back, pulling you onto his chest. Every touch of your skin feels like an electric shock to your clit. He tries to pull the blanket over you but you flail and kick it away, unable to have anything touching you except him. “Now, princess, how many times did you wake up last night?” you sheepishly reply “Five, Daddy…” He pulls your legs over himself such that you’re straddling him, then proceeds to spank your ass hard. Normally this would get a whimper and a giggle, but with how sensitive you are, you wail. You start sobbing, not even sure if they’re tears of pain, pleasure, desperation, or all 3 together. You brace yourself for the next smack, and it quickly comes. You cry out again, but you don’t dare protest. He caresses your ass softly, squeezing your cheeks tenderly. Even those light touches feel torturous. The last 3 slaps are much lighter, but still hard enough to leave a gorgeous red tint on your ass. Once he’s done he puts both arms around your back and kisses the top of your head as you nuzzle against his chest. “Get some sleep, princess. You need it. I’ll be here when you wake up.” he says, stroking your hair softly. That’s all you needed to hear. Utterly exhausted, you fall asleep almost immediately, feeling safe and loved on your Doms chest.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/vqq7ih/my_desired_saturday_morning_mdomfsub_bdsm