It had been a long day and you were looking forward to getting home and relaxing in a nice bath. Thursdays were always odd ones, and this one had pushed you to your limits. The moment you walked in the door you dumped your bag and coat, slipped off your bra, and sighed, trudging up the stairs to start running the bath. As the warm perfumed steam filled the room you pulled off your blouse and skirt, catching a glimpse of your chest in the mirror; “Sir’s Plaything” clearly visible across your bra line – a daily reminder.
Just as you bend over to check the water temperature you hear your phone downstairs. Any other ringtone and you’d have ignored it, but not that one. Stopping the taps you sprint downstairs, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer than absolutely necessary. “10 minutes” is all the message reads.
*Shit!*. While you are, of course, available for his use any time, visits are unusual on weekdays. You don’t have time to do more than prepare yourself, hurrying to fetch the leather collar, plug, blindfold, and clamps. 7 minutes later you’re kneeling in the front hall, the door unlocked, just waiting for his arrival.
15 minutes later, though it feels even longer to your clamped nipples, he arrives. You hear the door open, and immediately make sure you’re sitting up straight, chest pushed out, palms up on your spread knees, chin up. His footsteps enter the hall, the door closes and he stands beside you. The familiar feel of his hand grasps your breast, thumb rubbing across the text before releasing you. Apparently satisfied that it isn’t just freshly applied he clips a leash to your collar and tugs you wordlessly into your living room.
You follow on all fours, as you have before, up onto your coffee table, like a decorative statue. Your back arched, chin up, mouth open, knees apart – all as the protocols he has taught you. He stands back, admiring the view. “Goog girl” he says, patting your hair before pulling off the blindfold on his way through to the kitchen. He comes back with one of the beers you keep stocked for his visits, taking a swig as he pulls open the drawer underneath you.
At his instruction, your toy collection is kept right here. More than once its caused your heart to skip a beat, terrified some other visitor was going to discover it. Today, though, your heart is racing with excitement, unable to see which of the multitudinous array of implements he is choosing. He reaches over from his crouch and shakes the chain between your nipple clamps, grinning as you whimper. He gently removes one then the other, giving each nipple a sharp flick after he does so.
“Seems you have had a hard day, pet?” he asks, once again standing beside you and stroking your hair and cheek. You nod, keeping your mouth open and making a confirmatory grunt. Its difficult to keep your eyes forward with the curiosity over what else he’s doing. He places the icy beer bottle on your back, keeping hold of it through your initial jerk and squeal. “Don’t spill any” he instructs, walking back around behind you.
*Fuck!* This won’t be easy; and the price of failure will mean scrubbing the carpet on top of his disappointment and punishment. You feel his hands softly caress your ass cheeks, grabbing and wiggling gently. You tense, trying to keep your back as steady as possible. “How long has it been now?” he asks, running a finger up your inner thigh as he notices a dribble running down, “three weeks? Whoa, careful” he chuckles as his touch makes you wriggle. “I bet you’re aching…” his finger trails higher and higher, “for moooore” as he elongates the vowel his finger traces the tips where your soaked lips meet.
Your body writhes as you gasp, the bottle falling to the floor. You instinctively turn your head suddenly to see, and he instantly slaps your ass hard, leaving a clear red handprint. “Don’t!” he barks sharply and you jerk back to looking straight ahead. “No trust” he mutters, picking up the empty bottle and placing it on the table where the neck sits between your hanging breasts. He crouches in front of you, holding your cheeks with one hand; you can feel your wetness spread from his fingertip. “Don’t. Knock. It over” he says slowly before releasing you and returning to your ass.
Without warning two fingers slide easily inside you and immediately start rubbing your g-spot. He knows your pussy almost as well as you do, and exactly what buttons to press. Within seconds your hips are bucking back at him as you moan, the hunger awoken inside you crying out for what you’ve been denied for so long. “Here I was considering ending your streak tonight too” he murmurs mockingly. Perhaps he’s telling the truth, perhaps not; but clearly he has no intention of it now.
All thoughts of the bottle are forgotten as the rest of your body begins squirming around, jerking and shaking. Drool is starting to drip from your lower lip, despite the rest of your mouth feeling dry; your gasping and cries beginning to feel slightly hoarse. Forgotten, that is, until you feel one breast nudge against it and hear it wobble. Your eyes bulge open, desperately trying to avoid knocking it a second time.
Your groans and squeals get louder, faster, and more and more urgent; feeling your climax building between your legs. The need to finish is growing stronger than you’ve ever felt the closer you get. “Say it” he grins.
You have to swallow and wet your mouth first, but seconds later you’re begging loudly. “Please, Sir! Please! Oh fuck I really need to cum so badly! FuuUUUUUUUUUCK! No”
Your shriek ends abruptly as his fingers pull out. He sits and watches as your whole body bucks, your pussy clenching against nothing, ass gripping the plug tightly again and again. You keep panting, sneaking the opportunity to check the state of the bottle – still standing thank goodness – and see how much your chest is heaving. “Good girl” he says, stroking your ass with one hand, licking some of your juice from his wet fingers and walking round beside you again. “Here, your mouth must be very dry” he says, offering the wet fingers to your lips, pushing them into your mouth as you open obediently.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/djq6gw/on_demand_mfdsdenial