Shutting Me Up

"I am..." my voice is trembling, breaking, pathetic, "a master of self control." I look down as you step away and see that my cock-head is gleaming with my juices. I've left a series of streaks in the crack of your ass, where your shorts were clinging so tight, but then I'm sure you won't mind. You hook your thumbs into the elastic waist again and start dragging them down, just like the jeans.

"It was kinda annoying right?" you ask, as if checking on the results of some scientific test, "The material was too soft for you to get off." My exasperated, raised eyebrow answers your question - what do you fucking think? "Well then it was worth it in a way - if it pissed you off."

"Lovely sentiment," I grunt, and try to relax my shoulders. "One-one though, right?" You concede with a smile, but I find my eyes drawn to your hands as they tug nervously at the bottom of your shirt. Nervously? You can't be nervous, this has got to be the start of the next game.

"Y'know..." you start, your voice getting light and girly again - fuck it's incredible how you're switching personas to work my mind as forcefully as your ass was working my prick. "Y'know... your cock felt... really good against my ass." You're breathing heavily I notice now, and your hand is flat on your belly then slipping down. "I think you made me... a little..." Oh wow, the very tips of your fingers are under the waistband of those cute pink panties (pink with lighter pink trim I should say) and I can see them moving down, pushing the triangle of cotton out as they get closer and closer... Is that it? Did you get there? I'm breathless with anticipation. "Oh yeah," you giggle, and I could almost swear that you blush ever so slightly, "Very wet in fact."

"I'm sorry," I swallow, but my throat has gone dry without me realising it, "could you say that again?" You bite your lip and hit me with the cutest, sexiest smile.

"My pussy got all wet," out comes your hand and your first two fingers are glistening in the light. Jesus, how do you do this? Switching between the sex-kitten thing and the cynical hipster thing at will? Suddenly you're close, and your voice is working that innocent vibe for all it's worth. "My fingers got all dirty in my pussy..." oh my God, "can you lick them clean?"

"I'd..." I can't think of anything to say, so I just nod, far too enthusiastically. I don't need to say anything anyway, you just hold your fingers up in front of me and let me crane my neck until I can close my lips around them. But as I'm almost there my senses are assailed by the most divine scent - your pussy mixed with the coffee that you had brewed earlier. I feel dizzy, I think I start salivating like a dog, and I hungrily suck your fingers into my mouth. My tongue explores them; cleaning them and savouring your clean, sweet taste. Oh, I should've known your pussy would taste good. And that faintest hint of coffee... God...

"Thanks baby," you say, pulling your fingers out and inspecting them to make sure they're clean. "Do you like how I taste?"

"God, you taste so good."

"I'm glad you think so," I realise in a flash that while I was wrapped up in the taste on your fingers, your other digits were busy rubbing away at your panties - stimulating the needy pussy underneath. "Because look how wet I'm getting!" You pull the fabric of the thong front up and forwards so I can see how the pink cotton is stained and dark right where it lies against your wet little opening.

"Oh sweet fuck..." I gasp, and you grin, resetting the crotch of your thong and rubbing it again, your fingers making quick circular movements between your thighs. God, I want to see it, I want to... I want to be off this chair and to be able to play with you as much as you're playing with me.

"It's getting... unh... wetter," you mumble, your head and your hair hanging down as you start to lose yourself in the feeling. "I can feel my lips... are... mm, opening and all this... my juices are coming out... They're making my panties so wet!"

A noise comes from my throat, halfway between a growl and a whine. I don't even realise that I made it at first. I thought there was a dog in the room.

"Oh wow, this is..." your hand comes away and you stretch the crotch and the front of the thong again so that I can see it - stained and almost sodden with your fluids. "This is pretty much ruined!" you laugh, "I mean, for now. I meant to tell you that I tend to get... very, very wet."

"I can see that."

"Yeah I mean - some days I have to wear like... panty-liners just... in case. I was going to tell you at dinner, y'know, after it became obvious that you were the sort of boy that I could truss up naked in my living room, but I forgot."

"Well, I know now," I offer helpfully, stupidly. And now in your eyes I can see the teasing bitch coming back again. For the third time you hook your thumbs into your waistband, and this time you push down your panties. The movement is so simple and unselfconscious that for a second I don't even realise that I'm staring at the small, blonde tangle of your bush and the wet, pink lips of your pussy. My cock bucks and throbs at the sight - all this time and you've still kept me hard as a rock. I want, more than anything, to slip my prick between those delicate lips and fuck you till you're sore.

"Hey," your waving hand drags my attention back from your crotch to your face, "eye's up soldier."

"Sorry, just... your pussy looks so gorgeous."

"Well, thanks," this seems to catch you a little off balance, and you give me a quick, cute, lop-sided smile. "Anyway back to the matter in hand," you lift the other hand and show me a tangled ball of wet, pink fabric. Your thong. "Where do you think these are going?"

"Oh, hey now," I know exactly what you're thinking, "what about my sparkling wit?"

"I guess I'll live without the nervous wisecracks," you shrug, stepping towards me, "now open wide. I thought you said you liked the taste anyway?"

"That's not the point," I stammer. The point is that I had been reigning things in for a few minutes, calming myself and getting things under control - inside myself at least. With your dirty panties in my mouth... things would feel a lot more out of control.

"Shut up, and open up," you command, and the steel in your voice compels me to obey. The wad of strappy pink underwear is forced between my teeth and I taste your juices again, along with your sweat. That thong has been riding down in the valley of your ass at least all evening, possibly all day. God, things are starting to move faster. "Spit that out and I'll make your night hell," you say, again in the light girly voice which throws me even more. That you can be so flirty and fun, but still be controlling me so completely. I can't even talk back anymore.

"Mmmff."

You kneel in front of me and for a second I think you're going to have mercy on me and actually suck my impossibly rigid member. God, I'm so turned on that if I let myself go with it now - don't fight it at all - I'll probably shoot in no time at all. Go on. Wrap your lips around it.

Naked from the waist down (still in that tight, sexy shirt and still with your bra on) you look up at me. That smile could be decribed as either devilish or malevolent, very little else. "Now," you start, "if you had shown some self restraint earlier and not got all hard and ready-to-fuck like you are now, I would probably have given you a nice, firm hand job to make you spray all your yummy boy-juice in the air."

"Mmmff!!" I nod enthusiastically. I vote for that.

"But, you lost round one, so instead you just get a finger-and-thumb-job," a what? You answer quickly enough, reaching out your hand and gently taking hold of my member with nothing but the tip of you thumb on one side and the tip of your forefinger on the other. You hold it there just below the swollen head. The lightest touch makes my prick twitch hungrily, but you are very careful to hold on and keep me from slipping out of the delicate grip. I realise I'm breathing very loudly through my nose, like a rutting animal. "Same rules apply - if you can restrain yourself then you get nicer treatment later. If you explode... something mean."

And with that you start to jerk me off. Except it's not really a jerk-off at all. Your grip is so delicate that you can't move fast or I'll slip out of your fingertips, so you just go painstakingly slowly. You pinch my cock so that you're holding my so, so sensitive foreskin, then you drag it down. You drag it down, as far from the gleaming, crimson head of my cock as you can and then you hold the skin there until I whine and squirm, and then you come back up again.

It's agonising. It's stimulation, but again, it'll take me so long to come this way, and if I do climax, I think it'll probably be the most disappointing orgasm of my life. But I can't deny that the torture is exquisite, you're focussing my mind so much on the limits of where my tight skin can stretch to, and the sensations that arise only from that stimulation. I'd think it was fascinating if I wasn't fucking hating it so much.

I look down, and now I know I'm dripping with sweat because it's starting to sting my eyes. You're perfect, using your free hand to push your bangs behind your ears as your tongue sticks out between your lips in concentration. You seem to be as fascinated by what's happening to my cock as I am.

"Oh wow, it's, like, writhing and twitching!" you comment.

"Mmmmmfff!" I groan, exasperated, and my head goes limp on my chest. Pleasure isn't rising from my cock in waves anymore, I'm just constantly buzzing like a refrigerator, and the feeling is as much dull pain as pleasure. I just need release, I just need you to curl your fingers... around my shaft and give me one good pump... "Mmmm, mmmmfff..."

"I can't understand a word you're saying baby. You've got a mouth full of dirty panties."

"Mmmmfff!" I wail, and you don't stop for a second, your fingers just inexorably pulling at my skin, working me towards what might be a climax, sometime next century perhaps. Suddenly you release me.

"I have an idea." Oh God, that doesn't sound good. "I refuse to let you take a two-one lead, but I don't think you're going to come like this are you?" I'm not sure whether to answer that. "But also, you didn't deserve the full hand job..." your logic is amazing, it's like a sex-romp by Kafka "... so I need something else..." You start to look around the room.

I take the chance to try and steady my breathing. I hadn't noticed, but my chest seems to be heaving, and my ass is getting sore from the hard wood. This is... this might be too much for me. My cock is aching now, all the time, even without your fingers stroking it. It's not a craving for pleasure that is dominating my mind anymore, it's a need - a need for release. God, I'll let you beat me, beat me ten-zero, beat me with a belt - anything if you'll make me come... But I can't spit these panties out and tell you that.

"Look what I found." I open my eyes dumbly and blink the sweat away. What? It's a sneaker. One of the beat-up blue and white Adidas you were wearing earlier on. "You don't have a foot fetish do you?" your voice is cautious, but prying. I make my eyebrows into an arch of disbelief and shake my head vehemently. I like wearing sneakers, I don't really think about them much more than that. "Perfect!" you beam. Oh no.

This time you kneel to one side of me, and for a moment you just seem to be inspecting my rigid, swollen, shaft in profile for the first time. I look down at you, my eyes imploring you for some kind of mercy. "I'm going to shoe-fuck you," you explain simply. Shoe-fuck!? What the hell? Is that even a fetish? You read the sceptical disbelief in my eyes, "Maybe I'm making that term up. The point is that this is a... hole right?" You hold up the sneaker, pointing at the opening where - of course - your foot should go. "As far as I can tell, give a boy a hole to fuck and they'll be happy."

Ok, this is getting really humiliating, and I feel my cheeks start to flush with blood. You can do whatever you want with me can't you?

"Of course," you continue, your voice smooth and ever-so reasonable, "if you were to ejaculate inside my shoe that would really be... kind of pathetic." Your other hand brings my chin up so I'm looking back into your beautiful grey eyes again. "I mean, if you can't control yourself enough to keep from spurting your spunk in a shoe then you really don't have any dignity do you?" I try to swallow, but can't. "Well, do you?" you prompt again. I shake my head. "You agree then? If you come inside my shoe then... you're just totally humiliated aren't you?" I give a tiny nod. "Once more," you won't let me escape, "I will have totally humiliated you won't I?" I feel dizzy, my heart is pounding, my prick is begging for you, and I feel my eyes start to water. I nod savagely, and I know that there's no way I'm getting out of this with my dignity intact. Still, I try to convince my body the opposite of its instincts - I don't want release, I want control, I don't want release, I want control...

"Well then, this one's kind of the decider then isn't it?" You angle the sneaker so that my shaft slips inside - pointing towards the toe, not touching the sides or the tongue or anything yet. "I mean, show me you can control yourself now, or..." once again you gently take my chin and turn my face to yours, "you're fucking mine."

I feel the inner sole of the shoe first, as you press it against the front of my manhood. Grinning like a devil, and looking up into my face you start to drag it. I shudder. First it goes up my shaft, the rough material dragging my flesh and skin up towards the head of my cock; then it comes back down again, pulling my sensitive sheath back and I know that I'm already smearing my come inside your sneakers. But fuck, that's what you want right?

This first sensation is rough, and if you keep it up I'll end up sore and chafed, I know it. But it's satisfying... I-I can't deny it. I close my eyes and try to go back to the sad news that was helping me keep control earlier, but now all the headlines seem to be about how pink and perfect your pussy-lips are. The scrolling news feeds are nothing but descriptions of how your tits seemed on the verge of bursting out of that bra when you leaned against me. I risk opening my eyes, and watch how you manipulate the sneaker with both hands, following the curve of my prick by touch. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can't look at that.

"So," you interrupt my thought process again, "that's the inner, against the... what would you call that? The front of your dick? But these sneakers have nice, puffy tongues too..." I look down again quickly, and you're right. The tongue is a large, cushioned pad, probably designed to make the sneakers super-comfortable. "And this is how that feels against back of your dick."

I close my eyes, but I can't escape this time. The tongue is the perfect balance - soft enough not to hurt, but tough enough to really grip that side of my shaft. Grip it and work it. My hips shift and my breathing speeds. Oh God, this is... this is actually good.

"Oh my God? You're not actually enjoying this are you?" you've added extra scorn to your tone, and in my delicate, suggestible state, your words sting me. "I'm just rubbing one side of your stupid prick with the tongue of a sneaker! Don't you have any pride?"

God, I-I wish you wouldn't talk about my pride! I'm fighting this, really I am, but the way you're... chasing my dick, making sure that no matter how I shift my hips you're still pulling gently and pressing that fucking shoe against me. And always grinding, always pulling up and down. I shift my hips again, but I'm at the limits of my movement given the cuffs that I'm wearing. I can't get away.

"You are enjoying this aren't you? Jesus Christ, you dirty fucking boy." I try my seventeen times table - once seventeen is seventeen, twice seventeen is thirty... cock-in-a-shoe... FUCK! "You really are pathetic! Oh, you should see yourself, I think you're going to have a heart attack!" My whole body is shaking, my whole body is stretched and taught against my bonds, my whole body feels like it's cooking itself from within. And the dull ache in the meat of my penis has spread; now it's in my balls, in the flesh of my body, and it's hurting... more and more... hurting in the best possible way.

"You're going to come in my old sneaker aren't you?" Your voice is suddenly soft, gentle, caressing. Caressing like the fat tongue of the shoe is caressing the back of my dick, pulling and dragging up and down, up and down...

"Mmmmff!" I shake my head.

"It's ok, you can admit it," you whisper. I can't look at your face, you're too fucking cute... "You're being such a brave man, fighting your body like this... but it's ok! You can just give in! Let me win," you're moving your hand, the shoe, faster now. I try to breathe, but forget that your panties are stuffed in my mouth for a moment and my whole body shakes with a massive, heaving sob. "Are you ok?" you ask, but your hand never stops moving. I feel the soft fabric of the tongue getting damp from my cream being smeared into it again and again. I feel that, but I don't think I feel my legs anymore.

"Mmff." I'm not ok, but I'm ok. I don't even know what your question means, - if you even mean it. Christ. Oh no. Oh God no. I groan, long, low and bestial.

"One more time," I can't open my eyes, but you seem to be whispering right into my ear, "You're going to shoot all your creamy come into my old sneaker, aren't you?" I barely have the strength to shake my head. "Yes you are, and you're going to do it because you're my little slut-boy aren't you?" I sob again, my whole body shaking. God it would be better if you were tugging on my nipples, tickling my ass or something. As it is you've got me in this state with almost nothing but an old shoe and your dirty fucking mind. "You're my slut," you hiss again, and I can't... I can't disagree. I think I nod, but I don't know because at that moment the wall of buzzing, numbing sensation that has been creeping out across my body cracks.

It cracks, and then it all comes tumbling down, and there's a feeling like my very fucking soul is rushing out of me. I'm in spasm, I'm thrusting and heaving, and inside that fucking shoe my sore, twitching manhood is sending out spurting, splashing jets of my come. But the shoe doesn't hold me like your pussy would, like your mouth would, like your hand would. My prick is just bucking and twitching and shooting in the empty space inside your sneaker. Pathetic. Fuck, I lost, I lost.

"Oh my God," your voice is filled with sheer delight. "Oh my fucking God, you're actually coming in my shoe, you horny little slut. You dirty boy, you're..." I don't fucking care. I don't care what you're saying anymore, I just know that the longing, burning pain that had become almost unbearable is lessening with every kick and jerk that lifts my hips off the hard, dark wood of the chair. Now I'm touching the sides again, and the inside of your shoe feels sticky and wet with the deposit I'm making. "I actually thought you had more dignity than that, but..." and you sound so very disappointed in me, "... you just couldn't control yourself could you? Wait, are you still coming? Oh my God!" I am, just tiny clenches now, dribbling the last of my seed down the side of my shaft to soak into my pubic hair.

I let my head slump forward onto my chest, and start trying to fill my lungs, taking huge breaths through my nose. What the hell did I just do? What did you make me do?

"Do you remember," you pull the Adidas sneaker off me at last, leaving my still rigid prick bobbing and smeared with my own juices, "what we said earlier?"

I don't answer, I can't.

"If you came in my shoe then I would have really humiliated you?" You reach out and one again raise my head, pinning me with those endless grey eyes. "Well, this is what humiliation feels like." I flinch at that, but the stabbing shame doesn't hurt any more than I want it to. God, that was horrible. Horrible and amazing. You lift the sneaker to your nose and sniff it, then peer inside.