The Long Wait

When she installed the chastity device on him she had been curious about it – it was theoretically a discreet device, but it was made of hard plastic, and she was quite amused by the look of it when she placed it on him. The device formed a definite bulge in his pants, making him look like his balls were oversized and his cock was permanently semi-erect. She sent him home then, telling him to report back the following day so she could inspect her handy work.

She imagined how it must have looked to his work colleagues – the bulge in his pants slightly more prominent than it should be. If they commented, she'd told him to say nothing – be coy. She had wished she'd been a fly on the way when he went to the gym that afternoon – she imagined him lying on his back on the leg press, the platform forcing his knees back to his chest, his arse on display, the hard edges of the cock ring protruding slightly through his snug gym pants. She imagined he might not work the leg press as hard as usual, since he'd be unable to fully flex his thigh muscles without bumping the cock case and possibly pinching the cock ring.

When he'd returned that night, she'd instructed him to remove his clothes and stand legs spread, hands behind his back while she crouched between his legs to inspect for chaffing or discolouration. She was pleased to note there was none – the baby oil, while slightly fogging the plastic, had done its job to ensure his cock and balls weren't irritated. She stood, told him to kneel before her, then tilted his head back and pushed his face into her cunt.

"Lick," she said. His tongue flicked forward, pressing softly against her clit. She shoved his head downwards, gripped the back of his head with her hand and pushed her clit against the tip of his nose. "Tongue-fuck me," she said. She felt the tip of his tongue dart around the rim of her cunt. "No," she said. "Drive it in." She slid her hand down to the back of his neck and gripped him there, enjoying the sound of his laboured breathing as he struggled for air. She banged her pelvis against his head, gyrating at an increasingly frenzied pace until she felt her orgasm begin to rise. She pushed him away, there stood there in front of him, hips thrust forward, as she took herself over the edge.

She'd sent him home that night, telling him to report back six days later – a week after she'd fitted the chastity device. "Strip," she told him, "and get on the bed." She had him kneel on his hands and knees at the end of her bed. She cinched on an elbow-length latex glove, coated it with lube, then plunged her entire hand directly up his arse. His anus resisted momentarily, but she forced her hand through to the warm wet flesh within. She formed her hand into a fist, and stood back as she withdrew it once, then rammed it into his arse again. He uttered a low groan.

"I can't hear you," she said. "What do you say?"

"Thank you," he said in a whisper.

"Thank you what?" she replied, yanking her fist out of his arse, lube splattering onto her breasts.

"Thank you Mistress," he said, louder. She drove her fist forward again, plunging it into his rectum. The cavity was large, wet, soft. She marveled at the size of it. She knew, if she wanted to, she could easily fit her foot into it. Instead, she stretched the glove on her arm outwards, inched her left hand down into it, then clasped her right wrist with it and drove into his arse again. With one hand completely in his arse, the other wrapped around her wrist to stretch his anus, she pushed back and forth, watching, fascinated as lube spewed out with each thrust and ran down the insides of his arse cheeks.

When she sent him home that night, chastity device still securely in place, his pupils had been dilated, his cheeks flushed.

She did not bother to contact him again for two weeks. Now, it was three weeks since he'd been restrained. She's taken complete control of his orgasms. When she admitted him to the apartment, he immediately fell at her feet.

"Please Mistress," he said, his hands gripping her stockinged ankles, his forehead tipping the tops of her stilettoed feet. "May I be released?"

She stood him up, turned him around, opened the door and pushed him out it. She allowed the door to quietly swing shut.

'No,' she thought to herself. 'Not yet.'