Three Agonizing Days Ch. 02

As much fun as I'd had the first time Erica teased the life out of me, I don't think I'd have made a similar bet with her again if I didn't expect to win. And I did, because she had told me, "Next time, I'm going to lose the video game on purpose."

Who'd have thought such a sweet girl had such a manipulative side?

I took the bet again the next week, and had spent the days leading up to it thinking of all the things I would do with her. Ways I'd get my revenge, like taking her out in public as she'd done with me, making her wear a remote control vibrator, and so on. I had told her all the ideas I had for her. She sounded excited and intrigued.

On the first pitch of the video game, she hit a home run. Then she winked at me.

My heart sank. I knew immediately I had been toyed with. But I also had no intention of backing out of the bet. I was severely disappointed, knowing in a split second that my chance to play out all my fun ideas was a pipe dream. And yet, the memories of the prior week flooded back to me. The urge and the frustration, which was so awful but so incredible at the same time, and that feeling of being vulnerable and used. It was coming again.

She didn't say a word to me during the game. After the ninth inning, with the scoreboard reading 31-1, she gave me a light kiss on the cheek, giggled at me, and walked out of the room, leaving me there, with my head swimming. I took deep breaths, because I was panicked. When she teased me last week, it was the first time we'd ever done that, and she drove me beyond limits I ever thought she could. She teased me until I was unspeakably, unimaginably, hump-the-walls horny, and still pushed me. Now she had some experience. What was she going to do?

We decided that the four-day period (we increased it by a day) would end on a day when I had the house to myself. At 11:59 pm before the first day, I received this email:

"Last time I owned you, I made you stimulate yourself constantly, so that you were throbbing when I came to you. Let's do the opposite this time. Until I tell you to, you will not touch your cock (or, should I say, MY cock). Not at all for any reason. Not in the shower, not when you use the bathroom, not in bed at night, not when you watch the videos I'm going to send you, not at all. Hands. Off.

"Oh, and no cheating by grinding against things or anything like that."

I couldn't decide if I was relieved or frightened. Shocked, to say the least. For a moment, I thought this task would be easier, because all I had to do was not touch. No suffering. But then it occurred to me that this would take a very different form of self-control. Last time, I had merely to hold in my orgasm. This time, I'd have to resist doing a lot more.

Before last week, I'd had little experience with kink and even less with the submissive role, given that none of my previous girlfriends had been particularly interested, although when I thought about it, I often thought about tease and denial. I discovered why after thinking about last week: It's the ultimate sexual power exchange. Symbolically, at first, the idea that you give up your ultimate pleasure because that suffering pleases the other person is an incredible indicator of your place. And physically, as well. For three days, everywhere I went, that ache in my groin went with me. Erica was miles away, but I could not forget what she was doing to me. My body wouldn't let me.

I soon discovered that my new task was very similar. As you know, when you are alone and horny, your hand naturally drifts to touch yourself, not even consciously. I had to be constantly aware of this. If I felt my hand drifting, I'd have to clench my fists and hold off. And she made sure I didn't just forget about sex, because she had me watching hours and hours of porn. God, I wanted to touch myself. At times I found myself lying in bed alone and I started bucking my hips. I realized that by doing so I was grinding against my jeans, and that was against the rules, so I took them off. This just made things worse, because ... there it was, my dick, standing there, just wanting to be touched. But all I could do was grab the sheets and hump the air.

The night before she was going to come to me, she called me and had me listen to her get herself off. All I could do was sit there and grunt. My cock was leaking precum already, and hadn't been touched in days. And to hear how easily she could do whatever she wanted, feel that pleasure I was denied, and listen to her soft breathing as she came down from the peak, was overwhelming. I was bucking my hips so fast I think I might have caused a minor earthquake.

The next morning -- not that I could sleep -- I received another email:

"Tonight, before I arrive, you will prep your house for me. Close all the blinds, put the restraints under your bed, and light an erotic scented candle. (Find a safe place for that candle, obviously). Place all the toys on the kitchen table, including the vibrator I secretly left with you last time. It's behind your dresser. When you're ready, put a key in your mailbox and lock the front door. Then take off all your clothes, put them away, and kneel in front of the door. I will come some time between 5 and 9 pm. Do not put any clock or time-telling device within sight of you, and God help you if you're not on your knees to greet me when I arrive."

Well, needless to say, that last requirement frightened me. I could be on my knees, naked, hard and waiting for as long as four hours and I'd have no way of knowing how long I was there. But I was going to do as told. So, after returning from buying a candle, I set the house up exactly as she wanted, put the key in the mailbox, locked the door, stripped, and kneeled.

I don't know exactly how long I waited, but it wasn't a short period of time. My guess would have been around an hour. I had thought this would have been an opportunity to calm my nerves a little, but my anxiety only grew and grew and grew as I waited for her. I was erect the entire time.

Finally I heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. My heart jumped. When she opened the door, I saw a sight that I will not soon forget. She was in one of the most elegant dresses I had ever seen -- a ball gown, I suspect. It was pink, strapless, and floor length, studded with stones and with a slit up the leg. Silk, I think. She also wore a necklace with a large green stone, and was made up to match the outfit. Her, looking the most elegant I had ever seen her. Me, on my knees, naked. Oh God.

She closed the door behind her and walked a circle around me. "Oh my, look at you," she said in a sexy half-whisper that made me shiver. I'd have complimented her looks as well, but I remember that I had a rule last time to not speak unless spoken to. I assumed it still applied.

She completed her circle around me and placed her hand in front of my mouth. I did nothing, because I had been told to do nothing, but I desperately wanted to kiss her hand passionately and vent some of my urgent frustration. She laughed as I grit my teeth. "Good boy," she said. Then, "Go ahead."

Unhesitatingly, I took her hand in mine and began licking her fingers hungrily, like I hadn't eaten in days and she was coated in food. I paid special attention to the spot between the fingers where all the nerve endings are, drawing slight sighs from her. Then I flipped the hand over and started licking the palm of it aggressively.

"Suck my fingers," she said. I started with her pinky, which I took into my mouth wholly and began to suck and bite slightly. She then took control, giving me a minute or so on each finger, before pulling it out and switching me to the ring finger, then the middle finger, then the pointer. She had me spend an especially long amount of time on the pointer, before, without removing it from my mouth, turned her hand over and hooked my upper teeth with it, then pulled up, implying I was to stand. I obeyed.

When we were both standing, she had me walk in front of her and open all the blinds in the house. To be honest, as frightening as this was, it was a pretty low-risk endeavor. Most of the windows in my house didn't face the front, and those that did were not easily seen from the street. That was what went through my head because I wasn't really thinking straight.

When we got to the entrance to my dining room, I stopped for a moment, until she said, "Well, go on."

My dining room window covers an entire wall and has a huge curtain in front of it. It faces right out into the street, and on the opposite wall is a mirror. If I were to open it, I'd be completely exposed. Even with what I'd just learned about her, I didn't believe she'd really want me to do that.

"What? Erica, you can't be ser-"

She looked sternly into my eyes and placed a finger on my mouth, implying I was to be silent, and I was. She dragged that finger down to my chin and turned my head to point in the direction she wanted me to go. I felt drunk with arousal knowing that she could control my entire body, and my pleasure, with just one finger. I started walking to the window, taking slow, anxious steps. I placed my hand on the inside of the left curtain and took a deep breath. Then another.

"The longer you hesitate," she said from the opposite side of the room, "the more unhappy I will be."

There was no way around it. I lifted the curtain and prayed nobody saw me. Then I lifted the other.

"Now get on your knees and put your hands behind your back."

I was down in front of a wide open window, facing the street in the early evening. It was a small side street, thank God, but the time of day meant people did pass by. Fortunately, nobody I recognized, and I kept my head down so they could not see my face, but people definitely saw and noticed. A middle-aged couple passed by, and a young woman walking a dog. They all looked in my direction. And God, I hated... loved it.

I could hear Erica's giggling and laughter at my state. She walked over to stand next to me. She pulled aside the slit in her dress to expose most of her leg, and said, "Now thank me properly for tormenting and exposing you."

I wrapped my arms around her free leg and began kissing it and licking it all over, interspersing it with "Thank you"s. Genuine "Thank you"s, not fake ones, because -- though I could hardly believe it -- I was actually thankful to her for pushing me to this. I was thankful that anyone who passed by would see a naked, throbbing boy submissively kissing the leg of a gorgeous, elegant, dressed-up woman, and I was grateful for that. I was grateful for her laughter at my frustration.

She pulled her leg away. I looked up at her with pleading eyes. She had in her hand the cuffs that I had left on the table, and the sleep mask I used as a blindfold. She pointed me to face the window again, which I did.

"Now," she said, as she cuffed my hands behind my back, "you're going to be punished for hesitating earlier." Then she slipped the blindfold on and walked away.

I sat there taking nervous breaths. It was a while before I heard her again. From not far away, but presumably out of the sight of the window, I heard the buzz of her vibrator. I jumped with excitement. She had clearly started using it because I heard her heavy breathing. I started breathing heavy with excitement and even struggled against the cuffs a little. I bucked my hips, making my exposure to the world all the more obscene. But she was taking her sweet time. It was a while before her breathing even turned to moaning, and then even longer before her moaning got louder and louder. My whimpers and movements corresponded, but, again, I assumed that she was not in view of the window. Those who passed by only saw me, handcuffed and squirming. Finally, she finished herself off, and I whimpered and almost cried because I was reminded that I hadn't even been touched in days, let alone gotten an orgasm.

"OK, boytoy," she said, "I think you've had enough of that." She came over and, using the same finger-in-my-mouth gesture as before, directed me to follow her without removing the cuffs or blindfold. I stood and followed her, as she led me to my bedroom. The smell of strawberry from the candle filled the room and enhanced the erotic atmosphere. As if I needed more motivation. She sat down on my bed and had me kneel at her feet.

"Tell me how you feel."

"I just ... want to be touched."

I felt her hands on my lower stomach. "Really?" she said.

I trembled and shook. Was she going to do it? "Yes, Jesus fucking Christ, please!"

She giggled and moved a little lower. I struggled to get out of the cuffs. I was pulsing. "Please!"

Then she took her hand away. I gritted my teeth and groaned. She giggled. "Did you think I'd make it easy on you?"

I laughed, best as I could. "You call this easy?"

"I do. Because I'm definitely not done teasing you." Then she undid the handcuffs.

"Would you like to undress me?" she asked.

"Oh God, yes, please, yes."

"Then you may. Stand up. But don't remove the blindfold until I tell you to. As you remove my clothes, thank me with words and kisses for letting you."

Blindly, excitedly, I reached out and, feeling around, I found the zipper of her dress, and unzipped it slowly, hard as that was to do, kissing every inch of skin as it was exposed and thanking her. Then I slid the dress of her shoulders and kissed her shoulders and collarbone, then slowly lowered the dress, kissing the back of her legs until it was on the ground. I was on all fours at her ankles when she told me to go back to my knees. I did.

She removed my blindfold, allowing me to look up at her dressed in a purple corset and matching panties. She was unthinkably beautiful, even when I wasn't frustrated. The sight of her body made me pant.

Looking sternly down at me, she said, "You may touch yourself, lightly, with your fingertips, OR you may kiss my thighs. One or the other."

Oh God ... I wanted both so badly. I had been aching, urging to be touched, just a little, just for a second, just once, for days. Dozens of times I came close to doing it without even realizing it and had to grab hold of something to stop myself and vent my frustration. But her legs ... oh, her beautiful legs, smooth and delicious. What would I choose?

That's when it occurred to me. The lesson I had learned from these seven days of suffering came back. In my state, my pleasure was second to hers. The decision was obvious, and if it took me more than 10 seconds to make the decision, I'd be surprised. I lunged forward and kissed and nibbled her thighs hungrily.

"Oooooh, good boy," she moaned. "Good choice." My cock throbbed, as if asking me why I didn't take the opportunity to give it what it wanted, but I didn't care. I was so happy and knew I'd made the right choice.

"I think you deserve a reward," she said, and she reached down and began to run her hand up and down my spine. Her warm touch made me gobble her thighs more.

Then she grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet, and played her favorite kissing game again: pulling my head close, but keeping just out of reach, no matter how much I lunged at her. I whimpered and begged. "Please kiss me. Please." Eventually she relented. It was the most intimate contact I'd had in several days so I made the most of it. I sucked her breath into me and tasted her delicious, soft lips. Oh God.

She told me to lie on the bed, then she pulled a chair over. "I want a show," she said, "but touch only your legs."

Christ, how was I going to do that? The urge to grab myself was already overwhelming. To stimulate the nerves there, while my hands were just inches away, was going to make me insane.

I reached down slowly and began to touch with my fingertips, just lightly at first, but within a moment the tension overcame me and I clenched my fists, then began rubbing roughly because it would minimize the stimulation.

"No," she said, "soft, like at first."

So I began touching lightly, to the best of my ability, but it only generated the blood flow to my dick. "Please," I whimpered, "please, can I touch myself, just once, just a little, for the love of God, please!"

"OK," she said, "once, with just a fingertip." So I lifted the tip of my pointer and lightly brushed my cock. It was nothing, just a slight touch, but given that it was the first contact I'd had in days, it was mindblowing. I jerked my head back and groaned loudly. Erica smiled.

"Back to your thighs," she said, and now, having gotten a taste of what I was missing, the task was even more difficult.

"That's enough," she said after several minutes. "Get up." I got off the bed and stood before her.

She looked deep into my eyes, chilling me. "Let's see if you can still make good decisions. You can touch yourself as much as you like, or you can kiss my neck."

I didn't hesitate for a second. I dove right at her neck, kissing, nibbling, generating those oh so sweet moans from between her lips. "Ooooooh," she sighed, "I love having you around my finger like this." I thanked her with whispers in her ear.

After a few minutes she pushed me forward slightly, then with a foot on my chest, pushed me all the way back onto the bed. She grabbed my wrists and locked them into the restraints, and my ankles too, then she blindfolded me. She kissed me. Then she kissed my neck. I moaned and thrashed.

"Thank me again," she said. I did. She went right back to my neck and I went right back to thrashing, best as I could being tied down like this. She spent several minutes there, and then went to my ear, where she whispered, "Lower?"

I inhaled deeply. "Yes ... please."

So she began kissing down my chest, slowly, so fucking slowly, hardly moving a centimeter with each kiss, and each kiss slightly stronger than the last. A peck, just barely shaking the hairs on my chest, was followed a little lower and lower and lower, until she was at my stomach, then my belly button, then below. And I was squirming and straining more and more each time. I could feel the cum building inside me, just wanting to be coaxed out with a little touch.

When she got to my waist, she stopped going south and started going east and west, making long lines with her tongue under my belly. Her chin almost touched my cock a few times but she was expertly careful to avoid contact. My poor, aching dick just continued to pulsate and tremble.

She jumped to my thighs, where she had made her greatest triumph last week, and started, as usual, nibbling and kissing, which I complemented with squirming and screaming and groaning and moaning and thrashing and whimpering, all with my hands and legs locked in place. Then she slid her tongue around to the spot just above my cock, all still expertly missing touching me, and started tracing circles just an inch above.

That was beyond bearable and I swear, those straps must have been made of lead, because there was no other way they could have resisted the force of my limbs otherwise at that moment. But Erica, unshaken and unconcerned, continued to do the exact same thing, simple circles, for what could have been an hour.

"Please baby, please touch me! Just a lick, just a kiss! Anything! Please!" But my begging barely made her change position, and I went on screaming and pulsing.

Soon, she stopped. Oh God, my head was spinning and my eyes, if they weren't blindfolded, would be cloudy. I just wanted to be touched, just a little, just a little stimulation, I could barely breathe. And I thought I was going to get a chance to catch my breath, but suddenly I felt her straddling my face.

Needless to say I began eating her furiously and with abandon. She grabbed my hair and pulled my head in closer. I wanted to use my hands but they were still bound, so I just fucked her with my tongue and listened as she got closer and closer, louder and louder, until she exploded in a furious orgasm. But I had learned my lesson from last time. I was not going to stop until she told me to. I kept on eating, even though she had completely smothered me and I could barely breathe, but I loved this vulnerable feeling, this urge that was unstoppable, that she had turned me into a whimpering mess, and I couldn't think about anything but sex.