Three Agonizing Days Ch. 03

The last time I saw Erica, she tied my hands down and blindfolded me. She then got on top of me, and got herself off four times while riding me and using a vibrator on her clit, while telling me not to orgasm and smacking my face a few times. I almost wished she had put earplugs in as well, because although I could not see, the unspeakably beautiful sound of her orgasms made the task almost impossible. It took all my strength and willpower, but since I behaved so well, when she was finally done, she got off me and let me get myself off.

That was more than a week ago, and that was my last orgasm.

I remember, a while back, when I thought three days was unbearable. It's all relative, I suppose, but looking back, three days was a cinch. But since I had agreed to be Erica's denied toy indefinitely, she had been making it tougher and tougher on me. I once thought that watching porn was hard; listening to Erica get herself off on the phone was ten times worse. I was forced to hear the pleasure that I could not have, touching myself the whole time. Just as bad as her moans was the sense of comfort and satisfaction after the orgasm. She took deep breaths and relaxed while I humped the air, still in brutal agony. She loved it. And so did I.

It had reached the point that sitting still was difficult. I'd find myself trying to focus in class but ending up grinding my legs together, and catching myself, hoping nobody had noticed. Though given that I was rarely permitted to wear anything beneath my jeans, I suspected I had little ability to hide my erection.

By the fifth or sixth day, it was mostly pain. The sexual excitement, though still there, was masked by the severe ache of a throbbing cock just desperate to explode. Hopelessly listening for the slightest permission. But all that said, it was the best pain I'd ever felt. Any time I was unhappy about my situation, I just thought about how happy my pain was making Erica. And I smiled. If it got her off, I'd be in denial as long as she wanted. When I begged to cum, I was really saying, "Do to me what ever will make you most satisfied." I didn't even want to cum if she didn't want me to. And when she emailed me with instructions, I trembled, but I was also thrilled.

After nine days, I received this email:

"Get dressed up properly. Suit and all, nothing underneath of course. Put the nylon cuffs on your wrists and ankles. Try to cover them up with your clothes. ;) Meet me at Broadway and 51st at 6:00. Don't be late."

I tried to imagine what she had planned for me but I figured I should try to just go with the flow. I got myself dressed up properly, including the cuffs -- delightfully demeaning though they were -- and planned to get to the corner at 5 pm. I needed the extra time in case of a transit issue. During the commute, I was unable to sit still, as usual, but the anxiety was even worse now, given that Erica no doubt had something dark and devious planned for me. I know my heavy breathing drew attention to me, which made my rapidly-moving legs and bulge in my pants obvious.

I arrived around 5 at the street corner, and had to wait. In that part of the city at that time of day, the crowds were tremendous, and I tried my damnedest not to draw even more attention to myself as I stood there for an hour. But the midtown rush-hour crowd definitely saw me and my discomfort. I waited anxiously, checking the time on my phone almost every minute.

Around 5:50, she texted me: "I'll be late. Don't know when. Stay put." Oh God.

Now there was no point in checking my phone, but I did it anyway. I had no idea when she'd be there so I just had to stand there, but without knowing, my anxiety was unbearable. It was winter but I think I was actually sweating.

She arrived around 6:40. Thank God, I thought, finally. But I didn't say a word. She was dressed as elegantly as I was, and I wanted to tell her how gorgeous she was, but I knew not to speak until I was told to. Without ceremony, she walked right up to me and grabbed my lower arms, then slipped my sleeves up slightly to make sure the cuffs were there. "Good," she said, before slipping the sleeves back down. But she still had more to confirm. Right there, right on Broadway in Midtown, she unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, then reached in and grabbed me. I could have screamed, but bit my lip. Still, with my fists clenched, and my eyes shooting wide open, there is no way I wasn't noticed. "Good," she said, confirming that my throbbing dick was not confined by anything other than a pair of slacks. Then she removed her hand and zipped me back up.

"I have big plans for tonight," she said. I moaned slightly. Then she looked me in the eye roughly. "Behave," she said. I nodded, and resolved to keep my mouth shut.

She led me north, through the crowds. I looked at every business, wondering what she had planned. After about a block and a half, I saw something that I was pretty sure was the plan, although I prayed it wasn't: We were steps away from the city's best-known all-nude strip club. Oh God, please, please no. But I hoped in vain. She took me by the hand and led me right in.

I had never been in a strip club before, let alone after nine days of brutal frustration. We walked down a hallway and Erica selected a table, and she sat me down across from her. Gorgeous naked women walked around the room and I couldn't help letting my eyes wander. I throbbed and shook as a tall latin woman came to take our order. I stared blindly at her and shook my legs as Erica ordered us two beers. Our waitress walked away.

"You love me, right?" Erica asked.

"Yes."

"Then I don't want you looking at other women."

I couldn't think. Or at least I wasn't thinking. Because my confusion and shock and anxiety and frustration and real, physical pain boiled over, as I burst out, "Then why did you take me here?"

Huge, huge mistake. Without hesitation, she leaned forward and slapped me across the face. Thank God, the loud music drowned out the sound and nobody looked in our direction, but I had learned my lesson. When our waitress came back, desperate as I was to look, I kept my eyes down on the table, even while Erica flirted with her. I strained against my slacks as Erica continued to flirt with the women as they passed by, but I didn't see a single one of them.

After some time, 20 minutes or so, she said to me, "Stay here." Then she got up and walked away. I had no idea where she was or what she was doing, and I was horrified, but I didn't know if she was looking, so I kept my eyes on the table. After a few minutes, she came back and grabbed my arm. "Follow me," she said.

She led me through the room, all the while with me struggling to find my way without looking up. Eventually, we got to a room at the back of the club, where there was a room. She opened the door, and there was a small room with nothing but two chairs, a stereo, and speakers. Dear God, was she getting me a lap dance? She was out of her mind, and I loved it. Oh God, the pain. The sweet, sweet suffering. I wanted to get down on my knees right then and there and thank her for torturing me like a whore. There was nothing I wanted more.

She pointed to one of the chairs and I sat down. The back of the chair had several horizontal metal bars, and Erica walked around behind me, grabbed my wrists, and locked the cuffs together through one of the bars, immobilizing my arms. Then she came around and undid the cuff on one of my ankles, before slipping it around the chair leg, then back around my ankle, locking my leg in place. She did the same for the other.

"When she gets in," Erica asked, "do you want to be allowed to look?"

I nodded, though I wasn't sure if I really did, knowing how much worse it would make my condition.

"OK," she said, "you can look." Then she pulled her hair to the side and moved her neck close to my mouth. "Thank me for the privilege." I was so anxious to kiss her neck that I almost knocked the chair over with myself on it. I dove at her neck hungrily, kissing and nibbling and loving it, listening to her oh so beautiful moans that just made me agonizing pain so much worse. And, again, I loved that pain. I loved the way it made her smile. Just a little of her pleasure was worth all my pain.

When we heard the door opening, Erica pulled away. In walked a beautiful black woman, completely naked except for heels. Erica walked around behind me. I was disappointed. I had thought I'd want to see the stripper, but I actually just wanted to stare at Erica. My owner. My goddess.

"Hey," said the stripper.

"Hello," Erica said as she slipped my jacket backwards. "This is my denied toy."

The girl, looking at me and noticing my agony, grew a knowing, devious smile. "I know all about those," she said.

"Good," responded Erica, now slowly undoing my tie. "Then you probably know what I want. The more he aches," she was now untucking and unbuttoning my shirt, "the happier I'll be."

The stripper said, "Don't worry, I'll make your bitch suffer." I looked to the sky and prayed for help. I don't know if Erica knew she'd be picking another dominant girl, but I could sense the excitement.

"You know," Erica said as she began teasingly running her hands over my chest and stomach, "I wouldn't have expected to find another domme in a strip club."

"Oh, not at all. I love this job because I'm dominant. I get to show off my body and know I'm giving dozens of men a case of severe blue balls every night. It's an incredible power rush."

"Good point," said Erica. Listening to these two beautiful women talking about making men -- especially me -- frustrated as if I weren't there was so beautiful and I wanted nothing more than for Erica's hands to drift lower. I wanted it and didn't want it. She had me so owned and she knew it.

"Five songs, right?" said the girl.

Five songs!?

"Yep," said Erica, handing over the cash. The stripper hit play on the stereo, and didn't waste time. She was, right away, just inches from me, but it was Erica's hands that were driving me crazy. They were all over me as I watched this dark body get closer and closer, until finally she was grinding on my lap, stimulating me and making me groan.

Soon, Erica was kissing my neck and I grit my teeth and took deep breaths. I was so aroused that I probably could have gotten off from just the kissing if I wanted to. I literally felt the stream of cum inside me, wanting to get out, but I held it. When Erica bit the top of my ear I almost screamed.

"Wow, you really have him wound up, don't you?" said the dancer.

"I do," Erica responded. "Want to see?"

The girl stood up and backed off my lap. "As long as he stays tied down like that, sure." She backed up to sit on the ledge at the edge of the room as Erica, still reaching around from behind me, undid my pants and slipped them down. There I was, tied down and exposed in front of a stranger, literally pulsating. The girl bit her lip excitedly. Then, Erica began stroking me, and not slowly. I inhaled deeply in total shock, as she had given me no warning, and then I began gritting and groaning loudly, holding it in.

"Want to cum?"

"Yes, please, Erica, please."

"You can cum if she says you can."

I couldn't believe Erica was leaving that decision to a stranger, but after our experience, I guess she trusted the girl to make an appropriate decision. But I begged anyway.

"Please, miss, dear God, please tell her I can cum, please!" I forced out between breaths.

"Well," said the stripper, "your girl did say that the more you suffered, the happier she'd be. Besides, I'm having too much fun seeing you struggle. So I'm going to go with, 'No.'" I could have screamed.

"Thank her for denying you," Erica said.

"Thank ... you," I said.

"Good boy."

Erica kept up her pace throughout the whole of the last two songs, until finally, what she had paid for was over. The stripper blew us a kiss, told us to take a couple minutes and then left. Erica unhooked me and told me to get dressed. I was actually in so much pain that it had spread to the pit of my stomach and I wasn't sure if I could stand up fully. But I was going to obey orders, so I got up -- painfully -- and redressed myself.

As I walked over to her, she said, "We're not done yet." What in the hell else could she have planned?!

As she led me out of the club, I kept my eyes down again, unsure if the rules still applied. We got to the front. It was dark out now, but there was still a crowd, so I'm certain people noticed me. I had trouble walking straight. I may have looked drunk because my eyes were fogged over and I was slightly hunched over. I could see Erica smiling at my agony.

We walked a few blocks east, until we came upon a movie theater. It wasn't until we were right in front of it that I saw it was a porn theater. I didn't even realize those still existed, but it was exactly her plan, and I didn't even have the mental energy to be scared. She began looking at the titles, until she saw, "Schoolgirl Sluts," or something along those lines. She knew I had a thing for the schoolgirl look, so it really wasn't a contest. She went to the booth and said, "One goddess and one submissive sex toy, please." The man at the counter didn't bat an eye. He was probably used to it.

We went into the theater and sat in the back row. There were people in the theater, though I wouldn't call it crowded. Surprisingly, it wasn't all men. In fact, it was mostly couples. I suppose men who wanted to see porn alone mostly watched it at home nowadays. I also expected the theater to be filthy, but it wasn't. It was actually surprisingly clean.

As the lights dimmed, Erica unzipped my fly, and I sprung right out. Then she whispered in my ear, "If nobody looks at us until the end of the movie, you can cum however and wherever you want. If even one person glances our direction ... well, who knows." Oh dear God. I could barely keep from shrieking when touching myself at home at this point. What was she going to do to me? Whatever it was, it was only a couple hours. That's it. Just a couple more hours. If I can just be quiet for a couple hours, then I'll get to cum. Nine days of frustration over in just a couple hours of silence. I could do it. I had to do it.

The first scene of the film showed a schoolgirl in a purple skirt hitting on a teacher. Erica began stroking me slowly and I closed my eyes. "Open them," she whispered, and I did. I had to watch this wild sex scene as Erica's stroking mirrored the scene. When the two were flirting, her strokes were slow and deliberate. When they were kissing, slightly faster. When they started fucking, full speed. I grabbed the armrests and gritted my teeth. "Oh dear," she whispered. "She may be moaning loudly while she's pounded, but you best be silent." I'd have squinted my eyes in frustration if I hadn't been told to keep watching. I was bouncing in my seat, literally, much as I tried not to for fear it would make too much noise, but nobody noticed.

When the next scene started -- this time, two girls in skirts -- Erica lowered her mouth onto me. I didn't know how she could take all of me in, given how swollen I was, but she managed, and I could have screamed loudly enough to knock down the building, but again, I held it. It occurred to me that, with her in my lap, if someone looked, she wouldn't know. But I also knew that I didn't want to cum if she didn't want me to. There was no way I would lie if somebody looked. I wanted her to deny me if I broke a rule. The pleasure wouldn't come from the orgasm but from being used.

Then, as the next scene started, she whispered to me, "Slide back in your chair," as she lifted her dress and slid off her panties. Oh God, she wasn't going to do what I thought she was going to do. Oh God.

She got on top of me and straddled me but did not let me penetrate her. Instead, she grinded herself against me. It was agony not to be able to fuck her, but bearable agony. Then she started whispering, "Did you enjoy the club?"

I nodded.

"Tell me."

"I love it when you make me ache while showing me off for what I am."

"And what's that?"

"Your sex toy."

"You like when I tease you?"

"I only want to make you happy. If that means suffering, that's fine."

She smiled, then lifted herself slightly before sliding me in. My eyes shot wide open, my cheek muscles bent, my teeth bit down on my lip so hard I could have bled, but I didn't make a noise.

"Impressive," she whispered, as she gradually got faster. If I had thought I was in pain before, this was nothing. I could have thrashed and squealed but I tried with all my might to control my breathing. In, out, in, out.

"Start fucking me back," she said. And I did. But that was it. The air in my lungs, from my frustration, was building up aggressively. Jesus fucking Christ, have to hold it, have to hold it. It built and built as I bucked her up and down. I was about to cry. The moan was in my mouth now. A slight sound passed between my teeth and my lip. Nobody noticed. Then a slightly louder one. A woman turned her head and Erica noticed that woman over her shoulder.

"Oh dear," said Erica sarcastically. "That's just too bad." And she kept bucking on me.

I looked up at her with pleading eyes, as if to say, "Please, please another chance." I had never been so desperate in my life. Over a little squeal, after all of this? She had to show me some mercy. Oh God, baby, please, please show me some mercy. You're going to drive me out of my mind.

"Sorry, baby," she said. "You knew the rules."

I was on the verge of tears. But there was another voice in my head, a voice that had been growing exponentially louder and louder ever since Erica started using me. It was telling me how happy I was. I didn't really want to cum, because she was too proud of what she had done to me. If she didn't want me to release, I didn't want to release. The ache and misery made her happy, so what did it matter if I was? She had found the depths of my submission and brought them to the surface. And I still didn't quite believe that voice, but I believed it enough. And now, I had lost her game. There was no reason to keep my sounds in anymore. I groaned as loudly as I wanted to, and the whole theater saw and turned. Erica didn't skip a beat. I screamed and thrashed for this audience. "Thank me for denying you," Erica said.

"Thank you, thank you, God, thank you!" I screamed out. The whole theater knew I was in denial, and I loved it.