Like a Music Recital

After the day is done, we are starting to wind down, or so I think, and you tell me it’s time to head back and get the cuffs and remove my cage.  I look at you with an odd look on my face.  The way you say it makes it seem like there’s an appointment or something along those lines.  If there is, I’m missing it.  I am, however, not complaining.

I go back, return with my cuffs and hand them to you.  You point at the floor and tell me to kneel.  There’s no hiding the impact your words have as I am almost instantly hard.  You put the cuffs on me, my wrists first.  Then you put what are typically my ankle cuffs on my arms, just above my elbow.   When you move behind me, you clip each wrist to the opposite arm’s elbow cuff.  I’m locked in a tight and fairly uncomfortable square hold on my arms behind me.

Pulling me up by my arms, you pull me to near the wall and tell me to sit, with my legs out, knees up as you sit behind me.  You’re in these sweatpants, a t-shirt.  Casual and gorgeous… and I’m naked essentially in your lap.  You reach around in front of me and bat me around playfully – “someone’s interested in playing…“‘

I start to say “Yes, ma’am…” but you immediately clap your hand over my mouth.  “I need you to just shut up.  I am busy with my toy.”  A split second later your hand releases for a split second, just long enough to cram your panties in my mouth and replace your hand over them. “There, that should keep you quiet…”

You reach around and bat me around again a few times, some harder, some softer than others.  You grab my balls and squeeze, I wince and start to bend over – you pull me back into you and squeeze harder.  “No moving either…”

You have lube you’ve hidden away and I watch as you slowly drizzle and drip it on me, wiping it all around, making a show of making sure I’m covered and messy and making excuses that you can’t see me, so have to make sure it’s right.  It is.

As you slowly start stroking, you’re alternating between these monstrously strong grip strokes and light touches, single finger wrings and your whole hand.  It’s this odd, insane, crazy-inducing rush through my body, starting at my cock, shooting north.

You stop stroking and start batting me around again, just poking at me, making fun at how much control you have over me, how much you can make me, literally at the moment, dance for you, then grab me and start furiously stroking.

I start trying to concentrate, to pull some level of control and management of this whole thing out of the air.  All of my stand-by techniques to block are somehow not working.  It’s like this bizarre assault that has removed my tools – my hands are immobilized, even hurting a bit in my arms from the tightness, I’m sitting up, so can’t control the pressure, and you’re stroking and teasing me just as you know it most gets to me.

Faster.  Longer strokes.  Running your palm around and around just the head.

Then you start whispering nasty, awful, terrible, sexy things you want to do.  You tell me in the greatest of detail what you want to do, where you want to do it, how it will all transpire.  I’m in this weird space where I close my eyes, it’s like it’s really happening just as you’re describing.  It’s like my cock has taken over all functional thinking and control and you’re completing driving and managing what’s flowing through my brain.  And it’s screaming.

I feel this sharp scream from my chest as you grab, squeeze, twist and release my nipple with your other hand.  It only lasts a flash, but it makes this white flash of “OH FUCK!” go blowing through my head.  Before it even registers what’s happening in the context of the words you’re telling me, and with my brain fully focused on your stroking hand, you’re done tweaking.  You repeat this, all the while describing the scene, describing what we’re doing.  My head is fully bought in.  My body is flying along this edge and you’re speeding up and slowing down and batting at me and grabbing me to keep me right there without coming down.

I feel like I’m being played at some recital… like an instrument.  And you’re the musician.  It flashes through my head that I shouldn’t be this easy.  But I almost literally laugh out loud at the thought.  Yeah, right.

I feel myself start to topple over the top and grunt at you through your panties – trying to get you to stop if that’s what you want.  You keep going, pushing me, keeping me on the edge.

Faster.  Slower. Lighter touch.  Firm.  Really firm.  Long strokes.  Just the head.  Batting me around.  I’m frantically stabbing at the air trying to get you to finish the job, panting like an animal and trying to move around but I just can’t get any control because every time I shift, you take back control just by doing what you’re doing to my “handle.”

I feel like my brain is going to explode.

I feel the orgasm start to build and start making noise again.  You’re not slowing down, but instead you just whisper in my ear “You really don’t want to do that.  You’ll pay a very painful price if you do…” but you’re not slowing down.

“I’m going to force this orgasm.  You can fight me.  And it’s going to be painful.  But I’m taking this from you.  It’s mine.  You have no choice.  I’m taking it.”  You tighten your grip even more, I feel a squirt of cold, then faster, faster, faster pumping on me.

“Go ahead, cum if you dare.”

It’s a challenge, not permission.

I am fighting you.  My breath, my body, everything I have to not cum.  You’re fighting me back, literally taking it from me, forcing it.

I can’t hold it back any more.  I feel it rushing from the tip of my head, building through my chest, my stomach, my groin.  I feel this explosion of nerves inside me.  This complete uncontrolled orgasm.

I also feel this insanely tight grip of your hand as you stop just as I start to crash over the top.  I feel my body convulsing, trying to cum, and and I feel you grip tighter and tighter, keeping it from getting out of my body at all.  I feel this pain that the base of my cock that is like this odd burning sensation.  It’s like this extraordinary build up of pressure.  I also feel that white-hot pain in my chest again and then I hear something else.

I also hear you giggling.

My body is flipping around, mentally and physically.  My entire groin is convulsing and you’re stroking, now only with down strokes, extremely firmly.  Slowly.

I feel like I’m short-circuiting.

“Hey, you wrote that things are never just what they seem with me, I have to keep up my reputation.  And we have to keep these little guys inside where they belong…”

That giggle.

[SSC:  This is one of his tasks in order to gain a couple of extra chances at pie pieces for the game.  *giggle*]