Tashi's NSFW (part one of is this joke even worth it?)

I am on my back on your bed, nervous as hell. The feeling of the cool metal wrapped lovingly around my cock didn't help the nerves, or the aching and persistent swelling of my trapped penis. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself, the lingering incense of your room whispering into my lungs.

Every motion of my body brought my massager into lingering contact with my prostate, and I try to lay as still as possible. But still, every flex of my hips, or abs, or especially kegels brought more stimulation, and a new drop to the faucet that was my cock.

The last time I'd been out of the cage was two weeks previous, when you'd decided that you wanted to see what palming felt like. The inflamed nerves all over my cock still remembered the relentless slick motion of your hand, the head especially tingling in fond fear of your torments. The torture seemed to last forever despite the rest breaks, but must have only been an hour or two, before you announced you were done and I was to be locked up again. We had cuddled together, and you petted my hair soothingly as I whimpered into your neck.

My cock tried to grow again, pressing vainly against the cold solidness of the cage. My attempts to change my train of thoughts had been useless, and I could only wait in dripping anticipation for you to appear.

And appear you did, finally. Your skirt was scandalously short, and your underwear seemed vanishingly small. As a classy person, you wore your panties beneath your garter belt. The stockings ended at mid-thigh, leaving a large tempting swathe of eager flesh to caress. The corset was brand new and the bones skimmed and fitted to your body just so, the lush fabric coloured with deep greens and muted golds.

You smile at me as you step closer to the bed, letting the scent of your perfume announce you. You're gently holding an item in each hand. The left, a paddle. The right, a small handheld wand. My body shivers as I take you in, and I slowly curl up, whimpering softly. A raise brow is all I need to straighten back out. My reward for this act of submission is for you to straddle my face, keeping your barely clad pussy mere inches away from my face.

“The better job you do of making me come, the more chances I have of being nice.” Your knees weigh down on my shoulders as you keep yourself barely away from me. The vibrator clicks on, and the paddle begins to stroke my swollen balls.

“Begin,” you say, mockingly and comfortably authoritative. I do, and raise my face into your thonged crotch. My eager lips and tongue suck and nibble at all the sweetest places you've shown me, and your ministrations begin. The head of the wand presses against the eager swollen flesh of my trapped cock, and the paddle begins its work.

The better I did, the harder you went with both. Relentless and a little cruel, you drive me ever to the edge, then back off. In those moments of break for my cock, you lower yourself down and put your full weight on my face. The better I do, the sooner the break stops.

Time seemed to stand still, and stretch on ever onward. It became merely your cunt, and the taste and smell of it on me, and your ass, and greedily worshipping both. I can hear you moan and writhe above me, your hips rocking in slow circles as you keep teasing my cock to a caged edge, and spanking my balls as freely as you like. Sometimes, you drop the paddle and just squeeze them in you hand, then slap them back and forth.

 

Every hit, every moment of contact with that wicked wand, every taste of your juices down my throat, causes me to moan, whimper and writhe under you. And every motion of my body tickles that poor, swollen prostate... Were I wearing underwear, they'd be soaked in precum.

Finally you press down on me and you don't stop your tortures. I know, my the sound and feel of you, that you're close. I devour you, ravenous to make you feel that flood on my face. And I can taste it approaching, my own orgasm fast on the trail. And just as I cannot hold it back, and the final bridge is past, you toss the vibrator aside and redouble your beatings of my balls. My hips thrust up vainly, desperate for just a little more contact, just enough...

But that contact never arrives, and the orgasm is ruined. My come merely oozes slowly out of my tumescent cock, pushed by my pelvic muscles and the massager. You give a sudden cry above me and you come messily, my mouth lapping as much as it can.

Finally, your orgasm subsides, and mine continues to gently and cruelly dribble out. I whimper beneath you, shivering with need. My cock is as swollen and aching as ever, except twice as sensitive as before, and twice as desperate to come. My balls ache, feeling bloated and full despite of being emptied over the course of an hour. You lay down next to me, cooing softly and kissing my face and lips. I return your kisses eagerly, purring.

Your fingers dip into the come that dripped onto my balls, and scoops some up. You bring it up to my mouth, trace it slowly over my lips, giving them an inviting gloss.

“That was fun,” you declare, satiated. Your eyes however are still hungry, and the evil smile I've learnt to fear crops up again. You slide your come-covered finger into my mouth, and I suck it off hungrily.

“How about we do it again in say... A month?” you say before you kiss me deeply.