Do Not Come #MasturbationMonday

Today’s Masturbation Monday post is all about another person being in control of pleasure, not self pleasure at all. I do hope it inspires a bit of self-love though!

My arse is on fire, I’m restrained, thrashing but unable to escape. I ‘m pushed to my limit and so completely turned on. I can’t think, only feel and all I’m feeling is fire, sting, pain and intense arousal.

Complete surrender and need fight inside me, wanting to please you by taking all the punishment you feel I deserve but needing release to the wet hot desire lodged between my thighs. I want to scream out and beg for mercy but I know that will only be met by a smirk. My safeword dances on my lips as pain explodes once more.

But then you stop. The silence lengthens and I wonder what you’re doing. Are you finding something else to torture me with? Are you surveying your handiwork?

“Good girl,” I start as you break the silence and gasp as your fingertips brush over my heated buttocks, slowly brushing lower until you run them into my wetness.

“Oh, you enjoyed that didn’t you?” You purr, stroking my wet lips.

“Yes, Sir,” I eagerly groan. Happy to finally express the desire pent up inside me.

You remove your fingers and I sigh. You loosen me from my bonds, ankles then wrists.

“Turn over.”

I scramble over eagerly then, as my buttocks hit the sheets, I regret my lack of care. Hissing I lift my bum off the bed and you laugh. I gingerly settle back down. I will feel this for days, every time I sit I will think of you and the way you have marked me.

Having just settled my weight so I’m relatively comfortable you grab my ankles and drag me down the bed. I scream as the pain erupts again and you just smirk, your blue eyes lightening with wicked pleasure. I bite back a smart comment. I hurt enough, I don’t want more punishment. I want you, need you, I have to have release.

With a wink, you drop to your knees. You drape my legs over your shoulders and I’m open for you. I blush, as you look at me so intimately. I hear you sniff and I know you can smell as well as see my arousal. I am the point where lust and embarrassment clash until your tongue, your lips, your beard press against me and I am lost in ecstasy.

Your hands cup my hips, I can feel their power resting there protectively as you lick, suck and devour me. I’m lost in ecstasy. Each explosion of delight reverberates with the pain of my stinging arse and I know I won’t last long.

You pull back. I look down to see what you’re doing. You lick your lips and smile at me.

“Don’t forget you must ask permission to come.”

With that you’re back, licking and prodding, sucking and moaning and driving me wild. I’m so close. I get ready to ask for permission and then…

“How will you give me permission?” I gasp, looking down at you, there between my thighs. Your closed eyes flick open and I can see the smirk there, feel it against my clit.

You have absolutely no intention of giving me permission.

“Please can I come?” I ask and you continue to lick.

“Please,” I groan, fingers digging into the sheets, head thrashing, “Please, Sir, can I come?”

No word of response just a heightening of the pressure on my clit and I know I’m going to have to be naughty, I can’t hold it back any longer. I’m going to come without permission and that will earn me more punishment and you know it. You set it up this way.

“Please?” I gasp desperately and you lash your tongue against my clit and I come. I come with a scream of pure pleasure and frustration. I come without permission. I come hard and long and you drink and lap and moan.

As the shudders subside I open my eyes. You stand and look down at me with a stern stare. You tut.

“Oh, dear,” you sigh. “You had to be naughty, didn’t you?”

© Victoria Blisse

Masturbation Monday

Victoria Blisse

Victoria Blisse is known as the Queen of Smut, Reverend to the kinky and is the Writer in Residence at Cocktails and Fuck Tales. She’s also an angel. Ask anyone. Mancunian Odd Duck, her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories along with her own particular brand of humour and romance that bring laughs and warm fuzzies in equal measure. Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

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