Frustration

another quickie…with thanks to Ancient Owner for the picture which grew this idea…

“You may come at any time–as many times as you like, pet.”

Against her ear, the heat of his breath tickled. There was a faint click, the warmth of him behind her, then the low and steady purr of the Hitachi. He tugged off the blindfold, then moved across the room to his chair. A glass of wine in hand, he sat, crossing one leg over the other, and watched her.

Tied to the chair, legs spread wide, she’d expected him to mount the big vibe, press it hard against her. He enjoyed confusing her, enjoyed teasing her. She hadn’t come in a week. Her desperation for an orgasm made her forget, for a moment, the sadist who lurked within the veneer of civility. To her confusion, he’d tied the Hitachi so that it hung down from the hook in the ceiling. It rested just at her pussy–just a whisper of touch against her yearning cunt.

Arching her back only bumped it, moved it away, set it to swinging and wobbling. The vibe hit her clit, making her moan, but there was never enough pressure to push her over the edge.

Whining, frustrated, she mewed around the gag, a long tendril of saliva trailing from the corner of her mouth to her tit, then down to her writhing belly. She threw a fulminating glare towards where he sat.

He lifted his glass in a silent toast, and smiling, sipped.