Choices

My slave is waiting for a punishment.

I gave him a nearly impossible decision last night. It was diabolical, really. Cum, and be punished. Don’t cum, and don’t be punished. (But I’m not promising you’ll have even the chance to cum again anytime soon. Think carefully.)

What would you do, slave readers? I’ll give you some context so you can make your choice….

My slave and I cuddled on the couch a bit last night. As usual, I lounged in some comfortable pajamas while he sat naked except for his two-inch-thick black leather collar, which for the last few weeks he has been commanded to wear whenever at home.

I was very engrossed in rereading Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, and I wasn’t sure I was much interested in sex that evening. But, naturally, with my slave’s warm body cuddled up beside me, my free hand did wander over to stroke now and then. My slave shaves himself, as I’ve mentioned before, and while I read I simply started sliding my fingers along that bare skin more and more. I wasn’t paying attention to it, really. Just petting. Enjoying the smooth skin over his pelvis. Scooping his balls into my palm and lightly squeezing. Trailing my fingertips up his slightly hardening shaft, feeling it jerk and twitch. Encircling the head tightly with my index finger and thumb, stroking down as the cock lengthened between my fingers. Slapping and tapping at it as it rose and bobbed higher into the air.

I didn’t look at it much. I didn’t look at him much. He sat there trembling, occasionally gasping a bit, his eyes focused on the floor or on my hand. He didn’t presume to try to attract my attention. He knew that I was focused elsewhere. My slave does not impose upon me when I’m enjoying myself.

Around the time my slave started whimpering, I came to the end of a pivotal chapter. I knew it was time to pause in my reading, but I wasn’t quite ready for sleep. My body had enjoyed the slow, gentle arousal of sitting next to my naked slave, registering his incredible horniness in a distant part of my mind. My pussy was soft and a little moist; my nipples were getting tight against my soft cotton shirt. I smiled the cat-that-ate-the-canary smile that always frightens and excites my slave, and I said, “Meet me in the bedroom, slave. And bring me a glass of water.”

A whimper escaped him, and he stood up immediately, his head down, responding, “Yes, Mistress,” in that hushed tone he uses when feeling submissive.

By the time he reached the bedroom, I lay naked against our satiny golden sheets, my hand between my thighs spreading the dampness around, circling my clit, testing the waters.

“Bring me the vibrator and come lie next to me. Play with my nipples,” I commanded simply. He placed the vibrator within easy reach and lay down alongside me, careful not touch me in any way I had not requested.

My slave knew how I liked my nipples touched. I had taught him myself, very clearly. I did not worry about insulting him or hurting his feelings by insinuating that he didn’t do it well enough himself. He wants to please me, and I want maximum pleasure. When I explicitly teach him what pleases me, we both win.

I continued touching myself, dipping into the moisture welling from my pussy, slicking it up to my sensitive clit, while he began to play. He brought the soft, cool sheet over my chest and brushed both my nipples with his fingers at the same time, the sensation drawing a gasp from me as a surge of pleasure shot through my clit. He stroked my breasts through the cloth for a few moments, and then, as I drew out the vibrator, he removed it so I could feel his hands against my bare skin.

I delved between my lips with the vibrator, quickly ramping up the setting since I was already highly aroused and ready for stimulation. My slave’s cock was probably hard; his hips were rhythmically grinding against the air. I cannot say exactly what he was doing or thinking. I wasn’t paying attention. I was getting so close.

His fingers circled my breasts until my body was reaching toward him, begging for that touch. The vibrator was in the perfect spot, my clit about to ignite, my every muscle tensing in anticipation. I heard myself begin whimpering too, small noises deep in my throat, aching, pleading noises. Finally, when I was about to command it, when I was poised to explode, his fingers pinched my nipples, hard but perfect, and I came hard, screaming, moaning, my body arching off the bed, the vibrator still pressed against my clit.

Slowly the tremors slowed, contentment spread throughout my body, and my awareness grew. My slave’s hands stroked away from my nipples, down my abdomen, pressing against me lightly but hopefully. I sighed in satisfaction and turned my face toward him, nuzzling his chest below the collar, biting his nipple gently. I noticed his whimpering, his grinding, his eyes moving back and forth between my face to my cunny.

“Mmm,” I sighed again. “Not tonight, slave. I’m so content.”

He whined loudly in protest, his hips thrusting hard in disappointed reaction.

“Not at all?”

“No.”

“But Mistress, when may slave cum again?”

I took a moment to consider. We have ventured only so far into orgasm denial territory yet, and I didn’t want to press him too hard. But neither did I want to give in simply because he was horny. I was pleased with the night’s work.

“You have a choice to make, slave. After I go to sleep, you will stroke yourself to the edge. You can then either cum or not cum. If you cum, you will be punished. I will tie you face down to the bed, your legs spread wide, your ass in the air, completely vulnerable to me. I will crop you, hard, fifty times. And then you will lie there and wonder whether I am going to get the vibrator and use it to fuck your ass.”

He lay there groaning, his hand already fastened to the hard cock, moving up and down.

“If you don’t cum,” I continued, “you will not be punished. But I don’t know when you’ll cum again. And you may still incur punishment for something else in the next few days. Who knows?”

“But Mistress, this is an impossible decision!”

“You have your orders, slave.”

With that, I turned off the lamp, curled up on my side, and drifted off to sleep.

As I said, my slave is waiting for a punishment today. I guess you know what he chose. Can you blame him?

Mistress K