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  • Frustration Pt. 01

Frustration Pt. 01

I wait.

In the candlelit, perfumed dimness of your bedroom, I wait. My cock is throbbing, aching, practically screaming to be allowed to cum. My balls - well, my balls feel like they've swollen to three times their normal size and are pulsing with a deep-seated ache, a dull pounding that feels as if something is inside me, hammering to get out. I want more than anything in the world to be able to touch my cock, jack it hard and fast until the hot cum explodes...but I can't.

You, being the dominant bitch that you are, have left me restrained. I am fully naked, standing upright and spread eagled against a wooden X-cross, my wrists and ankles bound tight with soft leather straps to the four ends of the cross. Three more, larger straps keep my thighs, waist and chest pinned. Even my head is bound tight - yet another strap is cinched across my forehead, and I can only look straight ahead.

I have been this way for some time, I don't know how long, ever since you gave my aching dick a final, light caress after a long teasing session, kissed me gently on the cheek, and said you had to go out for awhile. You wouldn't say for how long. I tried to protest, sweat standing out on my brow, but I couldn't: in the final humiliation, you had fixed a dildo gag firmly into my mouth and strapped it tight around the back of my head. The shorter side of the gag, the part in my mouth, was still long and thick enough to make it impossible to utter more than a few muffled grunts. The longer side was a thick, ridged, veiny black hard rubber cock with a monstrous, bulbous head, jutting a good ten inches out from my face. During the tease session you had repeatedly driven me mad by sucking on the dildo, softly and sensually, keeping your gaze locked on mine the entire time. It makes me almost weep with frustration even now, just to think about it.

Here I am now, bound tight, dildo gag strapped immovably in place, naked, covered in a light sheen of sweat that make the slight movements of air in the room sheer torture on my hot, blood-engorged cock. There is complete silence in the house. Every time I think I hear a noise my heart leaps - maybe you've finally returned, and maybe you're in a mood to finally give my cock and balls the release they so desperately need. But each time I'm disappointed; it's a neighbor's car, somebody walking by outside, never you. My wait stretches into eternity, and I know nothing but silence and the deep, almost inhuman ache in my groin.

The story of how I ended up here is a deceptively simple one. Boy meets girl, boy and girl discover mutual interest in BDSM, boy lets girl dominate him. Run-of-the-mill romance.

Hardly.

---

You worked as a dancer at one of the nicer gentlemen's clubs in town, one that I began to frequent when my job required me to relocate across town. Being single and unattached, it was easy enough to pack up my small apartment and find another one, and shortly after settling in I went out on a Friday night to check out the nightlife in my new neighborhood. Your club had a reputation among locals as having the hottest dancers and the best brew selection; both turned out to be true.

My first time there, I went with a couple of other guys from my new apartment complex. We ordered microbrews and sat near the stage, where an eye-poppingly gorgeous blonde with enormous tits was writhing around a gleaming pole like a sexy snake. We sipped our beers and watched appreciatively as she wrapped long, muscular legs around the pole and leaned back, showing an impossible flexibility, bending her head almost to the floor behind her, her styled blonde hair falling around her and her boobs jutting straight up at the ceiling. All of us showed her some love in the form of twenties we slipped into her tiny g-string. In return we each got a nice little ass wiggle. She was drop-dead gorgeous, all right, and I don't know about my companions, but I had a pretty good hard-on by the time her show was over and she left the stage.

Then you came on, and I forgot all about the blonde.

The DJ announced you simply as "Miss Diamond," and you strutted onstage to the beat of Katy Perry's "Roar." My first impression of you was one of total self-assurance - you projected confidence like a lioness. You owned the place; not just the stage, but the entire room, instantly and effortlessly becoming the focal point of every eye.

Mocha skin; long straight jet-black hair; a slender and athletic build; big tits - these were some of my first impressions. But what stood out most of all was your face - your exotic, almond-shaped face with deep dark eyes that were slightly uptilted, suggesting some oriental ancestry. Your mouth was a bow curved into a small and wicked-looking smile. You wore a form-fitting leather bustier, fishnet stockings, and what looked like eight-inch stiletto platform heels. Your breasts filled out the bustier nicely, bulging slightly and providing the room with a nice glimpse of ample cleavage.

As you slowly circled the stage you seemed to meet the eye of everybody in the room in turn, fixing each person with your gaze for a moment, then moving on. Your walk was balanced and confident, which, along with the heels, gave the impression of someone very tall (I would find out later that you were only about five-six, but by then your dominant, type-A personality had made that completely irrelevant). You reached the side of the stage where I sat, and your eyes found mine for the first time. In the space of a few short seconds, you seemed to see into me in a way that I found unsettling and exciting at the same time. When your eyes released mine, I realized my cock was at full staff and I could feel precum oozing out into my boxers. Your smile seemed to widen just slightly as you looked away from me, as if you knew exactly what effect you'd had.

I have no idea how long your show lasted, but it wasn't nearly long enough. My eyes never left the stage, and when I think back on it, the memory is wrapped in a gauzy fog of entrancement. Even then, before we had even met, I was utterly under your spell - I think I was lost with that first eye contact. I remember your lithe body swaying under the pulsing lights, hypnotic movements almost like a ritual, removal of clothing so smoothly that it hardly seemed to happen at all. You took forever to reveal your breasts to your enraptured audience, teasing with little flashes of boob and nipple here and there, thrown into your erotic dance almost like afterthoughts, but without a doubt carefully planned for maximum effect - as I learned all too well later, you are a masterful cockteaser. When you finally did strip off the bustier completely and expose your tits, my jaw dropped. They were large, probably double-D, and deliciously firm, set high and tipped with hard little nipples that were a very dark chocolate brown, and they made my mouth water.

Afterwards, I asked the bartender about your show schedule, not wanting to miss the next one.

"Ask her yourself, buddy," he said, and slipped a folded piece of paper across the bar to me.

On the paper, in elegant, flowing script, was a single curt command: Come to my dressing room.

---

I didn't even have to think about it. I made my way backstage, heart pounding, mouth dry, and after a few wrong turns found myself outside a closed door with a capital D on it in old English script. I knocked hesitantly.

You opened the door, and my knees immediately felt weak. You were even more exotically beautiful up close than you had been on stage. Your almond face had only the lightest makeup, just subtle accents here and there, especially around your eyes, accentuating their small upward oriental tilt. You were wearing a black silk robe, tied at the waist, and your hair was done up in a careless ponytail draped across one shoulder. The robe barely covered your nipples and left most of your delectably big boobs exposed. It was short, too, ending right below your ass and showing off your sexy legs in their entirety.

"Come in, baby," you whispered softly, locking eyes with me. When I hesitated out of sheer nervousness, your dark eyes narrowed. "In. Now."

The iron authority behind that soft command sent a tingle through my groin and made me obey instantly. I've never thought of myself as particularly submissive, but there was no resisting that voice or those eyes; my legs moved me forward into the small room before I was even aware of it.

You closed the door behind me, and locked it.

"Stand right there," you ordered. I stood stock still. You were behind me, and I heard a soft rustling sound. "I've just dropped my robe, baby," you cooed, moving close behind me and whispering in my ear. I instinctively began to turn, and you responded immediately.

"Don't you dare turn around until I tell you to." The cooing was gone, replaced by that same unquestionable authority. I would learn in time that this was one of your most effective mind-fucks: flipping the switch between sweet sensuality and dominating bitch with no warning whatsoever.

"Okay," I said, feeling like a fucking idiot.

"You will address me as either ma'am or mistress," she said sternly.

Wondering what the fuck you were doing to my head, I answered, almost against my will, "Okay, ma'am."

"Better," you cooed softly, moving up so close behind me that I could smell your perfume, an intoxicatingly feminine musk, and feel your hard nipples graze the middle of my back. I felt your hands on my back. You lightly raked your nails down my shoulders to my waist, and abruptly pulled my shirt out of the waistband of my jeans.

"Take this off. Now."

"Yes, mistress," I said. I took the shirt off and let it drop. You were still behind me, and not being able to see what you were doing was giving me an indescribable feeling of unease and pleasure.

I felt your cool, slender fingers and sharp nails on my bare skin, caressing my shoulders and probing gently around my sides, in those areas where many people are ticklish. I'm not, but the feeling of vulnerability made me squirm a bit.

"Nervous, baby?" you asked sweetly.

"A little, mistress," I answered.

"Don't be. I'll take good care of you."

With that you pressed your entire body up against my back, slipping both arms around in front. Your big, firm breasts pressed deliciously against me, nipples poking into my skin. My cock, trapped inside my jeans, bulged insanely. One of your hands slid gently up my chest and found a nipple, and began to tease it lightly. You pinched it gently between two fingernails and began to massage it. I looked down, and saw that your nails were perfectly manicured, colored dark red, contrasting exquisitely with your light brown skin. The nipple teasing became more intense, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to squirm.

You put your mouth right next to my ear. "What's wrong, honey? Do you have sensitive nipples? Hmmmmm?" You gave my nipple a hard little pinch between your nails, and I gasped. "I guess you do, baby, I guess you do. I'll have to remember that."

Then, before I could process what was happening, you dropped both hands to my belt and undid the buckle in one smooth motion. My button and fly were next.

"Hold you hands above your head and press them together," you ordered.

"What?" I said, confused.

That earned me a viciously hard nipple pinching, on both of them. I cried out in pain.

"It's a simple thing," you said, back into bitch mode. "Put your fucking hands above your head, and press them together. Now. Or I'll send you out of here with your nipples swollen up like ripe cherries."

I knew you meant it.

"Yes, ma'am," I said and quickly raised my hands over my head, and pressed my palms together,

"Good," you said, and dropped your hands back to my jeans. I felt inwardly relieved that your fingers were away from my sore nipples. You pulled my jeans and boxers down in one quick jerk, leaving them around my ankles.

My throbbing dick sprang up as soon as it was free of my pants, and bobbed in the air. My cock is pretty big, maybe nine inches, with a flared head that my ex-girlfriends had always thought looked strange until they discovered what it did to them when we fucked. Then they loved it. Precum dripped freely from the tip.

Without a word you walked around in front of me. Your gorgeous boobs jiggled gently as you moved. You were completely nude, and your toned body was evidence of a lot of time spent at the gym. You had a navel piercing, a small bar with a little chain on it, maybe a quarter of an inch long. At the end of the chain was a tiny diamond. Below this, I saw that your pussy was shaved clean. A hint of your pussy lips showed between your legs. At the sight of that, I almost fucking fainted.

Standing there, almost naked myself, arms above my head, nipples exposed, stiff cock bobbing in midair, I suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable, and the part of my mind that wasn't overcome with lust wondered what I was getting myself into. But mostly what I was thinking was: god damn I'm fucking horny as shit, and I'll do any damn thing this woman tells me to do, if only she'll get me off.

And in hindsight, I realize that's exactly what you'd intended. You would fuck me physically later - oh yes, my mouth and asshole would become your personal property soon enough - but right from that first encounter you had me deeply, intimately, and thoroughly mind-fucked.

---

That first teasing session in your dressing room lasted maybe a half hour - tame compared to what would come later, but more than enough to ensure that I was thoroughly addicted to you. You caressed my ass, stroked my face, teased the backs of my knees - every sensitive area of my body you found and exploited. Except, of course, for my cock and balls. I was trembling, sweating, hands still pressed together above my head (because you had not told me I could do otherwise), my jaw clenched in the most intense sexual frustration I'd ever felt up to that time. Precum slid off the end of my throbbing dick in a continuous trickle and made a small puddle on the floor in front of me. Every time your soft, cool hands or your warm lips and tongue made contact with some part of me I shuddered with a mix of pleasure and agonizing need for release. At one point you focused on my tender nipples with your mouth for several minutes, going back and forth between them, licking, sucking, nibbling, and biting; and sheer overstimulation made me cry out involuntarily. This earned me a hard slap on my ass and a stern command to shut the fuck up. I did, and the teasing manual and oral caresses over my body continued until I thought I would scream or faint.

Then, after an eternity, you stood back from me a step or two and looked down at my aching penis. I watched you with desperate hope, and my pulse raced when you smiled and knelt in front of me. You cupped one breast in your hand and lifted it so the nipple was almost touching my moist, slick cockhead. Then, very lightly, you grazed the nipple across my sensitized glans, once. I suppressed a loud moan, and it came through clenched teeth as a low whimper. You giggled.

Then, I watched with disbelief as you licked your lips and lowered your mouth to within inches of my cock. You parted your lips slightly, and exhaled sweet, warm breath across the sweaty skin. My body trembled with aching pleasure at the sensation. You licked your lips lazily, looking up at me for a moment, then leaned in with your mouth open. I closed my eyes in anticipation.

What I felt instead of your gloriously warm mouth enveloping me was a very light, almost feathery caress of your fingernails down the length of my shaft to the base, and a little tickle of my balls, then...nothing. My eyes still closed, I heard you stand up and walk away.

"You can put your hands down now, babe," you said matter-of-factly.

I lowered my trembling arms and opened my eyes. You were putting on the robe again, and unlocking the door.

I nearly wept with frustration and disappointment. My stiff and aching dick felt like it was ten feet long and twenty inches thick You must have seen my emotions written across my face like neon, because you smiled wickedly.

"Something wrong, hon?"

I tried to speak and found my mouth too dry to utter more than a whisper.

"I'm so fucking horny, ma'am."

Your mouth curved downward in a sarcastic little pout.

"Awww, I'm sorry, baby. But time's up. I have places to go."

You pointed at my clothes on the floor.

"Put those on, and go. I'm sure you can take care of that-" she glanced at my twitching penis "-when you get home."

She began to open the dressing room door. I suddenly realized there were voices in the hallway outside, and here I was, butt naked with a monster hard-on. I quickly grabbed my shirt and pants and yanked them on as you swung the door open. People were passing back and forth outside.

"Will I see you again, ma'am?" I asked hesitantly. God, I fucking hoped so!

"You will," you said softly. "You're mine now, don't you know that?"

And I realized that I did know it.

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