Don't Cum

May 3

Don’t cum. His words echo in my ears as I lie splayed out on the spanking bench. It’s the one without the cushioning, the top thinner than the span of my hands.Drool slicks the surface beneath my face courtesy of the ball gag in my mouth. The edges are digging into my breasts as they spill over the sides. My arms are bound to the front legs, my ankles to the back. I’m on my tippy toes, just touching the floor, trying to relieve the pressure of the bench cutting into my inner thighs.

I’m also trying to lift myself away, just a little from the wand that’s buzzing between my legs.

Don’t cum. That was the order. Right before he switched it on.

“What are you doing?” he murmurs. A hand lands on the small of my back and pushes down. Precarious as I am, it takes almost no pressure to make me collapse full weight onto the bench. My inner thighs protest the bruising pressure. My clit pulses in delight.

Don’t. Cum.

“I like this new thing you bought,” he says. I hear a swishing sound and realize he’s whipping the cane I purchased through the air. Uh oh. I got that recently, and it hadn’t looked too terrifying at the vendor’s stall; hadn’t stung too badly when I’d whacked it against my palm.

He hits harder than I do, though.

“I bet this will make some pretty stripes,” he says.

That’s all the warning I get before he swishes it against the back of my thighs. It isn’t a hard strike, but usually he warms me up with the hand and the flogger. Today, all I got was the vibe and the cool cut of the spanking bench.

I hiss and lift up, trying to get away. I can’t: I’m bound at wrist and ankle.

“Ah ah,” he says. “Stay down.”

He pushes me back down against the wand, pressing hard so that my clit is crushed against it. For a second it’s too much, but then pleasure rushes forward. Oh, yes. There it is. Orgasm, about to flood through me.

Fuck. No. I tense, retracting my pelvic floor as hard as I can. The orgasm recedes, but it doesn’t go far. That’s not good. We’ve barely started.

His hand strokes across my ass.

“Did you just…?” he asks.

“Noooo!” I mumble around the gag.

“What?”

“No, Sir,” I correct myself quickly.

“Hmmm.”

One, two, three strikes in quick succession, all on the back of my thighs.

I feel the sting and hiss, and then it hits me, the deeper ***. The flare and throb. Fuuuuuck. I make pathetic little crying sounds, hoping for mercy.

“Oh yes,” he says. “Lovely lines. And they’re perfectly even, if I do say so myself. Now, we just need to do your ass to match.

I make an urgent little noise that I hope he’ll interpret as “please no”. Unfortunately he hears, “yes, please!”

Whack. Pause. Whack whack.

It’s worse this time. *** ricocheting from my ass all over my body. He grabs my ass and pulls my cheeks apart (damn him, he knows I like that) at the same time as he ***s me down harder onto the constant buzzing of the vibe.

No. No, no, no. I hold the orgasm off by sheer will, my teeth biting down hard on the ball gag, my forehead pressed into the slickness of my own saliva, my eyes squeezed closed.

“Almost had you there,” he says. I hear the smugness in his voice.

He steps away and I take the opportunity to lift myself up onto my toes, make the tiniest gap between my cunt and the wand head. What next?

The pinwheel. My absolute favorite. He runs it up the back of my ***d thighs, across my ass, and it hurts but it also brings every happy nere to life. As he rolls it over my shoulders and along the sides of my breasts, I shake uncontrollably. It’s like an all-body orgasm. Like trails of fire across my skin.

It’s not my clit, though, so it doesn’t count. #loopholes

“Careful,” he says. “I’ll turn your ass and thighs into a tic tac toe board if you cum.”

What he doesn’t know - and I’m not going to tell him - is that the pleasure running through my body right now is making me forget all about my clit. I’m in a hazy, happy place. I could do this all day.

Eventually, sadly, he takes the pinwheel away and I stop shaking. I lie heavily on the bench, my hips grinding down onto the wand. Now I want that, too.

“Take this and you can cum,” he promises me.

What is “this”? I turn my head and try to ***k, but he’s behind me and I’m bound too tightly to the bench.

“Head down,” he tells me. He straightens my head so that my face is pressed nose to bench, then sweeps my hair over my shoulder and out of the way. “Stay just like that,” he says.

What is he up to? I just have time to think the thought when SPLAT. A drop of hot wax lands at the top of my neck. Splat, splat, splat. He decorates my shoulders with droplets. It stings, but it doesn’t hurt. I love heat, and this feels amazing. I mewl like a cat, arching my back to show how much I like it. Drip, drip. He makes a trail down my spine. My every thought is fixed on the sensation. Chasing it, waiting for the next one. Lower, I think, lower, and he gives me what I want. The small of my back. The top of my crack. One hand pulls my ass cheek apart and it’s only then, when my clit pulses in absolute joy, that I realize I’m in trouble.

SPLAT.

A dribble of hot wax lands directly on my asshole and I explode. The orgasm is on me before I can think to stop it. I ride it out, pressed to the wand, my asshole clenching and dislodging the quickly drying wax. Oh God. Oh wow.

“Oh dear,” he says.

The amusement in his voice pulls me out of my orgasm haze. Don’t cum. That was the instruction.

“Oops?” I offer hopefully.

“Oops, indeed,” he replies. I hear him move across the room and then… shit. There’s that swishing sound again.

“So,” he says. “Tic tac toe. Do you want to be noughts or crosses?”

I don’t have time to answer before the cane lands with the first WHACK.