Alright, it seems like the Kinky sex day and Make love day concept isn’t that favorable to my agenda anymore. It’s been a week and he still yet make a move. Yes, he made love to me 2 days ago, but I was sure he was going to have kinky sex with me on the 6th day of our supposed ‘celibacy’. He didn’t and my anticipation only grew. When he still hadn’t make any move of having something kinky on the 7th day, I almost thought I would lose my mind. Then I figured, he must be enjoying this, my torment and disappointment. So, instead of having him torture me, I thought two person could play this game.
Since today is Sunday and I don’t have to leave for classes, today is the best day to get back to him. He is still in bed now and I think a good breakfast is best to kick start the day. So I prance into the room with a plate of sausage and eggs and before I enter, I knock on the exquisite wooden door loudly to announce my arrival. He stirs for a bit and then open his eyes. It doesn’t take too long before his eyes are wide open. Somewhere between astonishment and surprised. I’m not too sure. Anyway, I walk sultrily towards him and then I place the plate onto his lap. His eyes follow the plate.
“Your breakfast, sir.” I say nonchalantly.
He pause for a moment. And then he looks up to me. “Two eggs and a sausage?”
“Yes, sir. And some mayonnaise too, if you erm…look at there.” I gesture at the tip of the sausage where some bits of mayonnaise stain the otherwise pristine plate.
“Is this a game?” he asks coarsely. .
“Well, I don’t know, sir. Would you like to play with me?” I ask innocently, trailing my finger around the finery, which is a collar, around my neck.
When he doesn’t say a word for the next couple of seconds, I turn around and walk back out, reminding me to finish his breakfast before I leave.
After I close the door, I smile to myself. I guess that’s a success. Apparently, my choice of attire works like a charm. Nothing can beat the charm of an apron-clad nude. The tailed buttplug, basically a plug with an extension that looks like a cat’s tail seems to have an extra effect as well. I’m pretty sure he’s affected by me after witnessing the growth of his length under the thin bedspread.
Now, let’s do something drastic. A breakfast isn’t a breakfast without freshly squeeze orange juice. So I cut up a few oranges into halves, and then walks back into the room with the manual juicer in one hand and the oranges in the other. His eyes dart to me as soon as I enter. He squints them with a thin skewed smile on his face. He’s planning something. I know just by looking at his face. That sadistic bastard is trying to get back to me. But I’m not going to yield so easily. I walk to the night stand nearest to him and place the manual juicer and oranges on it.
Deliberately, while juicing the oranges, I stroke the peel like how I would with a cock. All the movements are smooth and calculated. I would say that my motion has obviously captivated him. He give a low laugh when he sees me licking the tip of the dome of the juicer once I’ve finished juicing everything.
“You are really naughty, aren’t you?” he growls.
“I don’t know what you are talking about, sir.” I feign innocence as I pour the juice from the container into the emptied glass on the nightstand.
“What am I going to do to you?” he threatens. His hand grip onto my fake tail and a light tug is enough to rag my breath. I give him a light moan before slapping his hand. He removes his hand but his eyes never leave me.
“Here’s your orange juice, sir.” I hand the juice to him, while deliberately pressing my other hand on his groin.
He takes the glass away from me and drinks it. All the while, his eyes are glaring at me. I watch him finishes the juice and when he finishes, I take the glass, the juicer, the peels, and the empty plate away and leave the room. How’s that for an effect. I’m sure he’s dying to screw me over and over again by now. All I have to do now is wait. My heart is throbbing now. It’s so intense. I wonder what he’s thinking now.
Anxiously, I go to the kitchen and clean the dirty dishes and have the orange peels thrown. I am so exhilarated in getting at him I don’t even notice him behind me while cleaning the glass. When he hugs me, I have to admit that I am a little surprise, I drop the glass into the sink. One arm around my belly pressing me against him and the other slips under the apron and gropes my bare breast. I melt against the contact. My alpha male is back. And he’s desperate for a release.
“Today’s going to be a kinky day.” he announces. He then strips me off my apron before lifting me up and brings me to his cellar.
Okay, so it isn’t such a good idea to disturb a sleeping beast. I’d never thought he would be this creative. But you reap what you sow. So, I’ve no complains but to brace for the intense pleasure awaiting for me.
He has me lie on top of a leather covered table. After securing my wrists to the surface of the table, he pulls my legs towards my head until my back curves and then has my ankles fasten beside my head. Yes, my ass is now pointing up. To ensure my comfort, he is kind enough to wedge a large cushion between my back and the table to give me some support.
“I think today I’ll teach you how to juice.” he says salaciously before giving my bare pussy a good glance. I shiver in excitement but before I could say anything witty, he has my mouth covered with some sort of leathery material with a hole in the middle. At first I thought it is for me to breath through but when he places a hose through with a funnel at the end, I know exactly what he meant by juicing. He’s going to feed me back my own pussy juice. Sick bastard. But strangely, the idea does arouse the shit out of me, figuratively of course. I won’t want to eat my own shit.
After making sure that I’m securely fasten, he presents some kind of electrical toothbrush to me. A thin wand, with a thicker base and a bulge at the tip. I scowl at the small device and give him a look of disbelief. I mean, is he trying to have me squirt using that pipsqueak? I won’t even cum without a good fuck. He is seriously underestimating me. Or am I overestimating myself?
I believe I am. Because fifteen minutes of direct contact with my clitoris, I am already shivering. The tiny wand packs a good punch and even worse if it’s constantly directed to your clitty. He exposes my sweet bud with his fingers and has been rubbing that devil around it ever since the beginning of this torture. Damn, I am going to cum for sure.
That’s what I thought. But the sadistic nature of him kicks in. He knows if I were to release now, only a small amount of juice would be squirted out and perhaps not even a drop. To make sure the tension build as much as possible before a release, he allows my clit to cool off by having the devil torture my butthole instead. He stuff the wand so deep inside me that I think I’m having a colonoscopy. He moves the wand in and out like a makeshift dildo to ass fuck me. Once he deems that my clit is cool enough for a second assault, he removes it from my butthole and presses that little bugger right at my bud.
Just like before, when I start to squirm too much, an indication that I’m about to cum, he ceases the assault and plugs it back into my butthole as if it belongs there. The constant change edges me indefinitely. I can’t cum with that thing in my ass, and he won’t let me cum when that thing is on my clit. It’s frustrating and it’s driving me mad. My eyes roll back as the pressure builds once again. My toes curl into fist and my fingers eat into my palm. The drive is maddening and he still isn’t contented with the pressure building between my legs. My pussy is already dripping juice and he still doesn’t seem to want me to have the finale.
I practically have to struggle with the restrains only then he is contented. To make sure I squirt everything out, he drops the wand and inserts three fingers into my soppy, overly edged pussy. The other hand picks up the funnel and aims the opening at my pussy. After several merciless strokes, my pussy gives in to the sheer pleasure erupted along with a stream of juice. I moan but is quickly silenced by the salty fluid entering my mouth.
He doesn’t stop. He knows that I still have some juice left inside me and determines to get everything out by relentlessly fingering me. I can’t move away, and I can’t hold myself from cumming with him fingering violently in my pussy. Second orgasm erupts, pouring some fluid out into the funnel and then the third orgasm. At the forth orgasm, I’m barely squirting anything but that sick fuck isn’t taking any chances and pushes me for the fifth orgasm. By that time, I am literally dry like a desert. Every last drop has been forcefully juiced out of my battered pussy.
But that doesn’t stop him from lapping at my swollen pussy. Instead of three fingers, he only uses two. But with his tongue working in unison with his fingers, there isn’t much I can do to stop myself from having another orgasm albeit the fact that I’ve just had 5. My 6th orgasm is basically like a normal orgasm, no squirting involved. And only by then he is satisfied and untied me from my back straining posture.