Monday, 26 September 2011

Torture

He felt his shoulders and back tense slightly, and his voice started to stammer slightly, but she took over for him, covering the lapse in conversation expertly. Underneath the tablecloth her hand stroked his thigh gently just above his knee, her index finger tracing small circles against the thin fabric of his trousers.

Flattening her palm against his thigh, her fingers curved slightly against his leg, and he gulped hard as her hand started to glide further up his leg. His grip on the fork was so tight his knuckles were going white, and his cock strained against his zip uncomfortably, desperately trying to escape. Looking over at her smirking lips, he could tell she knew the exact effect she was having, and his eyes begged her to either stop this game, or go all the way.

She raised an eyebrow a tiny bit, and then leant in for a soft lover’s kiss; his parents smiled, looking away, happy for their son and entirely uncomprehending of what was really happening, only a few feet from them. After a few short seconds, she pulled away from his hungry mouth, her pink pouting lips moving to his earlobe.

“You’re my little bitch, and I’m going to play with you however I want. Now shut up, and act natural” she told him. The commanding tone was familiar to him now, and he knew he could not hope to argue. Instead, he turned his attention back to the table, drinking his wine, trying to make smalltalk as her fingertips slid across the thick bulge of his shaft. She let out a demure cough to hide the noise, and then smiled innocently to his parents as her hand moved inside his pants.

He tensed again as he felt the air on his head underneath the table. Thank God the restaurant had long tablecloths, to hide her newest humiliating game. He had to bite his tongue to stop from moaning out loud as she used her fingers to tease the slit at the end of his cock; to trace the veins of his shaft; to tickle his balls through his trousers. He feigned coughing to hide his pleasure as he felt her fingers wrap around him, so soft and yet so tight; as she started to pump his cock, faster and faster; to squeeze him slightly harder at the base, as if she was milking him for his cum.

He started to blush gently, looking over at his Mistress, his eyes pleading again to stop this, and he felt his heart sink and his lust rise as his look was met with a smirk of defiance. He was hers, and she was enjoying this too much to stop.

He sipped his wine again, and tried hard not to cum.

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