"When you are pulling against the restraints… when your back is arched and your hips are writhing… when your mouth is open in a silent scream of tortured rapture… you will know that my work has begun".
There is nothing better than seeing, hearing and feeling someone’s pleasure as they bask in their desires. To be able to elicit such erotic responses, commanding them in such simple ways.
It’s not just about what is being done to that single part of your body, it’s the thought of someone else delighting in what it does to you entirely, taking such pleasure in your own reactions.
“Don’t you dare look away! I want you to keep your eyes pinned on yourself no matter how intense it gets. Watch yourself come.”
In this room she is his. Like a lion assessing its prey, the teacher’s eyes survey her hungrily. She knows exactly why she is here, yet her feigns of innocence make him even more intent on following through with what he had always implied to her. Her favourite college class was about to get so much better.
So often this student had teased him so subtly during lessons, flirting with him at every opportunity and wearing the skimpiest outfits all for his enjoyment. It wasn’t until he started to whisper things to her during lectures, in the guise of offering help with work, that he came to realise the hold that he had over her. The way her hand always slid under the desk any time he approached, to whisper more things in her ear, telling her just what he’d like to do to her, how he’d love to strip her right there and then. So slender, so full of desire, so delicate, so perfect for him to dominate.
It’s not the feeling of how your pussy clenches around every inch of my length… it’s not how erotic it is to have your gorgeous, sensitive body pressing against me… nor is it the wonderful sounds you make as you moan in pleasure. It is the look on your face that captivates me the most: that look of rapture. How we’ve spent so long slowly building this up, holding back until finally you can’t stall it any more. That expression of pure ecstasy, telling me that every second was worth it, telling me that you don’t want it to stop. That’s why I won’t stop or slow down, no matter how intensely you come.
The need to grip hold of him overwhelms you. To wrap your arms around the force that penetrates you. If not to pull him to you and make him pump into your faster, then at least to wrap around him and feel that masculine frame more intimately, yet still you are confined.
The faster he goes, the more you fight against your bondage, yearning to hold him as tightly as the pleasure holds you to in its grip.
Nothing sends a surge through my cock more than when you tell me that you are going to come. No matter how much I need to come, no matter how tight my balls get and how much my cock throbs, I want to hear those words plenty more times before we are finished.
You both struggle to keep that orgasm at bay, feeling it pumping through you as if trying to force its way through your bodies. You keep changing the pace, speeding up, slowing down and changing rhythm, always to keep the other on the edge as much as you can, while making sure neither of you goes over.
It gets harder and harder to think about the other, all your attention seems focused on your own body, concentrating so desperately on keeping yourself on the brink of climax.
This is the most beautiful agony you have ever felt together, even as it keeps getting more unbearably wet and tense, you want to make it last until there is no more willpower left.