by Kira Barker
“They shave their armpits.”
Leaning between my legs, his hands touched down over my rib cage, then stroked upwards over my breasts to my arms, thankfully only skimming the ticklish spots on my sides.
“They even go as far as to trim their pubic hair if they think they might get to fuck.”
Straightening, his hand returned to between my legs, still not teasing enough for my liking.
“All apparently to please some cosmetic ideal that we guys supposedly notice, let alone subscribe to. But what you don’t do is remove that last patch of hair that actually tickles in our noses and gets stuck in our teeth, and I think that’s really inconsiderate, wouldn’t you say?”
His fingers threaded through the short, curly hair while his grin widened. I was so tempted to bite his head off any moment now, but instead took another deep breath. He was baiting me so obviously, and I refused to dig my own grave over a stupid thing like this. His eyes remained on my face, taking my struggle in, and growing more amused by the second.
“You know, it should probably not cost you that much restraint to keep quiet,” he observed, his fingers still drawing idle circles over my labia. “Let’s see how long it takes to make you back down, shall we?”
Now that sounded ominous and promising in and of itself, and anticipation zinged through me as I watched him make another trip to his cupboard.
What he returned with made me frown and clench my teeth. My glare just made him crack up, his shoulders shaking briefly in silent laughter.
He set his paraphernalia down below the bench, then knelt down with his face right between my legs, which I might have appreciated under different circumstances. I still held my tongue when he used a washcloth to wet said offending remainder of pubic hair, then used gentle motions to spread the shaving foam evenly.
“If you hadn’t been late by over an hour, the water would have been warm,” he idly informed me, then picked up the razor, studying it for a moment. “Don’t worry, I’ll be very slow and deliberate with my work. And for every accidental nick, you get to come one more time.”
Knowing Simon, that would likely mean that I got away from this frustrated as hell.
I had to hand it to him—he seemed to know what he was doing, but then I didn’t doubt that it was easier to shave someone else than do it yourself, if the one time I’d gone to town on the vegetation downstairs was any indication. I had to admit that it felt incredibly frustrating to feel his touch, gentle and so fucking close to where I needed it, but not getting there any time soon. That the rope pillow underneath my head pretty much forced me to watch him work didn’t help much, either. The way he kept sweeping the razor over my skin, his fingers slid between my labia, then pulled them apart to let him get even the most resilient hair, was so fucking intimate. Long before he was done, my pussy lips were puffy and swollen, and it wasn’t the residual water from the washcloth that had me soaking wet. Frustration grew, every touch adding to it, and by the time he picked up the washcloth to clean up the remaining suds and shaved-off hair, I was ready to jump off that bench, if the ropes would have let me. Which they didn’t. Which was clearly their purpose.
I really didn’t know whether to hate or love this right now.
My resentment dimmed considerably when I felt the soft, wet fabric, even cold as it was, run over my pubic mound and over and between my labia. That felt different, and decidedly in a good way. I felt even more mollified when he repeated the process with his fingers. Well, there seemed to be one upside to having to run around looking like a pre-pubescent girl for the new few days.
Satisfied with his work, Simon picked up his utensils and put them away next to the door, then returned to me empty-handed.
“For what I have in mind today, I don’t need any toys,” he informed me, sounding that special kind of smug that made me want to jump up and slap him at the same time. Knowing what I did now about him, he’d likely get off on both. If not for the damn ropes…
“I’ve been thinking about that little problem the two of us seem to have,” he said conversationally while he slid his hands up my thighs again. “Knowing you, my first instinct was to think that you sneak orgasms by me out of spite. But you’ve been very cooperative so far otherwise, like you keeping quiet today. You pushed yourself a lot in our last scene, and you had no reservations telling me that you’re not comfortable with appellations. That got me thinking that maybe, just maybe it’s less about your stubbornness, and more about you simply not having the required control over your body?”
That accusation made me tense up, and he seemed to have anticipated that reaction, judging from his jovial smile.
“And, just like that, I’ve incited the desire to prove me wrong. You know, it’s so fucking easy to screw with you, almost makes me feel bad.”
With that, he pushed away from me and I felt myself tense further, because last time that had been the only warning I’d gotten before he’d used the flogger or paddle on me. Not that I didn’t want him to slap me—on the contrary—but physical reactions were much harder to reign in than emotional ones, and we both knew that I already had trouble enough controlling those.
Instead of slapping me, Simon let his fingers skip over my labia again, then turned his hand over and pushed two of his fingers into me, deep enough that the knuckles of the others bumped against my sex. A moan came over my lips before I could hold it in, and instinctively I tried to buck my hips against his hand to make him go deeper still. I knew that any second he would withdraw and do something else, but for the moment, I was hell-bent on getting the most out of his attention.
Throwing me off-kilter, Simon did no such thing. Instead, he started fucking me with his fingers, and after a moment bent over my pussy and flicked his tongue over my clit. I hissed, loving the sensation but already dreading missing it in a few moments, but again he surprised me by closing his lips around it to suck, then went on licking with alacrity.
Holy fuck, but that felt amazing!
Last time, bondage had been restrictive in the way of preventing me from moving away. This time, it served as a kind of anchor. Tired as I was, I could never have remained in this position unaided for long, but the ropes supported my legs without actually straining my muscles. My bonds also left me enough room to roll my hips, if only somewhat, and the angle of penetration in context with the position seemed to make everything just that little bit more intense. And intense it sure was.
The circumstances alone would have been enough to have me worked up good, but between Simon’s hand and mouth, he had me about to come in an embarrassingly short amount of time. Before long, keeping up the tension was impossible without my legs starting to shake, and I knew that if he kept this up much longer, there was no going back. Briefly I wondered if begging now would be against his order for me to keep quiet, but I figured that command overruled the new one easily.
I was just about to open my mouth when his fingers stilled and he moved his head away, then withdrew his hand altogether.
Breath spilled out of me in a shaky exhale, and frustration was back in the front of my mind. I tried to plead with my eyes for more, but the look I received from him was one of smug satisfaction.
That was when I realized why he had been looking like the cat that ate the cream the entire time until now, only the mental picture that brought up in my mind made my vaginal muscles clench even harder around nothing, yearning for more.
“You don’t intend to let me come at all!” I accused, not giving a shit if I lost. Belatedly I realized that I’d forgotten that inane appellation, too, but I was beyond caring about that right then—as if I needed to prove him right even more.
Simon’s answering smile was as nice as it was sadistic.
“Not until I feel like you’ve learned your lessons, no.”
With that ominous threat he walked out of my field of vision, only to return with a red ball gag. I felt like protesting but swallowed that down as he pushed the rubber ball between my teeth, then
grunted as he forced my head up uncomfortably high so he could buckle the leather straps behind it. The ball was large enough to force my jaws apart painfully, and the straps dug into my cheeks. Simon looking down at me for a moment, clearly liking what he saw, before he returned to his former place at the foot end of the bench.
“If you try hard enough, you can talk around the gag, at least one word sentences like your safeword, but you can also shake your head from side to side and utter a sequence of grunts that will serve the same purpose whenever you’re gagged. I doubt we’ll need that today, but I foresee more gags in your future.”
He did slap me then, but it was a light slap on what was exposed of my right ass cheek, and barely hard enough to make me tense. Then his fingers ran up and down my slit a few times until he halted at my clit and started drawing circles around it, just slowly enough not to add to my arousal. That felt good, no doubt about it, but reaching my climax would have felt so much better.
I tried to remain patient but abandoned that after about a minute, bucking my hips in an attempt to either egg him on, or at least let his fingers slip into more fun territory. Simon snorted and just kept going, until I did it again, at which point he withdrew his hand.
“I can stop, too. Do you prefer that?”
I quickly shook my head. Not enough stimulation was still better than no stimulation at all.
He waited almost a full minute until he resumed, just as agonizingly slow as before.
That went on for a small eternity until he took pity on me again and went back to finger fucking me while rubbing my clit a little more insistently. Within minutes he had me writhing, getting ever so close—until he stopped again. His smile was taunting me, and all I could do was lay there, huff and puff around the gag, and ask myself what I’d done to deserve that.
The sad fact was, when he started the same spiel for the third time, I was ready to swear to never ever not ask for permission, but he’d cleverly—calculatedly!—rid me of that option.
By the forth time he stopped I felt like crying, and when his fingers returned to my pussy, I felt an actual tear slide over my cheek. This was just so fucking frustrating and a million times worse than anything I could think of! Not that my mental faculties were in evidence anymore by then as he’d successfully reduced me to a puddle of need and frustration. He had me at the point where I would have done anything if he’d just let me come, but of course the bastard slowed down rather than sped up once he had me shaking all over again. I kept pleading with my eyes, pathetic sounds coming from low in my throat, but while he seemed to enjoy both immensely, he still didn’t budge. No, he just kept on smiling, the pad of his thumb stroking my clit in sync with his fingers thrusting into me.
“Wanna know what puzzles me?” he asked, and thankfully didn’t wait for my reply, because really, I had no interest in hearing that at all. Unless it would lead to that orgasm that I really, really needed. Then he could tell me anything he wanted.
“People always associate sadism with the need to inflict pain. Which, I guess, in the strictest sense is the definition of the term. But they forget that there are so many other ways you can torment a person. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Anger wanted to take over, but I forced it down, instead trying to stare at the ceiling above us instead of his face, but that only drew a laugh from him, and he leaned over me until I couldn’t avoid him anymore. He added a third finger then, drawing something between a moan and a high-pitched whine from me, and that only added to his glee.
“I know you agree and that’s why you keep trying to hold that temper of yours in check, in futile hope that this will somehow appease me. Well, good news for you, it doesn’t, because you’re a really shitty actress, but I love how you carry all your emotions on your sleeve. Have I made my point? Do you finally see that you have a very good reason to be fucking grateful for every orgasm I let you have? That you should be fucking grateful that I let you ask to come? I can continue this ad infinitum, but I doubt that you want me to.”
I was nodding hard enough to twist the muscles in my neck, dislodging the ropes behind my head, before he had even finished his speech, and I meant it. I wished that damn gag was gone so I could tell him, or scream at him, that yes, I’d learned that fucking lesson, if he would just please let me come now!
“Good, because it would be a shame if we’d have to spend any more time doing something as boring as this. Although I guess it’s less boring for you than it is for me, seeing how you’re shaking and panting right now.”
He did something with his fingers then, and suddenly the intensity of the stimulation was ten times worse. Or better, to be honest, but by now I was so afraid that he would just stop any moment now that I dreaded any increase in intensity more than was able to relish it.
“I guess this is the ideal moment to tell you what else I’ve been thinking about, seeing as I have your full attention right now.”
No, it really wasn’t, but far was it from me to protest!
“First, your cunt stays as hairless as it is right now. No discussion. I don’t want to hear any of that ‘so you want me to look like a little girl?’ bullshit that I know is going through your head right now. You will shave as soon as any stubble appears, even if we don’t have anything set up. I told you that I don’t intend to screw with you in any way outside of the playroom, but those few minutes every other day belong to me. You’re my submissive, so you will keep your cunt smooth for me. You can wax, too, but considering your inability to even show up here on schedule, I doubt that you’ll find the time to make an appointment for that and keep it, so shaving will likely be the easiest option for now.”
He sounded final enough on that not to need any acknowledgment, but I still nodded. To be fair, I’d kind of expected something similar last week already, and had to admit that as unfamiliar as the sensation of not having any pubic hair was, it felt really neat. It certainly wasn’t anything I felt was worth objecting to. Right now, the only thing I wanted to veto was being teased mercilessly like this ever again!
“I love having you so cooperative. We should do this more often,” Simon taunted.
I grunted loudly in response and shook my head, which made him chuckle. And then he removed his hand, and I felt like coming right off that bench. My frustration was so palpable that it seemed to have become a physical thing that was running through my veins, infusing my entire body. I screamed, the sound not muffled at all, which almost drowned out his laughter.
“You’re such a drama queen sometimes,” Simon pointed out, idly wiping his hand on my quivering thigh.
He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but at that moment the door of the playroom swung open, admitting Jack, his hair damp from a recent shower, his cheeks still flushed from his run. Or from wanking, what did I know? Or care?
He took in the situation with a bemused look on his face. Under different circumstances that might have turned awkward as hell, but I was too far gone to give a shit. His eyes skipped over me and went to Simon.
“Sorry to interrupt you guys, but this is kind of important.”
“What is?” Simon asked, irritation lacing his voice, but less than I’d expected.
“Kara just called. She’s annoyed that you don’t pick up your phone.”
“It’s charging downstairs—of course I’m not picking up.”
He got a snort for that.
“You can tell her that to her face soon. She’ll be here in ten minutes.”
And that, ladies and gents, was the last thing I wanted to hear right then.
What was equally worse was that Simon only seemed mildly surprised.
“Didn’t she say she wouldn’t be free until five?”
“Apparently she finished early because she’s so eager to discuss the latest draft of your novel. Lucky you.”
Simon snorted, and while he didn’t exactly look pleased, he wasn’t annoyed, either.
“Ah well, we were about finished, anyway. Can you keep Ka
ra busy until I’ve wrapped things up here?”
“Sure. Need a hand?”
Now Simon’s smile was sardonic, and the sidelong glance he shot me was enough to make me want to punch him in the jaw.
“No, I’ve got this.”
Jack looked from Simon to me again, then shook his head as he muttered something under his breath and closed the door behind him. Which left me alone with Simon and the storm of need brewing inside of me.
“Looks like your time’s up,” he told me, sounding too chipper for his own good.
I grunted loudly in return and did my best to kill him with my glare. The only thing I got back was another of those asinine smiles before he turned his attention to the ropes.
It took him less than three minutes to set me free, most of which was taken up by undoing the ropes that had kept my thighs spread. The cuffs were ridiculously fast to unbuckle, as was the gag. That left me half sitting, half leaning against the bench, shaking with frustration and anger while I tried to work the kinks out of my aching jaw muscles so I could get into Simon’s face.
He beat me to it, gripping my chin firmly and forcing me to look at him. It wasn’t hard for him to loom over me on a good day, but the way he stared down at me now was downright intimidating.
“I don’t want to hear a single word from you. You deserve this, and deep down you know it. I want you like this, and that should be enough to make you shut up and take it. You don’t have to like it, but rather than glare at me, you should work on accepting that you bow to my will. I didn’t plan on getting interrupted this soon, but karma can be a bitch. If you have learned this lesson, you will shut up and swallow that rage boiling inside of you. You don’t have to thank me for teaching you this lesson, you just have to take it, even if it cuts you to the bone. It wouldn’t be a real lesson if it didn’t come with an impact. I know exactly how frustrated you are right now, how much you need to come. You will go downstairs to the bathroom now and take a shower, but you won’t masturbate, and you won’t touch yourself until I allow you to again. That might be later tonight, that might be tomorrow. If you piss me off and mope around like a small child, it will be next week. You don’t have to like it one bit, but you will follow my order, just like the next time we play and you’re about to come, you will ask for permission. Are we clear on that?”
