Did you know I have a pussy?
It’s far, far away. But it’s mine.
I’ve been experimenting with just how comprehensive my ownership is, and, at least for the moment, the answer is, “It’s totally mine.”
For almost a week now, I’ve been dangling Sofia over the edge of an orgasm. She’s been completing tasks for me, clearing her backlog, demonstrating her commitment to giving me what I ask of her. Precisely what I ask of her. And I ask a lot of her.
I’ve insinuated myself into her sleep, into her dating life, into her day-to-day activities. Everything I ask she does. Everything.
Asking her to do things makes my cock hard. I know that, whatever I ask, she will do. And that makes my cock hard. Never mind when she actually does it. That makes my cock not just hard, but twitchy hard, so hard I can feel my pulse in it.
She’s been begging for a couple of days to come. I’m thinking about it. Thinking about letting her come for me.
On the plus side? If she does, I’ll see it. I’ll hear it. I’ll know it’s mine. On the negative side? I love having her on edge like this. I love getting a dozen or more e-mails from her a day begging to come. Sometimes, she doesn’t even beg to come – she just begs to let her touch her pussy. Which she knows… which she knows… will make it worse, will make her need that orgasm even more than before.
I don’t know.
Should I let her come?
As someone who regularly hangs from that same edge, my immediate empathetic response is to say: Oh, yes, let her come, especially since she’s been so good!
As someone who has hung far past *needing* to come, and who has been driven to the frenzied heights of pleaseohgodifyoudon’tletmeI’llgoinsane–my response is to let her dangle a little longer. Because every day that passes only makes the reward grow sweeter.