Labor Day weekend

I didn’t get to see Belle until Saturday morning. This weekend saw the final fling of the summer up at the family north woods compound. She left Friday morning with her sister while I came up after the kids got of school. It wasn’t until 10:30 or so until I got up there and she was already fast asleep.

The next morning, she told me she had drifted off to sleep happy with the thought that I was locked under her key, unable to touch myself in any satisfactory way. She said she enjoys having that kind of control over me. I, not unexpectedly, revelled in her saying this. The familiar warm pulse of submission welled up within me. It’s still somewhat novel for me to think that I wear the device because she wants me to. It was my idea to introduce it, but now it’s all hers (as is the thing it contains). Pure awesome.

Saturday night, after a one of the finest late summer days I’ve seen at the cabin, she had me laying naked next to her in bed. Still locked up, she gently petted my balls until we both fell asleep. The next morning, now about two weeks since I last came, I was petting her back, hands roaming all across her body, except those places I’m not allowed to touch without permission.

“I’m being good,” I observed.

“You don’t have to be good,” she replied.

With that, I attempted to bring her to orgasm, but could feel in her a tension that left me wondering if we’d get there. When she’s in the mood, there’s a certain amount of time it should take me to get her off. As we passed that point, I maintained the ministrations of my mouth and fingers, but could sense it wasn’t going to happen. She eventually told me to stop, but said it wasn’t my fault she didn’t come. There was just too much activity in the cabin full of family for her to relax. I felt bad for her – for both of us, I guess, since her orgasm is our orgasm – but I didn’t dwell on it.

Sunday night, after a fine meal at the only nice restaurant within an hour’s drive of the cabin, we found ourselves alone with the kids asleep downstairs. As I walked into our room, she was sorting through her change purse looking for something. Funnily enough, she desired the use of her cock but had accidentally left the key to the lock at home. We both had a pretty good laugh at that. She didn’t want me to try bringing her orgasm again and instead repeated the previous evening’s gentle stroking of the stretched scrotum, intermingled with lingering tracing of my perineum and the occasional whack at my nuts. Lovely.

Throughout the weekend, and really into last week, I have to say that I’ve been plenty horny and desirous of sexual contact with her, but I’ve also felt myself resist taking any overt action based on those feelings. Previously, I’d have probably been all over her and pressuring her in several ways, but at least for now, I don’t feel the need. I’m very comfortable with my position as her sexual subordinate. When she wants it, she’ll ask for it. Until then, I’ll find some other way to make her happy. I guess you could say that it appears as though I’ve learned to be patient. The chastity device helps, of course.

Last night, I offered to give her a foot massage while we caught up on Mad Men. Just as before, I felt a great deal of satisfaction from the activity knowing that it was giving her pleasure and making her relaxed. After I finished (and the show was over), she produced her key. I was somewhat surprised as being unlocked wasn’t even on my mind, but I assumed she wanted to use her cock in the way she had not been able to the night before. After she let me out, I went off to ensure I was nice and clean.

Back in the bedroom, she had me strip and lay back on the bed. She rubbed and massaged the cock and my balls until I was sporting a very stiff erection. I flexed it several times, feeling it surge with blood and filling out to its most engorged state, just for the satisfaction of the sensation. It had only been a week or so in the device, but nothing beats the feeling of a nice hard cock.

She again smacked my nuts around, though with more force than before when the plastic was in the way. A couple of times, she actually balled up her fist and thudded into my right testicle, but not as forcefully as she could have. Lovely, exquisite pain radiated up and into my guts which, unless it’s your thing, you’d never really understand or appreciate.

Then she started to stroke me. Gently and slowly at first, but then with more speed. It felt simply glorious. I moaned and writhed and felt the tickling tell-tale signs of orgasm deep under the stiff root of the cock. I wasn’t sure if she meant to get me off, but I didn’t care. It felt too good.

And then she stopped. I moaned deeply. The absence of her touch reverberated in me and the bubbling optimism of my coming orgasm quickly receded. Then she started to stroke me again. This time, I swung my leg over hers to more fully open myself to her and pressed into her body. My entire being was being consumed by the sensation of her masturbating me. Shortly, I again felt the tingling of a nascent orgasm beginning to coalesce and again she let go, leaving the hard meat bobbing in her wake.

This time, the absence of her attention tore through me. I moaned even more loudly and my breathing was in ragged pants as I struggled to process my desire for her to keep going, but knowing I couldn’t ask for it. I kissed her chin and jaw and pressed my face into her breasts trying to find the outline of her nipples with my lips, but she pushed me away.

Her hand was back on the rigid, straining cock, moving up and down. I wanted it so badly, this sensation. More, I wanted to shoot my wad. I wanted the two weeks worth of spunk I had been carrying around with me to unload all over her hand and my chest. I wanted to come. I resolved to do what I could to hide any sign of an impending orgasm. I willed the internal process along hoping to take her by surprise.

Is that wrong? Was I betraying my oath of submission and the power I had investing in her over my release? I don’t know. I can’t say. All I do know is the urge to come had overtaken any other imperative. All there was in the world was her hand and the hard cock within it and the wonderful orgasm she was soon to bring into the world.

And it was right there. I could feel it starting to march up the ladder, yearning for daylight. I was about to come…until she stopped again. My moan was more a cry of anguish. It was over, this time for good, and the juices never flowed. The cock bobbed rhythmically as I flexed and pumped it as though doing so would cause the orgasm to spontaneously come into being, but I got nothing. Not even a meager dribble. Apparently, not as close as I thought.

Shortly afterward, the candles were snuffed and she was rolled over and going to sleep. I pressed the still hard meat into her as we spooned, careful not to grind it. I was horny beyond comprehension, but at the same time happy and satisfied, after a fashion.

My Belle played me very well all weekend long. I have not seen her more confident and comfortable in her role. Right now, things are going well. Very, very well.

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