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From: corvidae1@aol.com (Corvidae1)
Subject: RP: BRB (F/m teasing)

   STANDARD DISCLAIMER: The following story contains scenes of bondage and
cock-teasing. Those with moral objections to such activity as well as
those under legal age should not read this story.    

                                    BRB
                               By L.Corvidae
   "Be right back," she'd said. That was almost an hour ago.
   With each "break" she was spending more an more time away from me,
leaving me to dwell on my predicament; to wait and wonder if the next time
would be the one.
   The first half hour had been the hardest. I mean, I knew she wasn't
just going to tie me down to the bed and then 'Bam!' bring me off on the
first go. Or the second. Or the third. No matter what she said or how much
she'd hinted, I knew it was just an act to keep me horny. I knew I was in
for the long haul.
   "The Long Haul" was currently clocking in at seven hours. Seven hours
of being blindfolded and tied spread-eagled to her bed. With each passing
hour, however, my confidence grew greater and greater.
   This time, I assured myself, this time would be the one.
   I could hear her clattering away in her study at the computer. She was
scanning the newsgroups, chatting with friends; doubtless bragging to some
about her hapless slave in the next room.
   The typing stopped and I braced myself. This was it.
   This had to be it. She had to be getting bored of the game and would
finish it, if only to move on to some new game. At the least it was
getting on in the day and she'd want to go to bed sometime.
   I gasped out loud as I heard her enter the room. In my mind's eye I saw
her: beautiful and radiating power as she sashayed across the room in her
jeans and a "T". I could also hear the rattle of ice in the bucket, but
that didn't concern me. It was a prop, a gimmick to keep me from
distinguishing this time from all the others. This time she wouldn't need
the ice.
   "What do you think?" she asked with mock curiosity. "You think this
will be the one?"
   "As you wish, Mistress," I replied.
   "But, you want it to be this time. You'd like it to be, wouldn't you?"
she countered, sitting on the edge of the bed beside my hip.
   "Yes, Mistress," I answered honestly, "I want so badly to cum this
time."
   "We'll see," she said, taking my cock into her smooth, cool hand.
   It was cool because of the ice she'd fished out of the freezer, but it
was soon warmed by a few quick strokes across the shaft of my penis. I
groaned in pleasure and appreciation.
   "You like?"
   I moaned ecstatically.
   "A little harder?" she tightened her grip and picked up her pace. Every
time she came to the head of my cock, she'd give it a little extra
squeeze, causing all sorts of incoherent sounds to come from my mouth.
   I had entered this room, a lifetime ago, a man. I had entered as a man
who thought himself a little superior to others of his sex because unlike
them - I thought - my life had not been centered around the organ tucked
away in my BVD's. Now, after seven hours of continuous teasing and
manipulation, all I was, was the organ. Every thought was about it. Every
beat of my heart was to feed it blood. Every other part of me, my hands
and feet, were forgotten, useless, lost to me; because, even during the
breaks, as she left me alone for longer and longer stretches, all I could
think of was my cock, the orgasm that would eventually come and fulfill my
destiny - for what other destiny had a cock but to cum? And no at long
last my destiny was at hand.
   She reached over with her other hand and began stroking and fondling my
balls. She knew the exact amount of pressure required to cross the line
from what was pleasure for me into what was pain; and she kept my
testicles compressed at the exact threshold between. I whimpered like a
starving dog.
    "Be good, now," she said. "Tell me when."
   By now she knew all the signs herself of course, but I was still
obligated to keep track of the building warmth deep inside my belly; the
ticklish jolts of electric surges that ran up an down my spine as my body
moved inexorably towards climax.
   One such cascade of nervous impulses was too much for me and I arched
my back, straining against the ropes that held me down.
   She said my name in a threatening tone. "Don't even think about not
telling me."
   This was it! This had to be it! Oh, God, the joyous rush that swept
through me!
   "Now!" I cried. "Please Mistress! I'm ready..."
   "No!" she said, pulling her hand away from the screaming flesh of my
cock and leaping off the bed with lightning speed.
   I had a split second to cry out in outrage, to twist and tear at my
bonds in fury; then every fiber of my being had to be focused on shutting
down the climax that threatened to erupt even without Mistress' ardent
ministrations. Every muscle tensed. My blunt fingernails were nevertheless
driven deep into the palms of my hands for the umpteenth time that night
as my fists balled up and became hard as granite. My teeth ached from the
pressure put upon them as I clenched my jaws unbearably tight. The only
sound I made was an agonized hissing through my teeth.
   It was not that I was afraid of what she would do to me if I failed. It
was lust that drove me, pure and simple. For how much more intense, how
much more earth shattering, would that final climax be, when it was
proceeded by my Mistress' command to cum? To know that then - and only
then - would it please her to have me cum? My whole existence had now
become centered around hearing her say that one little word. I began to
weep softly.
   She waited until the worst of it was over, when even the touch of ice
would bring me over, then she moved in slowly.
   "Guess this wasn't the one," she said, her voice dripping with
insincere sympathy. The ice burned against the searing flesh of my pick. I
howled in misery and frustration. My world collapsed in on itself, until
it drooped flaccidly like a deflated balloon.
   Next time, a feeble voice called out inside my head, next time will be
the one. With agonizing slowness, my psyche began to back away from the
edge of despair. Yes, she had to be tired by now, next time had to be the
one.
   "Oh, Damn!" she called out in alarm. "Letterman's on!"
   She planted a quick kiss on my trembling lips. In my mind's eye I could
see her grinning, flushed and triumphant yet again.
   "Be right back," she said. 
   
   Note: Please feel free to E-mail with any constructive criticism and
suggestions for future episodes. Flames will be ignored. This story is
protected by copyright, 1997, by the author.   


*********************************************
Why should I fret in microcosmic bonds
   That chafe the spirit, and the mind repress,
When through the clouds gleam beckoning beyonds
   Whose shining vistas mock man's littleness?
          H.P.Lovecraft

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