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Your Master drags a single finger over your boxers, pressing, teasing your denied pussy. He’s not let you cum in months, let alone edge, to get your t-dick as big and swollen as possible.
Bent nearly in half, you hold back your knees, spreading yourself wide for Master. Only this time, he’s instructed you to remain in your underwear only. The pressure of his touch over your soaked, denied cunt is torture. You’ve been left without touches for weeks now; only the cruel suction of the tiny nipple pumps you use to grow your clit. You remind yourself that it is nice of Master to be touching your little pussy at all; you both take great care to ensure you get the best results from your training.
“Does that feel good, baby?” He asks this question rhetorically. He knows you need more. He sits, unclothed save for his taped chest, taunting you with his frame. You can see his swollen cock, untouched, awaiting your mouth or hole as a fleshlight. After all, he can’t finish either. Neither of you would want to jeopardize the results of your training.
You nod, which is partly a lie. The best part of his fingers over your boxers is the utter lack of adequate sensation; just teasing you, taunting you, dangling the prospect of pleasure in front of you, warm and fleeting.
“You poor boy. You haven’t been touched in so long,” Master remarks. His cock twitches between his legs. You want him to use you so badly.
You nod, looking into his eyes. He’s beautiful.
He presses his forefinger right over your denied, swollen clit. Oversensitive and swollen from your training, having been pumped for so long, mere hours before. The ache nearly returns in full force, but Master gives you just enough stimulation to keep your pussy happy.
“You’ve been so good, so I’m going to give you a reward, okay?” He smiles, and you hope the reward is his cock in you, somewhere. He looks at you with such warmth, too, it gives you butterflies. “I want you to keep your boxers on. I don’t want to give your cock too much, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
He bends down, licking a stripe up your clothed pussy. You can feel the slick gathering in your cunt, beginning to dampen the cloth; his saliva pools against the outer side of your boxers, giving you barely any stimulation or lubricant, save for the pressure and heat of his mouth, still so far away. Beside yourself, you thank him.
“It could be so much more, right?” He whispers, “Too bad, your little cock is too small.”
The drag of his tongue is such a welcome pleasure over your little clit, even between the barrier. You could almost hit an edge like this; so denied of touch on any part of your cunt that the slightest brush against you could tip you over. Thankfully, Master doesn’t give you much. He circles his tongue around the solid, erect impression of your little cock against your boxers. And just when you begin to whimper, he drags his mouth downwards and attempts, desperately, to taste your slick through the fabric.
As he rewards you, the barrier seems to dissipate, lessen, and almost increase the ache. His mouth, hot and wet, dampens your underwear enough, along with your slick, to give your aching pussy enough pleasure to worry for an orgasm.
“M—Master,” you stutter, “It feels too good—”
He drags the flat of his tongue across your soaked boxers again, slowly, so slow your cock aches before he touches it. Nearly against your drenched cunt, he says, “You can handle it. Take it like a man.”
“Yes, sir—!”
“You won’t edge.”
“No, sir.”
He continues mouthing at your little cock. Attempting to suck you off through the fabric, desperately, and nearly succeeding. It’s almost painful, how overstimulated your cock is from all the mouthing. His movements make nearly no sense; as if, needily, he is trying to bridge the gap between the two of you, knowing your soaked pussy would ruin if he pulled your boxers to the side. Still, he tortures you relentlessly, only pausing to attempt to shove his tongue into your cunt futilely. He slobbers on you, spitting, coating your soaked boxers in more of his saliva, and more of your slick.
“Master,” you beg, cock throbbing, knowing that the next time his tongue meets your cock could be the time your pussy throbs into an undeserved orgasm, “M—master, please—!”
He laves at your soaked cunt. “I won’t let you cum. You’re not cumming, you just taste so good.”
He moans into your hole, panting, attempting to breach the fabric for a taste. His licking subsides, slowing, and then ceasing altogether with one last stripe up your entire drenched cunt.
He huffs between your legs, staring at the soaked impression of your arousal.
You’re so embarrassingly wet. Your pussy must be a mess, clinging to your boxers. Your little cunt feels sticky, and your cock aches with denial. You think of begging Master for a ruin, pleading with him—pleading for him to allow you to spread your messy, sloppy cunt, to overstimulate your tiny cock with a single finger, without pleasure and veering into pain, until your hole ripples and throbs with a pleasureless, humiliating orgasm. You think of begging him to clean up your mess and to slap your little cock for ruining the sheets, to overstimulate you with no orgasm as punishment. But he stands in front of you and parts his legs, showing you his thick, twitching cock. It’s swollen and reddened from the denial.
“Look what you did to me,” he chides. “Making my job so much harder. Don’t you want to help Master grow his dick?”
You nod, dazed.
“First, Master needs to lube up his cock. We wouldn’t want you choking.”
You nod. You nearly cry tears of joy, embarrassingly, at the implication. You spread your legs as far as you can and pull your boxers to the side, barely exposing your dripping, swollen hole for him to use.
His cock slides inside of you so easily. Freshly pumped and swollen, he fills you perfectly, gently, and pleasures himself inside of your useless pussy. This is his masturbation, of course, considering that part of you is his fleshlight.
Still, it feels so good to have his thick, swollen cock pumping in and out of you. It feels even better when he is freshly pumped, because you can feel how hard it is for him to avoid the edge in your pussy. Everything is so wet, warm, soft. There are times where he stops grinding his cock in you and, instead, throbs inside of you, just feeling your pussy squeeze his dick. Cockwarming you, using you, feeling your muscles flutter and ripple against him, soaking his edged dick in your lube.
He pulls out of you, almost painfully, with a string of your slick connecting his swollen tip to your cunt. He shoves his fingers inside of you with no regard, collecting more of your lube to spread over his cock, pausing to tease himself as he does; with a single finger, spreading your lube all over the aching tip of his dick.
“God, I wanna nut in you,” he whispers, barely, almost as if he’s too shy for you to hear him. “I wanna cum in you so, so bad.”
He continues teasing his cock with your slick. Sometimes, even, barely pressing his cock into your hole. He whispers, possibly to himself, “Fuck, I’m gonna ruin in your cunt. I’m gonna ruin.”
He throbs so hard for you, it looks painful, but thankfully doesn’t ruin his progress by pleasuring his cock. His cunt drips thick lines of slick down his legs, and you want to spend the rest of the night licking him clean as thanks for everything. His expression is twisted into something resembling anguish, agony.
He pulls back the hood of his engorged cock.
You don’t even need to be told. In seconds, you’re on all fours, suckling his aching cock clean. You taste your own cunt on him and throb, habitually collecting more of your lube to spread on his tip. You keep your legs spread as you tease him, feeling your slick drip onto the sheets. You hope he forces you to lick this up too.
His thick cock throbs in your mouth, and each time you feel it, you gently remove yourself from around his tortured dick, ensuring he doesn’t cum while using his boy. Each time the edge has passed, he shoves his dick back into your mouth, facefucking you until the feel of your tongue on his oversensitized tip forces him to stall, leaving you to lave at him while he shakes.
He shoves your head away a final time as his cunt ripples for an orgasm, and receives none. You stare at his dick while he throbs with no release, almost hypnotized. Your cunt aches for release, too. He doesn’t even lick your cock directly before he instructs you to put back on your soaked boxers, as if nothing happened.