tagBDSMCraving For Control

Craving For Control

bysteelworker27©

I have a craving. It's always there – I can usually muddle my way through it but it never fully goes away. Weeks and months can go by without having to succumb to it. But eventually, the craving builds and builds until it must be soothed. I know I must start the search for one who will take control. I need someone, someone strong and dominant, who knows what I want and why I want it.

Day One

I am tired, but I go online. Surfing the BDSM chat rooms, looking at profiles. I know that chat rooms are probably the worst place to find a Master. But, the local munch is weeks away. Maybe some virtual control will ease the craving. I go from room to room, finding the usual fare; teen boys that want phone sex; arrogant 'Masters' that no sane sub would put up with. Then – I run across a particularly intriguing profile. A Master looking for an online sub – his key interest is 'orgasm teasing, denial, control.' I catch my breath. Exactly what I want. What can it hurt? I say hello. We chat for a while; he's kind, can spell, and doesn't start giving orders immediately. Seems ok so far. Main thing is, he wants to control, I want to be controlled. We exchange pictures; view web cams. Everything seems kosher. I don't mess around; I ask him to take control of my orgasms right then and there. We agree on a two month trial period. His first order? Masturbate at least 30 minutes every day. But don't cum. My pussy starts leaking like a faucet. I need this.

Day Two

I walk around at work all day wet and horny. Believe it or not, no one else has controlled my pleasure quite this way. I have been required to go without orgasms for weeks, but never while masturbating each day. I spend the day in a horny, turned on state. I feel nice and sluttish. I am quite happy with things so far.

Day Four

I asked my new Master how often he'd let his slut come. "Oh, maybe once every few weeks," he said casually. "Eventually, if we decide to continue, we'll probably work up to once every month, then once every two months, etc." Dear God. This is starting to sound rather sadistic. Right now, though, I am so hot and bothered it seems more like a dream come true. Since it's Saturday, and storming outside, I spend all day inside, walking around naked and dreaming of sucking cocks and fucking. I can't go 10 minutes without touching my nipples or pussy.

Day Seven

I wake up humping my pillow. During my daily masturbation session, I can't touch my clit for more than two seconds or I'm afraid I'll cum. Master watches me on my web cam and just smiles. He makes me bind up my breasts and fuck my pussy with a dildo for fifteen minutes. I beg, I plead for release. "You are at my mercy," he says.

Day Nine

I cum. Unbelievably hard. Without permission. It's these damn masturbation rules; I rubbed myself the wrong (well, right) way and the orgasm just took over. What will Master do? Shit.

Day Ten

Thanks to my mistake, I am suffering. If you can call deep, exquisite sexual arousal suffering, that is. Master sent me a few lacy bras backed with satin which I wear every day. But the satin is cut out around the nipples, so the itchy lace rubs against my tender nipples and keeps them constantly hard. I also have a little rubber device clipped to my labia; it rests against my clit. All day long little rubber nubbins are pressing, massaging, and teasing my clit. Whenever I sit, stand, move I can feel it torturing my aching clit. I can only take it off during my daily wanking session, which has gone up to 40 minutes. I nearly cry with relief when my time is up.

Day Fifteen

I can barely concentrate on my work. It takes all my focus to do so. I spend most of my time staring at the crotches of the guys I work with. I have to take changes of underwear to work because I soak my panties so quickly. I've got hit on more times than I can count lately. But I agreed not to have sex with anyone. I can't even have sex with my Master, who's a few hundred miles away. An online relationship? What was I thinking? Never again.

Day Seventeen

Master let me cum. Once. I came so hard I nearly fainted. I saw stars. Afterwards my hips were bucking, aching for more. Wanting a cock to fuck me. I asked him when I would have permission again. He says, "We'll see."

Day Twenty-Four

Instead of doing laundry, I spent my evening in front of my computer, Master watching me on cam as I humped the bed, the floor, even my chair. He said I had permission to cum if: 1) I kept my hands behind my head; 2) didn't use any sort of sex toy to get off; and 3) did it in 5 minutes or less. I was right there, two or three humps away from climax, when he made me stop. "Time's up." He just smiled and made me watch him cum twice. Why did I ever agree to this?

Day Thirty- Six

I broke down and begged, pleaded for release. "You knew you were at my mercy when you agreed to this, slut," was Master's reply. "I thought you wanted your orgasms controlled?" Oh, I thought I did. But this is too much. I can't think about anything except sex. All the guys at work make jokes about me behind my back. I heard them calling me a horny slut. And the most humiliating part is, it's true. I am ready to do anything just to get off. If Master was closer, he could make me obey. But I have to deny myself. It's impossible. I can only rub the outside of my pussy lips and my inner thighs during my sessions. Even if I play with my nipples I know I'll explode.

Day Forty-One

Master let me cum again. Thank you, Master. Thank you. I didn't think he was going to. He watched me on cam as I teased myself for an hour before he finally had mercy. I had to wear my nipple and clit clamps. He made me kneel on all fours then fuck my pussy with a dildo. I had five minutes to cum that way without touching my clit. I did it in three.

Day Forty-Nine

Master is coming. He's driving down to control his slut in person for two days. We are to meet at a hotel room. I am to wear the lingerie and collar I got in the mail the other day, and be waiting for him on my knees. My daily session until he gets here is increased to an hour a day.

Day Fifty-One

Master was irresistible. Of course, that might have had something to do with my unbelievably horny state. I wanted to fuck him immediately. But he laid down a rule before I did anything. If I could make him cum three times before sundown, using only my mouth, I could cum as many times as I wanted that evening. It was 4 p.m. I used every trick I knew, but he held out for hours without cumming. Sadistic bastard. Tears of frustration rolled down my cheeks as the sun went down. He held me in his arms and kissed away the tears. "There now, my little slut. Maybe tomorrow." He fell asleep quickly while I tossed and turned, finally dropping off from exhaustion.

Day Fifty-Two

Master woke me up by licking my soaking slit. He licked and teased me for an hour, bringing me to the edge and stopping again and again. Finally, he said the magic words. "You may cum now." I must've woken the entire hotel with my cries. My hips rose off the bed as I bucked against his mouth, cumming again and again until I collapsed. We spent the next several hours in bed, discussing my progress so far. He reminded me that I only had eight days left of his control. I felt oddly bereft. We spent the time until he left pleasing each other. It was indescribable! I miss him already.

Day Fifty-Six

What am I going to do when my two months are up? I have alternately loved and cursed Master. He has brought me to the lowest lows and the highest highs. I don't want to suffer more denial but I don't want to lose the exquisite fulfillment. Master has agreed to allow me an orgasm a day until my last day. They are strangely unfulfilling.

Day Sixty

Master calls me on the phone. "Well, my slut, how do you feel?" he asks. I feel like flying to his arms, giving him control of me forever. I feel like hanging up the phone, and never speaking to him again. "Are you ready to take the next step? You can move here and stay a year. At the end of the year we will reevaluate the relationship. Of course, that means quitting your job." His voice is low and serious.

"I gave my notice yesterday," I say.

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