I Have An Idea Ch. 02bytomtame©
Ella spent the night. Her soft, lithe body resting beside his, did nothing to help him rest. He listened to her snoring softly off and on throughout the night. He tried to sleep but his cock was stiff between his legs. He rolled around. He tossed. He turned. He worried about waking up Ella. If he did get up, he feared in twenty seconds flat he'd be at the computer, and one fourth of a second later, he'd be deep in porn with his hand on his cock, doing what it did best.
He wanted her on Saturday. He wanted her mouth. He could imagine it.
He finally risked leaving the bed anyway, closing the bedroom door, and retiring to his "workout" room. He stripped all the laundry from the treadmill and walked until he was too tired to keep moving. After a quick shower, he headed back to bed and noticed Ella had thrown off the covers, her arm draped over his empty spot. He gazed down at her arm and sighed. Slowly, carefully he lifted it and re-draped it over his belly as he slid in beneath it.
She murmured something unintelligible and snuggled in beside him.
He smiled to himself in the dark and kissed her on the top of the head, then closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.
He laid there for another hour while his mind chatted about sex and her mouth on his cock, and her hand on his cock, and how much he wanted her. She was soft and laying next to him. He could have her, but he couldn't have her.
When he finally fell asleep it was with his erection at full mast, wondering where she was getting her ideas.
If Thursday was a bear, Friday was a total bitch. He left the computer off. He read, walked on the treadmill, tried to watch non-sexy movies, anything to keep the temptation at bay. After Wednesday, Ella had left him charged up. Blue balls, they called it, and they were for awhile; they ached. Then the aching faded, but somehow the fullness remained. More importantly, however, was the feelings outside of his pants. At work, he had tons of energy; he was charged up. On the drive to work, he thought about Ella's mouth on his cock, and he got the mother of all hard-ons.
He needed a good solid distraction.
He thought about it and was a little disgusted with himself. It had only been a week. Only a week and he was antsy and feeling a little lost.
On Saturday, he was on his best behavior. He wore his cologne, wore the sport coat she liked, cleaned himself up. They went out to see a band with her friends. They danced a little, drank a little, and he generally doted on her.
David was a loose acquaintance. He was dating one of Ella's friends. It was David who caught him in the bathroom and asked him if he was okay.
David asked in a hush. "I mean, you can tell me. You're not dying or something? Ella's not dying?"
"So, what's with the whipped routine?'
Jim felt his stomach boil, his blood rise. "Fuck you. I'm not whipped."
"Yeah, right. Every time she wants a drink. Every time she wants a dance. You fucking follow her around like a puppy. What's going on, Man?"
He shook his head. "Look–" But what was he going to say? Was he going to tell him about the game? Was he going to tell him he wasn't allowed to cum or to have an orgasm? Was he going to tell him that he'd just had an orgasm a week ago that had blown his mind?
He told the truth and lied simultaneously. "We were going to break up. Me and Ella, and we decided to give it another shot. Start over."
David nodded. "Right, right. So, on your best behavior for awhile. I get it."
Jim grinned and nodded. "You got it."
Then he wondered if David did get it. Maybe that's what he was doing. Maybe he was just going along with Ella's little game until she got tired of it. If she hadn't come up with the game, he would've done exactly what David had suggested. He didn't like the idea, but he knew he would have. He would have been a good boy until everything settled down, then returned to his old, selfish ways.
He wanted to punch himself in the gut.
Once Ella had had enough dancing, Jim escorted her back to the car. She gave his crotch a little pat. "How's everything?"
Jim smiled, but it was weak. "Fine."
When they got home, Ella asked him what was wrong.
He didn't want to say, but somehow it poured out of him. "I'm a lousy guy, Ella. I always have been. You deserve better. I love you, but I'm a selfish fuck."
She put her arms around him, told him to stop, but he held her at arm's length. "No. It's true. You know it's true. I'm not a good guy. I play at being a good guy, being all nice and supportive, but I'm not. I only want things for myself. I don't really put out any energy for you."
She sat heavily on the couch and reached for a tissue. "You're not as bad as you think."
He nodded, utterly depressed. "I'm not as good as you wish."
They wallowed in the silence of the apartment for awhile, then Ella smiled. "Well, I do know one thing."
He was practically pouting. "What's that?"
"For the last two weeks, I've totally come first."
He stared at her.
She stared back. "Haven't I?"
He thought about it. "We were going to break up. Maybe I'm just doing this until you feel secure again."
She laughed. "You're just doing this because you're horny as hell."
It was contagious. He chuckled, which in no short order became a full out belly roll. "You have no fucking idea!"
She motioned him toward her. He collapsed onto the couch and sighed. "Feel better?" she asked.
He smiled, but his eyes were serious. "I'm an asshole, Ella. Why are you with me?"
She reached over and began to rub his crotch. "We're making a fresh start."
He kissed her, and made it count.
She smiled and helped him out of his pants. "Do you want my mouth down there?"
He closed his eyes and moaned as if just the idea were too sweet to stand. "God, yes."
She knelt between his legs and placed her warm mouth on him, feeling it grow in her hands, feeling it harden. The color changed; the tip leaked almost right away. He wasn't just turned on; he was bursting at the seams. She remember her encouragement. She had to be strong. She had to be prepared for his reaction.
She drew him into her mouth until he shivered and sighed, feeling his cock growing even more. "Do you want me?" she whispered.
He moaned, wrapped his hand in her hair, but let it go, remembering she hated when he did that. "God, yes."
She rubbed the underside of his leaking cock on the flat of her tongue and looked up at him. "Would you rather fuck me?"
His eyes popped open. He froze. "Yes."
She swallowed his cock and gave him a long series of warm, wet strokes then paused and eyed him again. "If you want to fuck me, you can."
His leg began to shake uncontrollably. "N-now?"
She gave his cock a long lick and gazed up at him again. "No, not now, but Wednesday."
He blinked. "Wh-what?"
She wrapped her hand around his wet cock and began to stroke it gently. "It's up to you. It's your choice. You can cum in my mouth or–" She grinned and undid the buttons on her blouse. "–or you can cum inside me."
He groaned miserably. "What the hell?"
"What?" she blinked. "What's wrong?"
She was prepared. She knew it was a possibility.
He scowled at her. "You can't keep doing this to me, Ella!"
She shrugged and let go of his cock. "It's up to you. I gave you a choice."
"Yeah, but–but–" He sighed and leaned forward and kissed her on the top of the head. "I'm going to explode if this keeps up. What if I do something bad? If you keep driving me this way . . . what if–"
She turned her face up to kiss him. "It's all part of the plan."
He sagged back on the couch, eyeing his cock, hard and leaking and at attention. "What's the next part?"
She crawled up on the couch beside him. "I know you think this is all some sort of weird punishment, but it's not."
He noticed her hand was on his cock again. He couldn't think clearly, and at the moment, he didn't want to. "It feels like it."
"You just complained about being selfish, but ever since we started this, you've been anything but selfish."
"But . . . it's artificial. It's not the real me. It's the me that needs to fuck you so bad he'll be a totally–"
"Sweet, loving, caring boyfriend?" she provided.
He groaned. "You know what I mean."
"Is it normal when I'm on the pill and I feel different? That's artificial. I get weepy because of it; I gained weight because of it, but as I recall, you loved how girly I was. You said I was all soft and submissive the whole time."
He frowned. "That's different."
"It's not," she told him and slowly slid her hand up and down his cock, kissing him on the cheek.
He turned to her with glazed eyes. "What happens when we stop this? I'm the same guy I was before."
She smiled. "I told you, it's all part of the plan."
He shook his head. "It has to end some time."
She gave him a few quick strokes, until he was sitting up and moaning loudly. She'd gotten him close. Even she was surprised. When she whipped her hand away, he lunged forward, groaning.
"You have a choice to make," she said.
He looked at her as if he wanted to both kill her and fuck her or maybe just fuck her to death.
She was utterly shocked when he made his decision. Her friend had been right. She couldn't wait to IM her. The plan was completely working.
* * *
Maybe her friend was a fortune teller or a psychic. Maybe she read tea leaves or chicken bones. However, she did it, she predicted what was to come. Ella had messaged her about what Jim had decided. Twice, he'd foregone an orgasm right then and there, for something better . . her. Twice, he'd proven, much to her shock, that he was capable of delayed gratification. This was going to work. The plan was going to do amazing things for them, and just like her friend said.
She felt different, too, felt herself changing. It wasn't just teasing him and driving him up the wall with desire; it wasn't just walking around all day knowing he was out there craving her. It was something more.
She felt a strange, new and wonderful sense of confidence. She'd always felt she was confident, but in some ways she thought maybe she was just pretending, hoping it would become real. Now, she had moments where she felt like a goddess. She'd read books like that, "Bringing Out the Goddess Within", and she enjoyed them and tried to follow their advice, but it always came back to men. Men ruled the world. Men had the cocks and somehow that meant men got to say what happened in the relationship.
She knew that wasn't completely true. She got to say who she dated and how long she dated them. She could say "no" to sex when she wasn't in the mood, but she always felt guilty, felt obligated. In all of her relationships, she felt like she was the one doing the pleasing and they were the ones setting the standards.
When her friend messaged her back an hour later, it was not the encouraging response she'd expected.
'Just be prepared for when he breaks.'
She sat in mute wonder for a few minutes, before replying. 'What do you mean?'
'You've wound him up very tight. If he breaks, you have to be prepared for that.'
'He wouldn't though, would he?'
'The rules weren't just for him, remember? You promised if he fell off the wagon, you wouldn't get angry.'
But . . she was getting angry just thinking about it. He'd waited twice for her, why would he mess it all up now?
'If you get angry,' her friend warned, 'he won't want to play the game anymore.'
She fumed a little. 'Okay, so I don't get angry. Can I at least be disappointed?'
'Lol Of course. That's the whole point. If and when he breaks, and they usually do at some point, sometimes even as a test, he loses his "see you" privilege. He has to wait another week, but there are things he can do to earn "good boy points". We can go into those. You'll need to start spelling them out.'
She raised her eyebrows at that. She laughed. 'Oh, "good boy points"? I like the sound of that.'
'Remember, no negotiations are to take place unless you have your hand on his cock.'
She blushed. She had her own set of rules to follow that he didn't know about, and that was number one. 'Can I ask you something?'
'Of course. That's what I'm here for.'
'Sooner or later he's going to figure it out. Isn't he going to get upset?'
'He might, and you should be prepared for that as well, but by that time he'll find he's pretty well conditioned. It won't be much of a choice. You'll have become a habit he can't and maybe is unwilling to break.'
Conditioned? Did she just say they were conditioning him? What a strange concept. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.
She'd sent him her usual text earlier: 'Day one, having fun?'
He replied. 'Not day one. Day seven.'
She smiled. He was right, of course. She'd forgotten he hadn't actually cum. Odd that she'd thought they were starting over.
She texted back. 'Day seven, in heaven?'
It took him forever to reply, which should've told her something. 'Yes, a little too much.'
She texted him again: 'Oh?'
After awhile, she got an alert for an email. He'd switched. That should've told her something, too. She read what he wrote.
'Sorry, yes, got home Sunday and ended up on the computer. Couldn't help myself.'
She felt her cheeks flush. Not angry though. She'd promised she would get angry. She took a couple of deep breaths and wrote back. 'Aww. :( Did you get off? And you were doing so well.'
'No, but I got close. I mean, twitching and everything. Got REALLY close. Really wanted to, but didn't want to screw up Wednesday. Not sure if I can make it.'
She hadn't expected that. What kind of consequences did that bring? There was no time for her to message her friend, and no guarantee she'd be on. 'Hmm, can you make it till Tuesday?'
His response was quick. 'Yes!'
She smiled, then he sent her another email. 'You're not mad?'
She replied: 'Not mad. Not even disappointed. You're trying so hard. That means something to me. You're REALLY trying. Things will get easier.'
She'd been promised that things would get easier; she wasn't sure if she believed that anymore than he did.
* * *
On Tuesday, he was tender, apologetic. He was feeling rough. She could see that. He was needy, almost too attentive. She felt like she was a lamb and he was a wolf. His looks had that expression, that intensity. "I want to eat you."
It was a little frightening, but a little thrilling, too.
She also felt something else. She felt that goddess-like feeling again. He was all man, all power, all libido and he could've grabbed her and stripped her and taken her anytime he wanted, and she could've fought tooth and nail, but she probably wouldn't have for very long. But he didn't do those things (even if a part of her wanted him to); he was restrained. Somehow, her friend had helped engineer a dam. He was on his best behavior again, tending to her every need.
She didn't dress in lingerie. He hadn't earned that. She had jeans and a blouse; though a very nice blouse, and both a little tight fitting. His eyes roamed over her every chance they got.
He swallowed nervously, almost with guilt. "So, uh, what's the plan for tonight?"
He was being coy. What he was really asking was, "can we please finally have sex?"
She kissed him and patted his cheek. "You've been awfully good."
He helped her out of her coat, hung it up like she liked rather than just dropping it on the chair by the door.
She walked into the living room and added, "For the most part."
Blushing, he presented himself to her, eyes down. "Look, I'm sorry about that. It just happened."
She smiled and rubbed her thumb across his lips. "Oh, I know. Things happen. It was bound to happen, and still you didn't get off. That's very impressive."
He moaned, his eyelids fluttering. She felt it in her bones, the Goddess. Just from her touch, he was experience bliss. She was taken aback by it, more than a little. She tried not to let it show.
He shook his head, sat next to her on the couch, very close. "It . . . wasn't easy. I swear. It just snuck up on me."
Her smile was tender, understanding. "I know. But . . . there are consequences."
He groaned miserably, bowed his head, wrapped his arms around her and cuddled up next to her. "What are you going to do to me now?"
She kissed the top of his head. "Nothing you won't enjoy."
When he raised his head, showed her his eyes, they were filled with need. "I'll do anything."
It was enough to make her raise her eyebrows. She giggled. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
He grinned from ear to ear. "You're enjoying this."
She gave him a sideways look. "You're not?"
He nodded, eyes down, collecting his thoughts, searching. "I am . . . I just–I'm not sure where it's leading."
"Well," she said softly, and cuddled against him, "I know it's been a kind of torture, but the last three weeks have been really nice."
He nodded, eyes twinkling. "They have. You've been happy. I'm glad you've been happy. I want you to be happy."
She gazed deep into his eyes, whispering, "I want you to be happy, too."
He swallowed, unable to hold her gaze for very long. "I think . . . I think I've been pretty happy the last couple of weeks. I've certainly gotten a lot of things done at home."
"Well," he admitted, "it's trying to keep myself busy, so I won't–you know. . . ."
"Good," she nodded. "Then you won't mind the consequences."
He shot her a look. "Uh oh."
She giggled and pointed to the back of the couch, pretending to be commanding. "Lap dance position."
He didn't just get into position; he snapped to it as if she were a barking Sargent. She was shocked at how quickly he leapt up, repositioned himself on the couch and threw his arms up on the back.
'You're conditioning him.' The thought cycled through her head. 'Jesus, is that what I'm doing? Does he know? What if he figures it out?'
She pushed the thought aside and snuggled up next to him, releasing his straining his cock from his pants, remembering her instructions. 'Talk low and soft. You never have to demand anything, just suggest. If he's in the right frame of mind, he'll do anything you ask of him.'
* * *
'You feel guilty?'
Ella typed as fast as she could. 'How can I not feel guilty?'
'We all felt guilty when we first started.'
She was seriously considering ending the little game, convinced it was going to ruin their relationship. 'Okay, well, with good reason?'
'You're feeling guilty because you're controlling him and he doesn't know it? Because he trusts you and you're abusing that trust?'
She felt a tremble in her hands as she typed. She was already sniffling, holding back tears. 'Yes.'
'I understand. We all felt that way at first.'
'Let me ask you. Does he really not know you're manipulating him? Is he that stupid?'
She frowned. 'He's not stupid, no.'
'And he could stop at anytime? He could just say that he didn't want to play anymore?'
'Yes, I suppose. He's afraid I'm going to end the relationship if he does though.'
'Is he enjoying himself?'
She wiped away the tears and felt the grin on her face. He was enjoying himself or seemed to be. He whined and moaned and groaned and complained, but he was in heaven the second she walked in the room. She could see it in his eyes. It was almost like . . . adoration, worship. 'Yes, but I think we both keep thinking how long can we keep this up?'
'It gets easier. It does. I promise. For both of you. After awhile, you won't have to do so much. Just a little touch here or there, a little chat here or there and he'll be floating and you'll be so in love with the attention that you'll wonder how you did with out.'
That was already true. It was addictive. The attention he gave her was complete. She felt like a bright burning star in a dark sky. Wherever she went, she could feel his focus on her, his attention. He couldn't get enough of her. His desire for her had deepened, broadened. He no longer seemed to just want what was on her chest and between her legs; their kisses had become electric. He moaned during them, actually moaned aloud. He gave her foot massages, leg massages, rubbed her shoulders. She would glance over at him and see his eyes glazed over with pleasure just staring at her skin, watching his own thumbs run over it, studying the shape of her. He noticed what she was wearing, noticed how she wore her hair . . . every single time. She couldn't change a single detail without him catching it and commenting on it.