My Friday Night: Disconnected

"Yes," he murmured.

"I love the way you leak when I play with you. Take your cock out of your panties. Stroke it nice and slow... But don't cum yet. Don't you dare cum! Let go of your cock. Right now."

I heard a soft "unh" sound on the other end of the line, and imagined his frustration at letting go.

"Tell me what you want."

There was silence on the other end of the line. I imagined that I could see him, lying on his bed on his back in his lingerie, his hand poised, hovering, waiting to touch himself. In my mind's eye, I could see his anguish as he forced himself to hold back: knitted brow, closed eyes, open mouth, and chest rising and falling with rapid breath. I could see his cock twitching with the need for release.

"Tell me," I repeated myself loudly and slowly, "what you want."

"I want you to fuck my ass." His voice was so low and breathy that I could barely make out the words.

I loved having control over him. Of course, there was truly nothing stopping him from masturbating. Obviously, I couldn't see him; I couldn't know for sure that he wasn't pretending to do as he was told. But that was the beauty of the game that we liked to play.

He got off on the tease. What would have been the point of it all, if he didn't obey? He wanted me to force him. He wanted me to push him. He wanted me to deny him.

And so, I knew that he was lying there, hanging on my every word, perhaps even trembling with the effort of abstaining. He was in subspace. He was consumed by his need to cum, and his need to please me was keeping him from having that release.

"Yeah, I know you love it when I fuck your ass," I purred into the phone. "You loved when I had you lie face down, pushed my strap-on inside of you and fucked you." I listened to him breathing as I spoke. "I love when you push back because you want it all. I love the surprise and the helplessness in your voice when you say, 'I'm going to cum!' And then you do, all over your panties."

When I heard that sexy little whimper of his, my body responded. I wanted more. I wanted to hear him cum. "You love when I touch your stomach, feeling that soft, silky slip on your skin, don't you? Take the slip and lay it over your cock. Wrap your fingers around your cock and stroke it. Rub it over the tip. Now take the slip off and jerk off, faster and harder. I want you to cum for me tonight. I want to hear you cum."

I could hear him; I knew that he was doing exactly as I told him, because he wanted to cum so badly. I thought about one of his favorite scenes, and began a story. "I'm going to whore you out to my friends. I'm going to invite a couple of women over and we're going to use you. I own you. Isn't that what you want?"

He whimpered. When I heard him on the other end of the line, making soft sounds, I loved how he seemed barely able to talk to me unless I forcibly engaged him. "Is that what you want?" I repeated.

"Yes."

I grinned. "Of course you do. You're going to be on your knees with your hands bound behind your back, and we're going to take turns grabbing your head and fucking your face. You're going to lick our pussies until we cum, and then we will give you a chance. You'll be kneeling there with our cum all over your face, and I'll untie your hands and unlock your cock. Jerk off for us, Nicholas."

When I heard him moan on the other end of the line, I felt a thrill between my legs. His low moans became more urgent, spurring me on. "But you only have two minutes. I'm only giving you two minutes to make yourself cum, so you better be fast. If you don't cum within two minutes, I'm locking you back up. You won't be allowed to cum. You need to cum, Nick, I know you want to cum, don't you? Hurry up or I'm going to lock you back up!"

My pussy tingled as I listened to him gasp and groan. I imagined the cum shooting onto his slip and running down his hand. In the silence after his orgasm, while he caught his breath, I slipped a hand down my panties. I was so wet.

"Feel better?" I asked.

"God, yes. That was great. I have missed talking to you," he said.

"I'm touching myself. I need you to make me cum."

"Do you want me to be dominant or submissive?"

"I don't fucking care. Say anything. Just make me cum," I breathed.

The things that he says are not as important as the fact that he is saying them. I love hearing his voice. I love knowing that he is there, and that he is listening.

I had an orgasm while he spoke of things he would do to me, painting a scene where he was the one in control.

"I love that you're a switch," he said. "I love how much you enjoy dominating me and owning me, but that you also want to be taken. And part of me wants to take."