Taming of the Stalker

We eat mostly in silence, too hungry to talk as we consume the very good pork. I wonder where you learned to cook like this. Whoever it was really must've known what the hell they were doing, because the meat and green beans is so damn delicious. I am finished within a few minutes and stand to take my plate over to the sink.

"Would you be a dear and take mine too?" you ask. I return to the table and pick up your plate. You smile at me and nod and I put that plate into the sink as well.

"Now the glasses."

I come back to the table and pick up our empty glasses. I put those in the sink along with the plates, and you walk up behind me. You rub my shoulders and pull me back into you, hugging me from behind. You start rubbing your hands all over my body. You turn me around, force me up against the counter and kiss me hungrily, pulling back long enough to whisper, "Mine," before giving me another fierce kiss. You nip at my lips this time, and then pull back, a contented smile lighting up your face.

"And now," you say in a mock announcer voice. "The games must continue."

Afternoon, The Victim

I turn out of the kitchen and we walk back toward the little office room. I can sense you shuffling along behind me, and I smile as I realize I know now that, even if your hands were not bound, you probably wouldn't take me into your arms unless I gave you my permission. This is what I have been striving for all along, not just control over your body, but the knowledge of your mind, and the understanding between us to be so implicit that the ropes and bonds are no longer necessary. Soon, I think. It will come soon enough.

We pause in the doorway to the office and I ask you if you need to go to the bathroom before we play, but you tell me you took care of that before lunch. "Good," I say, glad we can get right back to the game. I continue into the room and you come in after me and sit in the chair behind the desk again. I've marked off both our scores for the past turns, and it surprises me how little of the game we've actually played.

Without a word, you flip open the box and pick up the dice. I don't speak, since it's your turn anyway. I smile as you begin jiggling the dice around in your hands. You let them fall into the box, and the dots become visible as you move your fingers out of the way: 2, 2, 3, 5, 5. You frown for a moment, glance at your score sheet, then set the 5s aside on the desk and pick up the other dice. When they've dropped back into the box, you've got 1, 2, 3. You shake your head and roll them again, and this time it comes out better: 3, 5, 5.

"Fives for 20," you say, and I mark it down with a smile.

"This gives you 63 points. My turn now."

You slide the box of dice over and I roll them, not really caring anymore about the score. I'm finding it harder and harder to continue with the game and find myself hoping you'll win, giving me a chance to give you the orgasm you've desired for so long.

"The dice fall: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. My eyes widen and I shrug. "That won't happen again," I say. "I'd better take it while I can. Large straight. I have 93 points."

You deflate slightly, seeing that I'm now 30 points ahead of you.

"You're getting a lot of your top section though," I say. "You'll probably make a comeback later."

You shrug and glance at the sheet again. Then you sigh as I smile. "Twenty minutes of human chair. Here's how we're going to do it."

I get up, take you by the hand, and we walk out of the room. "Wait here for a sec," I say, and nip into the bedroom to grab the trusty handbag. I meet you in the hall and we continue into the combination dining room/kitchen, which also has a couch and TV to one side. I point to a recliner near the window, and you sit down. It is quite comfortable, so you don't mind so much when I secure your arms to its arms with soft, elastic restraints I have taken out of the bag. They're thick enough to cover your wrists and the backs of your hands as well. I pop the foot-rest out and you put your feet up. I secure you by the knees and ankles to the extended foot-rest, then open up your jumpsuit in the front so you're naked where it counts. Then I open my own lacy nightgown in the back to correspond, slide another elastic strap from the TV stand around your waist, then secure your chest and shoulders to the chair with an elastic harness. I do the same with your upper arms, making sure the bonds aren't cutting into your skin, then set my bag on the TV stand next to the screen itself.

I look at you, inspecting my work, run a hand through your hair, and slowly lower myself down, leaning back into your chest, my head on your shoulder and your hard-on between my thighs. I sigh, reach over and pick up the remote. I flick on the TV and begin surfing. I ask you what you want to watch, but you just shrug and tell me to pick something I like. I shift to the side so you can see the screen, but you don't seem to be paying attention, for which I can't blame you. Instead, as I slowly rub my buttocks and thighs against your hardness, you turn your face and bury it in my hair. I have taken note of the time, and endeavor to fully enjoy myself as I relax in your lap, occasionally giving you an excruciating thrill of pleasure with my bare thighs and hips. I lean forward every few minutes, shifting my weight from your hips to your thighs and back again, so as not to cause too much discomfort, and also because I know the sensation of your cock rubbing against my bare ass is causing you extreme, sweet torture.

After about ten minutes of this, I reach over and casually free one of your hands, as well as the strap around your upper arm, just to see what you'll do. For a moment, you just hold still, seeming thoughtful. Then, you start gently stroking my hair, which I like, a lot. I smile and give you an encouraging squeeze. You shudder slightly, and your hand moves down to my collar bone and then to one of my breasts. You free it from the half-open nightie and start playing with my nipple in a way that is most enjoyable. Slowly, your hand strays to the other breast, you set it free, and start playing with that one too. By now, I'm smiling widely, and not stopping you. Part of me wishes you'd rip that nightgown all the way open and bury your hand in my wet pussy. I'm sure I'd come in a heartbeat. But I don't want to ruin the nightgown, and I'm sure I'll have plenty of opportunity for pleasure later.

After about five minutes of this, I can stand it no longer, I free both of your arms, then raise myself up over you, my knees on the arms of the recliner, rocking it slightly. You reach up and brace my hips to hold me steady as I violently jerk off the nightie. I wiggle around to face you and sit down on your lap so my wet pussy is right against your hard cock, the length of it rubbing sweetly against me. I grind against you, and you wrap your arms around me, pressing me tightly against you as I rock us both, slowly at first, then faster, gasping and moaning together in what seems to be one long, unfulfilling climb toward an orgasm that never comes. It's not enough for me, I need you inside of me and have to use every ounce of my will-power to keep from tilting my hips slightly and taking you in.

Twenty minutes goes by far too quickly. Once, near the end, you suddenly stopped and begged me to get up, saying you were going to cum unless I did. I had jumped up quickly until you relaxed again. I found myself surprised, because the climax had approached so quickly and because, since I had been paying more attention to what we were doing than how close you were to cumming, I hadn't been as quick about stopping myself as usual. As it was, there was some sticky precum on my thigh which made me shiver all over.

When time is up, I undo the elastic restraints and you get up slowly, as if your cock is some kind of bomb that is about to explode. I try hard not to laugh as I reapply the silk scarves to your wrists and ankles and lead you back into the office, grabbing my bag on the way. "Maybe I should have put a towel down on that recliner," I say, and your slight nervousness goes away, and you shake your head, saying you only got it on me. I nod, then smooth the nightgown back over myself and close your outfit up too before we sit down. "I'm impressed," I say. "You could have taken your orgasm then, but you warned me instead." I wasn't sure about this, because I might have noticed it in time to stop you, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt anyway. "I'll have to reward you for that later. Your turn."

You reach for the dice with both bound hands and roll 3, 4, 4, 5, 6. You quickly set aside your fours and roll the other three, getting 1, 2, 6. You reroll them again, and this time get 2, 3, 4.

"Twelve in 4s?" I ask, and you nod. I mark it down. "That gives you 75."

You slide the dice over and I roll them, getting 1, 3, 3, 4, 6. I keep my 3s and reroll the other three dice. They come up as 2, 3, 3. I grin excitedly as I set aside all four of the 3s and roll the last die, but give a disappointed shake of the head when it comes out as 6. "Oh well, no Yahtzee for me this time. I'll take four of a kind with 18, which gives me 111 points." I look up at you and grin slowly. "You know what this means," I say. "Your favorite."

"You mean your favorite," you say, but there's not much bitterness there.

I grin. "Touché. After that, you can have a bit of a break so you can clean up, get some dinner and relax a little. You've been hard for awhile, and you need to settle down, but I don't want to put you to sleep again." I smile. "But remember, after dinner, the games continue."

We head back to the bed and you get into position without being asked. I secure your arms and legs to the bedposts loosely with the scarves, giving you enough room to wiggle around if you need to, and slowly climb onto the bed next to you. I'm only disappointed that we've only got twelve minutes to do this. I hope that's enough time for me to cum, but as soon as I lower myself down and your tongue comes into contact with my clit, I realize it will be more than enough time.

The Stalker

I do my best to give you the greatest tonguing I have yet given you. Having done it before means I know which spots to lick, how much pressure to apply, how fast or slow to lick. The problem is that, this time, I feel your mouth engulf my cock, and I fight hard to not lose myself in the feelings your lips and tongue are imparting to my member. I wonder how you are going to keep me from orgasming. I settle in and work your clit the best way that I know how. I do not tease or deny you. I've finally figured out I'm very much the victim and you are very much the one in charge. I don't want to be punished again. I like you being nice and sweet, but still very much in control. I don't want the harsh you of this morning to return, so I settle in and really do an excellent job, doing my best to not think about the show going on between my legs. But what you're doing to me feels so damn good. You're pistoning your mouth up and down my rod, sucking, fluttering your tongue against me. You take me all the way down your throat and I shudder suddenly. You moan as I flick my tongue a certain way, and I feel myself tense and get ready to cum, but luckily for me, you notice and immediately remove your mouth. I keep working, and finally feel you shaking as an orgasm overtakes you. I lick up the nectar that comes forth from your womanhood, and then dive my tongue back in, wanting more. Finally you go back to work on me, but more carefully this time. I don't want to cum before you're ready to let me. In the last day, I have learned that by doing as you say, I can increase my own pleasure tenfold. I feel you shudder as you clearly hit a second orgasm, and I quickly lick up your delicious girl cum. You shudder and shake for several moments, and I am just ready to begin working you again when I hear a tiny ding. You must have set a timer and I didn't notice. You flip around, lay down on top of me and rub yourself against me. You kiss me and push your tongue deep down my throat, coming up after a minute or so for air.

"You have a talented tongue, my dear, I just thought you should know," you breathe into my ear. "Never has anyone given me such a delicious release as you. You will be rewarded in the near future for your hard work, but for the moment my love, I think food is in order, and I know just what I'm going to make."

You set about unbinding my feet and hands from the bed. You leave the scarves around my arms and legs but loosely. You are about to head out of the room when I call you back and you glance over your shoulder at me.

"What?" you ask.

"Um, I hope this isn't the only jumpsuit that I have," I say. "It's been a while since you've brought me here and I should probably think of showering soon."

"Hmm, you're right," you say. "You don't smell bad, but I did say you could relax before dinner and I think a hot shower would be the perfect way to do it. Only one thing must you promise me before I allow you to shower unsupervised."

"What's that?" I ask, although I think I know what it's going to be. You step close to me, look deep into my eyes and a smile crosses your face.

"No masturbation, no cumming," you say. "You are mine now, and if any release is granted, I'll be the one to do it, not you. Are we understood?"

"Of course," I say. "I'd much rather have you do it if you want to know the truth. The testosterone in my nuts is begging for mercy, but at the same time, my hand would not be near as perfect as yours. Or your mouth. Or whatever you use to bring me to release when you do."

"Excellent then," you say. "All right, you have my permission to shower. I'll lay a fresh jumpsuit out for you while you're in there. When you're done, come in here, get dressed, then meet me in the kitchen. Oh, and that silk won't react well to water, so take the scarves off to shower and put them back on again when you're done. You're earning your way out of them, but I don't think a little bit longer in them will hurt you."

I get off the bed and make my way out of the room. As I'm nearing the door, I hear you come up behind me and I feel a stinging slap on my ass. It doesn't hurt too much, but I jump, and I feel my cock grow a little harder. You notice me flinch and say, "Like a little spanking, do we? Perhaps I will have to take you over my knee and administer a spanking to you some time, but for now, go take a hot shower. You've earned it."

In the bathroom, I undo the silk scarves, lay them carefully on the sink, strip out of the prisoner's jumpsuit and turn on the water in the shower. I hold my hand under the faucet to gauge the water temperature and, satisfied, step in. I sigh with satisfaction as the hot water runs over me. I stand under the stream for a couple of minutes, just relaxing and taking it all in. Then I find a bottle of shampoo/body wash and a rag and soap up my body. I wash under my arms and the rest of my body, being careful when I come to my cock and balls. I don't want to send myself over the edge even accidentally, and what with all the teasing I've endured, it would be so easy to do.

I finish after a few minutes, rinse off and step out. I grab a towel, dry myself, rebind the scarves, not as effectively as you however, and make my way into the bedroom. Just as you said, a fresh jumpsuit is lying on the bed, and I get into it with few issues, except I have to untie and re-tie the scarves to get my arms through the loops. Then I walk out and toward the kitchen, where the smell of something good awaits. You turn from the stove and nod at me as I enter.

"I'm making us a pizza," you announce. "My own recipe. I learned it from my mother. Actually, I learned a lot of things from my mother."

"Did you perhaps learn how to bind a man, tease and torment him, and then keep him there nearly constantly?"

"No no," you say quickly. "That, I learned from someone else. She trained me well, but you're my first project without supervision. Tell me, little stalker, do you think I'm doing well?"

"Are you doing well? You've teased me right to the edge I can't tell you how many times. You seem to take some kind of perverse pleasure in knowing that I am constantly on the edge, thinking about you and the various ways you could get me off. The sound of your voice, the feel of your breath on my neck, our lips when they touch, all those things are helping to keep me there. I'd get on my knees and beg you to let me cum right now if I thought it would help."

"It wouldn't," you say matter of factly. "I'll decide when you get to cum, and you don't need to know more than that. It is enough to know that you will be allowed a release at all, and believe me sweetie, when you do get there, I will be happy to be the one to let you have it. You've suffered so for me, and I still have to think of a suitable reward for your being honest enough to tell me you were going to cum earlier."

"I'll look forward to it," I say.

"Would you be a sweet thing and bring me the pizza cutter?" you ask. "It's in the drawer by the refrigerator."

I walk over to the fridge as I am bid and look in the drawer next to it. Sure enough, I locate a pizza cutter and bring it back to you, shivering slightly as I remember the knife play. You take it from my hands and smile at me in thanks.

"And now a couple of plates?"

I get the plates out of the cupboard along with glasses-although you didn't ask, and set the table. I ask what you'd like to drink, and you tell me this time you'll get them. We sit down a few minutes later to eat what proves to be a very tasty pizza. While we eat, you interrogate me as to how I've enjoyed/not enjoyed the day's events and all we've done together overall. I think so far, the lesson in trust and the human chair were my favorites. I chose the lesson in trust because it gave me a feeling of total helplessness, but taught me that, although I feel helpless, I will be well taken care of, and the human chair because you let me have access to your hair and breasts, and I do so love those. We enjoy a nice, slow meal, no hurries. I then put the plates and glasses in the sink as before, and in a familiar move, you back me against the counter, kiss me rather forcefully, and this time, pull me to you and grab a handful of buttock.

"I'm not sure I can ever let you go, you know," you purr quietly. "I may just have to take you back with me and chain you to my bed and keep you as my obedient pet."

I'm not sure whether it's the hormones raging through my bloodstream or not, but at that moment I'd be thrilled to be your pet. I imagine you hiding me in your dorm room, trying to keep me a secret from your suite mates, and a shudder runs through me. I wonder how you'd keep me from being discovered, or would you?

You release me after a long moment, step back and sigh contentedly.

"I think, my dear, you've had a long enough break," you say. "It's time we get back to what's really important."

Evening, the Victim

We walk together to the office and you settle down into your designated chair. I bend over you, giving you another long kiss, and readjusting the scarves on your wrists. You've tied them a little more tightly than I would have, but not as well, and I frown a little as I loosen them and make sure you have enough freedom of movement and circulation. I lean down even further, see that you did better on your ankles, nod and stand up again, my hair brushing against your shoulder as I do. I turn and sit in my own chair, then reach up and slide the dice toward you.

You collect them and roll them quickly. They fall into the box, 1, 3, 3, 4, 4. You look thoughtful for a moment and look at your score sheet. Then, making your decision, you set aside the 3s, then pick up the other dice and roll them again: 1, 2, 6. You shake your head and roll them all again. This time, they come out 1, 3, 5.