Limiting Access: Chapter 2
It was a regular night for us. Him, calmly chatting to me while sipping a beverage. Looking fantastic. He still wore a tie at work but I liked it when he came home, removed it, and undid his shirt. The light gleamed on his collarbone, the definition of his jaw.
I was used to an inconceivable degree of aggravation I'd never anticipated before. It seemed as if it had been years since he'd planned for me to be brutally fucked. To be precise, it had been approximately four months. Since then he'd figured out how to gratify himself regularly without ever providing me with the orgasm I yearned for. Naturally, this often involved me stroking or rubbing his penis. I would've liked to discontinue satisfying him, but could not endure not to.
The predicament I found myself in caused me to get pleasure from making him cum, even if I stayed closed away. On my knees, subtly licking his penis or feeling him plunging into my mouth; or stooping over his body and employing my mouth and chest to arouse him, was my primary goal now. It had been a long time since I'd requested him when he would release me from my chastity belt. I'd begged, informed him he'd prevailed, that I knew I required to be fucked; none of that swayed him. He thrived off my desperation. He cherished the notion that he could stroll into the room and activate the agonizing twitching and throbbing of my clitoris, turning my entire enclosed pussy soft and wet.
I was attired in a tight gown, which he admired. My typical futile effort to entice him. My stockings, the lace snuggled just beneath the skirt, my pallid skin above them noticeable if he elected to look. I'd braided my hair, showing him my neck. Circling my hips, the unfeeling plastic of my chastity belt. I'd climaxed him only last night; he might not even want to tonight.
"You look exceptional," he remarked, stroking my face, sparking a wave of stimulus through my pussy. "I'd like to take you out tonight."
"Fine," I responded. "The bar?"
"There's a different place I'd like to check out," he said. "It's not far."
When we arrived, there was scarcely anything to see. A worn door on a side street and a covert plaque, 'Number 53'. I felt edgy. I would not have visited that place by myself.
He employed a swipe card to unlock the door, and within it was more favorable; surprisingly spacious and contemporary, with tiled walls reflecting echoes of our footsteps. A lady resided at a deeply inset desk, smiling at him. "Good evening," she greeted.
"Hi, how are you? This is Rebecca," he introduced me, and she turned toward me with an even more expansive grin. "Oh, magnificent. Come on in, the both of you."
She arose and parted a curtain, and we followed her to a different, larger room. It was dim, empty, and extremely silent, although the background noise of some sort of electrical hum was discernible. I was a tad disheartened; I'd assumed it would be a club, possibly to dance, press against him, to feel a modicum of release despite his continued denial of an orgasm.
"What would you prefer to drink? Champagne?" she inquired, and almost instantaneously there was a glass in my hand. I sipped, carefully - I recognized a little about wine, enough to mistrust complimentary beverages at clubs - but it was the genuine substance, rich and multifaceted. I felt the initial sip touch my mind and a pleasant sensation of serenity.
"Now, for you, please sit here," she stated to him, indicating a leather armchair. "And for you, Rebecca - " and surprisingly she was pulling out a small, low stool with a cushioned top, stirring it and beaming at me. I gaped at her. Was I supposed to sit on that, gazing up at the armchair? Or - something made me think - was I supposed to kneel on it? And then what?
Illumination suddenly erupted at one section of the room. I jerked, almost spilling my drink. A naked gentleman was standing there, concealed behind a panel of glass, half clear, half frosted. His face was plainly visible, as were his eyes fixed intently upon me. His physique was asexual. His dick was protruding through the glass, and he utilized the handles on his side of the glass, in the waist region, to thrust further into the chamber. His aroma was quite potent; could recognize him.
At the same moment, with more illumination, I noticed the shadows of additional individuals near him, hiding behind the glass, around the room.
"Let's," he said softly from his chair, "you might not believe me right now, but you're going to relish this." And very gently he took my drink, deposited it down, raised my skirt marginally higher up my thighs so that the contrast of the dark lace of my stockings against my flesh was apparent. The man behind the glass likely produced a considerable sound, but the glass muted it. The touch of her fingers on my legs initiated my clitoris tickling. (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)
Order him to come to me, he instructed.
In a surreal state, I grabbed the small stool and headed toward the cock protruding through the glass. My lips parted as I knelt down, leaning in to inspect it. Slightly larger than average, its foreskin had already slid off the head, leaving a drop of semen forming at the tip. From the other side of the glass, a husky voice demanded, "Suck me," but I sensed that he would need to wait for my signal. There wouldn't be any sudden grabbing of my head or ferocious thrusting in this encounter.
I extended my thumb to hold it in place and curled my tongue under the head. I intended to simply taste him and gauge his reaction - and he reacted by producing a long groan and his cock hardened even further - but as I applied myself to the task, I felt an electric current between my legs and an exquisite pleasure at the base of my clitoris. I bolted upright and the sensation ceased.
I glanced behind me at him. He gazed back at me while sipping his drink. "Enjoy yourself, darling," he urged.
Lowering my gaze, I shifted my attention back to the increasingly engorged cock perched on my thumb. I positioned my open mouth over it, and as soon as my tongue made contact, the pleasure returned, this time focalized exactly where I wanted it, stroking the base of my clitoris. It synchronized with my head's rhythmic motion. It felt divine and worthy of an enormous climax. However, as I lifted my eyes toward the man behind the glass, he groaned loudly, and his cock exploded in an instant, flooding my mouth with his semen. Instantly, the buzzing ceased. Disheartened, I struggled to continue but decided to try a different approach.
I slid my stool over to examine the next cock: erect and robust, ready for me. Intrigued, I considered when the buzz might activate. Reaching for his cock, I dragged my tongue along one side of his head, following the contour. The buzzer remained silent. I stretched my mouth wide, leveling my eyes with the figure behind the glass. "Suck it!" he cried frantically, and as my lips closed around the head, the buzzer sprang to life, sending surges of pleasure spiraling up to my clitoris. It was more intense than I could have desired, and since my legs were spread wide, my lips and tongue were symphonically synchronized with my partner's movements.
The buzzing feel invaded my entire body, focused directly at the throbbing pleasure building in my clitoris. The wave kept on coming, building to an extreme level of pleasure, and I was swept up into its stranglehold before I could even utter a moan. My head gradually crashed forward as the remaining semen spurted into my mouth. Without warning, the buzzer cut out.
Panting heavily, I lay back with my lover hovering over me, unzipping his trousers and sliding between my legs to mount me. He was gentle, tender, but I craved a deeper contact that would reactivate the buzzer. His hands traced over my body in other attempts at arousal. It was nice but inadequate, however, as the restrictive belt prevented any meaningful movement or connection. He choked back a "huh" and climaxed within me as I yearned for more. We entangled ourselves, loving and soft, our tongues meeting in one final act of intimacy.
During it all, I had completely forgotten about the belt. As my awareness returned, the light flicked on, illuminating the domestic scene around us. The memory of the cock in my mouth lingered - the clitoral stimulation, the surges of pleasure which evaded me mere moments ago. I would return, I decided. I'd keep coming back to be teased and tease the buzzing orgasm that I so badly desired.
But for tonight, the tryst was over, the thrill was spent, and our beautiful dance under the bright lights must come to an end. I gazed deep into his eyes as he pressed his lips against my neck. "That was beautiful, darling," he murmured, but I was already thinking, scheming ways to step up the game for our encounters to come.
Eventually, it was me who reconnected the buckle's casing and secured it again. I yearned for sensations like that, and apparently the only way to experience them was by adhering to the constraints imposed on me.
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