Sensual Smut Conversations And Thoughts

THIRTEEN

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I like to edge you for a while before I pleasure with your overstimulated, overheated, and oversensitized body. You moan and whimper as you struggle to keep your orgasm at bay every time I slowly slide you onto my thick, hard cock. It makes my pleasure so much more beautiful, as my cock finds your sweet spots deep inside, rubs, and makes it even harder for you to control yourself. You know the rule. You are not allowed to cum without Daddy's permission.

Everybody wins.

And then Daddy switches to fucking your ass. Just look at how beautiful your needy pussy looks when it drips, untouched, from fucking your ass. Look how swollen it is—how obviously desperate for any stimulation at all. That tiny erect clit of yours is so desperate for touch and screaming for attention.

So now your pussy will weep, and you will suffer in beautiful agony until Daddy has all the pleasure of fucking your ass.

You are a greedy, greedy slut, and you will pay for it now. And it is natural for you to beg Daddy for his permission to cum. It is so much fun for Daddy to see you struggle to control and keep those orgasms at bay. Daddy may allow you to cum. You must give me as many orgasms as you have when Daddy's cock is buried deep inside your ass.

Too bad for you. Daddy isn't multi-orgasmic like you're. Daddy can't cum three, four times a session the way you do.

This is going to take far longer than your liking slut. 

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You asked, What am I going to do when you cum without Daddy's permission?

I told you not to cum without asking for Daddy's permission first. Bad cunt. And even begging for an orgasm gets you punished. You are to beg to please me. Someday, perhaps, pleasing me will involve an orgasm on your part now. Until then, your job is to suffer with a wet, needy pussy until I say otherwise. Another 34 slaps, and I'll start edging you with my tongue again... Because right now, that is what pleases me.

Yes, slap that pussy 34 times, and I want you to count those slaps, you slut.

And on each count, I want you to repeat, "Daddy, I obey you."

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I love to edge you. And the reasons are simple. It is really a torturous form of pleasure. And It is beautiful. Yes, it is.

It starts off fairly extreme, of course. Two fingers slowly, rhythmically, and methodically slide in and out of a wet, needy little pussy. In the beginning, you bite your lip, staring up at Daddy with suggestive eyes. Foreplay, you assumes. And who doesn't love a healthy dose of that?

You don't come close to cumming yet. Of course not. And you don't expect to.

In time, however, your appetite becomes insatiable. There's only so much teasing a girl can take, after all, right? you starts to pull on my shirt, a naughty look in your face. You command me to fuck you, like it's the next natural step in this game we have played so many times.

I place my hand on your chest and force your back down. My fingers never leave your pussy. You smile. You love it rough.

Your slow, teasing moans evolve as the juices start sliding down your ass. The noises you makes no longer belong in the realm of foreplay; no, you're becoming exceptionally needy. Instinctively, you start grinding your hips against my fingers, hoping such a movement would contribute to any harder sensation. You just want to cum, dammit. You just want that release.

I refuse to give it to you. My eyes stay locked on yours, my tone gentle, and my fingers relentless.

It gets to the point where your body needs restraints. Your hips are bucking, your legs are violently shaking, and your teeth are grinding. Your eyes shift from wide open to slammed shut as beads of sweat form around your neck. The noises you're now making—they're typically reserved for the most intense of sensations. The poundings. The spankings. The Fucking. The vibrators.

Something is happening to your mind. It's reverting back to something ancient, something primal. My hand on your neck choking you as your hungry screams fill the room. I look down at my slut, someone who was once human but is now controlled by sexual desperation.

And I'm still not done. Not yet.

Eventually, there is an edge of no return. It is the horizon of pleasure. It breaks you down. Your brain can't bring itself to even fancy a spare thought about anything but cumming. A slick coat of saliva coats your lips and breasts. Maybe a few spasms here or there, but nothing like before. In fact, the moans and screams have ceased as well.

I tell you to look up at me.

You complies without hesitation.

Your body has given up, and your brain is far too clouded to make choices for itself. All you know now are your fingers and your words.

Some call this a form of subspace. Your body is free from the restraints of your own hesitations, and your mind is hollowed out for your suggestions. And all it took were two fingers.

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