Denial games, chastity devices, being edged and teased… has anyone noticed that I’ve very much into these things at the moment? My writing is always an expression that I’m finding extremely hot at any given time, and fantasies of being denied and used are filling my head at the moment…
“Tell everyone that you’re a pathetic little slut, filthy girl, and then we might unlock your belt.”
It started a month ago, when I’d been flirting with her and got in deeper than I was expecting to. I was so eager to play with this brilliant, sexy woman that almost before I knew it we were negotiating a denial kink scene, playing with my desire to be controlled, and hers to be an evil bitch.
She talked me through purchasing a chastity belt, and she told me to edge myself as we discussed how I would take photos of myself putting it on when it arrived so she could see her toy all locked up for her. I was so close to an orgasm when she told me to stop, and sent me a photo of her wet fingers and satisfied smile. Get used to it slut, she told me, your cunt is mine.
And when the belt arrived, and I locked myself into it, my cunt really did belong to her. She instructed me to check in with her once a day, because she wanted to hear how horny I was, what filthy thoughts I was thinking, and check that I hadn’t touched myself without permission. She didn’t always believe me, though, and took delight in punishing me when she thought I was hiding my sluttish behaviour from her.
Now and again, she let me unlock the belt, and gave me permission to rub frantically at my clit for a few minutes. I would almost get to the orgasm I needed before she laughed cruelly and told me to stop. A few times I was allowed to take the belt off and squirm on my most powerful vibrator for a few minutes, while she carefully counted down. Every time she grinned evilly as I took slaps to my cunt for the number of seconds I’d disobeyed her and kept playing after she told me to stop.
Kneeling here, weighing up if I’m going to say the words, I remember a moment from the exquisite hell torture of the last month. It was the first – though far from the last – time you teased me in such a public place. She told me to go to a coffee shop and sit there, while she sent me filthy words and erotica to read. I had to stay there until there was a literal puddle on the seat underneath me. By the time she let me go home, I was a blushing, embarrassed mess. I loved it.
After a month of the game, she invited me to come down and see her and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was certain that you’d end my denial and let me come. It was only when I arrived two days ago and she ordered me to my knees in the hallway, demanding the other key from me that I realised this was only going to be an extension of the games. Instead of the satisfying orgasm I was anticipating, I got an evening of edging, denial and spanking, as well as serving both her and her partner.
I almost cried with frustration when she locked me back into the chastity belt that evening, but I really, really regretted sneaking out of the bed the three of us were sharing in the early hours of the morning. She’d left one of the key on the bedside table, and when she caught me wanking I realise it was a trick: she was tempting me and looking for a reason to extend my denial.
Yesterday she told me to dress up pretty, little slut. Her partner drove us to a fetish club, and I got beaten alongside and by her. They tied me to a St. Andrews cross and teased me, inviting others to watch me dissolve into a squirming mess of a girl who is willing to offer anything for the chance to come.
When we got home, I slumped on your sofa. My cunt was dripping, and I could feel every throb of my poor clit against the steel and rubber of my chastity belt. “Aww, so desperate and messy. Would you like me to take the belt off?” she asked, and I nodded desperately. The cool air on my cunt felt wonderful, but she grabbed my hands before I could touch myself. Bad kitty, she scolded, come with me.
They bound me to a chair, my arms behind my back. With a slender butt plug in my arse, and her Doxy strapped to my legs (it pressed against my clit, but on its lowest setting, which isn’t quite enough to make me come) I was helpless. And when they have finished teasing me, they started to fuck and I am forced to watch.
That time I did cry.
“Tell everyone that you’re a pathetic little slut, filthy girl, and then we might unlock your belt.”
Today they invited friends over and stripped me until I was naked – apart from the chastity belt, of course. I’m told if I please everyone, she might unlock my chastity belt and end my denial. My mouth is fucked, I give orgasms, I take spankings, and I stay statue-still on all fours while a tea-cup and plate of cakes is balanced on my back. Of course, they haven’t taken the belt off, just given me more tasks and teased me for how wet I am.
“I’m a pathetic little slut,” I say, and everyone laughs.
I don’t even ask if she’ll unlock me: my cunt is hers.
Image sourced through Pixabay.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.
