500 Word Friday Femdom Fiction: Pent Up

When they went to the couch, he automatically took a place with his head in her lap, his favourite spot. And her fingers combed through his hair, before setting in a curl that rubbed the sensitive spot at his hairline. In the kitchen, the dishwasher swooshed and squirted, cozy evening noises after dinner.

He was naked, but she was not, and he scrubbed his face happily into the velvety corduroy ribs of her pants. His cock was spending a lot of time erect this week, but the thickness had resolved itself at half mast after dinner’s teasing session.

Under the table, her feet had wandered, bare and squirmy, into his lap and she’d rubbed and teased just enough to get his attention. It was a particular kind of torture because he wasn’t allowed to talk about it. No begging, not even a thank you, not since Monday. It was Sunday now and she’d been keeping him from coming all week long.

It wasn’t the first time they’d done denial games, and even when he was free to touch and rub himself as much as he liked, she loved to find ways to tease him. She knew he loved the look of her in cotton panties, so she was always finding reasons for him to see up her skirt, sliding his hand up there or even, memorably on Thursday night, leaving a pair at the bottom of the lunch she made him for work, neatly ziplocked in their own bag under the snacking cucumber and ham sandwich on rye. And he hadn’t even been allowed to take them into the bathroom and edge himself to almost there. Or even text her the frantic feelings that had popped up as surely as his cock had started shoving against his khakis.

She brought a novel to the couch, but although she opened it to her place from last time, “Hard to believe that it’s been a week, hasn’t it?”

“Mmm?” He pressed his lips together, remembering how firmly she had told him not to comment. She told him she’d liked watching the struggle in his face.

“You may talk about how much you want it.” She laughed, “It’s printed in your eyes. But you know, I almost sort of miss seeing the way you usually grope and touch yourself. So, stand up!”

The instruction was punctuated with a nudge from her thigh, hinting he needed to get off the couch. He was up and in front of her, hands hesitating, his whole posture begging to touch. He hadn’t been allowed to for any reason but hygiene, and since they showered together a lot of the time it meant she’d been taking over even the opportunity for something furtive had turned into another tease from her he had to moan and squirm his way through without saying a word

But now her hands reached out, cupped his balls, balls that had ached to empty, and looped her index finger and thumb around the root of his cock’s shaft. After many months of cohabitation fuelled sex romps, she’d gotten really good, stroking and tugging in ways that could stretch the delicious torture out until his voice was pushed high up out of its normal range in desperation.


She liked the velvety feel of his cock in her hand, liked the man-musk-smell, clean but deep and heady, and loved the slippery precum that beaded up. There’d been a lot of precum this week. Her smile widened, giving that little wrists twist that she knew he liked, letting the hood of his foreskin slide, slippery against the head of his cock.

“Miss! Miss! Please! Miss!” He was getting increasingly more incoherent, no longer able to keep his knees unbent.

“That’s it, kneel down, slut,” she said with mean-affection wrapping her voice into a purr. To get closer to her work, she was off the couch now, novel somewhere on the floor. “Go on, come for me!”

The hoarse burst of a thank you marked the end of coherence, as her hand tightened just enough to drive him over the edge and past the point of no return.

Hot cum, pent up, milky, half clear and half opaque, in glistening ropes shot up. It struck her chin and startled, she did react more than to turn her head as the second pulse landed half on the corner of her mouth and half above it. She laughed.

“Come kiss me, slut.”

Friday Fucking Femdom Fiction: Ass Tease

His eyes were on her upturned ass, but, bending and twisting in front of him, she felt the pose in her stomach and the small of her back, in the muscles that stabilized her just slightly spread legs. Her hand swept the fall of her loose curls from where they poured over her face and continued the stroking motion over the small bumps of her breasts, giving a lust shiver.

She couldn’t see his face like this, not with her back to him and him tied to the chair, but she heard the noises he made and could imagine what he saw, knew her body well enough to know that her ass was, in her estimation pretty awesome.

She wondered if he focused on the fullness, because with her hips it was wide and heavy. If he wasn’t restrained, he could take it in his hands, one on either side, and dig his fingers in and fill his hands, fingers sinking in just a little. Or, perhaps he paid more attention to the contrasts, the way her waist bit in and then suddenly belled out below, like an invisible corset had cinched her in around the middle.

Or maybe he liked to see the cleft between the halves of her ass and the way the split led down. Putting he hand on her hip she thrust her ass out higher, pulling slightly to spread herself. She wanted him to look at her, to desire her, and, holding him captive this way, she teased herself as well, imagining he was loose from the cuffs that locked his arms behind his back. He would stroke the feathery hair on the vivid pink slash of her cunt, find the sticky dew that gathered, and pet with two fingers until her cunt welcomed and engulfed them.

She liked it, liked giving him liberty that way, to feel his hand smack into the unblemished white of her ass cheek,  just enough to tingle, and feel herself devouring more fingers. Sometimes he talked, speculatively and teasingly, of the day her cunt would eat his hand up to the wrist.

And sometimes, more carefully, when he had her humming with desire, his fingers would wander to her ass again, and tease their way inside. The intensity of just one or two would always pushed her orgasm to somewhere beyond the usual realm.

But, right this moment, it was her own fingers playing with her cunt, opening herself for him to look but not touch. It was clumsy at this angle, but, his little intake of breath was worth it, as was the creak at he pressed himself back into the chair.  Coyly, she pivoted to look over her shoulder. “I’m going to sit in your lap now.”

She settled herself with more than the necessary amount of wriggling, aware of her bare ass pressing against his cock. The width of her hips filled the span of his lap, nestling her snuggly into the space where his arms were bound to the chair. Resting her own arms on top of them, she sighed contentedly and then began to swivel about on the spot, grinding and rubbing up against him.

“What,” she smiled, “Is it worth to you to be inside me?”