7 Days of Sucking

Punishment is a rarity in my dynamic, Mister K and I being together for so long. Occasionally though, a mistake is made. This particular lapse in judgment came in the form of omission and making a financial decision without His permission. Although the result of said decision ultimately turned out well, very well, in fact, the lack of discussion was punishable as per my and Mister K’s agreement. To be honest, he had grounds to release me from my submission, but I have to say I like this approach much more.

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“Anything else I need to know Little girl?” He asks me with that look that says I have earned his disapproval.

“No, Sir.”

“You’re usually so disciplined, I don’t have to check on things. Maybe that should change. I don’t remember the last time you earned punishment.” His frown says it all. He’s disappointed, but also angry, his ability to keep calm almost awe-inspiring.

“That being said, since you’ve chosen not to use your mouth to tell me what needs to be told, your punishment is to use your mouth for the next 7 days.”

I stare at him for a while. What the f… does that mean? Use my mouth, like for speaking, or eating? Maybe blowing bubbles. Sometimes I get frustrated with the lack of understanding. Being from different generations, we do struggle with what the words are and aren’t saying on occasion.

His eyebrows rise at my blank stare, and I realise I probably have a stupid look on my face, one that says WTF! Changing my expression, his changes too. The transition making him appear calmer, gentler, easier to talk to.

“You will need to bring me to climax each day for the next 7 days, using only your mouth. Do you need a picture, or do you understand that?”

“I understand, Sir,” I reply quietly.

“Then why do you still have that look? You need to work on that. Others don’t see it, your poker face with them is perfect, but I see everything, little girl. So, what is it?”

“That doesn’t seem like much of a punishment, Sir.  I’d love to do that anyway, just to please you, as you know.”

“I do know that, but the real punishment will be that you can’t come. Not once for those 7 days. You will masturbate daily, I will lick and devour you daily and you will bring me to climax with your mouth only, daily. But you will not come, not once for seven days.”

As I feel the ball drop, I know this will be harder than I thought. I’m super responsive to his touch, and many years together has allowed him to learn my body well. His tongue and fingers have become experts at pulling pleasure from me and my head fills with doubts about my ability to achieve this goal. I have never been able to bring him to climax with my mouth alone, and this thought makes me feel like I’m being set up for failure. Not one to turn down a challenge though, I bite back my thoughts and decide not to voice them. It would only end up in more punishment anyway, our many years together have taught me that much.

Being gracious enough to let me think it over, he patiently waits for the answer he knows will come.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Let’s begin then.”

He makes more of a show than usual, removing his pants and then his shirt. Like our roles are reversed, he folds all his items carefully and places them in a pile. Once nude, he sits in the chair in the corner, touching his hands to his thighs, and waits.

From my kneeling position on the floor, I crawl to him, and as I get close, smell his pleasant musk and the familiar pull of submission settles over me. Stopping between his legs, I look up at him. He has not permitted me to touch him, so now, it’s my turn to wait.

We look at each other. I can tell he’s thinking about how he wants this to go. I’m curious too. He usually takes over once I’ve had him in my mouth, preferring the wet folds of my pussy. I think this punishment will be just as difficult for him. I never would have guessed how wrong I was.

Grabbing a bottle of lube, he holds it out to me. I’m more than curious. My mouth doesn’t need extra moisture. I take it from him with a questioning look, but silently wonder what the plan is.

“Today, we’ll start with your hands. Don’t think you’re getting off easy. I will finish in your mouth, but for now, I want you to just experiment and figure out where I like to be touched.”

I can’t help the smile that splits my face. I’ve always wanted to do just this but have never voiced it or been bold enough to ask. I prefer him to take the lead but having this task as a command makes my center flutter. I’m excited, and thoroughly aroused now. I shuffle in pace and look down to hide my grin.

Squirting the lube into my palms, I rub my hands together and smile as I reach for his cock. I’m just about to go in for the first stroke when I remember that he still hasn’t consented to my touching him.

Stopping, I look up at him and ask shyly, “May I pleasure you, Sir?”

He moans before giving me a simple nod, and I take him in hand enthusiastically, pumping until he’s fully hard. Sliding my hand base to tip, I repeat the motion until I feel him wanting to thrust into my grip, then I slow my pace. Rubbing my thumb over his frenulum, I rejoice in the groan that he releases, knowing I’ve found his pleasure spot. I repeat the action, then take his testes in my other hand, massaging them gently.

Twisting my hand around the head of his cock, I find a rhythm. Stroke down to the base, back up, twist of the wrist, and the rub of a thumb. I reproduce the movements until he’s all but squirming in the chair, holding on to the sides so he doesn’t thrust into my hand. Not often do I have a sense of being in control and I find it gives me a unique taste of satisfaction.

Once precum is leaking from the tip, he hands me a towel and instructs me to clean him off. Before the towel has even been disposed of, his hands are fisting my hair, pressing my face into his lap. I open my mouth greedily and savour the feel of his cock’s thick vein rasping over my tongue. I twirl the tip along the soft underside, catching his sensitive spot, and moan as I taste his salty essence reward me for my efforts.

Within minutes, he’s holding my head, thrusting violently into my mouth. Tears leak from my eyes as I swallow around him, reigning in my gag reflex. Suddenly he stops, his bulbous knob buried in my throat. I can’t breathe around him and I start to see stars before he pulls out and lets me catch my breath, long strings of saliva joining us, and running down my chin.  

A moment later he’s thrusting again. I’m no longer anywhere close to in control. He’s fucking my face at a pace never experienced and I feel wholly used and revel in that sensation. I show him my appreciation by producing a loud moan..

I know he’s just about to come, I can feel it in the thickness of his shaft. It’s so hard it no longer feels like flesh and blood. It’s more like a steel rod, demanding and inflexible. He pumps into me, one, two, three times, then pulls out and says,

“Up, on the bed, legs spread.”

I’m disoriented but clamber my way into position. My face is soaked in my spit and tears. I lick my lips just as he latches onto me, devouring me in a way he’s never done before. He’s all teeth and lips, tongue and slurps. His fingers are moving in and out of me rapidly and pressing on my g-spot in a frenzy. He’s pushing me closer to orgasm and then I remember, I’m not allowed to come.

‘Stop, Sir!” I yell, “I’m going to come.”

He doesn’t stop though, just keeps pushing me higher. A loud keen leaves me, an almost otherworldly sound. I’m panting and near tears in my attempt to hold back the climax that threatens to burst from me. Very rarely does he make me withhold my orgasms and I’m out of practice. I’m trying to twist and wiggle out of his hold, but he’s got me in a death grip. I’m sure I’ll have bruises on my hips tomorrow.

I know I can no longer hold back and I’m not beyond begging. The first plead leaves me in a long-drawn-out cry. “Pleeeeeaaaassssse, Sir. Please, please, please.” I repeat the word over and over, shaking my head back and forth. I can no longer hold back, and I decide to just let go. Damn his rules. I’ll accept the consequences. I feel the first wave overtake me and relax as my orgasm rushes to the surface. As the raging inferno crests and is about to explode, wrenching me open, he stops all movement and stands abruptly.

“No coming, little girl.” And just like that, my orgasm is gone, replaced with a deep ache and a need for release. I let out a groan, but his only response is a dark mischievous chuckle.

He climbs on the bed, sitting on my chest, kneeling on my arms, holding me in place. The inability to move, knowing I’m pinned down does nothing to help the flow of moisture between my legs. With no preamble, he slides his rigid member between my lips and says, “Get ready for me.”

That is all the warning I get before his cock is pressing on my throat, sliding into the tight space provided there. Each thrust blocks my airways, but I’m so aroused, so needy that all I can do is hum around him. I take everything he can give. And I want more.

He fucks my face, hard, and I know that my throat will be sore tomorrow, but I don’t care. I can’t get enough.

Suddenly, he stills his movements and pushes into my throat until his course hairs are tickling my lips.

“Swallow it all, little girl,” he says before I feel his manhood swell and then twitch, my efforts awarded with stream after stream of his musky extract . It coats my throat and glazes my mouth, a small amount spilling out to run down my cheek as I swallow around him eagerly.

Once his breathing has returned to normal and his member is slowly fading, he pulls out and lets me lick him clean. Using a single finger, he catches the spilled drop and collects it, placing his fingers on my lips. I open my mouth and stick out my tongue, pulling his finger in to clean the drop away. His only reply is a smile. The ache inside of me has become a dull roar, a constant reminder that I am not allowed to come. I press my thighs together and he just smiles.

“Only 6 more days to go, Little girl. Then you can come.” I frown about this but don’t tell him that this has by far been my favourite form of punishment. I can’t wait for tomorrow.

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