I felt the buildup happening again, the cycle getting shorter as I compelled him to hover on the brink minute after minute. I used only my thumb and index finger at his tip, delicately stimulating those nerves that make sex so amazing, but once again I cut him short just when the craving was strongest.
He swore and struggled reflexively for a moment, his body pulled by intense conflicting impulses — arousal peaking and trying to start the process of ejaculation, but unable to bridge the last gap, leaving him a tangled mess of yearning, bliss, and agony.
I would have used his ass some more, but I didn’t think I could last much longer either, not with him this fucking desperate. He was blazing inside and out, a sheen of sweat highlighting the artistic patterns covering his skin. And he had no way of knowing how near the end he was.
He pulled in a frantic breath when I returned to tantalizing his tightly-drawn eggs, left unprotected by the ropes holding his ankles apart.
“Please,” Julian begged at last. “Let me come.”
“I know you want to,” I told him in my sultriest voice. “I know it’s frustrating. But you’re mine right now, and this is what I want you to feel.”
My fingers drifted slowly up his dripping length and brushed gently at his tip, while he panted and pulsed and forced himself not to jerk away from my hand.
“I don’t — I can’t –” he gasped out.
“You can,” I insisted. “You know what’s going to happen. I’m going to tease you right here until you’re just about to release, and then I’m going to stop. And I’m going to keep doing it until I’m satisfied.” Gradually I increased the pressure, ramping him toward another merciless edge. “Your job is to accept. When I want to give you something else, I will.”
He held out only another ten seconds. “I’m close!” he cried, and when my fingers jumped to his nipple again, irrepressible needy noises spilled out with every stroke over his engorged nub. Before long they turned into a broken rendition of my name.
“I’ve got you, baby.” I pulled out and thrust a couple of times just to remind him I still owned his anal canal. Then I leaned low over his back, anchoring my left forearm around him while my right hand snuck down to caress his tortured tool. “Let go. Let me have all of you. Your throbbing cock, your aching balls, your hunger: give them to me.”
At long last, after all the bondage and overstimulation and deprivation — all the ways I’d taken control from him — I felt Julian relinquish it. Despite being driven toward another excruciating edge, some of the stress left his muscles, and when his face turned back toward me, there was less agitation.
“It’s fucking unbearable,” he got out, his voice raw with desire and barely above a whisper. “When I know you’re about to stop. And worse when you do.”
“I know it is.” Divine excitement surged through my core, because now he was sharing his frustration with me instead of trying to escape it. “You gonna let me do it again?”
There was an agonized hesitation, but even as I ruthlessly fondled his burning rod, he yielded. “Yes.”
“Tell me when.”
I rubbed him with a little more pressure, and very soon he was crying out with another cruel denial. I soothed him with kisses at the nape of his neck, but before he had time to back down very far, I was reaching for him again. I used only fingers, trailing softly and unearthing a deep moan — half pleasure, half desperation.
“You’re mine, Julian,” I told him while my digits danced lightly over his hyper-sensitive member. “There’s nothing you can’t trust me with: joy or pain, strength or weakness, love or fear. It won’t ever be too much for me.”
I kept him lingering on the brink for longer than in previous cycles. And though he emitted a stream of wanton, persecuted sounds — one for every burst of carnal delight and urgent need sparked by my fingertips — he didn’t complain or try to move away from the feather-like torment. The extreme erotic tension I was generating in his body had me riding so high, I wasn’t even sure I needed an orgasm. But eventually I decided that he, at least, had earned one.
“You’ve been very, very good, Major,” I murmured. “And now, I want you to come for me. Give me the rest — everything you’ve been holding back.”
I started drilling him again, feasting on the sumptuous compression of his inner walls, and my hand tightened around his cock. I stroked him with lavish abundance, drawing heedless cries of relief from his throat, until finally, after so many denials I’d lost count, I allowed Julian’s orgasm to blossom.
The cascade of release built quickly into a torrent: seizing his core, filling his voice, rippling through his arms and legs, and of course pulsing the semen from his genitals. With a few rapid thrusts, I released my own climax too, clinging to his body while those blissful contractions flooded me and my cream sprayed his insides.
I stayed with him until the waves had passed through us both. I knew with his primary need resolved, the prolonged tension and discomfort of the ropes would start moving to the foreground of his perceptions. So as soon as he appeared stable, I gave him a final caress.
“The session is not over,” I said quietly. “But I’m going to pull out so I can untie you.”
He nodded, and once I’d freed him, we both got cleaned up. I had him put on just his underwear, and I did likewise. Then I placed us back where we’d started: me on the bed, him on the stool, both facing the door.
* * * * *
Julian:
Half a lifetime seemed to have passed since Graham sat me here earlier this evening. I had the sense I’d been afraid then, but it was difficult to remember why. Now that he’d stripped my layers and unlocked every secret compartment, my only fear was that he’d leave me here without protection.
I was relieved when he leaned forward and folded his strong arms around my chest from behind, pulling me close against his familiar, faintly-heated body. I put my own hands over his, to encourage him to stay there.
“You doing ok?” he asked beside my head.
I nodded, not sure I could rely on my throat to generate words.
“Just sit with me for a minute, or however long you need,” he instructed gently. “Then tell me when you’re ready for me to talk to you.”
I leaned my head against his and closed my eyes. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be ready to talk about anything, but he had a right to choose what we did until midnight, and surely dealing with what had happened the past couple of weeks was the main purpose of this session.
I focused on his skin pressing mine, his torso rising and falling with each calm breath, and tried not to let any of the other memories surface. It was the first time in way too long that I even marginally succeeded.
When I didn’t think I could delay any further, I opened my lids, swallowed hard, and said, “Ok.”
“Ok,” Graham echoed. “I realize you’re married, and it’s one of the most important things that makes you who you are. When you brought me into your relationship originally, it was because of your husband’s interest. But I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to answer without regard to Avery. Don’t think about him, or what he wants, or how he feels about me. Don’t consider how it would affect him if you did or didn’t have a certain relationship with me. You can imagine that he doesn’t even exist, for the purpose of this question.”