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The drapes were drawn, shutting out the afternoon sun and leaving the bedroom wrapped in a twilight glow. I lounged against the headboard, propped up on pillows, watching him kneel at the foot of the bed. His chest heaved with shallow, uneven breaths, his skin shimmering with a light sheen of sweat. With a grunt, he came into the dish I’d placed on the floor before him.
“Again,” I commanded softy, my voice barely above a whisper, yet holding absolute authority in the quiet room.
His eyes locked onto mine, dilated, and brimming with a mix of desperate pleading and total surrender. He didn’t hesitate. His hand moved back to his body, his fingers tightening as he resumed a steady, agonizingly deliberate rhythm.
There was a captivating power in holding his focus so completely. I gave him tailored instructions, keeping him hovering right on the exquisite precipice. Every time he teetered over the edge, his muscles tensing and his hips hitching forward, I’d murmur a sharp “Again.” Forcing him to reset, and start the slow climb all over again.
His breath hitched, a soft whimper rising from his chest as the relentless sensation began to overwhelm him. “Please,” he gasped… Continue reading “An Afternoon Of Forced Draining”