The Object of His Affection

The Object of His Affection - Humiliation

 

 

 

 

 

During the next few months, caught in the early throes and excitement of a new relationship, things were relatively easy going. During this time he showed her the lighter sides of his sadomasochistic tastes, promising her it would not always be so easy.

 

Many nights he would spend teaching her how to give better blowjobs. Other nights they would simply make love or fuck hard. It was also when she discovered the excitement and humiliation of having to receive permission before climaxing.

 

Debbie, for the most part, enjoyed her new situation. She had always wished for more assertive boyfriends and had always wondered why men tended to be so sheepish in the bedroom. Upon voicing this query to James she received an answer that was honest, from his standpoint, and for which she could find little fault. 

 

"It's because of how men have been trained in this day and age. Men have been told that taking charge is bad and that women can do anything a man can, despite the obvious physical, emotional and psychological differences”, he told her.

 

It was a Friday, nearly six months into their relationship, when she inquired as to why he had not bound her. She had hoped, nearly every night, that he would tie her to the bed and take her. He explained that it was not the time. "Soon, you will begin to experience those "other things" you wish to experience."

 

That night, he asked if she wanted a new experience. Excited at the prospect, she nearly jumped when she told him she would. For the next few hours she waited, expectant and excited, for him to unveil his plans.

 

At nine O’clock that night, he told her to take a shower. "After you dry your hair, I want you to come downstairs. You are to be naked. Understand?"

 

After an excited "Yes, Sir!" she bolted upstairs to complete her orders. Twenty minutes later she was downstairs and standing, naked, just as he commanded.

 

Seated on his soft leather couch, James commanded she stand in the middle of the room with her hands at her side and solidly against her thighs.

 

"Now tell me, how many times have you masturbated since we have been together?" he asked.

 

"I haven't...I don't,” she stammered.

 

Rolling his eyes, he began again. "How many times?"

 

Blushing, she stammered, "A few times...I don't know how many times...a lot, I guess." 

 

"That ends now. From now on, you are never to masturbate or cum, ever again, without my permission. Understand?"

 

She blushed again, trying to hide her face under the cover of her long auburn hair. "Yes, Sir", she whispered.

 

"Good. Now, it's time for me to see how you masturbate" he told her. "Do you do it standing or sitting or laying down? How?"

 

"Oh my God. I can't...I...I don't want to do this", she said in a shaky voice.

 

"How? What position?" he demanded.

 

"Sitting. I sit on the couch or lay on my bed, she said, wishing she could crawl under a rock.  "My legs are usually spread and my legs are bent. My...my knees are usually up in the air."

 

James left the couch and sat in the easy chair across from it.  Then, his voice low, he told her “Go…show me.”

 

Obeying him, she sat on the couch. She didn’t more for a long moment,  praying she would wake from this dream. After a quick “Now!” she took a deep breath and lifted her legs, spreading them slightly.

 

"This is how you sit?"

 

"Yes", she whispered. She was sweating now, nearly overwhelmed by the moments embarrassment. "Please, can we not do this?” she pleaded.

 

"Now, slide your hand between your legs and show me how you masturbate", he commanded.

 

Closing her eyes, she slid her right hand between her legs. More embarrassment flooded through her being as she discovered that she was extremely wet. Then, almost against her own command, her fingers began rubbing the sensitive flesh between her legs.

 

"I own that pussy”, he said. "Never forget that. I own it.?"

 

"Yes", she hissed.

 

"Say it."

 

"You own my pussy.”

 

"Again."

 

"You own my pussy”, she repeated.

 

Before long, his repetitious command was no longer necessary and she began repeating the words as if a mantra. It was not long after that she became lost in her sexual excitement and found herself in need of release.

 

 "May I cum?" she asked, ever dutiful to ask, as he required of her.

 

"Who do you cum for?" he demanded.

 

"I cum for you", she replied.

 

"Tell me again. Who do you cum for?” he repeated.

 

“I cum for you.”

 

“When do you cum?” His voice was hard and demanding now.

 

“When you command it.” There was desperation building in her voice. "I cum for you. I cum when you command it. Please, may I cum? I need to cum so bad. Please, let me cum?"

 

“How badly do you want to cum?” he asked.

 

“So badly…so, so badly. Please let me cum!” Her voice was quivering with need.

 

“So, why don’t you cum?” he inquired.

 

“Because I’m not allowed...not without your permission,” she answered.

 

He smiled, pleased by her surprising willingness to suffer for him. He had, it seemed, under estimated her submissive nature and need to please. This miscalculation did not displease him in the least.

 

"Please...please, let me cum for you!" she was nearly frantic now.

 

"Stop rubbing", he said.

 

Frustrated, she let out a groan and hesitantly stopped rubbing, withdrawing her hand from her needy organ.

 

"You want to rub your pussy again?"

 

She hardly noticed the smug tone in his voice, knowing only the need for release.

 

"Yes", she pleaded. "Please let me rub my pussy."

 

"What will you do for it?” he inquired, knowing her answer.

 

"Please...anything you want...I'll do anything. Just please let me rub my pussy. Let me cum." She sounded near to panic, so great was her frustrated need.

 

"You may rub."

 

Her hand was back between her legs, massaging the dripping orifice. Immediately, she began undulating and moaning. Then, as before, she began begging for release.

 

Not satisfied with her suffering, he made her desist her self-pleasure yet again. She groaned, pulling her hand from her sex, her hand hovering hesitantly over her need.

 

"Please, I need to cum", she begged. "Please let me rub my pussy. Anything, I'll do anything."

 

Over and over he made her rub her sensitive flesh, making her pull her hand from her sensitive mound when she approached orgasm. Many times she would scream out her frustration as tears flowed down her face. But then, just as she neared her breaking point, she heard those magical words: "Cum for me, slut".

 

It burst upon her as if a thousand stars had exploded. Her sight left her visions of strange design, a kaleidoscope of ever changing chaos of color and light. Her knees were pulled against her body as her toes and feet twisted frantically about. Finally, exhausted and more than satisfied, her rubbing slowed and then came to a halt.

 

“I didn’t tell you to stop rubbing, slut!” she heard.

 

Mindlessly, she began rubbing again. A quick command to “Cum, whore”, brought another orgasm. His command was repeated time and time again, until she begged him to let her rest.

 

 “Please, let me rest…I can’t…I can’t…no more”, she begged. 

 

“You wanted to cum, slut”, he hissed. “Now, you have your wish. Cum for me.”

 

“Please…no more!” she cried out, another orgasm hitting her. “I can’t take it. Please!”

 

After a time, she could hear little, other than his repeated commands to cum and cum again.  Never did it enter her thoughts to disobey, even as she begged for mercy.

 

 “Stop, slut”, he finally commanded.

 

She obeyed.

 

There was no thought at this point - no identity or emotion. There was only a sense of being and the need to obey his words. She did not know why, nor did she question it. At this moment, she was just an entity occupying space, obeying the only thing she knew; his voice.

 

“I own you”, he said. I was not a question or a demand. It was a statement of fact. “Say it.”

 

“You own me,” she forced out between breaths.

 

“Cum for me, cunt,” she heard.

 

Immediately she erupted in another orgasm, both arms slamming back against the couch cushions. Again and again he commanded she cum for him. Each time she obeyed with a blistering orgasm that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.

 

"Stop!" he commanded. And it was over.

 

"I own you,” he said again.

 

Then, as if nothing had occurred, he commanded she go to the bedroom and to await his arrival. He would shower and shave, he told her. "When I get settled into bed, I don't expect to have to tell you to suck my cock."

 

Had she had her wits she might have been shocked. As it was she was barely able to acknowledge his words before shakily departing for his bedroom.  She was still nearly devoid of thought when, twenty minutes later, he slipped into bed. Once he was settled, she slid between his legs to suck his cock.

 

"Which do you prefer, dear...would you prefer I cum on your face or in your mouth?"

 

Momentarily freeing her mouth from his cock, she said "My face. Please cum on my face so I can wear it all night.”

 

It was not her preference. They both knew it. But it was his preference. He was quite pleased with her at that moment and he told her so. She smiled, glad that she had pleased him.

 

"Suck." It was a soft command; softer than usual. Somehow, it seemed to carry a tremendous weight that excited her. Obedient and eager to please him, she engulfed his cock with her mouth, sucking him to the best of her ability.

 

Many times he would halt her action to ask where she preferred to receive his cum. Each time he was met with "On my face".

 

Finally, he asked her "Do you think you are worthy to wear my cum?"

 

Lifting her head from his cock and furrowing her brow, she considered his question. Unable to find the proper answer: one that would please him. She gave a tentative "I don't know" before dipping her head to return to her chore.

 

"You are not. Not yet. When you are worthy, I will cum on your face,” he told her. "For tonight, and until you are worthy, you will swallow. You will eventually wear my cum again. But only when I feel you are worthy to do so.”

 

Later that night, long after he had filled her mouth with his hot and viscous fluids, she cried. What had she done wrong, she wondered. Why was she not worthy to have him cum on her face? She cried herself to sleep, wondering where she had failed him.

 

Slowly, as the months progressed, he re-enforced his edict that she was not worthy to wear his cum. Even when she began begging for him to allow her to wear his cum, he would tell her she was not worthy.

 

“You may never be worthy to wear my cum, Deb”, he would tell her from time to time. “Your blowjobs have much to be desired and your obedience is lacking. When these things improve you might be worthy of wearing my cum. Until that time, I cannot see giving you that pleasure.”

 

Eventually, she began to see that he was right. She was not worthy of wearing his cum. She did talk back and she had nicked his cock with her teeth on more than one occasion. This did not discourage her, however. Instead, it steeled her to become more of what he wanted, hoping to be granted the honor of wearing his seed once again.

 

Her determination was obvious, pleasing him considerably. Often, he would consider her progression, knowing she would eventually allow her submissive nature to take over more completely. That was the day he reckoned would be the most joyous day of her life.