stopwatch

Copyright 2009.  No part of this work may be reproduced without the express written permission of the author.  E-mail: phlyonzawahl@shaw.ca

Day one

8:00 am

I sat at my monitor, contrite, humbled, feeling lower than low…thinking about her, the sacrifices made – and ones about to be made.  I loved her – yes, this despite hating her expectations of me, wondering how I could ever live down the contrition.  Not easy for one such as I to lower myself as I’d been commanded, but hey: it was worth a try, right?

Yeah, just keep telling myself that and everything will be fine.

’cause, when I thought back to the time when things were better, that oh-so rare nethertwinge began firing my imagination, and I thought:  maybe.  Just maybe…if I played things right…

Finishing my drink and unzipping, I slipped myself out, semi-flaccid, and began stroking while I closed my eyes, thinking about her words and beginning my journey down memory lane…

‘Wow…first of all…you wrote of me…and wrote well of me…’

Stroking…stroking…imagining her standing over me, her long trusses caressing my shoulder as I sat, moved but unmoving apart from my stroking hand…

‘You are worried I will hurt you?  I…darling I am shocked in a way.  I’m worried about you hurting me…’

Funny thing for her to say that in retrospect, but there it was – and here “I” was.

…waiting…awaiting her command…awaiting a release that may not come and…just as I was hard…

I stopped.  As requested.  As commanded.

As demanded.

Opening my eyes, I tucked myself in, zipped up, and re-set the stopwatch.  Sighing heavily, I pondered my next course of action.

10:00 am

…times had been better, hadn’t they?  Oh, the nagging self-doubt; the insecurity – all kept creeping back.  Where was my effing spine?

I knew where it was – had presented it as an offering – prostrating myself in every which way – to what end, remained to be seen.  Had spent the last two hours puttering – not really concentrating on anything except the tasks upcoming; the ones she’d placed in my hands.  Not sure how I was gonna make it through the day, let alone an entire week, but time would tell.

Speaking of which, the stopwatch dinged, signalling that it was time to again take…things…in hand.

The day was sweltering, and my shorts needed to go the way of the tee I’d been wearing earlier.  Having decided to go commando in any case, it was simply a matter of dropping my drawers, and there I was, naked as the day I was born (give or take battle scars and body hair).  Something about being naked, kneeling in the living room, my already stiff shaft in hand, that excited me incredibly.  Perhaps I wouldn’t even need to think of her this time – just allow the sensation of hand against c*ck to run its course.

But then, like *cockwork*, thoughts of the things she’d said washed over me just as I closed my eyes.

‘I’ve thought of you all day…hell darling…before that…kept waiting on you…then I just went ahead and messaged you…

I am…my heart has been shattered before…I don’t know what I will do if it happens again…’

Fighting back the tears in the realization of how we’d gotten here, and what I’d done to effect things, I nonetheless maintained enough composure to keep composed.  If I didn’t squeeze too hard and avoided touching my glans, I could hold on longer, I discovered.  Anything it took to maintain control- at least of that part of me.

Certain other things – like emotions – weren’t quite as easy to control.

This was a difficult hour, thinking back to what she’d said.  How could I have hurt her – moreover, hurt her over and over again?  What kind of a sadist was I, anyway?

Truth was, NO hour was easy.  Was gonna be a long week…

Noon

‘…of course I am attracted to you…for many reasons…god…didn’t I drool enough over you pics?…I commented on many of them…of you…not your girls…’

Lunchtime had arrived, but before breaking to my repast, the deed was once again before me.  In the last hour, I simply couldn’t get her out of my head, so I’d remained stiff much of the time.

Being ‘au natural’ helped, too, a little.

I think you are outrageously handsome…from that wayward smirk to the scruffled hair…

Hadn’t it been kind of her to build my ego, like that?  Those were the days.  Alas…

‘… you..have a dark edge…that I crave…’

Dark edge?  Got that right.  The dark edge that finally overtook me – taking us both with it.

Standing at the sink in the kitchen, I stroked, harder and faster, getting ever closer to that ‘edge’…and then…

I stopped again.

2:00 pm

‘I tell you darling…I ..well..I’m probably a handful…”

Got that right.   But did I listen?  Even if I had, would it have mattered?  By now, I’d already fallen under her spell, and there was no turning back, it seemed…

Had to grip my glans at this point, placing a finger over the opening.  Oh, for just a brief moment of release!  Stop!

STOP!

4:00 pm

‘…not playing a game..just…informing you…’

I needed rest, and had lain down but, just as I began dozing, the effing stop watch went off again.

‘I’m prone to mood swings…rain; makes me cry for god’s sake…I’m sensitive…I feel everything too much …which is great for pleasure…not so great for other things…’

I’d awakened with her words in mind again, reminders like needles in my scrotum, puncturing, piercing…prodding…if only I could’ve been her sunshine…find a way to burn off her inner precipitation…instead of merely adding to her angst.  Reaching down, I gave it the old college try once more…

Dinner

‘Oh…lolol…the right man…I would have no qualms about him sinking his teeth into me to mark me as his…

The ‘right’ man, indeed.  The man with the golden gun.  The man of the hour.

Meh.

I was hungry, but determined to finish the task before satisfying myself.  Why weren’t my thoughts cooperating?

‘I was a bit duplicitous in my desires…on the profile at least’

Perhaps that was why.  Duplicitous?  Got that right.  Yes, even at this early a stage, the writing was on the wall, wasn’t it?  Early warning signs; words to the wise – if only hindsight were 20/20!

8:00 pm

And then, just as I thought despair might overtake me completely, I recalled a poem she sent:

Asphyxiation*

Hands stealing my breath

Raping air from the wealth of my lungs

Soft gasps spill

Blush pink lips tremble

Heartbeat…increases

Oh…gasps tighten

As hands while hands dig into flesh

Eyes flutter as breasts rise

Shallow…can’t…quite…

Head swims

Pulse…

Beats

Beats

Faster

Falling into the depth of desire

Darkness encroaches

Hands dig deeper yet

Body now limp

Catch…I…falling

Light moans escape the parting of my lips

Breathe

Life and death in a dance

Gasp

Can’t…all…I’m

Darkness enraptures with its knowing touch

I lay in its embrace

Brought there by the strength

Of your

Hands

Imagining my hands around her throat was almost too much for me, as I attempted to tamp down my darker urges.  Would my cock be pumping her cunt, or ass?

Oh, sh*t…have…to…stopNOW

10:00 pm

She had questions – two-way communication!  Just one of the many things I’d loved about her.

‘Sadist…explain your version of that term.  ‘Is it pain just for pains sake?  Ir is it pain-laced pleasure?

She seemed genuinely interested, and curious.  I was impressed with that.

And then there was this gem:

‘Oh…and since you may be glum in the morning…here is a little gift for you…I can easily take a fist in my pussy…have fun with that one…

And, despite the arousal factor in her words, I was actually too tired to appreciate it.  Interesting.

Well, I’d made it through the day – not easily, but with sp*rm, still intact.

As for my dignity and pride?  Those were LONG gone…

Was gonna be a long week, indeed…

*Copyrighted – all rights reserved.

Explore posts in the same categories: *strictly* cyber, bdsm, D/s, erotica

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