Guest blog: A quiet afternoon of tease and denial

Image by the excellent Stuart F Taylor

Teasing and orgasm denial is such a deeply horny thing, and this week’s guest blog is a beautiful demonstration of why. It also has a few absolutely killer lines – you know the kind I mean, where someone says something that presses just the right sexy button and gives you that hot feeling in the pit of your stomach? Yeah, it has some of those. Be aware that it also contains pain, breath play and a little blood. When I read it the first time it made me deeply horny, and if you’re anything like me you’ll love it too – please welcome the incredible spikesandfluff, who has a tease and denial story that will make your Monday a hell of a lot hotter…

A quiet afternoon of tease and denial

When you ask me later why I did this to you, remember you asked me. Begged me, even. In as many words, you said you wanted some cumplay, and that I was to give you orders.


As we sit, curled up together on the sofa, I tell you that you’re not to touch yourself at all, no matter what, until I tell you that you can. You lean away from me slightly, look at my face, see that I’m deadly serious. I tell you that this means you have to go change into some looser jeans, as the ones you have on are tight enough that there’s a chance you could squirm around, not strictly disobeying me, but working yourself up anyway.

When you return, I undo your jeans for you, sit you down, and kneel on the ground in front of you. You feel the warmth of my breath as I hover my lips millimetres from your cock. I look up at you, my eyes glinting as I watch the knowledge of what I could do next pass across your face. But I do none of it, just sit back and stand up. I strip, efficiently, not wasting time on it. Drop my knickers to the floor and abandon them there. I sit down in the other corner of the couch, far enough from you that you can’t reach out and touch me. I put one leg up on the seat of the couch, opening myself up to your gaze. You swallow convulsively, and sit on your hands – my smile widens in delight at the lengths to which you are having to go.

I lick my fingers, covering them in spit, and bring them down to my cunt. I slide them smoothly over my clit, letting the wetness cover me. You can hear the wet sounds, and you imagine how it would feel under your hands, against your tongue, against your cock, if I would only let you play too.

My other hand joins the first, pulling back the hood of my clit so I can oh-so-gently tease it. As I rub my clit, my head falls back against the arm of the couch, and my toes start to flex. My fingers are busy rubbing and sliding, dipping into my cunt to spread my wetness.

Then I fire up my little bullet vibe. I hold my breath as I barely touch it to myself, gasping as it hits my clit, and my knees twitch wider apart, despite myself. But I pull it back from myself, just for a moment, so I can snatch a deep breath. Then I bring it back, holding it as still as I can at that only-just-touching point. The buzz is so intense that my thigh muscles spasm, and I start to press harder, to turn the buzz into a rumble.

I slide down in the seat, letting my head fall back further, exposing my neck. You wonder, briefly, whether I would react before you got all the way over to me, before you started biting my neck. But you aren’t going to risk stopping the show, or my anger if you did something uninvited.

My cunt is twitching rhythmically, and you can see my thigh muscles tighten in time with it. While I hold the vibe against myself, my other hand reaches up and I squeeze my nipple hard. The tiny tweak of pain, mixed with the pleasure, brings forth a moan, and I swallow hard, trying to control myself for just a little longer.

I’m sliding the vibe all over myself, not just my clit, and I bring it down to my asshole, holding it there for a moment, while the fingers of my other hand creep back to my clit, rubbing hard and fast. When I pull back the vibe to my clit, it’s because I’m almost there, and I raise my head and meet your eyes. The look in yours is almost desperate, and I can see the self-control being exerted. I’m so proud that you’re managing it, that you haven’t given in.

I bite my lip, trying to hold back, but it’s just more pain added to the mix, and I’m so close. The look on your face as you watch me get closer is gorgeous, and I could look at it all day, knowing that you can’t touch yourself in response. I’m so close to begging you to come over and fuck me, and the thought of it pushes me over the edge. I start to cum, and you hear the breath forced out of me by it, my voice breaking through. My hands are covered in my wetness, my cunt is dripping, and you almost reach out to me, taking a firm grip on the couch cushions to prevent it.

You just watch as I shudder myself to completion, my eyes glazing over, lazy and half-lidded as I look at you. I don’t move, my hands still against my cunt and my legs spread wide open for you. My gaze becomes more challenging, and I’m almost daring you to move. I use my hands to frame my cunt and clit, knowing this is driving you to madness. I slide my fingertips along either side of my clit, unable to cope with direct touching, but enjoying the post-orgasmic sensitivity and tenderness.

I relax fully, curling up with my head on the arm of the couch. I look down at your cock, wet at the tip, and then back up to your eyes. As we gaze at each other, the silence stretches out, and you want so much to ask me to let you touch yourself. Before you can say it, I shake my head slightly, and bring my fingers to my mouth, lick them, tasting myself. Then I lean over to you, and gently touch one finger to your lips.

Your mouth opens slightly, your tongue reaching out, gathering the taste of me. You close your eyes and savour the taste, willing yourself not to swallow and lose it. While your eyes are closed, you don’t realise I’m leaning closer until my lips touch yours, and you swallow in surprise. But the taste of me is on my own lips, too, and you want to kiss me deeper. I don’t linger, though, and move away, grabbing my clothes and sauntering out of the room to dress, leaving you slumped on the couch in a hazy puddle of need.


I ask you, mischievously, if your balls are aching, how your cock feels. You’ve thought of nothing else all evening, not when you went on a takeaway run, not when you were chatting with family on the phone, not when you were doing the chores. All that you can think of is the feel of my lips against yours, the taste of me lingering on your tongue, the way I looked spread in front of you on the couch. You tell me that you’re feeling achey and squirmy, and that you think that you would cum in a moment, if I would only touch your cock.

But I’m not going to. I offer, quietly, to help you out, but you know that I’m going to make you suffer for this one. And it’s not enough to make you say no. You nod, silently, desperately, and stand still while I undress you. Your jeans are wet at the crotch, and your body has set up a very fine tremble, as I kneel in front of you and, with a gentle hand, encourage you to spread your legs for me. You find your balance, and wait, breath held.

I take your balls in my mouth, and the wet warmth is everything you needed. You look down and see me looking back at you, and I place my hands on your sides. Slowly, carefully, I run my nails down your sides, lightly enough that it almost tickles, and you twitch against the sensation. You’re trying so hard not to arch towards me, and I reward you by running my nails over you again, this time harder. Less tickling, more confident, and you realise how sharp they are.

I suck slightly, digging my nails in harder, and you know that you’ll be left with a collection of perfect crescent moon marks in your skin. I lean back, and your balls slip out of my mouth. I blow cool air across them, and they are pulled tighter against you. The combination of that cool evaporation and the pain of my nails digging ever harder into you makes you want to pull away, but you hold yourself still against that natural urge to move.

I let go, letting you move, and you start to pout, feeling abandoned. But I tell you not to worry, petal. I’m nowhere near done with you.

This time, instead of nails, I stand, and, leaning forward, take a carefully placed bite of your pectoral muscle, holding it between my teeth. Only a little pressure, but I know how dangerous I can be when I get started, so I hold myself back as much as I can. Now I’ve started, though, I want to bite down hard, to grip you with my teeth until it’s too much. So I let you tell me when enough is enough, your hand on my face my cue to stop. You wait longer than I would have thought possible, until your skin is the only thing holding back the blood, and we both know that this bruise is going to take a long time to heal.

When your hand touches me, I reluctantly let go of you, and we both look at my handiwork: a perfect set of teeth marks around your nipple. I’m truthfully a little embarrassed that I couldn’t hold back, but also proud of the markings. Your skin today is my canvas, and I’m not finished yet. I kiss your chest, then dig my nails into you again, letting the sensations run from gentleness to harsh sharpness.

There are parallel lines down your sides and back, where your skin has rushed to react to the pressure – first white, then deeper and deeper red, punctuated with sharper red where I’ve broken the skin. I leave a halo of space around the bite mark, but the rest of your torso is criss-crossed with lines, and I stand back, regarding the product of 5 minutes work. Oh, you are so beautiful, my lovely boy. Your cock rigid as a steel bar, your body covered in the marks of my enjoyment of you.

I kneel in front of you, and, trying my best not to directly touch you, lean in to just touch the tip of my tongue to the drop of precum. I kneel up, offer my tongue to you so we can share in the salty-sweetness of your need. You bend over, your tongue meeting mine eagerly, and our tongues twist over each other. The kiss is deep and welcome, and I slide my hand up into your hair, making a fist, pulling your head with me as I settle back onto my heels.

When I let go, you stay exactly as I put you, and I smile, pleased with your obedience. I lick my tongue across your bottom lip, then bite it gently, knowing that this time I can’t leave a mark. Your lip is so much more delicate than your muscle, and I hold back much more successfully, although you might be feeling tender for a day or two. Then I take hold of your hair again, twisting your head to the side, making your neck available. You sway slightly, silently pleading with me, your short gasps of anticipation a beautiful sound.

I kiss your neck, just under the ear, picking the softest places to kiss, gently and lovingly. But this can only last so long when I’ve already bitten you twice. As I move down your neck, I lose the edge of control and take another deep bite, teeth locked around your jugular. I can feel your pulse in my mouth, speeding up as I tighten my jaws. I have never wanted anything more than I want to just never let go, but I know I’ll have to eventually. You press yourself into the bite, breath quickening, whole body shaking with need.

My hands caress your face and neck as I finally force myself to let you go, and then my hands slide around your throat. One kind of danger is switched for another, as I tighten my grip under your jaw, and your air supply begins to dwindle towards nothing. I let you go and you gasp a deep breath. You stumble, standing back upright, trying to stop yourself falling, and the blood and oxygen rush back into your body and brain.

I stay on my knees, face on a level with your throbbing cock, and before you have collected yourself, my nails dig into your ass cheeks. I kiss your thigh, and you are caught between the sweet and the sharp. My hands don’t move, but I tighten them, and you wonder somewhere in the back of your head if I’ve broken the skin yet. My kisses roam over your thighs and then up to your belly, following the marks on your skin, and you feel the warm sting as each kiss finds a different weal.

When I finally let go of your butt cheeks, you grab my hand, and bring it forward. Both of us smile at the silent evidence of my violence, and then I lick some of the blood from my fingertips, challenging you with my gaze. Another silent act of violence, and you welcome it, holding still in front of me, licking your lips as you watch.

As I kneel in front of you, I spread my knees apart, and, using your blood as an unnecessary lubricant, begin to touch myself whilst staring you down. I lean closer, resting my head against your thigh, one hand wrapped around your upper leg. I use you as my prop, my support, while I fingerfuck myself. I want you to feel my orgasm rip through me as you are denied that pleasure. You can feel my body begin to shudder as I shove my fingers hard into my cunt. I’m so close, I can still feel the sensation of your flesh between my teeth, and that is almost enough, almost…

And as my orgasm begins, I throw my head back, lock my eyes on your face, bite my lip and cum hard, over my hand and on the floor and you’re helpless to stop yourself feeling my body reacting to this. Your hand involuntarily comes round to grab my hair, to push me further over that edge, to give you just the tiniest bit of control over this situation. I cry out, a deep groan pulled out of me by this orgasm, and by your hand twisted into my hair, and you feel every fibre of my body moving for it.

I slowly come back to calmness, and I slump against your leg, all strength to hold myself up deserting me. I’m lost in the rush of the orgasm, and the recovery from it. I dig my fingers into you again, but this time it’s solely to prevent a complete collapse. You put your hand on my shoulder, trying to steady me but also trying to will yourself not to cum. I gradually pull myself back together, grateful for your steadying hand, and for your self-control.

I look up at you, and now I’m the vulnerable one, lost in the moment and the wonder of it all. No challenge in my gaze, now. And you have that urge to step up, to take control, knowing you could do it and I would let you, but you resist, and stay put, softly caressing my shoulder. Slowly, carefully, I kneel up, still wobbly from the intensity of the orgasm. I’m still holding on to you, and you help me up, until I’m standing in front of you. I look at you, fierce, proud tears stinging my eyes as I contemplate the decoration on your skin – look what we made together! And now, I want you to cum for me because you can’t not.

I lean forward, and kiss you, gently at first. I slide my tongue into your mouth, slipping it over your tongue. You welcome it, pressing hungrily into me, and I can feel your need. It delights me that you will let me do this to you. I stroke my hands over your back and shoulders, fingertips running over every sensitive point. You lower your head to my shoulder, and I can hear every sharp intake of breath, feel every jolt of your body, as you tense your muscles, trying desperately to keep your composure.

You’re so good and brave, and I love you for it. My hands wander lower, over your buttocks and the marks I made. Your eyes tight shut, you press your face into my neck, and I turn my head, and whisper into your ear that if you can cum without touching yourself, right now, then you are free to do so. You’ve been so steady and controlled, but you can let go now. Your lips find my neck, brushing against me as you whisper your thanks, and your breathing slows as your body relaxes. You let it slowly overtake you, a moment of calmness and silence before you arch, hard, your cock pulsating in the air as the pent up cum rushes to escape you. I hold your head against me, murmuring how proud I am of you.

Your lips are warm against my neck, and you answer every praise with another quiet moan, almost mewling, as your body continues to writhe. I stroke your hair, and your almost-sobs are beautiful. I’m so proud of you and your willingness to throw yourself into this, and the reward for both of us is this moment, as we cling to each other, only our mutual support holding us up.

As your climax comes to its end, you kiss my neck, and I smile, unseen, knowing that at some later date, when your bruises and marks have faded, my body will pay the full price for this.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.