The timer went off, indicating that the skin-safe adhesive had dried & fully cured, and Alana, the young woman whom we had been playing with, on and off, over the years, and more recently, who’d been assisting my Master in executing my extended torment, grinned expectantly as my Master rose to his feet. He approached the bed, coming to stand by my torso, and she sat up straight, paying attention, but staying where she was – that is, reclined in a comfy chair she’d set up between my legs (to be able to relax while she teased me).

They had tied me down to the examination-style table over 2 hours ago, and after teasing me incessantly with feather-light touches and whispering soft kisses all over my pussy for the first hour, they had used the skin adhesive to attach a thin latex panel to the sheath of skin covering my clit. The latex panel had a tab at the top that was made of slightly thicker latex, which extended about 1.5” above the end of where the panel was adhered to my flesh. In the middle of the tab, there was a small, reinforced hole, and they had set a sturdy, but delicate-looking braided silk cord into the hole by looping the cord through, and tying a slipknot to hold the tab securely.

He reached down towards the loose end of the length of cord where it lay resting upon my sternum, and gently pulled it up towards my head. The cord grew taught, and then I felt my hood retract. I cried out in surprise, and then gasped at the ache which ensued. Alana looked on, absently wiggling the soft, dry watercolor paintbrush she was holding in the air, and gave a little smirk, eyebrows raised.

“Ooh, that will make things quite interesting”

She brought the paintbrush back down and dusted its head over my outer labia again, as she had been doing sporadically over the past hour. Her smirk grew as I gave a soft little whimper.

It had been over 5 months since my Master had begun my extended torments, simultaneously stimulating my almost perpetually aching pussy with gels and oils and other such stimulants, and then outright refusing me enough extended or direct touch to my clit to relieve my ache…All of this in addition, of course, to denying me my orgasms altogether. Occasionally, for a period of a week or so, he would allow me to have my clit stimulated directly. For the duration of each of those weeks, he would edge me, or he’d have me edge myself, again and again and again, at least one session each day, for the whole 7 days. Those weeks, however, were not the norm.

In my reverie, I hadn’t noticed Alana leave the room, but I noticed then when she walked back in. She clipped back over to where she had been sitting between my legs, and sat down. She absently wet her lips with a subtle flash of her tongue, and placed a thermos full of some liquid onto a little pull-out shelf on the bed just below my body.

She popped open the wide-mouthed tab on the thermos, dipped the head of her paintbrush into its contents, and then, without tapping the brush on the rim, began to paint some hot, hot fluid less than a centimeter away from my newly-exposed clit. I gasped and cried out at the sudden heat, and she laughed. She told me that it was, “just water,” laughing softly as she watched my hips thrusting up into the air, and listening as I cried out softly in my torment. My aching channel began clenching in upon itself spasmodically as she painted more of the wet heat on me.

“What? Can you not even handle water?”

She quietly laughed again, re-dipping the brush and painting the flesh of my vulva. I gave a full, breathy whimper of a moan, and she gave a genuine, soft, breathy little moan of her own in return, intermingled at its tail end with a quiet laugh. She pressed her thighs together for a moment as she watched me suffer, deeply enjoying the agony that she was causing.

“What? Just… a little bit of…hot water…”

She re-dipped, and then swept the paintbrush down across my flesh, in an arc about a centimeter out and above my clit. I whimpered again, pressing against my bonds, and she took a deep breath in through her teeth. Her chest strained against the thin shirt that she wore, and her nipples – firm – pressed outward against the thin layers of fabric of her bra and the shirt in little points. She sucked in her lower lip and worried it lightly between her teeth as she once again dipped the brush into the hot water. She lifted it and painted it thickly to either side of my aching nub, and watched my hips thrusting up, and up, and up…

She stopped painting for a moment, then, and leaned back, away from her position between my legs just long enough to pick up some metal implement from the table behind her. At the same time, my Master released the tension on the cord. A little breath escaped my lips. A sigh of relief ---or perhaps of disappointment--- I couldn’t be sure.

She came back over to her spot between my legs, leaned over, and began to screw the implement into the table below me. It looked a lot like an industrial eyebolt with a bent shaft and a cylindrical eye, but with incised lines tracked along the inside of the tube. She reached back over to the table behind her and picked up 2 more objects. The first was a slightly curved silvery rod with a rounded teardrop shape at one end and a short, hollow section at the other end with threading there both inside and out. The second object looked to fit onto the threaded end of the first, and was comprised of a medium length of metal rod with a hole pierced through it, matching the hole in the original eyebolt piece. She screwed the two items together, confirming my suspicion, and then reached for something else on the table. She came back with a bottle of lube in her hand.

She smirked at me while coating the rod with lube, and then pressed the rod against my anus gently, slowly working to slip it inside of me. I mewled softly, and she pursed her lips at me as she worked, making a mocking pout and quiet little moan as the object penetrated me. The teardrop shape passed through the ring of muscle with an inaudible little pop, and she held it there with her right hand as she reached back to the table again with her left.

My Master pulled up on the cord again, and I gasped as my clit was exposed. She held onto the rod in my ass tightly with her right hand as my hips moved in response, and with her left hand she picked up what looked like an extruded gear --- a cylinder of metal only about 3 or so inches long, with excised lines tracking up and down the outer walls, matching the pattern of lines inside of the holes in each of the two other metal pieces. The excised lines started about ¼ inch away from each end of the cylinder, leaving a smooth section at the top and the bottom, with a little seam leaving a hardly-visible gap separating the sections.

I cried out softly as she used her right hand to press the rod further into my ass, inserting it 1-2 inches deeper, before stopping again. She lined up the hole in the inserted element with the hole in the original eyebolt piece, and then slid the final gear-like cylindrical element into the holes. She let go of the rod in my ass, and moved her right hand over to the third metal element. Fully inserted into the holes, the only parts of the cylinder that remained exposed were the two small smooth sections, one above and one below. She gripped one end in each hand, and then twisted them in opposite directions. I felt something click as her twisting locked some kind of internal mechanisms into place. She tested the set-up, grabbing it and attempting to shake it loose. I gave a little breathy whimper at the vibrations, and she leaned back, appearing to be satisfied.

She gave my Master a nod, and he knelt down over me, hand coming down to wrap its fingers about my throat and squeeze lightly as his lips met mine. Our tongues danced, smoothing against one another, and he brought his other hand up to cup and massage my breast. I gave a soft little moan, wanting to press my body up against his, but unable to move. The hand on my breast moved down, sliding along my ribcage. It moved down my stomach, smoothed out over my hip, down my thigh, back up, and then I felt him pull up on the cord. I groaned helplessly into his mouth, and felt a cool wetness on my newly exposed clit. The cool quickly turned into heat, and I gasped as I felt the gel go to work.

My hips tried to press upward of their own accord, the action only to be brought up short, as my pelvis was only able to move about an inch up off of the table now, at most. I whimpered into my Master’s mouth, and it only seemed to ignite him further. He intensified the kiss, and I felt Alana delicately rubbing the gel into my clit as he held the cord up for her. I could do nothing to stop them. I was functionally locked into place now---even my pelvis. My Master released his hold on the cord, and Alana put the bottle of stimulant gel back down on the table behind her again before resuming her lounge position between my legs.

She absentmindedly wetted her lips with her tongue again as she dipped her brush back into the hot water. She slowly painted one hot wet stroke after another to either side of my pussy, starting at the outer edges of my vulva, and working her way in, dipping between strokes, and getting slightly closer with each stroke, moving in towards where my outer labia bordered my clit. She dipped the brush again, and circled it around my entrance, cooing in little whispers to me about how much she’d love it if he were to order her to fuck me with a dildo…About how they would have me begging and pleading for an orgasm while he ordered me to hold it back, before stuffing his hard cock into my mouth, and silencing my pleas for mercy…using me like the fuck toy that I was…

She whispered to me about how she pictured me begging and pleading for some kind of touch---any kind of touch--- to be applied to my clit, only to have that touch be denied…just barely not granted…She continued to murmur to me softly as she teased my pussy, telling me to just picture him, his cock in my mouth, and her, with a dildo buried deep in my pussy, while he cupped his hand up and over my clit to prevent anything from making direct contact with it, or even just brushing up against it---aside from the occasional light tap from one of his fingertips…and maybe even only the occasional light tap from a fingertip covered in stimulant gel, at that.

“Ooh, I bet that would make it even worse, wouldn’t it?” she crooned, and then continued. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and gripped it tightly as she whispered to me, soft moans of her own forming under her breath, about how much she wondered it might come to ache if those super soft, and super brief touches---like her torments with her dry paintbrush earlier---soft bristles, just barely making fleeting passes---plus all of the stimulants, of course, were the only kind of touch that my clit was allowed to have…My Master pulled up on the cord again, and I gasped, wincing as he simultaneously gave my hair another tug.

She kept talking, and said that she liked very much the idea of seeing me like that…

“…and what if your Master liked seeing you like that, too, little fucktoy…and decided to keep you that way? Oh, how much fun I would have with that, then…”

And then, suddenly, and far too briefly, she slopped the supersoft, soaked brush head down upon my clit in an upward sweep, only once, before immediately ceasing its contact. I cried out roughly at the sudden rush of intense heat, and the pleasure-filled sensation in my otherwise near-abusively-neglected clit, and my Master gave my head another tug back, preventing me from looking down. My clit throbbed visibly, though, I knew, and I could feel it still swelling further somehow as the spring of frustration tightened impossibly in my stomach. The tension on the cord was abruptly released, and she bent down, lowering her head to my aching center to slowly lap up a small trickle of arousal just before it reached the hook holding my pelvis securely down against the surface of the bed. I groaned loudly, whimpering, and began to beg again.

“Ohhhh god, please…Please, please, please…please…” I whimpered and gasped, back arching slightly.

The tension fully returned in the cord and I cried out again, hips thrusting against my will. She slowly licked up the inside of one of my thighs as I struggled. The tension was released once more, and she licked up the inside of my other thigh.

She gave a little moan of her own as she sat up, and I saw one of her hands reach up her stomach to begin unbuttoning her shirt.

“Please what?” She breathed, heavily-lidded eyes on me. She had brought the other hand up to quicken the process, and finally undid the last of the buttons. Her shirt came open, exposing her modest breasts and the lacey bra she wore.

“Please---,” I gasped, “please touch my clit---please, please, it aches so badly.”

“Oohhh,” she breathed again---a little sound of pleasure---while cupping her breasts as she watched me. The bra that she wore had a closure in the front, and she aptly flipped it open, giving a little sigh as her breasts were released from the confines of the garment. Her nipples quickly puckered, and she brought both hands up to roll and play with them for a moment, making more soft noises of pleasure, before reluctantly lowering one of her hands, and returning to her paintbrush.

She dipped the brush again, and brought it over to my quim. The water was still just as hot as it had been when she began, and she softly made a delicate, wet stroke with the paintbrush to one side of my outer labia. The hot water dribbled down.

“Just how badly does it ache?” she asked, voice thick with her own arousal. She rolled one of her nipples under the palm of her free hand, before starting to tug on the firm flesh lightly. She re-dipped her brush, and swept a wet stroke past the opposite side of my vulva.

“Do you need me to touch your clit?”

“Oh god----Yes! Please, please, ye----aughhhnnnn” I was cut-off mid-word as the tension suddenly returned to the cord. My Master leaned over me from the side of the bed then to let another full drop of the stimulant gel fall onto my clit. I thrashed---or, rather, I tried to. I couldn’t move my hips. I was completely helpless.

“Aughnnnnnnnn! Please, please, ohhhhhh,” I groaned deeply as the gel went to work again, “oh, oh god.” My clit ached and throbbed with a vengeance. As soon as I stopped visibly throbbing, the tension was released on the cord once more.

“But I already did touch your clit,” she said seriously, “Remember? Just a moment ago!” She sucked on her lower lip absently as she dipped the brush into the hot water again, continuing her torture with the one hand as her other dipped under her dress. “I was already so nice to you, and you want more? Perhaps I’m being too nice?”

“Maybe what you really need is for us to use the stick on you again---maybe for the next hour or so…maybe two hours?“

The stick was a special pole they had put set up with a dildo secured to the end of it. They’d rigged it up so that it could either be used manually, with a grip at the end of the pole, or automatically –- that is, with the grip removed, and the stick hooked up to their fucking machine. The machine could be set at specific angles, specific depths, speeds---you name it. On the machine, it was set up to automatically re-lubricate every time it pulled back, so there was no chance of tearing or rubbing raw whatsoever. They could keep it going for as long as they wanted, in theory…

They’d attached the stick to the fucking machine about a week ago and set it on me as a punishment…. I’d complained that his giving me just 2 minutes to try to edge myself in their latest challenge had not been enough time…The “challenge”/tease was this:

~*~*~*~*~

He’d had me fill a balloon with very hot water, tie a string to its neck, and then dangle it about 1’-1.5’ off of the ground over the middle of the bathtub, positioned as such by way of a system of strings going between the shower curtain rods and the handle above the recess on the wall for the soap dish. He’d ordered me to coat both myself, from my bellybutton down to just above my knees, and the balloon very copiously with a basic silicone lube. This would allow it all to remain slippery for hours, theoretically, until washed off with soap and water. He said that, if I was a good fuck toy, that I would be able to bring myself to the edge by simply rubbing my pussy up against the freely-dangling water balloon --- no hands allowed, and keeping my feet tucked under me and my knees at least shoulder-width apart the entire time, while leaning back fully so that my forearms lay flat against the bottom of the bathtub…all while blindfolded…and in under 2 minutes.

I obviously had failed. When I’d complained in response to my failure, however, they’d decided to punish me by setting the stick on me for 2 hours, “to give [me] what [I] wanted: more time.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

My stomach tightened. I didn’t want to have to endure that again already.

“Please,” I whimpered as her soft warm brush head began dancing lazy circles around and around, just barely not touching the nub, “please, PLEAse. It feels like I’m going to explode!”

The lazy circles continued. She dipped her brush into the hot water again, moaning as she reached down and began rubbing little circles on her own clit with her finger. She lowered the brush down, holding it vertically above my body, and just let the hot water drip onto my clit from the brush head. I gasped and kept trying to thrust my hips up to increase contact, but all to no avail. After several seconds of this, she finally replied.

“You know very well that that’s not up to me,” she began, re-dipping the brush before returning to her lazy circles. “It’s up to him whether or not you get any relief…So you had better turn some of that pretty begging towards him, little slut”

She redipped the brush and resumed her lazy circles.

“Master, please! Please! Ahh….Master, please let her touch me!”

He gave her a significant look, nodding with a small smirk, but saying nothing.

“OK,” she said, her voice smooth and slow, “well…since he says that I may…” She silently smirked at him in return, before slowly lowering her head down to my pussy again. I felt my anticipation building, growing; the excitement was winding up like a tight spring in my stomach. It made me feel dizzy. She took her time, enjoying herself and enjoying the moment. She was really milking it for all it was worth.

First she planted a soft, warm kiss firmly above the nub, sucking the flesh slightly into her mouth before breaking contact. She then moved down, and starting just a centimeter above the hook in my ass, took a quick taste with a flick of her tongue, looked up at me briefly as she licked her lips, and then began her approach. She pressed her tongue flatly against my flesh, and then excruciatingly slowly began to move her way up---up towards my pussy, and up towards my clit--- with slow, languishing strokes of her tongue. Each lick took her only another centimeter higher, up towards her destination. My whole body thrummed. I could hardly breathe. I was dizzy with need. I just watched her, trying to still my hips, not wanting to give her any reason to stop. Oh god, she was only a centimeter away…so close!...and then she was right below it! I was bathed in the heat of her breath. She pressed her tongue down just below my clit with an impossibly soft touch, just letting me soak up all of the moist heat that it had to offer… But then, instead of swiping her tongue up, she broke contact and instead licked directly across my outer labia to either side of my clit.

I cried out in breathless little whimpers---little prayers---soft groans. She licked to either side again, long and slow. More whimpers and helpless breathy pleading erupted from between my lips, until she pressed her soft lips down ever-so-softly, just dusting a quick, gentle kiss onto my clit.

The tension returned to the cord, then, and I cried out, whimpering madly. A moment later, I just about shouted into a low groan when I felt her lips press down directly around it then, bathing my nub in heat. I gasped and my eyes rolled back into my head as her tongue finally pressed down, wide and flat, firmly pressing down upon the aching center of my focus, and began to sweep up with the sweet, sweet friction that I needed, and--------just then, the timer on the table behind her went off with a shrill ring, and she abruptly ceased contact. The tension was released on the cord.

“Oh, poo,” She said, seeming almost sincere, her face flushed with her own arousal, her lips wet with mine, “I guess that means we’re done for now.” She began to stand up, “but wasn’t that nice!”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. My head was reeling. I ached even more intensely than I had before her tongue had finally made its last moment of agonizingly sweet contact.

I began to struggle in earnest. “NO, WAIT, PLEASE!!! PLEASE, DON’T STOP YET!! Plea--”

My master was beside me then, one hand over my mouth, silencing me, the other hand gripping my hair tightly.

"No shouting, remember?" He reprimanded me, as Alana rose to her feet. He gave my head a little shake with the hand that held a fistful of my hair.

“My,” she exclaimed as she put her bra back on, “you really have grown quite sloppy in your adherence to the rules, haven’t you?”

“You are getting quite demanding!” he agreed, “Perhaps we really are being too nice? Maybe you aren’t ready to have your clit actually touched directly like that?” Alana pulled her shirt closed and began fastening the buttons.

“If you can’t even behave for such nice, little touches like that,” he continued, “then you’d be nowhere even close to ready for more----nowhere near deserving longer, more extended touches…” He lowered a hand to my chest and pulled hard at one of my nipples, twisting slightly. I groaned, the sound muffled under his large hand.

“Maybe we ought to take a step back in your training? Just go back to having you just drink 16 fl. oz every 2 hours, and simply applying stimulant gels, hm? Just stimulant gels and plumping creams for the next two weeks?” He gave my hair another sharp pull.

“Or maybe…we should just keep it up until you are able to edge your clit using just an ostrich feather,” Alana suggested, her lips curling up into a small smirk. “Maybe that will teach you to be grateful for any and every second of it when we are so nice as to actually put our mouths and tongues on your clit?”

Hearing their threats only made me ache more, knowing that I would submit to whatever they demanded, and that I was helpless to stop them if that was what they wanted to do. With my Master’s hand still covering my mouth, I knew better than to try to speak while he wanted me quiet. I just let little sounds of wordless pleading --- soft whimpers --- my sounds of desperation, escape as soft hummed sounds through my nose.

“Or maybe,” he offered a counter-suggestion, “we should keep things as we have been --- all of the added play --- still fucking you --- using you as my fuck toy, and keeping you twerked up with the fucking machine --- and still keep up with the fluid intake schedule --- 16 fl. oz. every 2 hours --- and stimulant gel regimen --- applying stimulant gel to your clit every time that you go to the restroom --- but then make you wait another 2 weeks before anything or anyone licks, rubs, vibes, or directly massages your needy little clit again at all. Two more weeks before you get any kind of friction there, hm? Maybe that would be enough to teach you to behave like a good little slut?”

My Master gave me a look that told me that I had better behave, and then lifted his hand up from over my mouth. I thought about my words carefully for a quick moment before I spoke,

“You are right,” I said, eyes closed, “I was being very ungrateful…Thank you, Master…Thank you Miss Alana...I will be better, I promise…” My pussy throbbed as I spoke.

“Better,” he began, stroking my hair, “that’s a bit better…”

Alana knelt between my legs again. “But does she really mean it? I don’t think she means it,” Alana said, faking a hurt pout, and thoughtfully smoothing a thumb of each hand over either side of my outer labia, stroking my smooth, shaved flesh like one would stroke a pet’s fur.

“Are you really sorry for behaving like such a spoiled little brat?” She asked me, continuing to stroke my flesh.

“Y-yes, Miss Alana. Oh—s-sorry…I’m sorry for acting so s-spoiled.”

“mmm…yes, and we are both being so nice to you, aren’t we?” She lightly spread my outer labia apart with her thumbs.

“mm—y-yes. Aah, Th-thank you Master. Thank you, M-miss Alana.”

“Thank you for what?” she prompted me, “Be specific, pet.”

“Thank you, Master, for allowing Miss Alana to touch my clit,” I said, and felt a blush creeping its way up my neck and across my cheeks.

Her eyes sparkled darkly, and she kept her gaze fixed on mine. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth to rest, unmoving, just splayed out upon my clit.

I clenched my teeth hard, fighting against my own instincts to try to grind myself hard up into her mouth. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of agony, Alana lifted her tongue up off of my clit, and stood back up.

“And what do you say, slut?”

“Th-thank you, Miss Alana. Thank you, Master.”

“Better. Still not good, but better.”

“It’s a start,” Alana admitted.

“If you want to be touched, then you have to be able to behave---like a good girl!”

"Well then, we won’t set the stick on you this time…but perhaps we can help you to remember the importance of following the rules and being grateful in another way…" My Master covered my eyes with a blindfold, and put a set of noise-cancelling headphones over my ears.

Several moments passed, and all that I could hear was the blood rushing past my ears, amidst the occasional whimper that slipped past my lips. I could’ve almost sworn that I felt the pulse coincide with each throb of my pussy. I don’t know how much time passed --- maybe just a few minutes, maybe a bit longer --- but when my Master took off the headphones and removed the blindfold, he and Alana had rolled the bed into the large shower room that we had in the basement, and Alana stood before me, holding a large, uninflated, dark blue balloon in her hand.

She blew a little bit of air into the balloon---not enough to begin to stretch the rubber, but just enough eliminate the creases in its form. She twisted it at the neck, and slid the mouth of the balloon over the hose attachment that my Master held in his hand. Once it was on the hose, she snapped down a clamp over it, and then released her twist on the neck. The balloon snapped back into its regular alignment, the clamp holding it tight and trapping the air already inside of it. She then delicately spread my nether lips with one hand, just for effect, and then slipped the balloon inside of me with the other, leaving only the end of the neck, set as it was clamped upon the hose, showing. They turned on the water, letting it cascade out of the secondary faucet, and then, after checking the temperature --- hot --- and intensity of the water pressure --- low --- they then turned a dial on the wall, altering the channel to send the water coursing through the hose.

I felt the intense heat flowing into the balloon as it slowly expanded inside of me. Over the next several moments, every exhale turned into a hoarse, breathy moan as the water, hot and heavy, pressed in all directions outward against my aching channel, stretching me tightly, almost to the point of pain. They shut the water off, unclamped the balloon from the hose, pulled it off, and tied it closed. She released the knotted neck of the balloon, and it snapped back inside of me, just barely peeking into view. He nodded to her, and she reached in, manipulating the balloon until the knot was no longer visible.

I couldn't lift my hips up off of the table---I was completely immobilized---but still my muscles frantically tried to of their own accord, dry humping into nothing as my channel spasmed around the intrusive object.

"Be still!"

I struggled with the task, but just barely managed to comply. My body nearly shook with the effort, and my entire core ached and throbbed, pulsing with my need.

"Good pet," my Master said, stroking my hair once, before bringing the hand down to join the other in playing with my breasts.

Alana then smiled cruelly, and slowly reached up with just two lovely manicured fingers and applied tension to the cord. A coarse moan ripped out of my throat, and I fought hard to keep my hips as still as I could as my nether regions clenched and twitched, throbbing in simultaneous protest and excitement. Every involuntary clench of my channel around the balloon would cause the air bubble in the balloon to move, & thus the water to slosh. It felt like I was slowly being fucked from the inside, and in all directions. She released her hold on the cord, smirking at me.

“Perfect.”

They then detached the curved rod from the eyebolt piece, and instead attached a wide, flat cap to the end of it. They pressed a button on the cap, and I felt something expand, somehow morphing a section of what I thought had been a metal rod just immediately inside of me, expanding it, thereby turning the configuration into a specialized plug.

"Now," my Master began, "once we release you from the table, you are to go upstairs, pick out an outfit----one with a very short skirt, and very high heels----do whatever quick makeup touch-ups you might want to do, and then we will be going out. You are not to dawdle. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," I breathed, "I understand..."

"And we will be in public...so you must maintain your composure... You must behave, like a good girl…Yes?" He paused, waiting for my reply.

"Yes, Sir," I breathed, my words still a bit shaky as I began to slowly re-attain some control over my body. “I will be a good girl.”

"That means being quiet...and keeping a straight face..." He continued, while giving Alana a significant look. She began to lightly scratch her fingernails up and down the insides of my thighs. "…No matter what she or I might be doing to you..."

At that, Alana brought the manicured tips in towards the apex of my thighs. She slowly began to scratch up and down, her touch so light that the sensation bordered on tickling me. My lips parted slightly and I felt my eyelids growing heavy as the anticipation built. I caught myself and quickly shut my mouth, biting my lower lip nervously as I fought to keep my face blank and stay fully focused on him. Alana upped the ante by bending down and abruptly making a flat pass with her tongue right beside my clit. I gasped, mouth falling open again, blank expression evaporating.

"Or,” he countered, pointedly looking at my face as I reacted, “if you don't think that you can manage that yet, then perhaps we will just set you up with another hanging Q-tip vibe, and let you try with that until we get back from dinner.”

~*~*~*~

The hanging Q-tip vibe was an especially frustrating tease. It involved attaching a singular Q-tip to the head of our hitachi vibrator with tape, so that one of the ends extended vertically just about 2” below the end of the head of the hitachi, and then hanging the hitachi from the ceiling so that, with my hips propped up high on a stack of pillows, or something of the like, I could just barely touch the tip of the Q-tip against my clit, if I was careful. The rest of my body was always restrained, tied down to the bed, of course, and my pelvis was positioned such that I couldn’t potentially trap the head of the Q-tip in any nooks or crannies to gain any, “unfair advantages.” I had to rely solely on balance…and even then, whenever I did manage to get the Q-tip to make contact with my aching clit, the contact itself would offset the vibrator from its center of gravity, and thus send it pivoting off and swinging away from me. The longest that I’d ever managed to get the Q-tip to maintain unbroken contact was 3 seconds, before it was sent swinging away again by its own weight and imbalance. My Master knew that, if I could get it to make even just that brief amount of contact enough times, within a few minutes, however, that I’d be able to potentially have an orgasm.

~*~*~*~*~

“-----Oh no, don't worry, I wouldn't risk you getting over-stimulated or cumming by accident,” he said teasingly, “I wouldn’t set you up to fail like that, my pet. I can just have the cycles and timer set up to make it go on periods of 2 minutes On, followed by 5 minutes Off…and then repeating..." One of his large hands came down and stroked up my collarbone before wrapping its fingers about my throat. He squeezed, and I gasped.

"...again and again, until it all gets switched off manually."

My stomach dropped, and I fought even harder to maintain my composure. The potential number of edges, and almost-edges, that could stack up in that amount of time….I swallowed.

“But perhaps I should set it to run 15 seconds ON, followed by 2 minutes OFF, and then repeating….maybe that would help more to teach you the importance of remembering the rules?”

My breath caught in my throat.

“Ohh,” Alana breathed from between my legs, squeezing my thighs sharply with her manicured nails, “I like the sound of that. Maybe we should do that. Really.” She released her grip, leaving a matching set of 5 little half-moon marks on the inside of each of my thighs.

"No, no, I can do it. I promise, I-----"

My voice caught as my breathing hitched, and I had to stop talking for a moment as she made another sweep with her tongue to the other side of my vulva, long and slow.

"---will be good. Please, I----"

“But can you be good?” she asked, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Can you really? Prove it.” She teased, her breath rolling across my pussy. She looked right up at me, her eyes burning, and opened her mouth slowly, tongue extending. She made a soft, slow drag up from the base of my entrance, up, up, up to just below my clit. She rested her tongue oh-so-lightly, just barely touching the surface against my clit, and didn’t break eye contact with me. She just let it rest there, not moving, testing my self-control. My channel spasmed, HARD, again and again, and I knew that she could feel it. My clit throbbed against her tongue, and she just held still, watching…waiting… I felt a small drop of sweat roll down my forehead with the effort that it was taking to stay still and not whimper.

"Ah--ah----I--I can do it. Pllll...ease..."

She stood up from where she knelt between my legs, and I let out a shaky breath of half-relief, half-disappointment. It was all such a mind-fuck.

"Okay," he acquiesced, "I'll give you a chance."

They unlocked my restraints, releasing me from the examination bed, and my Master smacked me playfully on the ass as I shakily made my way upstairs to follow his instructions. I was in utter sensual agony, and the process of getting ready to go out went by in a lust and frustration induced haze.

When I came back downstairs, I was dressed, and holding the cord in my hand, unsure of what to do with it. Alana took the cord from me and held it while my Master reached around from behind me, putting a necklace in place upon my throat before clasping it behind me. Alana knelt down, and reached up to snake the cord back up through my clothing, til it poked out at the low neckline of my skin-tight shirt. My Master picked it up from there, hooking it onto a small charm on my necklace. He gave the cord an experimental little tug upwards, and my knees buckled slightly as my hood was retracted again.

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I sat in the front seat, my Master sat himself at the steering wheel, and Alana sat in the backseat. He forcibly spread my legs and ordered me to keep them like that until he told me otherwise. He then began to tuck my skirt into the seatbelt, to expose me. To any high-positioned drivers that might happen to look down into our low-profile car.

I felt a hot flush rise up from my neck up over my face, and turned to look away, staring down at the dashboard. He laughed slightly, and gripped my chin in his fingertips, forcing my head front and forward, staring at the windshield.

Alana leaned forward into the front seat and spoke by my ear as my Master pulled out of the driveway.

"Aww, what's wrong?” She asked, loudly enough for my Master to hear her. “Afraid other people might realize just how hot and bothered you are?” My face got hot while she taunted me, a flush spreading across my cheeks. “Are you a wet, horny little slut?" She asked, reaching around either side of my seat to slide her hands down, into my shirt. She cupped my breasts firmly, squeezing them, and then pulled her hands back up out of my shirt. She pulled up on the cord where they’d attached it to my necklace to expose my clit again, and let a drop of the stimulant gel fall onto my engorged nub. My hips started to thrust up against nothing again, and I felt my Masters nails dig into my thigh.

"Be still!" He ground out. I complied as she released the tension from the cord. "Scoot forward a bit in your seat,” he commanded. “Keep those legs spread wide. Now, lean back. That's right. Tuck your skirt back up into that seatbelt.... Better.....no, now, put your arms behind you----no, not like that. Wrap them around the seat."

I complied, and felt a cool set of handcuffs click closed around my wrists, locking them together behind the back of my car seat. My stomach gave a nervous little flutter of excitement.

"There," he said, slowly sliding his hand up my thigh, "now that's better..." He traced his fingertips up either side of my vulva. "Isn't that better?" He prompted me. He waited until I'd opened my mouth to speak, before, while careful to avoid touching my clit with his palm, he pressed the fingertips into my flesh and spread them outward. I had to catch my breath. I bit my lip lightly and my mind went blank. I didn't know what to say. He slapped my thigh again. "Answer."

"Ah, um, yes, Master, if it pleases you, then yes, it...is much better."

Alana leaned forward again and began to whisper in my ear.

"Seeing you so hot and bothered like this...seeing you throbbing, seeing how swollen you are, and imagining how much it must. Just. Ache," she dragged out the last word, and then drew in a breath through her teeth, "and knowing...that it won't be getting..any..better...no, no relief, not anytime soon..." She lightly toyed with the cord, not pulling it yet, but just rolling it lightly back and forth between her fingers—a promise of torment.

"I am so wet right now, just looking at you here and thinking about tormenting you more later," she breathed, giving the handcuffs around my wrists a tiny little jerk with her free hand. “Knowing that you’ve got that balloon in, too…so that any time that he stops the car…” she paused meaningfully, and he slammed on the brakes briefly, out of show, and then continued driving. The sudden lurch caused the water inside of the balloon to slosh around the air bubble violently. My channel clamped down around the balloon hard and sent a powerful, sharp ache coursing through my core in agonizing pulses. I had to bite my lip hard to not cry out, and I balled my fists tightly behind my chair. She laughed softly beside my headrest. She had leaned over the shoulder of my seat to watch the outward effects of the sudden shift in momentum, and bit her lip as she watched for a few more moments. She leaned back then, returning to her previous position, and began whispering to me.

"I've gotten off so many times to those videos he made of you edging yourself, and getting edged by him..." She slowly pulled up on the cord, continuing to talk as I inhaled sharply, biting my lip to stay quiet as my pussy throbbed. "Imagining your torment, hearing you begging...begging and pleading...desperate for a respite that just might not come." She sucked on the shell of my ear, lightly grazing it with her teeth as she sat back down in her seat.

My torment lightened somewhat for the remainder of the short car ride, and we got to our seats with little to no trouble or wait. We were quickly attended to by our waiter, and we all ordered our meals. My Master got a steak, Alana got some chicken dish, and I got a salad plus a lot of water. After finishing my second glass, I was struck by a sudden need to use the restroom. I stood to excuse myself, but my Master grabbed my wrist before I could walk away from the table, I looked back at him, concerned. Bathroom control had always been a hard limit for me. I didn't know whether to be relieved, to be concerned, or to be..excited...as he gestured to Alana & she stood up to accompany me. She slung her purse over her shoulder, throwing me a smirk as she accompanied me to the restroom.

The restroom was on the fancier side, with separate little rooms with full floor-to-ceiling closure and locking doors, as opposed to simply open-spaced stalls with flimsy latches. As soon as we got into the heart of the room, she guided me over to the handicap stall. Closing the door to the stall behind us, she turned the lock on the knob, and then slid the secondary lock – a small deadbolt – closed above it. She turned to look around the spacious stall, and smirked as she caught sight of a large changing table area set into a recessed alcove in the tiled outer wall of the stall.

"Ah, perfect."

The way that it was set up, it could support just about any range of weight --- and definitely my weight. She instructed me to get up on it, and to sit with my knees tightly bent up, feet resting on the tiled surface beside my buttocks. I complied, stifling a whimper as the position intensified the sense of tightness and fullness inside of me. The balloon pressed against everything, stretching my insides and making my vulva stick out and appear to be even more plumped than it had already become from the extensive teasing and now near-constant arousal. She sucked in a little breath of air and then made a small noise of appreciation. She took a little camera out of her bag, and began recording, starting with a close up of my groin.

"Lift your skirt out of the way," she told me. “There. Lovely…Look how flushed you are…"

I blushed, embarrassed, and turned my face away from the camera. She continued filming, taking no mind. She zoomed in, and then zoomed back out a bit, focusing the lens. She told me to hold out my hand, and then she placed the camera in it before positioning it just right, and told me to hold it there.

She reached up and pulled the cord back, and again everything began to spasm. She laughed quietly, and then applied a drop of the gel to my clit. I bit my lip hard, unable to stop my hips from dry humping the air, attempting to grind my borderline-painfully swollen clit up against a non-existent surface. My hips rolled and rolled, forward and up, thrusting into the air in pursuit of some kind of desperately-needed friction, as the gel wrought havoc. She toyed with me, alternately increasing & decreasing the tension on the cord.

"Oooo, poor pet, do you need me to touch your clit again?" She whispered softly to me, lightly tugging the cord back up a few millimeters, and then letting it drop back down. I bit my lip again, and tried to keep my breathing as even as I could. It came in and out in shallow little staggered pants. She repeated the gesture. "Do you just want it, or do you need it? How could you prove to me that you needed it? I don’t believe that you need it yet."

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to think of something to say. I didn’t have any good answers, so I closed my mouth again, just worrying my lower lip between my teeth and trying to keep my breathing steady.

“Hm? Nothing? Maybe you don’t need it yet, after all?”

She had a sadistic little glint in her eye.

“Maybe I can just…keep…playing with you…”

She had released the cord and begun unbuttoning my shirt. I’d worn a front-close bra, similar to the one she herself was wearing, and she deftly undid the closure with a little maneuvering of her fingers. She pulled either cup out and tucked it under its corresponding arm, leaving my breasts fully exposed. She re-positioned the camera in my hand, having me hold it out further from my body, and then she began tracing circles around my breast with her tongue, spiraling inward towards my nipple as it puckered and grew firm. She finally sucked my nipple into her mouth, lightly nipping just over the very tip, allowing her teeth to slip off and graze the tip again and again as she sucked softly. My mouth fell open in a silent moan. I let out a long, slow breath through parted lips as my lids fluttered shut. She held the firm tip of my nipple gently in her teeth and began to flit the tip of her tongue back and forth over just the very end of it.

"Oh…oh god,” I breathed, words falling out of my mouth, and eyes rolling back into my head as my hips made a matching motion atop the surface of the changing table. She moved her mouth over to the other breast to repeat her ministrations on my other nipple. She whet the exposed nipple with her tongue before blowing on it to make it pucker even further. She placed her lips over the pebbled nipple then, and repeated her motions from the other as I tried not to gasp too audibly. She exhaled softly through her nose as she worked with her mouth, while just lightly rolling the slick nipple which she’d been teasing prior against her flattened palm.

“Oh god,” I breathed again, barely stifling an airy moan & again grinding my pelvis up into the open air between us, “oh, oh, oh-A-Alana, plea---"

She clamped her hand over my mouth as she lifted her head up from my breast. "Didn't we say that you would have to maintain your composure?" She smirked at my shocked expression. “Stay still, or I will have to inform him just how much you are misbehaving, and we will have to drop you off at home before we go back out to our movie.”

“Just imagine what he would do to you then…”

I swallowed.

“Oh, and just imagine,” she whispered as she rolled both of my nipples under her palms, “what he would let me do to you for the next two weeks!” She took the first nipple back into her mouth, and I fought to stay still. It was all that I could do to just dig my nails into my one open palm --- the hand not holding the camera--- and hold back any desperate sounds from slipping past my lips.

She switched nipples again, and my hips gave a little involuntary thrust before I fought the urge down and forced myself to be still again. My whole nether regions ached and throbbed angrily, my channel clenching around the still-full balloon, further made tight by the fullness of my bladder and the plug in my ass. With everything so full and tight and stretched, my vulva appeared---and felt---distended and larger than life. Everything felt heavy and hot, swollen with blood.

She adjusted the angling of the camera, making sure to get a good view of my face, and then knelt back down before making a long, slow sweep up my outer labia with her tongue. I bit my lip hard, struggling to force down the partial whimpers that had begun escaping my lips.

“So impatient!” she chided. She made another long, slow sweep with her tongue to the opposite side, a bit closer to hitting the mark than the previous sweep had been, and a full, breathy whimper escaped my mouth. She looked up at me, one eyebrow raised, and stood up. She then reached down, purposefully avoiding the one place which ached the most, and manipulated the balloon until the neck stuck out again. She tugged on it once, and then again, harder, and one more time, even harder, checking to make sure that it wouldn’t slip out under such ministrations. Satisfied that it would stay securely inside of me, she looked up at me with a sadistic glint in her eyes, and started jerking at the neck of the balloon hard, again and again and again, fucking me with the rubber implement trapped inside of me. The water sloshed about forcefully, turning my quiet shallow breaths into ragged scrapings of air down my throat as I tried not to vocalize my need. The water inside pressed against all of the sweet spots, stretching me as the sloshing sound became audible throughout the bathroom.

“Don’t you dare cum!!” she whispered harshly into my ear, and abruptly stopped tugging on the neck of the balloon. I dug my nails into my palm as hard as I could, not even daring to breathe, as the sensations washed over me.

After I had finally stopped twitching and visibly pulsing, forcing my whimpers into quiet, shaky breaths through my nose, she ordered me to give her back the camera (which she then held up herself to continue filming me), and to use each of my arms instead to press my knees back further. She had me wedge my elbows up in front of my shins, tucking my knees back behind my armpits, and grip one of my ankles in each hand. The position forced me to press my pelvis out even further---thus pressing my vulva out further---upon the changing table.

“Stay. Completely. Still.” She warned, “And be quiet…or else…” and then, maintaining eye contact, slowly knelt down until her lips were level with my pussy. Her tongue came out, and she just slowly dragged it up my entrance. She lightly probed her tongue against the balloon where it pressed forth, partially exposed, and then drew little circles with the tip of her tongue along my flesh where it disappeared. She made another long, slow pass up from the bottom of my entrance, then, bringing her tongue up to just below my clit. My breath caught in my chest as I watched her. She swallowed, and then brought her tongue back out again, just to softly rest it flatly against my clit, still maintaining eye contact. I could have screamed…I almost did…but I just barely managed to force it down before any noise could escape. I clenched my teeth hard and my eyes rolled back into my head. After an eternity, she lifted her tongue up off of my skin again.

She tucked the knot of the balloon back up inside of me, and then let her fingers slip down to rest over the cap of the buttplug. She pressed firmly against it in little pulses, and I remained as quiet as I could, trying hard not to squirm.

“Ohhh, I bet it would just feel amazing,” she began amidst the pulses, “if I were to just…bend down right now and start licking your clit,” she began to bend over slightly, “huh?”

I dared not speak, and just held my breath instead. “sucking it into my mouth…lathing it with my tongue…” She only bent down as far as my breasts, however, and then began to torment each of my nipples again with her talented mouth. I was panting within only a few seconds of her combined torments, and had just opened my mouth to start absently pleading again in little whispers when she stood up slightly, taking a full shot of me with the video recording, before bending back down and starting to make a line of kisses and licks down from between my breasts…down my stomach….a wide lick just below my bellybutton….slow licking an inch lower…and an inch lower…And then she abruptly stood up, camera focused on me and my groin. She captured my visible, agonized throbbing, watching the screen of her camera as she sucked her lower lip into her mouth.

And then she shut off the camera, and told me to get down, to keep my legs spread, and put my hands up behind my neck. She slipped her scarf around my right wrist first, then around my neck, followed by my left wrist, tying them all securely together. Then she allowed me to use the toilet, and forced me to squat upon a large wad of toilet paper that she held out for me in order to dry myself. My cheeks burned with a combination of my severe sexual frustration, and sheer humiliation.

She instructed me to stand and then keep my legs spread as she flushed the toilet for me, and then came back around, kneeling down to kiss my mons before reapplying the gel. It didn’t have quite as strong of an effect as it had before, due entirely to much of the physical pressure having been removed by my bladder being emptied. Frowning, she made me get back up onto the changing table again and spread my legs. She teased me again for a few more moments, and then, frowning, she untied my hands, informed me that I could close my legs, and walked me back to our table.

"Now, I know that the pressure you've been feeling has now probably largely vanished..." He began, as he simultaneously pushed another full glass of water towards me. "So I ordered you another water after this one---no ice. Now, drink up." My cheeks flushed even brighter, but I complied, taking the glass in my hand and downing the water. For the next 45 minutes or so, it was just as he'd said--- the pressure had been severely reduced. But by the time he asked for the bill, I felt that a significant portion of it had returned. As my bladder filled, everything grew tight again. Unconsciously, I crossed my legs at the dully growing ache. My legs were quickly pulled wide apart again, and he gave me a very stern look. My channel clenched and everything throbbed in response. My breathing hitched, but I managed to keep a straight face---for the most part...

(TO BE CONTINUED)