And finally, day 7

This is an adult blog containing frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.


So here we are, Day 7 of my week-long task. Today promised to be the most challenging yet - especially considering that the first thing I became aware of, as I blearily blinked in the early morning sun, was that my body was already was humming. Yes, I woke up already half-horny. Lovely. All right then, so let's get straight to it.

Session 1 took place in my bathroom. I shucked off my pajama pants and perched on the edge of the tub, my knees spread wide, resting on my toes. The first pass of my fingers over my clit had me bending forward with the rush of arousal that spiked through me. One pass. I am in trouble. I bit my lip and started rubbing myself, firm little circles that alternately tugged and pushed against that greedy little nub of flesh.  I was surprised at how quickly I was reaching for climax - I was pushing past a level 9 in under 2 minutes, surely. I dropped my feet flat against the floor as my legs trembled, and my free hand gripped the edge of the tub to balance myself. I swayed forward again, letting loose a quiet whimper as my body shivered and I felt my inner muscles contract. I had to stop then, so as not to get too close to cumming. I bowed my head and hoped to God I would survive this day.

Session 2 was very similar - I was upstairs on the couch, again, but kneeling on it with my left arm bent and resting on the top of the couch. My knees were open wide and sinking into the cushions. When I first swiped my fingers across Master's pussy I could feel that I was wet already - and I'd barely even touched myself. I leaned forward and rested my head on my bent arm, pressing my chest against the back of the couch, and began stroking myself. And again, I ramped up to an 8 very quickly, passing on to a 9 in just a few minutes. My breaths became pants and my hips rocked against my fingers as I crept ever closer to orgasm, little tremors shivering through my as Master's pussy grew juicier and trickled over my fingers. I gave my clit one last good firm stroke, and pitched forward as Master's pussy clenched once on emptiness. I gritted my teeth and panted through my nose, feeling like any little movement or even too big of a breath might be my undoing. When I was able to move, my legs definitely felt shaky, and it took much longer for my horniness level to drop back down. Even an hour later, I was still feeling half-way turned on, like a 4 - 5. 

Session 3 of the day was a danger zone. I was still at like a 4, and I went back to my bed. I knelt on it and leaned way down, so my upper body was pressing into the mattress with my ass sticking up in the air. When I reached between my legs, my fingers encountered a pool of juiciness which immediately coated my fingers and made them so, so slick. I moaned then, out loud, it just felt so good, the way my fingers skimmed over my clit and slid so freely over my skin. Damn. This session was the first time of the week where I kinda lost track of myself. I didn't think, I just felt, and my body rocked so hard that the bed shook and squeaked. My fingers were heaven and hell, combined, so delicious and pleasurable but yet not enough, never enough. I was definitely a 9+, teetering on the knife's edge, and in my mind's eye my Master was the one fondling his property and driving me relentlessly toward climax, and I writhed on his fingers and thought I'd gladly swallow his cock and suffer the pain of his teeth, and I moaned out loud, "Oh, Sir, yes." The sound of my own voice startled me, as I wasn't consciously aware of speaking, and in that heartbeat I became aware that I was Right There and Going to Fall Over. Oh, shit, shit, shit!! Master will not be pleased! I tore my fingers away and curled them into the comforter, the slick juices on my fingers dampening the fabric. I gasped, and gasped again, and felt Master's pussy tremble and try to contract. I slammed my legs together and fell to my side, curling into a ball and tensing my muscles to try and stave off my climax. It was a near miss, but I did not cum. And let me tell you - it hurt. For quite a while afterward I felt the wetness in my panties and the aching between my legs, and the quivering of my muscles. And I hated it, hated this task, hated having to torture myself like this for days on end, hated the painful result of so much build up and denial.

It took several hours before I was ready to attempt another session. By then I had calmed down, both in body and mind - though not so much in body. I spent the lion's share of those hours still feeling the effects. But at last I couldn't postpone any longer, so back to the bathroom I went. I knelt on one knee on the rug by the tub, planting my other foot to brace myself, and leaned my side against the tub. This way I was plenty steady. I was hesitant at first, too aware of just how close my earlier escape had been. So it was with tentative fingers that I reached down and lightly stroked my clit, testing the waters, so to speak. And yes, there were plenty of waters. It seems my body had not gotten over its earlier experience, and there was a little bit of tenderness when I pressed down firmly. Huh. So not only was I still wet, and still aroused, but now I was a bit sore as well. Great. But Master's will is Master's law, and so I continued on, rubbing myself and shifting my knee over to open up a bit wider. When I felt Master's pussy responding yet again, I bowed my head and bit my lip, letting loose a sigh that was part pleasure and part resignation. Despite my misgivings I couldn't prevent my hips from rocking against my fingers, nor stop my heart rate from speeding up, nor keep myself from feeling more and more aroused. It took longer than the previous attempt - partly because I'd been so tentative in the beginning, I think - but within several minutes I was once again panting lightly and feeling my juices flowing over my fingers, whimpering as my inner muscles clenched and that feeling of tightness deep in my belly began coiling. I continued on until I knew I'd be in danger if I kept going, so with pounding heart and rubbery-feeling legs I got up and half-staggered out of the room.

Slightly less than 2 hours later I was back for session 6. Because I'd been playing so often - and so close to the edge - I hadn't really recovered; I'd spent most of the day feeling wet and ready. And once again, as I squatted and leaned against the wall of the laundry room, my fingers were instantly coated with a goodly amount of slick juices as soon as I reached down and stroked myself. I groaned with frustration and braced my free hand on the wall next to me; this day just might kill me. I grit my teeth as my fingers sped up, driving my level of arousal higher - I reached an 8 within just a minute or so and banged my back off the wall as my hips bucked hard. I moaned at the feeling of desire swirling through me, that all-too-familiar ache coiling between my legs and making my legs feel shaky. My left hand gripped the wall harder as my right hand bore down on my clit, rubbing faster and deeper, need and desire spearing through me in a sharp burst. I tossed my head back and cracked my head against the wall, hard enough that tears came to my eyes and I lost my balance, tipping over onto my left side in an inglorious heap. Ouch. I rubbed the sore spot on my head and laughed, weakly, in between shallow gasps for breath. Like I said - this day just might kill me.

And at long last, after 7 days and 27 separate masturbation sessions, I came to the final time; # 7 for today, # 28 for the week. I settled myself comfortably in a recliner and set it to the fully reclined position, then shimmied my pants down below my knees. I hiked my shirt up a bit, also, enough that I could snake my hand under it and reach my nipples. I eased my right hand down between my legs and started stroking my clit, slowly, languidly, no rush or hurry. At the same time I used my left hand to tweak my nipples, teasing them with the pads of my fingers, lightly pinching them, drawing little circles around them. In just a few minutes, thanks to the dual stimulation, I was feeling highly aroused, past a level 8 and closing in on 9. I sighed and whimpered as my fingers danced and teased, and Master's pussy produced a new gush of slick juices. My hips bucked under my fingers, my nipples were pinched and stroked in turn, and I moaned softly as a new wave of desire flooded through me. My thoughts grew fuzzy as the level of my arousal grew, and I panted and rocked and made the chair squeak in protest. I spiraled higher, building toward climax, my heart racing and my breaths coming shallow and quick. I closed my eyes as my hips bucked up hard, once, twice, a third time, and I knew that if I continued much longer, I would cross the line, and that just would not do. Regretfully, I pulled my hands free, curling them into fists in my lap while I waited for my heart to slow and my breaths to calm. I tugged my pants back into place, and then it hit me - I was done. I had completed the task Master had set for me. I tilted my head back and smiled. And even now, a full hour later, my brain is still a bit fuzzy, and my body is humming with mid-level arousal. I am tired, worn, feeling stretched thin, but I have succeeded.

And that feels good.